#it's very rare that i write a flash draft in one setting or one day....the shortened word count makes it harder!!!

[dallonwrites]

on one hand i have a nanowrimo project and a very specific reason as to why i want to do nanowrimo with this project on the other hand i just heard of flashnano and writing 30 1k stories in one month

[aceghosts]

can i get some of that rooney and yorinobu john wick au please 👀👀👀

[SEND ME A PAIRNG + AN AU SETTING]

Thank you for asking about this! It has me in a chokehold rn. This AU is also still in the early stages so things might change, but this is the basic premise I'm working with. I have to put this under a cut, because it got way too long, lol.

This doesn't take place in 2077, but rather in the timeline of the John Wick movies. In this AU, the Arasakas are members of the high table, the ultimate authority in the underworld. Rooney is an assassin and a notably good one. They have a reputation for being ghostlike. You rarely ever see them, and when you do, it's too late to change your fate. During their work as an assassin, Rooney and Yorinobu cross paths when Rooney returns from a job for the Arasaka family. Like in all universes, their first meeting does not go well, but the two eventually run into each other more and start to fall for each other. (Also, like in CP2077, Yorinobu is still committed to watching Arasaka burn.)

Because I really like the break-up (and the getting back together part of their relationship), I wanted to keep that as part of their story. So, at some point in the timeline, in order to protect Yorinobu from his father, Rooney breaks up with him and takes one last mission as an assassin. It nearly kills them, but they survive and complete it, essentially securing Yorinobu's safety and their retirement. (The retirement is kind of forced upon them by Arasaka. Araska fears that if Rooney stays active as an assassin that Yorinobu will be drawn back to them.)

After Yorinobu kills his dad like he does in the game, he and Adam Smasher set to work on dismantling Arasaka. That involves killing people, to which Smasher suggests bringing Rooney out of retirement. Yorinobu is against it at first, but eventually agrees, wanting to see Rooney again. Rooney's first meeting with Yorinobu and Smasher is a little rough as they're trying to put the past behind them. Rooney says they're done with that life, but they're way too interested in the job for someone who just wants to enjoy their retirement. Eventually, Rooney joins them in taking down Arasaka and repairs their relationship with Yorinobu. (After writing this out, I really want write something for this AU. 😭)

Anyway, for listening to me ramble, here is a very rough draft of an action scene with some unrealistic action during the early days of Yorinobu and Rooney's relationship (But do any of us really watch John Wick movies for realistic action, lol?):

THUD! One of the mafiosos falls to the ground with a loud thud, blood pooling around him. Who could have done that? Yorinobu knew it was not Smasher; Smasher prefers to make a mess of things-the more carnage, the better. The dead man's fellow mobsters back away from the man, guns pointed in different directions. “Who would come for you?” The Mafioso hisses as if Yorinobu would know. He doubts his father would send anyone after him, writing his son off as a lost cause.  “Fuck you.” Yorinobu spits, a glob of saliva and blood, in the mafioso's face.  The Mafioso smacks him across the face, leaving Yorinobu with a ringing sound in his ears. “Take care of them now!” The Mafioso growls, pulling out his pistol.  A dazed Yorinobu lifts his head, watching weakly as the mobsters spread across the room. Out of the corner of his left eye, he spots something in the shadows, a ghost-like figure. Stepping from the shadows, dressed in an all-black suit, Shepard appears, unseen by the rest except Yorinobu. In a blink of an eye, he catches a flash of silver in the light, before they swiftly drive the knife into an unsuspecting mafioso's back. With another quick motion, they pull the knife from the dead man, retreating into the shadows.  The mobsters turn towards their fallen friend, confirming that Yorinobu's ghost is real. The men shoot into the shadows, aiming for a specter no longer there. No wonder so many seem terrified of Shepard. You’ll never see them coming, and when you do, it is already too late.  Emerging on the other side, Shepard strikes quickly again. They kick the leg out from one of the mobsters, slicing his throat as he falls towards the ground. They twist the blade in their right hand, before throwing it at the other closest mafioso. The knife lands with a thunk in the man’s skull, collapsing backward. Before the other two still standing (along with his interrogator) can turn and fire, Shepard pulls out their silenced pistol, dropping both men. His interrogator tries to run back to Yorinobu, perhaps to use Yorinobu as a shield. But his fate was sealed the moment Shepard emerged from the shadows. They aim the pistol, taking the shot, their aim landing true.   Purposefully, Shepard strides toward him, holstering their gun. When they reach Yorinobu, Shepard kneels before him, taking his bruised and bloody face in their hands. “Yorinobu,” Their voice is quiet with a touch of concern as their eyes worriedly take in his injured state, “Can you hear me? Do you think you can walk? We need to leave before anyone else comes.”  “I think I can walk,” He says, Shepard sighing softly in relief, “but I will need help.” If even half of what people say about Shepard is true (and it seems true after their display), Yorinobu will get out of here alive. 

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - Lazy Morning Intimacy

So, who’s ready for an extra long serving of shameless fluff from the first draft of my fan novelization of Our Life: Beginnings & Always? My philosophy in writing this is if I can add some more fluffy cuddly moments, I absolutely will, and the Step 3 moment Reflection offers one such opportunity right at the very start before, well, those of you who have played this moment know what happens later.

Spoilers for those who have not played the Step 3 DLC! If you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read any further! If you don’t mind spoilery stuff, well, don’t let me stop you, but I highly, highly encourage you to play through the game before reading any of this.

As always, thanks go to @gb-patch for their wonderful game and their lovely feedback for my work, as well as everyone who likes, reblogs, and comments on these clips I’m posting here. You are all awesome.  💖

...

It wasn’t often that Jamie had the chance to enjoy breakfast at the Holden house. Ever since their parents decreed that they were ‘too old’ for sleepovers, she and Cove didn’t have many opportunities to enjoy that particular meal together, which made today a rare treat. It wasn’t especially fancy fare, but it was lovely to be able to spend time with her boyfriend almost as soon as she woke up. She was glad she impulsively asked if he wanted to have breakfast with her when they exchanged their usual good morning texts.

After a pleasant meal filled with light conversation and tasty food, Cove invited Jamie to retreat to his room to relax and let the lazy morning linger before any big activities began. That was, if they didn’t just decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. Neither of them had any plans in particular, with no prior commitments with friends, family, or work to distract them from just spending the day together. It wasn’t officially a date day, per say, or at least neither of them called it that yet. So far, they just decided to do whatever came to mind while enjoying each other’s company.

Of course, the first thing that came to Jamie’s mind was to cuddle with her boyfriend. When Cove sat down onto the bed, she didn’t hesitate to take a seat beside him, leaning into him. He hummed happily in approval and looped an arm around her to pull her in even closer.

A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as a new thought came to mind, and Jamie leaned in even closer. Cove raised an eyebrow at expression, only to yelp when she unexpectedly pushed her weight into him and tipped him back onto the bed. She fell along with him, giggling as they tumbled onto the mattress

Cove let out a chuckle of his own once he recovered from his surprise. “When I said we could relax, I didn’t mean going back to bed,” he said with a wry smile. Even still, he allowed her to nudge him gently back to the headboard so that they could both lounge comfortably on the bed properly with their heads resting on the pillows side by side. 

Jamie flashed Cove a satisfied grin before she snuggled up against his side, nuzzling her cheek against his as she basked in his gentle warmth. “You also said to make myself comfortable,” she teased, her eyes sparkling playfully as she rested her arm across his chest. “I’m very comfortable like this.”

Cove felt his heartbeat quicken, and he smiled back fondly at Jamie, nuzzling her cheek in return. “Me too,” he said softly.

Though maybe he was a little too comfortable.

Cove couldn’t help but be aware of the fact that they were both lying in his bed together. A prickling of nerves rose up that he quickly did his best to tamp down to not ruin the intimate moment they were sharing. It was fine, no big deal, he told himself. They were both fully dressed, on top of the sheets, and it was broad daylight. They cuddled plenty of times like this before on sofas and the ground. Heck, this was nothing compared to when they shared a bed when they were younger.

The flickering of nervousness didn’t escape Jamie’s notice. She softened her expression and reached up to gently run her fingers through her shy boyfriend’s hair. She had intended to steal a kiss or two and see where that would take them, but she decided that could wait until later. Just enjoying this moment with Cove was enough for her.

The touch was soothing, and Cove slowly started to relax as he leaned into Jamie. The anxious air that had threatened to pull him out of the moment gradually dissipated as her comforting warmth slowly settled in. Soon, he felt at ease enough to slip his arm back around her, which she happily used as her new pillow. He couldn’t help but smile at seeing the content expression on his partner’s face as she smiled softly back at him.

A comfortable silence washed over the pair as they simply enjoyed the quiet moment of intimacy. At some point, Jamie went from stroking Cove’s hair to toying with it. His ponytail limited her in how much she could card her fingers through his hair, but there were plenty of long locks to ripple between her fingers.

It wasn’t the first time Jamie got the impulse to play with her boyfriend’s hair. Even before he was officially - or even unofficially - her boyfriend, she couldn’t help but want to run her fingers through those pretty pale green strands. When they were younger, Cove would jokingly try to avoid her hands, but always ‘failed’ to escape in the end, allowing her to have her way. Sometimes she teased him back by pretending to give up, and he would always pout adorably, which she would immediately chase away with a satisfying ruffle of his hair.

Occasionally, Jamie would go beyond playing to actual styling. She was no professional, but it was fun to wind her boyfriend’s hair into a braid or two sometimes. Cove never minded, even if the braids rarely lasted that long after she was finished making them. It also didn’t escape her notice that he would sometimes shiver or let out an adorable pleasured little mumble when she raked her fingers along his scalp. It was an enjoyable experience for both of them, and sometimes she suspected that was one of the reasons why he let his hair grow as long as he did.

Jamie had no such grand designs now. Today she simply basked in the freedom to enjoy the feeling of his soft hair sliding between her fingers as she listened to the happy noises her partner occasionally let slip.

Although much more at ease, Cove couldn’t help the small traces of nervous energy that left him with the need to do something with his hands. He ran his thumb across her shoulder with the hand that was limited by Jamie resting on the upper part of his arm. With his freer hand, he decided to return the favor she paid to him and ran his fingers through her long deep blue hair, starting with stroking back her bangs before sliding his hand down along the entire length of her hair until he reached the ends at her hips. The feeling was soft and silky, and she sighed softly at the attention.

On impulse, Cove poked one of the small buns on top of his girlfriend’s head. Space buns were her preferred hairstyle of choice nowadays, and there was something satisfying about poking them that he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the feel of them, or the way the bunched up hair bounced when poked that did it, but most likely it was because of the amused looks Jamie gave him whenever he did. She wore one such expression now, and he couldn’t help but chuckle a bit before giving her bun another playful poke.

Entertained, Jamie let Cove have her way with her buns, poking and prodding them as he pleased. The potential for innuendo wasn’t lost on her, but she let it go unsaid. As fun as it would be to make him flustered by suggesting that he might enjoy playing with a different set of buns she had even more, she didn’t want to interrupt the light, playful moment.

Jamie would just save that little bit of wordplay for later, preferably when the mood was good enough that Cove might take her up on the invitation.

Despite the steamy thoughts that skirted through her mind, Jamie did her best to focus on enjoying the lazy moment between them. It was lovely to just share such casual intimacy with Cove.

Jamie wasn’t alone in trying to ignore her more hormonal urges. As much as Cove enjoyed playing with her hair, focusing on touching her as he did made it impossible for him to stop thinking about the fact that they were both lying on his bed together. He was keenly aware of the gentle warmth of her body pressed against him, how soft and inviting her pink lips looked as she smiled at him.

Eventually, Cove realized he needed something else to occupy his hands if he didn’t want to risk disrupting the peaceful moment. Shifting about a bit, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket. Although Jamie raised an eyebrow at that and at being displaced from her cozy spot when he moved around, she held no objections as he turned his phone on and busied himself with it. Instead, she simply readjusted her position to get comfortable once he was settled again.

Sifting through missed texts and emails, Cove soon managed to distract himself from the urges that ruffled his nerves and relaxed back into the moment. He spotted a number of texts he missed from his dad, and for a moment he wondered if everything was okay until he realized Cliff just sent him a bunch of images last night.

A warm smile graced his face as Cove slowly scrolled his way through the photographs, nostalgia washing over him. Each photo brought him back to the moment it was taken, allowing him to lose himself in the priceless memories he shared with his friends, family, and especially the special person he held so comfortably close at that very moment.

Some photos brought back sweet memories, others a little more on the bitter side of sweet, and then there were the funnier ones. One such silly photo seized Cove’s attention, and he couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped him.

The sound immediately snapped Jamie out of her relaxed stupor and brought her back to the present. She raised an eyebrow at Cove, but he failed to notice her questioning look, too preoccupied by whatever was on his phone’s screen.

“What’s so funny?” Jamie asked as she propped herself up on her arm to get a better look at his face and catch a glimpse of the phone’s screen.

Cove finally turned to look at Jamie, his eyes crinkled with mirth and a smirk playing on his lips. “Dad scanned some old photos,” he chuckled. “You know…”

Now that Jamie was no longer using his arm as a pillow, Cove was free to use it to draw a rectangle in the air. “Printed out ones,” he explained, “back from when I was little.” He waved his phone a bit with his other hand. “He texted it all to me last night, I guess. I’ve been checking them out.”

Jamie sat up completely, her dark blue eyes flying open wide. “You were looking at your kiddie photos and didn’t tell me?!” she gasped, almost scandalized at missing out on something so priceless.

Cove barely resisted the urge to chuckle, offering Jamie a bent smile as his eyes narrowed playfully. “I was gonna show you.” His gaze then slid away to his phone as his expression turned a little more hesitant. “I just wanted to look at it first to make sure there was nothing super embarrassing. You never know with my dad.”

His mouth pulled into a grimace as Cove could easily imagine all sorts of horrors his dad might have captured on film to unintentionally humiliate him until the end of time. “I mean… what if there’s a photo of me getting potty trained or something?”

Although Jamie empathized with his worries, she couldn’t help but giggle at the fraught expression Cove wore. “Yeah, that sounds like something your dad would do.”

Cove could only respond by clearing his throat nervously, his eyes skirting away from Jamie as he sat up as well. While he hadn’t come across any particularly humiliating photo of himself, he couldn’t quite shake the fear of what his dad’s well-meaning actions might have left for him to deal with this time.

Jamie offered her boyfriend a sympathetic smile before adding a slight bent to it. “Hey, how about this - if you let me look at your embarrassing baby photos, I’ll show you just as many of mine. My moms have plenty of them.”

The offer was tempting. Cove couldn’t help but wonder what sort of photos Jamie had in mind, but the price was just too steep. He merely chuckled awkwardly and shook his head as he pointedly kept his phone tilted away from her. She huffed and puffed out her cheeks in a mock pout at him for holding out on her, which elicited a genuine bout of laughter from him.

Once Cove got his mirth under control, he smiled at Jamie. “Anyway, before we forget, I was laughing ‘cause I came across a Halloween one from when I was eight. The year I was a zombie, remember?”

Jamie dropped her faux pout and nodded, her eyes lighting up eagerly. Cove shook his head at her excitement, a wry grin gracing his face as he finally offered the phone to her.

As Cove watched Jamie eagerly turn to his phone, he couldn’t help but shake his head again, this time at his kid self. “I never even liked zombies!” he said, a little baffled that he ever was so enthusiastic for such a costume. “All I wanted was to show off my new scar. And I needed to be something scary. I couldn’t be a normal person who had a scar, according to my eight-year-old mind.”

The photo displayed on the screen showed Cove from ten years in the past, and a pleasant wave of nostalgia washed over Jamie as she saw him the way he looked when they first met, minus the pink cast and plus a fair amount of makeup and fake blood. Little Cove posed for the camera with his fingers hooked like claws, his mouth open as though letting out what was probably supposed to be a fierce roar. She could easily remember the noises he made that night as he pretended to be a zombie on the hunt for brains. His hair looked even more wild and disheveled than it did after the most energetic day of play, going well with the tattered and ‘blood’ stained button up shirt he wore. His face was painted in gray down to his neck, marred with an array of fake scars that couldn’t compare to the real one on his arm.

Cove looked from Jamie to the phone and chuckled softly at the face his younger self pulled for the camera. “I was a little dork.”

Jamie eyed Cove at such self-depreciation before poking him on the nose. “You were a little cutie,” she insisted. “And now you’re a big cutie.”

Cove blinked at the playful action before blushing at the compliment. He had no words to reply to it except for a quiet, flustered chuckle as he rubbed his nose.

Jamie grinned at that reaction before turning back to the photo. As much as she enjoyed how adorable Cove looked while pretending to be a fierce monster, it was impossible to ignore the scar displayed so predominantly on his arm at that time. Her smile softened at the edges at the sight of such a large, jagged line of fresh skin that was such a deep and angry shade of red. The scar was a pale memory in the present, but back then it looked so painful, and at the time she found it hard not to worry about him and his comfort after his cast came off.

Still, Jamie refused to let that put a damper on the story and focused instead on just how much fun little Cove was having posing for the camera and remembering the way they played around with their costumes that night. She could vividly recall how she pretended to run away from him when he playfully growled that he wanted to eat her brains, and the memory made her smile grow stronger.

“Dad really wanted to be useful, as usual,” Cove said, bringing Jamie’s attention back to him in the present. Though he noticed the flicker of sadness that crossed her face and realized the reason for it, he was glad to see her perk up again just as quickly. “He came up with the idea of being an undead person. It was pretty good, huh?”

Jamie chuckled softly and nodded. “You had the best Halloween costume that year, hands down,” she said playfully. “I remember you getting lots of extra candy when adults realized the scar was real.” Her smile widened as she remembered just how jealous Lizzie had been at how much candy Cove got that year, especially since he only offered to share some of that extra candy with Jamie. “It must have been your greatest Halloween haul ever.”

Cove couldn’t help but chuckle as well as he thought back to that legendary candy haul as well. It took him a month to finish it all even with Jamie’s help.

Still, the topic of his scar brought his gaze back to the picture. Cove couldn’t help but compare the way it looked in the photo to its current appearance on his left arm. “I can’t believe how much larger my scar used to be,” he said quietly.

Jamie watched as Cove turned his focus to his arm with a soft smile on his face. He traced his fingers along the jagged line of pale flesh that remained with him even ten years on. It was an action that she had seen him do countless times, but it felt more significant in that moment.

A soft sigh escaped Cove, but his eyes and tone were playful. “Look at how tiny it is now.” He gave Jamie a look with big, pathetic eyes. “How am I gonna pretend to be tough without a big scar?”

It was a struggle for Jamie not to laugh at the expression Cove wore. “You better not do anything stupid to get a new scar,” she joked with a faux disapproving frown as she wagged a finger at him. “No matter how much you like them!”

Cove grinned back at Jamie. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Jamie said with a satisfied nod. “You’ve already got the coolest scar, no matter how small it gets.”

Cove felt his cheeks grow warm and his smile turned bashful. “Thanks.” He ducked his head away from Jamie, pleased with their joking exchange. Once again, his eyes drifted down to his scar as he continued to trace it.

“I really do like having this,” he admitted in a soft, shy voice. “Even if it is kind of little these days.”

Jamie’s expression softened as well, feeling as though Cove was sharing a big secret with her. She couldn’t help but feel happy to hear that he liked his scar despite whatever pain it must have caused him to get it. It was always wonderful whenever he opened up to her like this.

Cove glanced up at Jamie, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “I like yours, too.”

The unexpected compliment caught Jamie off guard, and heat rose in her cheeks, turning them pink. She couldn’t help but smile as she felt her chest flutter with butterflies. He never failed to think of her as well, especially since he knew that she was self-conscious of her own scars.

Unthinkingly, Jamie brought her hand up to her upper arm and traced some of the countless jagged little white lines that marred her pale skin. There were matching scars in the same place on her other arm, as well as her thighs and her chest. Unlike Cove, these scars were not the result of an accident, but her skin not being able to keep up with her sudden growth during puberty.

Back during her early teenage years when the stretch marks were fresh and an angry purplish-red, Jamie always kept them hidden. Puberty had been rough on her, dealing a blow to her self-esteem as well as her body, and being covered in so many scars left her feeling ugly even though she never once thought of Cove’s scar like that.

It took time for Jamie to accept her scars, and she knew that Cove was a big part of why. Seeing the way he took such quiet pride in his scar always made her question how she thought of hers. More than that, he always made her feel beautiful, and he was always the first to remind her  whenever she needed it. That was why she was no longer afraid to wear clothes that exposed her scars like she did now.

Jamie scooted in closer to Cove as she smiled adoringly at him, placing her hand on top of his. “Thank you, Cove.”

Cove turned back to face Jamie fully. He finally let go of his scar so that he could take her hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. He felt at peace with his scar and was happy to see the same reflected on her face as well. Their scars held such meaning to them despite coming from unhappy sources.

Jamie squeezed his hand back as she drifted even closer. “Could I touch your scar?”

Cove blinked, taken aback by the request. Usually, Jamie wasn’t shy about touching him without asking first, particularly someplace as innocent as his arm. Still, he quickly realized why she might hesitate to do that now and smiled gently at her as he nodded easily. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Jamie gave Cove’s hand one more squeeze before letting go of it. Lightly, she pressed her fingertips against the edges of his scar. With great care, she slowly ran her thumb along the entire length of it, following the jagged angles the old wound took. The pale flesh was rough when compared to the rest of his skin, which was soft, but with goosebumps rising quickly along his arm as she stroked his scar.

The touch, so delicate and gentle, left Cove feeling a bit lightheaded. Jamie’s touch always felt wonderful and often left him feeling butterflies, but somehow the feel of her paying such careful attention to his scar was particularly powerful. A choked breath escaped him and a wobbly smile played across his face as he lost himself in the feeling.

The dizzied smile Cove wore along with the light pink of his cheeks drew Jamie in with the urge to do more. She locked eyes with him, staring deep into his aquamarine eyes as she took a hold of his arm and raised it up towards her.

A quiet gasp escaped Cove when she realized what Jamie had in mind. He couldn’t look away from her dark blue eyes as she stared so intently into him even as she placed a soft kiss on the old wound that marked him. The feeling of her lips, warm and soft, pressed so tenderly against that particular place sent shivers up his spine, and he let out a tiny squeak.

Jamie smiled against Cove’s skin as she appreciated his adorable reaction, as well as the way he looked at her with overwhelming adoration. She kissed him again and again, tracing the entire length of his scar with her lips like she did with her fingers before.

It was impossible for Cove to stay still when Jamie was showing him such affection. He reached up with his free hand to touch her arm. With his thumb, he brushed aside the edge of her open sleeve, giving him better access to the countless little white lines marking her pale skin. The texture was interesting, feeling so similar yet so different from his own scar. Because of their size and number, he found his fingers constantly alternating between soft skin and rougher tissue. It was difficult to trace any one scar from start to finish like she did for him, so instead he sought out to touch every single one.

The touch was electric, and Jamie could feel her heartbeat speed up as Cove caressed her so lovingly. “Cove…”

Cove shivered again as Jamie murmured his name against his skin, setting off sparks that made his body burn pleasantly. It urged him to lean forward, his eyes gleaming with the fire she set ablaze inside him.

Jamie raised her head and instinctively matched his movement, drawing nearer to Cove as her eyes drifted closed. She felt his lips gently meet hers, and she melted into the tender kiss. She held a little more firmly onto his arm as she fell deeper into him, feeling like she might drown in the depths of her feelings for him.

Cove all too quickly lost himself in the moment and in Jamie. It felt so wonderful, so right to be her like this, to touch and kiss her. He loved her so much that it was almost overwhelming, but knowing that she loved him as well kept him grounded.

Eventually they finally drifted apart, breathless and dazed from the kiss, their faces flushed with heat. When Jamie opened her eyes, she saw Cove gazing back at her with his mesmerizing ocean blue eyes. The look he gave her was spellbinding, filled with so much love and adoration that made her heart hammer hard against her ribcage. It told her without words that the feelings he had for her were just as immense as hers were for him.

Cove leaned in again, this time resting his forehead gently against Jamie’s. With heavy lidded eyes, he simply enjoyed gazing deeply into her blue eyes that always reminded him of the night sky. No matter how many times he saw them, they always captivated him. He could lose himself in those beautiful eyes of hers.

The feeling of his warm breath tickling her skin made Jamie shiver a little, especially the way it brushed against her lips like the ghost of a kiss. With their heads touching, his hand on her arm and hers on his, she felt entirely entwined with Cove. It felt so right.

Time ceased to have any meaning in that moment as they gazed deeply into their partner’s eyes and drank in the closeness and warmth they shared. Seconds or minutes might have passed, but neither of them cared as they lost themselves in each other.

[luckhound]

— heavy burdens.

pairing.  kaeya/gender neutral reader

genre.  angst

description.  on an important anniversary, kaeya gets drunk off his ass, bonds with a fellow captain, and realizes some burdens can’t ever be set back down.

warnings.  spoilers for kaeya and diluc’s character stories. mentions of alcohol and a character (kaeya) being under the influence.

note.  four months later and i’ve finally finished this fic after writing it on and off for that whole time mskfjdks a big thank you to sierra, miya, and grace for reading over the previous drafts of this and giving me their honest thoughts, love you ladies <3

He hadn’t expected to get shitfaced when he had first stepped foot in the tavern. Honest.

His plan for the evening was as follows: Go to Angel’s Share, chat with patrons, share some laughs, learn some secrets, and see where the night goes. Only the information he gleaned would tell how it ended; with him stumbling back to his quarters for a night’s rest, or ruminating on how to dismantle schemes that enemies of Mondstadt were concocting in the shadows.

So, the usual. Nothing too noteworthy.

Then he happened to overhear a conversation on the way there.

The two civilians spoke in low, somber tones about how it has been exactly one year since Master Crepus’s death and his son Diluc’s subsequent departure from Mondstadt. How terrible, they mused as they shook their heads, that the new winery master hasn’t been heard from since. He must still be in mourning over his father.

Kaeya nearly stopped in the middle of the crowded street. Was today really the one-year anniversary of Master Crepus’s death? How had it managed to slip his mind? He’s been busy lately with a promising lead, true, but to think that he would forget...

Which, long story cut ruthlessly short, leads him to where he is now. Tuning out his tumultuous thoughts with the help of alcohol and secrets.

Upon entering the tavern to raucous cheers, he had flitted from table to table like the social butterfly he's purported to be. The usual suspects greeted him with varying levels of warmth, inviting him to sit and keep them company. Stable hands and bandits alike shared a drink with him, words spilling from their lips like the fine wine they supped on.

After some time, though, he grew tired of their monotonous days and banal gripes. So he retreated to the bar counter. As he nursed a Death After Noon, he kept an ear out, listening carefully even as he chatted with Charles between customers.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t heard anything juicy yet. So and so is complaining about his wife, while someone else is haranguing her boss, and another is celebrating their birthday. Dull and uninteresting.

Can you blame him for getting so deep in his cups? There’s nothing else to do on such a slow night.

“So this is where you decided to hide out. Colour me surprised.”

Kaeya notes the shadow falling over the counter moments before a familiar drawl reaches his ears. He tilts his head up, blinking furiously when his vision blurs. The drinks he's downed thus far—how many has it been? He lost count after five, how unlike him—have certainly reached his bloodstream.

You stand beside his stool, your lips thinned into an unimpressed line. Despite how inebriated he is, the relevant information he has on you flashes through his mind. A Knight of Favonius. Captain of the Intelligence Team. Once a company grade officer, then sergeant, lieutenant, before ascending to captain upon the retirement of your superior.

As admired as he is by most of Mondstadt, you’re among the minority who are far from his biggest fans. For good reason, he supposes. During your first meeting, he had congratulated you on your promotion, before going on to flippantly insult your old captain. You’ve hated him ever since.

Which is why he’s puzzled by you approaching him first—outside of headquarters, at that. Such a phenomenon is rare, like catching a crystalfly in your hands.

“Captain! Fancy seeing you here,” he greets, adopting a jovial tone. Then your words register in his addled mind. “‘Hide out’, you said? Whatever would I do that for?”

You prop a hand on your hip. “You didn’t make an appearance at the meeting today. Needless to say, the Dandelion Knight isn’t too impressed with you at the moment.” You appraise him, looking underwhelmed by what you see. Ouch. “Strange. You don’t seem terribly ill to me.”

Ah. That. Kaeya had wanted to investigate some curious rumours he’d heard around the city, so he made up a flimsy excuse to dodge the captain’s meeting held this morning. Grand Master Varka likely hadn’t batted an eye over it, but not Jean. She’ll have concerns.

He hums noncommittally. The thought of annoying his oldest ally never fails to bring a smirk to his lips, but he isn’t quite in the mood right now. “Is that so. You must be here to sternly tell me to clean up my act then.”

You scoff. “Surely you don’t need a second babysitter. No, I’m off-duty, so I’m here for the same reason everyone else is: to drink.”

“Hear, hear.” He lifts his tankard as if to toast to you, but the sudden momentum causes him to sway dangerously in his seat.

“Careful!” Eyes widening in alarm, you reach out to steady him. “Geez, Alberich. How many drinks have you had?”

The palm of your hand is warm where it sits on his shoulder; he can tell that even with his furs in the way. He almost leans into the touch but catches himself at the last second. How mortifying. He can just picture your horrified reaction to him drunkenly nuzzling up against you.

Almost falling off his seat in a crowded tavern, instinctively seeking out your slightest touch... He needs to get a hold of himself. Or find a way to halt the conversation here, so he can resume drinking by his lonesome.

“Not nearly enough,” he answers airily, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. You drop your hand to your side; he makes a point to not stare at it as you do. “Where’s your entourage? I’m surprised they aren't following dutifully behind you.”

“They’re my subordinates, not my entourage.” You shift awkwardly. “And they aren’t here. It may surprise you, but they have lives outside of the Intelligence Team. They can enjoy one evening without their captain breathing down their necks.”

He eyes you in amusement. “In that case, you should join me. I would welcome the company.” He finishes off his tankard, then motions to Charles for another drink. The bartender doesn’t even ask which one as he takes the pewter mug. He knows him well by now, after all.

Kaeya expects you to turn him down and find a seat elsewhere. Usually, such an invitation is enough to send you running for the hills. You lean a hip against the counter instead, as if settling in. “If I am not mistaken, you’re needed at headquarters tomorrow. I strongly advise you to call it a night, Captain.”

“Aww, are you worried about me, Captain?” He manages a grin at the scowl his reply elicits. “Don’t be. It won’t be the first time I stumble into work hungover. Certainly won’t be the last either.”

“How reassuring,” you say dryly.

“I aim to please.”

He perks up when Charles returns with a full tankard. The delectable taste of Death After Noon still sits on his tongue, warm and heady. He very much wants to experience it again. When he lifts the mug to his mouth, however, he misses the rim. He steadies the tankard before it empties itself onto his lap, but some of the wine drips down his chin, ruining his vest.

Thank goodness he isn’t drinking red wine. Every adult in Mondstadt knows red wine stains are notoriously difficult to clean. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good sip.

“Oh, for Barbatos’s sake.” That’s all the warning he gets before his drink is rudely snatched from his hand. He protests but can only watch helplessly as you bring it to your lips.

Then you proceed to down it.

His brows raise higher and higher the longer your throat bobs. He's never seen you drink with such gusto before. Shouldn’t you be gasping for breath by now? But no, you empty the tankard in a single go, then slam it on the counter (Charles makes a face, but wisely says nothing) and meet his gaze without flinching.

Wow, is all that his intoxicated mind can conjure up at the feat.

“There, all done. Now let’s go. I am walking you back.” Your voice is firm, brooking no argument. How captain-like of you. “Wouldn’t want Mondstadt’s illustrious Cavalry Captain to be found passed out in an alleyway tomorrow.”

On any other day, he’d be mildly irked by your stubbornness. But he did just spill his drink down his front like a newborn babe. No wonder you brought up his rank. In your eyes, his conduct must not befit that of a high-ranking knight. He doesn’t care what assumptions people form about him, never has, but tonight has been a bust anyway. Maybe it's best to call it quits.

Sighing theatrically, he rises to his feet. “All right, I know when I have been beaten. But don’t change your plans on my account. I can head to the barracks by myself just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” you say, “but letting you walk alone this late in your state would grate at my conscience. So would you stop talking for once, and let me take you home?”

You get what you want. Your words render him silent.

Home, you called the barracks. He supposes you consider that place your home. But is it his, truly?

He thinks of Khaenri’ah, nothing but a distant, bloody memory. He thinks of his father, and how in their final moments together, the man had stared through him like he wasn’t there. He thinks of the Dawn Winery, where he had spent several years causing mayhem. He thinks of Master Crepus, never dad, and a brother who doesn’t exist anymore.

No, the barracks aren’t his home. Maybe he’s never had one to begin with.

When he comes to, Kaeya registers you leading him in the direction of the tavern door, your hand on his shoulder blade. This quickly catches the attention of the patrons. They call out their goodbyes, some raising their tankards and others chuckling good-naturedly.

“Look at that! Our Cavalry Cap’n had too much to drink, eh?”

“What, are you tapping out already, Captain Kaeya?”

“Has to be escorted out by a fellow knight, no less!”

You wave over your shoulder. “Just doing my patriotic duty, that's all.”

Kaeya gives his audience an exaggerated wink (as well as he can with his one uncovered eye) followed by a lazy hand salute. His grin remains fixed in place until the door swings shut. The wooden barrier barely muffles the sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within.

Had it been that loud while he was inside? He hadn’t noticed.

He isn’t able to dwell on it for long, because you nudge him in the direction of headquarters. “Come on. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Let’s get to it.”

“Oh, very well. But only because you asked so nicely.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I know. I was being sarcastic.”

You nudge him harder, and he snickers under his breath as he walks.

This time of night, the cobblestone streets seem devoid of life. With the exception of Patton, who’s practically asleep standing up, the two of you don’t run into anyone. It's a stark change from how the city usually is, bright and bustling with crowds.

It suits him just fine, though. The crisp night air is sobering him up somewhat, the fog that had settled over his mind thinning. All too soon, he recalls everything he was trying to suppress.

Master Crepus. Diluc. His callousness and cruelty in forgetting them both.

In hindsight, he should have taken his mug back from you instead of just gaping like a fool. Sobriety is such a drag.

“You’re quiet,” you comment. You’re staring at him intently, your expression eerily similar to Timaeus’s when he is observing an alchemical reaction. It’s as if he is a specimen that you are keen on studying under a microscope.

He wants to scowl, to snap at you. “My apologies,” he says instead, as innocent as can be. “Were you waiting for me to strike up a conversation? Hold on a moment, let me think of a good topic...”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. It’s just, usually it’s impossible to get you to stop talking. The times I have seen you...indisposed”—buzzed as a bee, you undoubtedly mean—“that doesn’t change. You talk more, if anything.”

Curiously, your voice softens, an odd cadence colouring it. One he has not heard from you before, not directed at him at least. “I guess I’m just wondering if something is weighing on your mind. Is that what prompted you to drink so much tonight?”

By now, the two of you have walked down the stairway to the Knights of Favonius’s bulletin board. Of course, Hertha isn’t there this late to assign requests and bounties. The pieces of parchment pinned to the board flutter in the breeze. He stares at the sketch of a Ruin Guard, willing his sluggish mind to craft a suitable answer.

After a beat, his eye slides over to you. An impish grin curls at the corners of his mouth. “My, I had no idea that you watched my every move so closely. I’m flattered by the attention.”

Predictably, you sputter. “What even—that is not—you know what, if you want to dodge the question so badly, fine. We can just walk the rest of the way in silence.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

Although his words were said to fluster you into changing the subject, as you had correctly deduced, Kaeya means them. You have noticed him far more than he realized. As Captain of the Intelligence Team, it’s your job to be observant and keep tabs on others. He knows that. Still, it’s disconcerting to learn that you’ve had a close eye on him in particular.

He operates from the shadows for a reason; he can’t have you jeopardizing that by shining a light on him. Five months into your new position, and already you have proven yourself to be dangerous.

As you wished for, silence reigns as the two of you turn into an alley and approach two flights of stairs, leading to the center of the city. Kaeya resists pressing a hand against the nearest wall for balance. He had walked down a stairway unaided just moments ago, despite how unsteady he felt. Surely ascending some steps would prove to be easier.

Rather than focus on his feet, he looks up ahead. From his position, he can just barely glimpse the blades of a windmill, ever-turning against the dark backdrop of the night sky. He keeps his gaze there as he climbs, his boots scraping against stone.

He clears the first flight of stairs with little issue. See? Nothing to it.

Halfway up the second, Kaeya stumbles.

His surroundings tilt, blurring as he fumbles for balance. It’s a futile effort. Thanks to how inebriated he is, his limbs are too heavy and uncoordinated. The stone below rushes up to meet him.

Before his face can greet it, however, you catch him.

Your side moulds against his, a hand clasping his hip while the other carefully grasps at his spiked pauldron. His gloved hand covers yours reflexively as his racing heartbeat settles. He feels you stiffen at the touch, but you don't pull away. Neither does he.

For a moment, not a word is spoken between you both. The alley is filled only with the soft sound of breathing.

Then you click your tongue. “So much for heading back by yourself. You can barely keep your feet under you.” Your voice lilts with humour.

He knows this song and dance. It has been ingrained in him after all these months. You snark at him, he snarks back. Rinse and repeat. Although this is the first time he has heard levity in your tone; the first time it has been aimed at him, that is. He almost hadn’t thought you capable of it.

He straightens with a chuckle. “First at the tavern, and now in an alley. I just keep falling for you tonight, don’t I?”

You blink owlishly. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then a flustered expression crosses your features, before you compose yourself. “You are unbelievable.”

He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips twitch. “You would.”

Kaeya expects you to move away, so the two of you can resume walking, but you don’t. “Not that I mind having your hands on me, but...will you be letting go any time soon?”

“That depends.” A challenging glint appears in your eye. “Can you handle walking on your own? Or do you need me to cradle you the rest of the way to headquarters, like some damsel?”

He guffaws, taken off-guard by the retort. A reply escapes his loosened tongue before he can think better of it, “Archons, that sounded just like him.”

“Like who?”

“My brother.”

In the past, despite being underage, he was sometimes able to charm bartenders at Angel’s Share—new hires unaware of how to deal with him as of yet—into serving him drinks. Diluc would find him eventually, a disapproving twist to his mouth, and put a stop to it.

Back then, Kaeya was a lightweight and had to be supported back to headquarters. Diluc would scowl and roll his eyes the entire way, but there was still a softness in his gaze. His hands were strong, but careful; Kaeya knew that his brother would not let him fall. He could even be persuaded to join in when Kaeya began to sing, their off-key voices disturbing the silence of the night.

Come morning, while Kaeya nursed the inevitable headache and Jean nagged him about violating the Knights of Favonius Handbook, Diluc would snort. “Serves you right,” he’d say, then hand him a draught for curing hangovers.

Now Kaeya must weather the pain alone.

You tilt your head to the side, your gaze fixed on his. “I had no idea that you have a brother,” you say softly.

Had, he nearly corrects. But he has told you too much already.

This is why he is so careful when drinking in the company of others. Alcohol is a double-edged sword; as delectable as it is, it also loosens inhibitions. It’s what he relies on when charming information out of allies and adversaries alike, none of them the wiser of what they have given up.

How the tables have turned.

“Well, now you do.” A trace of bitterness enters his tone.

You eye him, quiet, before pulling back. You motion forward with your chin. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll never make it to headquarters at this pace.”

Relieved by the subject change, he listens. He makes a conscious effort to place one foot in front of the other, gaze trained on the remaining steps below. You stay at his side, closer than you were before. He can feel your hand hovering at the small of his back, ready to catch him should he trip once more, but he ignores it.

It won’t happen again. He’ll make sure of it.

The alley opens up to a view of the market district. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have long to enjoy the reprieve. The two of you turn right, away from the railing overlooking the main square, to climb two more flights of stairs. A left, and more stairways await.

By the time the Knights of Favonius Headquarters looms above you, Kaeya’s legs ache from the walk. He is very much looking forward to retiring to his quarters.

The knights stationed outside stiffen at the sight of you and Kaeya, standing at attention. They perform a salute in perfect unison. Do they rehearse that before every shift? Surely they must.

The guard on the left, with the glasses and unfortunate haircut, chirps, “Good evening, Captains! I hope you are doing well.” He appears wide awake despite the late hour.

At least the one on the right looks appropriately haggard. “Welcome back,” he grunts.

While Kaeya brushes past them with a nod of acknowledgement, eager to head inside, you stop. “Good evening, Athos, Porthos. Your shift ends soon, I hope? It can’t be terribly interesting, standing watch outside headquarters so late.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Captain!” Athos, as you had referred to him, says. “Guard duty may not be glamorous, but it is still important.”

“Much as I agree with the lad, I can’t bring myself to be so damn cheerful about it,” Porthos sighs, his words tinged with self-deprecation. “Must be ‘cause of these old bones.”

“That’s not true, Sir Porthos. Your bones aren’t that old!” the younger knight argues, prompting the older to shake his head with a chuckle.

“Athos isn’t wrong,” you add. “You are far more sprightly than most knights I know.”

“If that’s true, then Mondstadt is in trouble.”

Smiling and shaking your head, you finally pass by them, climbing the short steps to return to Kaeya's side. He lifts a brow as he pulls on one of the large oak doors, holding it open for you.

It’s almost comical how quickly your smile disappears. Your eyes narrow as you enter inside. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” he says breezily, following after you. The door falls closed behind you both with a loud, echoing thud. “Just that I didn’t know you were so chummy with the guards.”

It is blindingly bright inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, as if it isn’t nearing midnight. The sconces on the walls are lit up, as is the chandelier hanging in the center of the main hall. The two of you make your way towards the—joy of all joys—staircase. The barracks for knights are located on the second floor, and on the floor above that, separate quarters for the captains.

“I am off-duty right now. It’s not unprofessional for me to speak informally with them.”

His eye widens. “Why, I never said it was unprofessional, Captain.”

You grind your teeth so hard he can practically hear the enamel wearing away. “You implied it.” No, he didn’t. Your distaste for him has you imagining mockery where there is none. As if Kaeya has any room to judge someone for acting unprofessional.

“I did? That’s news to me.” Privately, he marvels at how easily he can agitate you. Him, no one else—he has observed you long enough to know your prickliness is reserved for him alone. Maybe that’s why he annoys you further instead of clearing up the many miscommunications that tend to occur. Not that you’ll believe him, even if he’s being completely honest.

You huff. “How the Dandelion Knight manages to put up with you, I’ll never know,” you mutter.

“How rude, Captain! Jean doesn’t put up with me, she considers me indispensable.”

You cut a look at him. “Yes, I’m sure she thought the same when you failed to show up to today’s meeting.”

“Must you bring that up again? I shudder just thinking of the lecture she’ll have ready for me in the morning. Perhaps my mysterious ailment should plague me for a little while longer...”

“Prolonging the inevitable will do you no favours.” You pause briefly, then add, “Ah, I almost forgot to mention. After the meeting, I ran into Inspector Eroch. He was waiting outside and asked after you. He seemed irked when I informed him that you were absent today.”

If Kaeya was not so skilled at masking his reactions, he would’ve perked up at that. He might have even stopped in his tracks or whipped his head around to look at you. But he knows better than to give himself away so obviously. He leisurely climbs the steps, his features revealing only vague interest. “Oh? Somehow I doubt he was upset out of concern for my wellbeing.”

You glance over. “I wouldn’t know. He did not say anything when I asked why he wanted to see you, or if I could pass on a message. He just brushed me off and left.”

“Don’t be hurt by his shameful conduct, Captain. I for one enjoy your company immensely.”

You ignore his thoughtful statement. “I thought that he might have had a prior engagement with you, which you missed due to being terribly ill.”

He shrugs. “If we did, I don’t recall it.”

That earns him another look, longer than the one before. He doesn’t flinch away from it, his expression remaining serene. Privately, he wonders what you know. Are you merely intrigued by what Inspector Eroch might want with him? Or are you more aware than you’re letting on?

After all, Eroch is the one Kaeya has been secretly investigating for the past year.

Looks like the inspector has caught on. About time. No doubt he wants to figure out just how much Kaeya knows—which is not much, unfortunately. He knows that Eroch has more than just Mondstadt’s best interests in mind; a Fatui spy like him would have just the opposite. But he is unsure what the man is up to, or who he even is.

He does, however, have an inkling. Several, even.

Inspector Eroch had been insistent on covering up the details of Master Crepus’s death. For the good of Mondstadt, he claimed, not wanting the citizenry to lose faith in the Knights of Favonius. Grand Master Varka had ultimately sided with him. It resulted in Diluc resigning his position and leaving the city a year ago.

Kaeya had kept an eye on the inspector after that. He knew there was more to the situation than just preserving Mondstadt’s trust in the Knights, and it had everything to do with the dangerous and evil power Master Crepus had harnessed. It was only a matter of figuring out what. And once he has all of the information...

Well, he knows what Diluc would do, once upon a time. Blazing with righteous fury, he’d take his findings to Grand Master Varka, insisting on Eroch’s arrest and expulsion from the Knights of Favonius. He would see it as retribution for how poorly his father’s death had been handled.

But Kaeya suffers from no delusions. Maybe he looked into Eroch because of Master Crepus. Maybe he wanted some kind of revenge for what happened. Maybe he yearned to atone for his past inaction. None of that means he has any heroic intentions.

If it serves his interests better, he won’t expose the inspector immediately. He will hoard his knowledge instead, keeping his cards close to his chest until it’s the right time to play them.

That is how he has always operated. Master Crepus's death and Diluc's departure have not changed that. For a brief, nonsensical moment, he wishes they had. Then common sense returns to him. A foolhardy sense of justice is of no use to him. He’ll leave that to Diluc.

While he extricates himself from his wayward thoughts, you turn away to clear the last few steps. “If it is important, surely he will try to approach you again,” you say.

“I look forward to it with bated breath.”

You scoff, rightfully skeptical, but don’t respond. Clearly, you are content to leave it at that.

He wonders at how easily you let the subject drop. Had you suspected something, you would have pushed to learn more, wouldn’t you? Now is as opportune a time as any; it’s late, he’s tired and drunk, and the both of you are alone. Does that make you oblivious, or an idiot, or crafty?

Having made it to the third floor, the two of you make your way down the hallway. His quarters are before your own, three doors on the left. He stops in front of his door, reaching into one of many hidden coat pockets to produce his key.

He glances at you. You have yet to leave for own your room. “You don’t have to hover at my side, you know,” he says with a touch of amusement. “I may be tipsy, but I am no longer in any danger of being harassed by ruffians or passing out in the streets. Unless you're secretly harbouring nefarious intentions towards me, Captain.”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” is your unruffled response.

Chuckling under his breath, he unlocks his door and lets it swing open wide. It’s dark inside, faint moonlight shining through the small window above his desk. Coupled with the sconces out in the hallway, however, there is enough light for him to stumble to his bedside without stubbing a single toe. He doesn’t bother to close the door on you; he has nothing to hide.

Kaeya knows what his quarters must look like to a stranger. They’re a mess, as if someone had searched them in a haste and not bothered to clean up afterward. The walls are bare, save for a map of Mondstadt that he’d hung up ages ago. Tomes of all sizes and loose leaves of parchment litter his oak desk, pushed up against a wall. A quill lies abandoned atop a half-finished note with ink drying on its nib. His closet door is cracked open, a discarded boot dissuading anyone from forcing it shut.

Yes, his quarters are a mess. But he knows exactly where everything is. Should someone actually attempt to search his things, he would know immediately. Not that they would find anything particularly damning. He isn’t foolish enough to leave important documents or sensitive information lying about—nothing he is unwilling to part with, anyway.

“Horrifying, but unsurprising,” he hears you mutter to yourself.

Kaeya doesn’t even consider slipping out of his ruined clothes or engaging you in further conversation. Now that he has made it back to his quarters, all he can think about is the sweet embrace of sleep. He sinks into his unmade bed, draping an arm over his face.

You continue to linger in the doorway. “You should change before you fall asleep.”

“Mhm.”

“You'll regret not doing so in the morning.”

“Uh-huh.” He still doesn’t move.

“Alberich. You stink of booze.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy, Captain. I’m impressed.”

You sigh, long and loud. He waits to hear the door close behind you, only for you to walk up to his bedside. Your steps are slow, hesitant yet purposeful. He stiffens, immediately on-guard, but fights his instincts in order to remain still. What are you planning?

He feels you grip his boot. Metal jingles as you undo the buckle. Then you pry it off.

He lifts his arm to peer up at you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You set his boot on the ground, then move on to the other one. “If you won’t change, you should at least take off your shoes. You’ll dirty your sheets otherwise.”

Oh, you make it so easy for him to twist everything you say into an innuendo. For once he resists the urge. “You forgot something,” he says instead. He wiggles his sock-clad foot at you. Just to see if you will do it.

You grimace, swatting his leg away. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be anywhere near those.”

So you say. But you’re taking his boots off for him out of your own volition. There is no need for you to do any of this. It’s not your duty to stop him from drinking himself into a stupor, or walk him back to headquarters unharmed, or all but tuck him into bed. Yet here you are.

What is it that you want? There have been plenty of opportunities for you to try and take advantage of his drunken state, but you have sidestepped every one. Frustration brews in his sternum.

“Do you do this for everyone who you hate?” he finds himself asking, tone purposely lighthearted.

You pause in your ministrations to stare at him. “What? I don't hate you.” At his disbelieving look, you insist, “I don’t. You have always been a pain to deal with, sure, but I never once felt that way.”

He smiles, unconvinced. “Not even when I insulted your dear old captain?”

“Insulted my... That was months ago, when we first met.” Despite your bewilderment, you take a moment to contemplate his question. “I was upset with you, yes. But now that I’ve had this position for some time...maybe your assessment wasn’t off. When I was lieutenant, I didn’t always see eye-to-eye with my captain. They were too set in their ways and scorned most criticism. I respected them, and still do, but I shouldn’t be ignorant of their faults.”

Your gaze meets his once more. “In a way, what you said that day led me to realize that. You weren’t badmouthing my captain; you didn’t have a vendetta or want to get a rise out of me. At least, I don’t think you did. You must have legitimate issues with their leadership, as a captain yourself.”

He watches you shrewdly. Your tone was even, your expression clear. He cannot detect any deception from you. Of course, that means little. Still, perhaps you’re telling the truth. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

A headache, newly formed, pounds at his temple. If he were more sober, he would be better equipped to handle such a revelation. He’ll have to come to a proper conclusion later.

You fiddle with the buckle on his remaining boot. “And what about you?”

“Hmm? What about me?”

“You have ample reason to look down on me. Most of the knights know that you aren’t just Cavalry Captain and Quartermaster. Your role is more important than that. Surely you would make a better...” you trail off, your jaw working silently.

Kaeya knows how that sentence ends. Surely you would make a better Captain of the Intelligence Team than me. It doesn’t come as a surprise.

Up until now, he thought he knew you well. You made it no secret you loathed him. You have never said so explicitly, but he has a talent for reading people. It’s a classic case of envy. He has seen it many times before. You compare yourself to him and find yourself wanting. It colours the way you interact with him; your words brusque, your gaze narrowed.

Not only did he insult your captain, but you consider him more capable than you. Your hatred makes sense. It’s predictable.

Or so he believed, until tonight.

“You know what, never mind. Forget I asked.” Uh-oh. Seems he took too long to respond. You busy yourself with unbuckling his boot, avoiding his eye.

If he were to be honest, there are many ways he could answer you. He thinks you are a better captain than your superior could ever hope to have been. He thinks you are a leader capable of inspiring undying loyalty in your officers. He thinks you have a deep, unflinching love for Mondstadt and its people. He thinks you constantly push yourself to greater heights, to the point it lights a fire in him as well.

He admits to none of those things, in the end.

“Give yourself some credit, Captain,” he murmurs. You glance over in surprise. He meets your gaze. For perhaps the first time in a while, he hopes his words sound sincere—not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he does. “I know the officers under your supervision think you’re a good leader. They wouldn’t want anyone else to take your place.” Certainly not someone like me.

Instead of reassuring you, however, his answer seems to do the opposite. You look frustrated. “That isn’t what I...” you trail off. You search his features, silent, before your brow furrows. “I can’t tell if you mean what you just said. Sometimes I’m not sure I ever can.”

He takes care not to allow his features to visibly harden. Of course you would doubt him, the one time he tries to be honest with you. What else did he expect? Maybe you don't hate him, maybe you never have, but that means little. You won’t ever fully trust him. To be fair, the feeling is mutual.

His mouth tastes unbearably bitter. It must be the wine.

“At this point, I’m willing to say just about anything if it’ll mean I can get some shut-eye.” He feels no satisfaction upon seeing your shoulders stiffen. He still manages to grin. “Well, Captain? Any other requests?”

“No,” you say. Then you tug off his boot with a brisk motion.

He stifles a yelp. “Hey, now! No need to be so rough.”

“My sincere apologies.” You set the boot down next to his other one, your lips thinned. “I should go. Wouldn’t want you to lose more sleep than you already have. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, after all.”

Talk about vindictive. Despite his irritation, he has to fight a smile. Knowing you, you’ll see it and take it the wrong way, as you usually do.

Having finished removing his boots, you turn and walk for the door without another word.

He’s struck with the odd urge to stop you. To reach out, take your hand in his, and tug you back. Not because he wants something from you, or needs to tell you something. He wishes you would stay a little longer, that’s all. Wants the silence to be filled by your voice instead of his thoughts.

Now he knows he’s had too much to drink. He’s contemplating such ridiculous things.

Before his addled mind can catch up and he can say something, apologize perhaps, you shut the door behind you. Your footsteps travel down the hallway, slightly hurried. The door to your quarters creaks open then closed.

He’s too late. It’s for the best.

Kaeya lies back and stares up at the ceiling. His vision swims, as if he’s adrift at sea. Closing his eye only makes it worse.

His mind pores over the events of the day. Investigating Eroch, remembering Master Crepus and Diluc, visiting the tavern, running into you. He feels restless, pulled in several directions at once.

With a harsh exhale, he rises to his feet and locks his door. Then he begins his nightly ritual.

His pauldron is first to go. It hits the floor with a dull noise. Then he peels off his gloves and tosses them on the desk. The burns on his hands have long since healed, but he still deals with numbness now and then. Not many know they even exist; he doesn’t want anyone taking advantage of a potential weakness. His eyepatch follows closely after.

He removes the Cryo Vision from his belt last. He stares at it, its blue glow washing over his scarred palm and turning his skin a sickly brown hue. If it’s been a year since Master Crepus’s death, it has been about a year since he was gifted a Vision as well. The sight of it has been a hard reminder ever since. Of how he’d won a difficult battle. Of how he’d finally revealed the truth. Of how he can never speak it again.

He tucks the Vision under his pillow, then collapses back into bed. An odd sensation fills him, as it does every time he completes this ritual. It’s like he has taken off every scrap of armour he has and foolishly exposed himself to danger, despite being alone in the stillness of his quarters.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling, he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him under.

It never does.

[baepsaesbae]

Office Hours

Pairing— Kim Namjoon x female reader

Genre— Smut, pwp, college au

Warnings— Inappropriate student/professor relationship, fingering, spanking, oral (male), dirty talk

Word count— ~3k

Summary— You visit your professor’s office hours to seek some help

A/N— Happy Birthday Namjoon! Fun fact: this story was the first time I ever attempted to write smut. Huge thank you to @taemaknae for making this pretty banner for me! Enjoy~

It’s just for the grade. Just for the grade. The words paced back and forth across your mind in the same chaotic motions that your own emotions took on. You made your way up the steps of the history hall, towards Professor Kim’s office. All your nerves were hyper aware of the surrounding and each step was deafening, threatening to pop your eardrums. The nervousness of it all flushed your cheeks with a warm glow that slowly grew into an uncontrollable forest fire.

And then it all climaxed as you stood at the closed door of Professor Kim’s office. Your heart skipped and sputtered and protested, but you vowed to push onward. It was just a meeting with a professor. No biggie, you tried to reassure yourself.

But the little angel on your right shoulder (the one you had always ignored up until now), whispered in your ear about how you got yourself into this predicament. Y/n, the social butterfly and socialite-to-be, was, admittedly, a flirt. Of course, this had always gotten you into predicaments that often left more to be desired, but they always resolved themselves. Besides, if you couldn’t concoct a solution for yourself, your parents always helped out their little. They both came from money so old the corners of the bills were fraying. But this time was different; this time you bit off more than you could chew. This time your parents wouldn’t be there to bail you out.

It all started the same way as always: with you being the ever flamboyant ___ and locking your eyes on the target of your next fling. Professor Kim Namjoon was a young professor, one with the worn down charm of an old bike, and he had just started teaching at your university. His hair was dark and fell in delicate waves, and his face was charmingly disheveled by the cute glasses he always wears. You knew since the first day of class that he would be your newest toy, and what’s more? You were tired of the boys your age.

Now, you were here, three months later, facing the door that led to the mess you created. Just for a grade. Your shaky hand knocked a nervous knock, one that begged the person on the other side to not open the door.

“Come in,” you heard his voice from the other side of the door.

God dammit why did I do this to myself? you thought. Although you had been quite flirty with Professor Kim ever since the semester started, any romantic interactions with him had all been just a fantasy. Well, romantic OR sexual interactions.

You put on your best smile in an attempt of exuding false confidence before opening the door. Once inside the office, you locked eyes with Professor Kim. He was wearing a light blue button up shirt with a cute tie that had a colorful paisley pattern. His black glasses were simple but only added to his charm. You began to wonder who chose the tie, whether it was him or maybe a significant other when your train of thought was interrupted.

“Ah, Miss ___. How are you? I assume you’re here to ask about the final paper? Please, sit down,” Professor Kim flashed you a smile. It was the type of smile that would have women of all ages swooning.

“Ah yes! I uh, have a rough draft that I wanted to review with you. If you have the time. I’m not sure if I’m addressing the prompt properly. I think I had an issue with that on the last essay,” you began to explain.

“Of course we can do that. Office hours are specifically set aside for students anyway. Whether that be for academic purposes or...other things…” his voice suddenly got lower and dropped off before he continued with his usual cadence, “Anywho, let’s take a look at your paper!”

You nodded and tried not to pay any mind to his odd remark. You chalked it up to him just not knowing how to end his sentence. You whipped out a printed rough draft and slid it over to Professor Kim. You found it more beneficial to make revisions on physical paper. You both sat in silence as he began to read your essay.

After what felt like the larger portion of a decade, Professor Kim’s eyes rose from the paper to meet yours, and they were murky with a mixture of amusement and something a bit darker. Your heart skipped as you scanned the dark brown pools for confirmation that what you had read in his eyes was a brewing lust.

“Miss ___, you have a fine craft for writing history papers don’t you?” his lips tugged at the corners into a charming half grin, “Have you written anyone’s papers for them for profit?”

You let out a breathy laugh that betrayed your false confidence, “Um, sir?”

He chuckled, “Just messing with ya. Lighten up, Miss ___.”

Again, you let out a breathy laugh and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, an annoying habit you had picked up when you were nervous (though it was rare anyone ever saw you nervous).

“S-sorry, sir,” you wanted to kick yourself for being such a wuss in front of him. I am ___, and I’m not supposed to lose my nerves!

Before you could collect your feelings, you felt your heart chase up your throat when Professor Kim suddenly leaned in and the distance between you two went from close to very close. You could smell the light musk of his cologne, a lovely scent that folded itself into a strange warmth in your chest.  Perhaps it was Aqua di Gio? A man of taste, you noted to yourself.

“You’re quite the social butterfly in lecture, and yet here you are stuttering,” he chuckled, his eyes betrayed nothing except a shadow of lust. You could almost see your own nestled desire in your reflection on his glasses. “Tell me, ___. Why are you really here? Surely, an excellent writer like yourself wouldn’t need my guidance on such an elementary paper?”

As if his direct confrontation wasn’t enough to send you into a frenzy, Namjoon’s hand shot out to tap the tip of your nose teasingly. You felt your lips part, in an unconscious expectation for him to run his fingers along them. He didn’t, but you could hear him chuckle again.

“I’m not quite sure,” you spoke, and as you continued to speak, you felt your confidence- your real confidence- sink back in, “I just thought it would be...entertaining. One for the books?” You even allowed a single eyebrow to make its way up, challenging him.

Professor Kim leaned in even closer, until his lips almost (but not quite) brushed your ear, “Go make sure the door is locked, Miss ___.” His breath was warm, and the musk of his cologne grew stronger, caressing you invitingly, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to reject it.

Slowly, you stood up from your seat to the door before turning the lock with a quick, deliberate movement. Your breath came in quick bursts, your legs pressed together tightly as you made your way back to the desk, and, for the first time since entering his office, your face slowly cracked into a slight, sly smile.

Professor Kim was leaning back in his chair, as if the situation hadn’t taken a turn at all. His calm demeanor put you on edge, especially when he beckoned you over to him with one finger. You arched a brow and smirked at his boldness, but nonetheless made your way to him. Raising the stakes, you plopped into his lap, straddling one of his thighs.

“Did I say sit down, Miss ___?” Professor Kim’s voice was deeper now, and the light aura about him had vanished.

You were taken by surprise and didn’t know how to react. Before you could reply, Professor Kim leaned in to whisper in your ear, “From now on, you'll do as you’re told, understand? Only good girls get rewarded.”

That sent chills down your spine. All the boys that you’ve been with before had tried to put on a dominant act. Some of them were more convincing than others, but none of them were as authentic as this. Your excitement grew and you became cheeky because of it.

“What if I wanna be a bad girl?” you teased, trying to place a kiss on Professor Kim’s neck.

“Then you can get the fuck out of my office,” Professor Kim said abruptly, and pushed you off his lap. Stumbling backwards before running into the desk, you were shocked again. You realized you had never met anyone like Kim Namjoon before, and he wasn’t going to put up with your antics. You were helplessly at his mercy, and you couldn’t be more turned on.

“Turn around and bend over,” Professor Kim commanded with a new edge to his voice. You did as you were told, thanking god that you chose to wear a seemingly innocent dress with red lacy underwear that day. From Namjoon’s angle, you were sure he could see everything. You heard Professor Kim click his tongue as he got up from his chair. He leaned over you and whispered into your ear, “You’re such a naughty thing. You think I don’t notice the skimpy outfits you wear to class? All the innocent little bends you do when you ‘accidentally’ drop something? I think I’m going to have to discipline you to act properly in class. I will not be disrespected in my own classroom, do you understand? Outside of class, however, you can act however you please.”

“Yes Professor Kim. Punish me however you like,” you decided to play along looking back at him with a smile. The smile didn’t last for long, as you felt a hard slap on your ass that stung like hell. You let out a loud gasp.

“I’m not playing around. I’ll be the one calling the shots, Miss ___. You can call me ‘Sir’ from now on, Professor Kim is too long, it’ll be hard to scream it out later,” Professor Kim landed another hard blow on your ass. You let out another whimper. Usually, you love getting your ass slapped, but no one has ever done it like this before. A few seconds pass another slap echoed throughout the room. The pain was starting to mix with pleasure.

“You didn’t answer me, Miss ___. I do not like being ignored,” Professor Kim admonished.

“I’m sorry, sir. Yes sir you will be calling the shots from now on,” you quickly responded. As good as the spanks were starting to feel, you would have preferred a more tender touch.

“Good girl. What do you want me to do now? You want me to touch you?” Professor Kim said with a deep sultry voice. His voice alone had you soaking through your panties. All you could do was whine in response and sway your hips in Namjoon’s direction. Namjoon chuckled at your reaction as he slipped off your panties.

“Already so wet for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. Is this what you’ve been wanting all semester?” Professor Kim questioned.

“Yes, oh my god yes. Please sir, just touch me already!” you couldn’t help but cry out; you were dying from the anticipation. Without warning, you felt your professor rubbing your clit in circular motions. The sensation was pleasurable but left you wanting more. Moaning, you tried to push your hips closer to Professor Kim.

“Oh you want more? This isn’t good enough?” Professor Kim teased, slipping a finger into you. You gasped at the feeling, as Professor Kim pumped in and out of you slowly. Professor Kim took note at how easily he slipped his finger inside, as you were dripping for him.

“Do you think you can handle two fingers, princess?” Professor Kim asked, keeping his pace agonizingly slow.

“Please! Please I need more,” you begged.

“What a greedy girl,” Professor Kim growled, adding another finger in. His pace quickened at an alarming rate, curling his fingers at just the right spot. With each pump, he hit your sweet spot and soon you was having a hard time keeping quiet. Your whimpers turned into moans that were mixed in with your increasing panting. Namjoon listened to you and took your rapid panting as a signal to go faster.

“Oh my fuck. Oh god. Yes, right there,” you moaned out as you were reaching your climax.

“Do you deserve to cum?” Professor Kim asked without slowing his pace.

“Yes sir PLEASE I’m gonna- ahhhhh,” your body jerked involuntarily as waves of pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. Despite your cries, Professor Kim kept up the same pace, helping you ride out your orgasm. Afterwards, Professor Kim helped you into his chair. You looked up innocently at him before sweetly saying, “I’m ready for round 2, sir.”

Namjoon, who stood over you in his towering stature, allowed his face to betray a grin of delight, and he leaned in, placing a hand on each side of the arm rests. You didn’t even flinch as Namjoon established a dominating stance, but rather you teasingly leaned in and pressed your lips to his neck, just below his jaw.

This motion elicited a soft growl from Namjoon, and he grabbed you by the arms and gently pulled you up from the chair. His face was beginning to lose the structure and reserved nature that it had been carefully maintaining, and his eyes became dark with greed and lust. He loosened his button up from its tucked state in his trousers before beginning to undo the belt.

You caught on quickly with what he was about to do, and you took a kneeling position on the carpet. You looked up at him expectantly with your signature devious smile, and you were surprised at how pleased he was when his eyes narrowed in response.

“Look at you, Miss ___. Keep smiling cos in a few minutes you won’t be,” he threatened, “I’m going to shut that dirty mouth of yours up. God, your lips were meant to do that weren’t they?” He reached down and roughly moved his thumb over your plump, parted lips.

Namjoon finished up undoing his trousers, and he finally said, “Open your mouth, Miss ___.”

You obeyed without a word this time, because for some reason you were so eager to see his face wrinkle in pleasure. There was this burning need to please him that you had never felt in any other lukewarm hookup you had previously. Namjoon gently released his erection, and you were left to admire its length. But before too long, he slipped into your open mouth, and you could feel its warmth and texture. Experience kicked in, and your hands moved expertly over his erection. Your tongue played at his tip, and you watched as his face that was always so charming yet reserved crumpled into one of sheer pleasure.

You couldn’t help but smile as your mouth moved along his cock, and Namjoon responded by growling through quick breaths, “God, your mouth feels so good, princess. Keep going.” His hand became entangled into your locks, and he held your hair up to ease your movements. The ego boost of knowing you had this effect on him was a catalyst for you to speed up.

In response, Professor Kim groaned under his breath, and as your pace picked up, his hips began rhythmically moving along with you, driving his erection deeper into your mouth. Your own heart was racing as you felt him nearing his climax, and your face was warm as you felt the wetness from your mouth spilling onto your chin. You felt Namjoon’s grip on your hair tighten as he began to cum, releasing himself into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, as you continued your motions, his body sending rhythmic waves from his release. Through his heavy breathing Namjoon managed to command you, “Swallow.” Finally, he pulled out of your mouth and leaned over you, giving you several light smacks on your cheeks. His lips found yours, and you felt his kisses all over your chin, neck, and cheeks before traveling back to your lips. In that moment, your desire almost toppled over because there wasn’t enough skin, enough spit, or enough of him.

You giggled under his lips, and closed your eyes from the pleasure of his light smacks again. Namjoon then stood up and fixed himself, as much as he could after receiving such marvelous head, and then addressed you again, in a more collected voice, “What do you say, Miss ___?”

“Thank you for cumming in my mouth, sir,” you responded promptly.

He arched an eyebrow, “Getting cheeky are we? If it weren’t for the end of my office hours I would’ve fucked you so hard it would knock that smile of yours off your pretty face.”

You pouted playfully, but there was a sense of urgency as you realized this might be all you would be getting from him, “Are you sure you can’t extend your hours?”

Namjoon smiled amusedly, his face carefully composed again. You knew then that he had the upper hand, and even though you were always used to being the flirt, the girl with men wrapped around Tiffany clad fingers, you yielded control to him.

“I believe your essay could use some extra guidance a different day,” he answered pointedly, “Oh, and Miss ___?”

“Yes, sir?” you perked up at his change in tone.

He tossed you a handkerchief from his trousers, “Clean up a little. We wouldn’t want our little secret out and about would we?”

Published September 11, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[yunhowhoitiss]

𝐜𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k+

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, fantasy au (?), slow burn, angst if you squint, ft co-worker jongho :)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You’re finally starting to make ends meet when you start working at your school’s local café, but the world is so full of surprises.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader panics a bit(?)

𝐚/𝐧: I came up with this at 4am a couple days ago so it’s not my proudest, but I felt bad just letting it sit in my drafts so here you go :) enjoy!

masterlist

The gentle smell of freshly baked pastries, accompanied by the stronger aroma of ground coffee beans, wafted through the comfy café. There was a constant chatter as customers scattered around the joint whilst waiting, disguising the soft hum coming from behind the coffee machine. Your face was out of sight, except your hair peeked out above the espresso machine where you were pouring a latté, entertaining yourself by decorating a small heart in the foam. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your eyes turned to soft crescents when soft wisps of your hair had fallen out of your bun and across the sides of your forehead. The steam floating from the cup caressed your hands as you picked up the mug along with an assortment of macaroons. 

“Order for Julie: four macaroons, a chai latté, and an espresso affogato, extra dry!” You announced through the coffee shop, turning a few heads. 

You made your way back to the station to continue other orders but stopped as you noticed something missing; you had run out of cinnamon to top off drinks. Your coworker ought to know where another carton would be, so you turned towards the kitchen to find him wrist-deep in bread dough. 

“Jongho, where are the extra containers of cinnamon again?”

“Oh, those are in the grey cabinet below the pastry display,” he smiled back, all the while kneading the dough. 

Flashing him an ‘ok’ sign, you headed back to the front of the shop. You hadn’t been working at the Crescent Café very long, but you happened to be a pretty fast learner, according to Jongho; you could make latte art before other trainees could even make a latte. Quickly getting back to work, you served a customer until something caught you eye whilst jotting down an order on your notepad; had the writing been on your wrist all day? It must just be something I wrote down earlier, you thought.

As the sun made its way towards the horizon, you returned to the comfort of your small apartment to freshen up, eat dinner, and momentarily forget your academic responsibilities— homework, ugh-- before heading to school again the next day. You entered you apartment with a relived sigh and threw your keys onto a nearby dresser, mumbling "I'm home" to nobody in particular. Too lazy to go to your room, you simply undressed as you walked towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. Note to self: clean that up later. 

The moment you stepped into the shower, your shoulders loosened as the hot water washed away your tension. The writing on your wrist caught your eye again. Scrutinizing the messy handwriting, you saw what seemed to be a shopping list. 

“Eggs, lucky charms, and aftershave,” you read aloud. 

Aftershave? I don’t use that. Could it be… you were lost thought, not noticing the warm steam filling the bathroom. You rubbed at your soapy skin frantically in an attempt to wash off the pen, to no avail. Lately, although rarely, you’d started to notice small bruises or random marks on your skin; you’d never seen writing, though. You briefly wondered if there was possibly another person causing this, but you only saw such things in movies or books... right? 

Your heart rate started to pick up, and a heavy sensation built up in your chest. It isn’t possible, it can’t be. The cramped space of your shower started to feel suffocating. Nearly slipping, you jumped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You got dressed in whatever shirt and sweats you found hanging around your bedroom. Was something wrong with you? Am I imagining things? I’m not going crazy, right?  Worrisome thoughts flooded your mind as you spiralled deeper into a panic. Calm down. Don’t skip to conclusions. You threw yourself onto the bed. In and out. It’s that simple, you consoled yourself. Slowly but surely, you felt your heart come to a rest. 

When you lifted your hand up above your head the writing was still there, unchanged. So you weren’t losing your mind. Could somebody else be the cause of this? Was someone else somehow writing on your skin? No, you felt stupid for even considering the thought; otherworldly things like that only happened in comics or movies. Nevertheless, it was the only possibility that made sense to you in the moment. You let your curiosity get the best of you, and paced towards the living room to grab a pen off the coffee table. On your right hand, you simply wrote "Hi," in hopes of eliciting some sort of response.

The following day proved to be a rather sunny, warm Monday, but you had to spend your time in a closed lecture hall. The cold-toned ceiling lights were much too bright for your liking, and the monotonous professor spouted information maybe only a handful of people were genuinely listening to. That morning, you had woken up to find the list on your wrist gone, leaving only your own message from the night before. You started to think you'd really had a hallucination of some sort. 

Half an hour into the lecture, you were already bored out of your mind and absentmindedly sketching intricate doodles on your notebook. I should just give up on biochemistry and become an artist, you mused to yourself. You remained focused on your art, while marks started to take shape on the back of your hand. Your soft eyes widened almost comically at the sight, and you shot a brief look to the people around you to make sure they hadn’t seen anything. Whipping your head back to your hand, you saw that the words stopped writing themselves, leaving a short message saying “Am I going nuts?” 

Wondering the same thing yourself, you jotted down a response below it: “I dunno, you tell me,” followed by a cheeky smiley face. If this really was real, you might as well make a good first impression. 

Weeks trickled into months as you made short exchanges with your newly discovered friend. Some nights you would write “good night” followed by a drawn heart, earning a sweet “sleep well” in return. You would frequently wake up to thoughtful words written on the palm of your hand, or you'd kindly ask your companion how they were doing when you had a quiet day at work. Even so, all you had learned about this person was their name, age, and that they were a student as well. Yunho was a twenty-one-year-old elementary education major with a minor in physiology-- he also worked as a dance teacher on weekends. You still didn’t know much about each other, so the messages never went further than greetings and simple conversations. 

Be that as it may, you liked it like that. Your relationship wasn’t complex; it felt comfortable and pure, and you didn’t want to change it.

Mellow spring afternoons at the café had always been your favourite. The wispy clouds in the sky were painted a buttery yellow by the slowly setting sun, and a steady stream of nearby students stopped by for coffee. Your new friend had sweetly noted "It's golden hour. Made me think of you," on your palm, leaving you in a bubbly mood. You had started your shift by drawing a heart on your wrist, hoping your secret companion would see it. 

You worked by the espresso machine as usual, humming to yourself as always. The bell rang, indicating that customers had arrived; it was a group of what seemed to be three guys and a girl. 

“We’ll be right with you!” you called. You turned towards the kitchen.  “Jongho, can you take their orders?” Silence. “Pretty please? I need to clean up my station.” you persisted. 

“Fine, yeah,” you heard your colleague grumble. 

As you tidied up behind the machine, you felt as though someone was watching you from the counter. You lifted your head curiously, meeting a pair of inquisitive doe eyes coloured a soft hazelnut brown. The warm eyes instantly turned into friendly half-moons as the boy smiled shyly upon being caught staring. You hurried back to cleaning up your station, hoping to hide the pink tint of your cheeks, but the red shade consuming your ears gave you away. 

Jongho handed you the cups for their orders and walked over to the pastry display. You got started on a hot chocolate and three iced americanos, getting back into your “barista brain,” as you liked to call it. After finishing the drinks, you called out "Three iced americanos, a hot chocolate, and two blueberry muffins!” 

You turned around to grab straws, and you overheard one of the guys say “I’ll grab ‘em, you guys can stay here.” You made your way back to the counter, looking up only to be met with the boy from earlier. Butterflies littered your stomach, fluttering up into your chest. “Oh, um, here are some straws,” you smiled gingerly.

“Thanks. Could I please get a sleeve as well?” he asked, “For my hot chocolate.”

“Of course!”

As you handed him the cardboard sleeve, his hands caught your eye. Not only were they the most beautiful hands you'd ever laid eyes on, but the boy had a heart drawn on the valley of skin between his left thumb and wrist, exactly where you had drawn one on your own hand just a while earlier. He seemed to recognize the message on your palm as well; a confused expression ghosted over his face. Gathering all your courage, you nodded towards his hand and did your best to form a coherent sentence. “That’s—”

“Your heart,” he interrupted, “Right?” 

You giggled softly in response, barely containing your excitement.

“Right,” you smiled down at your feet in an attempt to hide the bashful grin that pulled at your lips. A hand popped up in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. My name’s Yunho-- Oh, but you know that already, don’t you?” Yunho chuckled sheepishly. You looked up and slipped your hand into his, shaking it gently. His hands were warm, fingertips ever so soft.

“Nice to meet you too.”

[that-sw-writer]

No Second Chances

Summary: When addressing the Supreme Leader and Empress, it’s important to show them both respect.

Some must learn that lesson the hard way.

Word count: 1858

Warnings: slightly graphic descriptions of death

Notes: I started writing this ages ago and forgot about it, but today I finished it off so enjoy

You held your husband's arm as he escorted you to the Throne Room with him.

A few years ago you had been the First Order's Chancellor, handling all manners of diplomacy and interplanetary relations, and one day you had caught the eye of Commander Ren.  From there a secret romance had began, one which was only discovered after the... untimely death of Supreme Leader Snoke.

Once Kylo had taken control of the First Order you were free to be together - he was the ruler of the galaxy, nobody could tell him what he could and couldn't do.  Besides, it wasn't like you were a bad match for him.  You had the background and skill in politics that Kylo was lacking, plus you were familiar and admired by almost all the leaders of the First Order's allied planets.

This was why when your marriage was announced members of High Command were largely onboard with the idea, and even if they weren't who would dare say no to Kylo Ren?

Not long after you became Empress Ren, and there wasn't a day you looked back and regretted.  You and Kylo made the perfect pair for ruling - he would handle conquering the galaxy, and generally be off one place or another on missions, and you would handle the politics of it all, dealing with the grievances of your subjects.

Today was a rare day, you would be sat side by side in the Throne Room, when usually only one of you would be present at any given time.  Today you were meeting senators from a planet who were keen on allying themselves with the First Order - that required both of your presences.

You arrived outside the Throne Room to see Allegiant General Pryde waiting, and he greeted you both with a small bow, "Supreme Leader, Empress."

"Are they inside?"  Kylo asked, and Pryde nodded.

"They're awaiting your arrival."  That's just how you both liked it, having people waiting on you.

"Is there anything we should know, politically?"  You asked, always thinking it best to have some background on people before meeting with them.

The Allegiant General looked slightly hesitant before speaking, "They come from a largely male-dominated planet.  Very proud, and don't like to be told no, but their planet has mining resources that we desperately need.  Although the mines are currently run on slave labour."

You pursed your lips at this, and your husband was quick to sense your unease.  He dropped his arm to grab your hand and give it a small squeeze, "You're the Empress, they won't dare disrespect you, and once we have control we can make the necessary changes."  He assured you, and you looked up at him with a small smile.

"As if I'd ever allow them to disrespect me."  Your smile turned to a smirk, and he looked very satisfied with your answer.

"Good."  He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your temple before once again offering you his arm to take.

You graciously took Kylo's arm and the pair of you walked into the Throne room with a powerful, synchronised stride.

There were three men stood waiting in the room, and they watched as you and your husband made your way up the small flight of stairs that led to your two thrones - the pair of you looked so perfectly regal, you thought nobody would dare stand in your way.

Your husband showed you to your seat first, before taking his own.  The three gentlemen took to one knee when you were both seated, and rose when Kylo gave a simple motion of his hand.

"Thank you for taking the time to see us."  One of the men stepped forwards.  He was rather short, slightly overweight and had slicked back blonde hair.

"Usually my wife handles these matters alone, so I hope you have something to offer that is worth both of our time."

You loved watching Kylo instil fear in people, to see him exercise his power in such simple ways... it was hot.

"W-we do Supreme Leader."  The senator hastily spoke, "Our mines are currently producing double the resources of any other planet, and we wish to share them with you."

"And what would you gain from this exchange?"  You raised an eyebrow, drawing the men's attention for the first time since you had entered.  You'd be lying if you said their complete disregard for your presence hadn't irritated you - but it didn't show on your face.

"We request protection from the war, and sufficient financial compensation for our resources."  Despite you having asked the question, they were still only addressing Kylo, and your growing frustration was becoming evident.

You were also suspicious.  Between what Pryde had said about the slave labour, and their blatant disregard for you, you were getting a picture of the kind of operation these men were running.

"Before we agree to anything," you leant forward in your seat, "I'd like to ask a few questions about the operation you gentlemen run."  Your tone still feigned a polite nature.

"Of course."  The shorter man spoke, firstly refusing to use your title and secondly looking irritated just having to speak to you.

"I've heard you enforce slave labour, from where might I ask do you source your workforce?"

Silence befell the group as they exchanged glances, and they took too long to answer for Kylo's liking.

"My wife asked you a question, I suggest you answer it."  He snapped, and it jolted them into submission.

"We, uh- we employ the women of our planet to harvest the resources, but I assure you they are a fine workforce."  The spokesman for the group cleared his throat before speaking.  His hesitance to tell you the truth simply proved that he knew these actions were wrong in the eyes of others, they just didn't care.

"I don't doubt that they are a fine workforce."  You hummed, "considering that women are typically more competent than men."  You spoke with the purpose of upsetting the proud misogynists in front of you.  They seemed set in their ways, and if they truly wanted to be apart of the First Order, they would have to change.

"Excuse me?"  One of the senators who had been silent until now stepped forward.  He was of average height, well built, with a chiseled face.  It was a shame, he could be quite attractive if he wasn't such an asshole.

"You heard me."  You leaned forward in your seat, awaiting an answer.  Beside you, Kylo remained silent, he could tell what you were doing and was proud to see it.  He knew that this wasn't a moment to step on your toes, it would only cement the beliefs of these men that women were inferior.  "I find that women are more competent than men, and far better suited for ruling.  We are able to keep our heads straight when men tend to lose themselves to anger."  Of course this wasn't true in every case, but your husband would be the first to agree that it was certainly true in your marriage.

"Women on our planet are no good for ruling, in fact no woman is.  All they are good for is free labour and reproducing."  The man who had just addressed you sneered, and the shorter man who had initially been their spokesperson agreed with him.

"This is the way of our people."  He nodded.

"Well it won't be any longer."  You snapped, rising to your feet.  "If you want the protection of the First Order, you will implement an equal society.  Miners will be paid for their work, and you will draft both women and men to work there.  Women will have every right that you do, and they will be apart of your governing structure.  These are our terms, you can accept them, or you can make an enemy of us."

"You cannot just change our planet's way of life, it has been this way for centuries."  The shorter man spat, "We came here to speak with the Supreme Leader, not his whore."

Your mouth immediately opened to reprimand him for his words, but in a flash Kylo was up from his throne and stretching out his arm to slowly and painfully choke the man to his death.  He clawed at his throat, but there was no escaping from his retribution, and within moments his lifeless corpse fell to the ground.

His two compatriots stared in horror at the body, his killer still standing mere feet away, daring one of them to test him.

"As my wife said, these are our terms.  I would think very carefully before opening your mouth again."  He spoke calmly, which only made the whole exchange more terrifying for the remaining two senators.

"I-I'm sorry Supreme Leader, but we cannot simply uproot the belief system our planet relies on because you and your wife asked."  It was the man with the chiseled face who spoke, and his words were certainly bold.

"You mistake us, Senator."  He slowly said, walking closer to the man who had spoken.  He attempted to back away, but the Force firmly held him in place.  When Kylo's red Lightsaber blade erupted from his hilt, sheer terror filled his eyes as he attempted to struggle.  "We're not asking."  Kylo said in a low growl as he plunged the blade through the man's chest, subsequently leaving two bodies on the floor.

Kylo retracted his blade and walked back up to the thrones where you remained stood, having not flinched through the entire ordeal which had just taken place.  This wasn't the first time he had taken people's lives for disrespecting you, and you doubted it would be the last.

Now once again stood side by side, you addressed the final senator, who was cowering in fear for his life.

"And what will your fate be?"  You toyed with him, despite knowing that you and Kylo weren't now simply going to allow this man to backtrack of what had previously been said just to save his own skin.

"I a-apologise for their disrespect Supreme Leader, and Empress."  It only took two deaths for him to begin properly addressing you.  "Please let me travel back to my planet and I-I promise we'll implement the new policies immediately."  He continued to stumble over his words, barely able to speak.

"Unfortunately for you, we don't give second chances."  You firmly said, glancing up at Kylo who continued speaking.

"We suggest you go back to your planet and mobilise your military.  Either that, or prepare to surrender when our troops arrive to liberate the slave population on your world and take control by force; it will be a lot less messy if you do."  He stated, and you both walked down from your thrones and swept past the senator, making your way to the exit together.

Pryde was waiting to greet you when you left, the hope on his face immediately being dashed when he saw both of your expressions.

"I take it negotiations did not go to plan."  He sighed.

"Do they ever?"  You responded in a dry tone.

"Send someone to clean up in there, we have an army to mobilise."  Kylo then added, offering you his arm before you before stormed off down the corridor in synchronisation.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Come What May - Ned Kendall x Reader (Beautiful Kate)

Soulmate!AU

GIF CREDIT: X 

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

Author’s Note: For @severalmiles​‘s Mendo Nation Secret Santa - I know you’ve already read this, but I still wanted to tag you and thank you for letting me post it on here of New Year! 😁💜

Alright guys, this is it! Your last fic of 2020! And it’s my very first Soulmate!AU

I hope you enjoy - I got a little creative with the whole AU idea..!

@mandy23b​ - thank you so much for your Soulmate discussions with me, they were SO helpful 💕 Now you get to read mine! 😁

Disclaimer: Beautiful Kate characters not mine / it is my own Soulmate!AU idea / lyrics not mine / gif not mine

Premise: Soulmates are rare; and to have one you need to meet a specific set of criteria. Ned Kendall does. The Soulmate trend is known in the media as ‘New Years Day Phenomena’, and the end of year is far approaching... 

Words: 8380

Warnings: sexual content (but not too explicit) / Swearing / Drinking / AU (obviously!)

______

Never knew I could feel like this, Like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss; Every day I love you more and more.

Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Telling me to give you everything. Seasons may change, winter to spring; But I love you until the end of time.

Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day.

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste It all revolves around you.

And there's no mountain too high, No river too wide. Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side, Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide, But I love you Until the end of time.

Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day.

--

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before…

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi I can tell that it's going to be a long road I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

Don't read the last page But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or you're making mistakes I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you

---

The only noise in the room was the scratching of pen to paper, the clock ticking the seconds of the day away - and, as it was late evening, there were precious few of those left. The still burning cigarette lay regretfully forgotten in the ash tray as his writing hurried across the page. The final draft of his latest novel was due in a few weeks, but he was hardly bothered by that now - something was pulling his attention and it was infinitely more pressing. Ned ran a hand through his hair: it was like writing while possessed, that was the only way he could describe it. When he’d look back the morning after and hardly remember a word of it. And the writing calibre too… so far removed from the trashy smut he seemed to be pretty into these days. They sold copies; he wasn’t bothered by that… but this kind of blacked-out writing often made its way into novels of its own. His darker, more serious work; and hopefully not the kind that his family would be embarrassed reading. He flipped another page and continued - always the same… it always started the same. Soulmates. Usually Ned Kendall scoffed at such a word. It was banded around far too often, and made everyone far too excitable. But it was a rarity to actually have one. Someone out there hardcoded into you, someone made just for you. But he’d heard the news reports - the ‘miracle’ of it all. Seeing the same person all your life; compelled to do everything you could to make them real by any medium necessary. Until you finally found them. It was known as the New Year’s Day Phenomena - because all the reports of this ever happening around the world occurred on New Year’s Day. Everyone seemed to find each other on this magical clock strikes midnight evening. New Year, New Beginnings. The beginning of forever, it seemed. Ned Kendall was sceptical. This wasn’t like those soulmate universes he’d read before, countdown clocks embedded in your skin… timer running out when you met, or first words exchanged tattooed on your wrist… In those universes everyone had a soulmate. In the world he was living in, they were rare. And when a new couple appeared, they were treated like celebrities. The problem was, ever since he could remember, Ned had dreamed of the same woman. At first she scared him, she haunted him, like she was there in his veins and he couldn’t get her out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he covered her with other women, no matter how many times he thought they might be the one and would laugh in the face of the whole notion of a Soulmate, these relationships always fell apart. And she was always there in the back of his head. Even when Ned was sleeping with them, it was her he got flashes of. It was almost like she was real, like if he imagined hard enough, he could reach out and touch her… and yet she always remained just out of his grasp. So he wrote her. Ned poured her into every single one of his novels, somewhere. Even if she was a bit part character with no dialogue, her image was there. She had been his main character a few times: when he got this urge, as he had right now, and a force he couldn’t explain compelled him to write her in such a way. She was the worst muse he’d ever had. And what Ned Kendall hated most of all was that he was falling for her. And hard - for this past few months she’d been nearly his every waking thought. Pages and pages, and reams and reams of writing covered his apartment and it was all her. And what scared him most was the year was ending. It was nearly New Year. He’d spoken quietly with Sally about this a few times. Because he didn’t want to believe it, because it felt crazy and Ned needed her to set him straight. To let him know that he was crazy, because Sally definitely would. Instead she looked at him, amazed, and then laughed: “Oh my god, Ned… Do you… Do you have a Soulmate?” “Sally, stop, it’s not funny!” “You! Part of New Year’s Day Phenomena!?” She cleared her throat, trying to act serious as she apologised, “Of course the most disbelieving person in the world on Soulmates would have one…” “This is so stupid. There’s no way, I’m just a writer and she’s…” “Ned. I know you’re just a writer - but all the tells are there. Aren’t you excited? You’re going to meet the person you’re meant to be with. And you know what she looks like already… Finding her will be so easy..!” He exhaled, tipping his head and body back to look at the sky; “What if I don’t like her-!?” “What part of Soulmates don’t you get, you were made for each other!” “What if she doesn’t like me?” Sally sighed, “Then she’s crazy.” “With how fucked up my life’s been?” “Geez…” She shook her head at him, and placed her hand over his, “Just give her a chance… Ned. Whoever she is.” He quirked his eyebrow at her, with a smile, “It doesn’t exactly sound like I’m going to have a choice-!”

 Usually the holiday didn’t mean a thing to him, it was just another year. Maybe he’d go to a bar, swallow all his sorrow with an expensive tab and take someone home. But something was changing. It wasn’t just the way she looked anymore; he was so used to flashes of her body, her face, her smile, those pretty eyes, the kind of person who - if Ned was totally honest - had walked straight out of his fantasy. But he was starting to get a feel for her personality and the way she sounded; her laugh, her voice, the way she flirted, her tells when she was shy or bending the truth just a little. And the closer the end of the year was, the stronger her presence became: now when he dreamed her he could feel her touch, how it felt to hold her, to run his fingers through her hair… He didn’t even know her name, but Ned knew what it felt like to pin her beneath him, heartbeat flush with his… He shook that thought away and dropped his pen, leaning back in his chair. This was all getting a little too much. This woman was driving him insane. Ned swallowed hard, and looked to the clock. He had but one conclusion for the whole thing, and how much it all scared him. He was exhibiting every sign of a crazy person, so utterly paranoid and obsessed with the thought of finding his ‘Soulmate’. What if she was just a muse his thoughts had dreamed up? What if she didn’t even exist…? Was it all too real for that? Could Ned bear to find out the truth. But Ned had all the tells; even when whining ‘give me a breaaak’ as previous girlfriends had forced him to watch these ‘romantic’ interviews, he’d been listening. And this was what happened, everything got stronger and you became more fixated with them until you finally found them. 31st December into January 1st. 

He couldn’t risk it; Ned just couldn’t risk the excitement that rushed through him becoming anguish and devastation. Ned Kendall would be staying in this New Year’s Eve. He didn’t even want to stay up to welcome in the New Year.

***

Soulmates - wasn’t that everyone’s dream? To find the one person they were destined to be with. You had always found the prospect to be exciting whenever you’d heard talk of it. Every time those interviews came up on TV - you believed in the idea of pre-destined partners and kindred spirits… two halves of a whole, before you’d become aware that you had your own. And you still believed in that notion even for people that didn’t have visions like yours. Afterall, didn’t most people end up with that one person. How could that not have hinted at something meant to be? Yours was just a little clearer than everyone else’s. You knew who that person would be. Even if you didn’t know the how, or the when, or the where… or even the why you? At first you hadn’t even really put two and two together, his was simply a face that had occurred to you in dreams. But one that you had latched onto and interested you. Intelligent, mischievous blue eyes, a little smirk that hinted at exactly what he was thinking, dark curls that you just wanted to run your fingers through, his cheek bones were accented but he wasn’t overly skinny. He had one of those faces that told a story, and every so often when you’d get flashes of him you could see all those troubled emotions. He must have been a fan of dark colours; at least, that’s always what he was wearing… but you liked that, because it just brought out the blue in his eyes even more. And that was what you focused on most when you drew him. Your apartment and your artist’s studio were covered in drawings, paintings, sketches of pieces of a man you’d never known. And you really meant pieces; sometimes you would just get his hands, the kind of motions as if he were explaining something to you (and he was left-handed, by the way he held a pen) you might get nothing else, but you knew they belonged to him. At first he was simply a muse, and your best friend used to laugh - when you said you had no idea how he popped into your head - that you must have just been drawing your perfect man. You couldn’t say she was that far off, but you could have done something similar without the need for his image in your head… and it was the emotional depth of the pieces that had you wondering exactly who he was. Maybe he was a face you knew, maybe he lived around here or you’d seen him on your travels to work - and yet when you started actively looking for him, he was still nowhere to be found. You weren’t one to dare to hope to believe in him being your Soulmate. Your clientele always asked about the works, but none were for sale. Sometimes you thought you’d put them up in the hope that someone would recognise him, and tell you who he was. Or that he might just up and walk in here one day: like he truly had just walked out of your dreams. But you always liked having the familiarity of his presence around, and drawing him just came so naturally to you. There was a particular centre piece - almost life-size - of him sitting at a desk. A vision; with the light pouring through the window behind him and hitting all his features just right. He was adsorbed in the papers in front of him, all handwritten; you wondered if they were letters - perhaps love letters. You liked to imagine that they were. That either he was writing them, or reading those words from the heart of the person who loved him the most. You got visions of him pouring over paper like this often, and he always looked so relaxed… it was when he looked his best to you. When you thought he most looked like himself; if you even knew what that meant. How could you know? Even when you felt like you did. Whenever clients asked who he was, and why he was so special (after you’d told them the piece wasn’t for sale) you would always give a bashful laugh and look to the painting: “Oh, I… I don’t know. I just dream about him. He comes to me in dreams…” Almost all of them got wide-eyed and then turned to you - knowing the stories everyone was becoming obsessed with - “A Soulmate!?” You would always shrug, because you simply didn’t know. “Well, perhaps. But I don’t think so.” Besides, you knew as well as they all did - you had to more than just envision your Soulmate. You should be able to feel them, to know their touch, to hear their voice. This man had been coming to you in dreams day and night, and you’d never got anything physical from him - just his body. Whether in still images or kinetic energy. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time for anything more, or maybe you were just insane for believing that something so rare could really happen to you.

 As this year started to trail off, things began to change. And it made you too excited - you made him your every waking thought - because somehow that heightened the experience. And sometimes you weren’t all that sure these dreams were dreams; waking up surrounded by sketching paper and drawings you hadn’t ever remembered doing yourself. All of this guy… and sometimes a little more risqué than you’d ever display. Sitting there trying to recall the why - were you having sex dreams about him now? You knew sometimes you felt him pinning your wrists back, how he’d bite his lip and the distinctive way he called you a ‘good girl’. You knew how it felt to entwine your fingers with his now, and the warmth of his body as he embraced you. Sometimes you would get his distinct scent and you’d spent far more time than you’d ever care to admit in department stores trying to find whatever brand of cologne he used, to no avail. His voice really got you though, that beautiful Australian twang had just a touch of way out there - not a natural city boy. You realised you were quickly falling in love with him. And you hoped against hope that this wasn’t just your mind overthinking it, or playing tricks on you. That this was the real deal. That whoever this man was, he was really your Soulmate. And perhaps, with New Year fast approaching - this would be the year you met him. Still, sitting over a cup of coffee with your friend, in front of yet another painting you were mid-way through, you voiced your concerns. She only rolled her eyes, “Girl! Have you seen your face-! LOOK how happy you are!” “But, shit-! What if they’ve all been right?! What if he is my Soulmate!? Am I crazy, tell me I’m crazy!?” “Girl. He’s EVERYWHERE in all your artwork. No, you aren’t. We gotta FIND this guy.” “But what if I’m wrong!?” There was something scary about the whole thing too, and how foolish you’d feel if you were so sure that you’d find him, and it turned out this wasn’t what you felt it was. “Stop thinking you’re wrong, and start thinking about HOW you’re going to find him. It’s all New Year’s right!? You gotta be out there looking! You’ve gotta take fate into your own hands.” She pulled out her phone, “I’m going to find out where all the big parties are - with the way you draw him, I’m sure he’d be up for getting into some trouble at one of those.” She had a point, he didn’t exactly look like the stay at home with a cup of tea type. Maybe he’d stay at home for other reasons though… You felt a gentle heat stir in your stomach on that thought alone and had to curse yourself. “...What if he doesn’t like me? Or… I don’t like him.” “You’re worrying again!” She looked up from her phone when you didn’t respond; you were starting to look a little disheartened as you stared at the floor, fingertips tapping your knees. She wasn’t about to let you spiral on something that was so exciting, and so important. New Year was just around the corner and she was determined to make sure that you got the opportunity to meet this guy, and have the best night of your life. “He’s a looker, I’ll give him that…” She raised her eyes back to your painting and then around the room, making you turn back, smile on your face at how right she was, “but if this Soulmate of yours doesn’t treat you right after all this, I’m gonna kick his ASS!”  

***

It was the week of New Year and you almost couldn’t sleep these days. You’d spent most of the holiday with your family, but you just couldn’t ever get comfortable. Couldn’t ever shake the feeling that something huge was coming. This felt bigger than just your brain playing tricks on you though, it felt like your body and soul were being dragged towards a force that you had no way of resisting. And there was no way you even wanted to fight it, you just let it carry you. Heck, you knew that you’d spent most of your time distracted, and were glad that everyone else was so relaxed and you didn’t have a client deadline to adhere to, because if you thought you were being driven crazy by him before… When you were able to quiet everything for just a moment and slow the world down to concentrate, you began to formulate a plan. No-one had ever been specific enough on whether it was New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day, or that funny moment of Midnight when a New Year officially came. Your friend had the good idea of scouring New Year’s parties - if it was meant to happen you weren’t going to find him cooped up in your house, that was for sure. And you had the little list she’d painstakingly laid out with a walking route, so you caught all the bars in the most populous area of town. But you still had no real idea of how this was going to work; would it be like a chance encounter? Would neither of you have any idea until you finally beheld each other for the first time? So your aimless wandering would still lead you to him - just like fate? Or would this feeling inside you that kept building just guide you straight to him - like a homing beacon that only got stronger as you got nearer? You didn’t know. And you wondered how he was feeling, wherever he was in the world right now. Was he just across town? Was he elsewhere in the same country? Was he halfway around the world..? The only thing you hoped, was that he was just as excited as you were to finally meet. To finally find the person you belonged with. You’d got it wrong plenty of times before… so you had to admit, you were ready to get it right. 

  ***

It was gone 11pm on December 31st and Ned Kendall was still sitting at home slow sipping a drink, finding it surprisingly easy to ignore that nagging feeling in the back of his head. Whoever she was, she wouldn’t meet him tonight and - in his opinion - she’d be a lot better for it. Why the hell had whatever it was that decided to allocate people Soulmates, decided to stick this poor woman with him. ‘She musta done something really wrong somewhere along the line!’ Ned took another sip. If she was out there looking for him, she would be disappointed, Ned knew; but she could move on. In fact he wasn’t even sure how that worked… had anyone ever ignored this call before? Did the bond just break if he did? No-one had ever talked about that… His phone buzzed, and at first Ned thought it was an ignorable text, but it was a call. And it was from his editor. He’d finished his master draft by now, and he’d let his editor know he was ready to hand it in, but Ned had said there was no rush and he’d simply drop it in next time he passed the office. Besides, it wasn’t due until mid-January, so he was ahead of schedule. ‘What the hell…?’ Knowing he couldn’t exactly not pick up, Ned answered. “Hello?” “Yo. Ned, I’m in town! Get the fuck down to Campari’s now, and give me your draft.” Ned glanced at the clock again, sounding a little incensed; “On New Year’s Eve?!” “YES. NOW.” “But-” “No buts, except yours, get it down here, N O W.” “Are you fucking-” What was the rush? There was surely no need for this? Okay, so his editor wanted the manuscript in person, fine, but it was New Year. Everyone had better things to be doing than worrying about work! Ned sighed, knowing that arguing would get him nowhere, given how persistent his editor was; “Okay…” “Okay! See you soon!” Ned groaned as he hung up and ran his hands through his hair; looked like he wasn’t about to get away with staying in all night after all. He stood and picked up his manuscript. How likely was it this thing was about to get lost in a bar somewhere-!? At least he had copies. Ned was determined to keep his eyes on nothing and no-one for too long; just drop the draft with his editor and get out of there. No loitering. No chance for this Soulmate thing to come off. Although the second he stepped out of his apartment the uneasy feeling he’d been able to keep at bay up until now hit him full force. “Aw man…” Ned shuddered, as if some invisible presence was watching him. He could do this… He could do this and still save this poor woman from the fate of him. He rushed to the bar, and although it was crowded, his editor was looking for him and waved him over. Ned didn’t trail his eyeline anywhere else and almost immediately dumped the manuscript on the bar. “Couldn’t you have waited like 2 days!?” “Nah, I was in town, thought it’d be easier to get a head start on all the deadlines in case of revisions.” “Man, I dunno, Mike… In the middle of a bar on New Year’s Eve?!” “It’s okay!” Mike produced a case from beside him and tapped it, “I promise it’ll be safe; I’m not even drinking a lot.” “Well on your head be it, I have copies!” “It’s safe!” Ned held his hands up – whatever - and backed away from the bar, ready to take his leave. “Uh, no! Ned, stay, have a drink it’s almost midnight!” He was painfully aware of this fact and didn’t need reminding. “I’d rather not-” Mike yanked him back to a bar stool, flagging the bar tender down for Ned’s favourite brand of whisky; “What are you so desperate to leave for?! What else is there to do in the city tonight? You got someone waiting at home or something?” “Not exactly.” Ned kept his eyes on his drink as he sipped, disgruntled. The uneasy feeling was pushing down on him like a ton of bricks and he wished he’d told Mike to fuck off and stayed back at home where he felt safe from this. Or made up any lie really; that he was celebrating with Sally somewhere… Why didn’t he think about that!? The countdown to midnight came and went, and Ned felt this one was just as unimportant as all the others. He didn’t even count the numbers as everyone else yelled them. But as the clock struck 12 Ned downed the rest of his drink, placing it decisively on the bar as everyone cheered. He turned to Mike as everything began to lull into friends hugging and lovers kissing: “Can I go now?” Mike huffed, arms folded. “Wow. You’re a real kill joy, I thought you loved a good party?” “Yeah, New Year never really stuck. Thanks, though. Enjoy reading!” “Thanks Ned, I will! Happy New Year!” Ned smiled but didn’t really mean it, just glad to be leaving. He scooted out of the bar and into the street, where everyone now seemed to be spilling. ‘Thank god I can go home and breathe now. What a waste of time.’ It wasn’t so easy to hurry home, however, as the crowds of people outside were mostly still - either watching the fireworks now adorning the sky, or couples sharing their New Year’s kisses, or groups going from bar to bar… and those who, just like him, were heading home. And - as much as he despised having to be out - Ned was politely navigating these people. As he looked at them now, he couldn’t help but shake his head. What was so great about New Year anyway? In his experience he’d never had one that particularly stood out against any of the others. It was all just days blending into days. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kept walking slowly through the crowds of people, smiling to himself at the ridiculousness of it all. But it wasn’t until far too late that he realised the uneasy feeling had left him completely. So really Ned should have been jumping about in the street for joy that he was finally rid of it, only this time as he looked up to dodge around some more people watching the bright colours crackle across the sky, he froze. Standing on the other side of the square, one eye on the fireworks and every so often looking around herself, was the woman from inside his head. Someone yelled a New Year’s greeting at her, and she became distracted by them, laughing and calling back with a sweet smile. Ned wanted to make a break for it, but he couldn’t, almost like he was rooted to the spot: his mouth went dry and his heart began racing. He felt a million things; unbridled joy the likes of which he didn’t think he’d ever felt in his life, he felt sick, fearful, that dread from before panged in him for just a minute at the knowledge that any second she was bound to look his way and her life would be over… She turned back to the fireworks, via sweeping the crowd once more and Ned knew she’d spotted him by the way she immediately froze as he had. But she’d missed him because she was looking at the sky by the time this happened. He watched her swallow hard, and say something to herself. Ned wondered if she was feeling all this emotion as he was; and he definitely saw the fear cross her face as for a moment she turned sheet white, before she blinked and turned herself slowly back to him. When his eyes locked with yours Ned Kendall felt his breath leave him - and he struggled to take a new one. He thought he knew what love felt like; he’d fallen in it before. But that feeling suddenly ran through his body multiplied exponentially. Your lips parted, and you smiled gently. How long had you been waiting for this moment? Even before you’d figured out he was your Soulmate… you’d been waiting for the man who was staring at you from across the square to walk into your life since you’d first brought him to life on paper. And suddenly there he was. Real.   

***  

Ned blinked hard to snap himself out of the trance before, looking both ways to check he wasn’t about to crash into anyone, he took a deep breath (that it hurt slightly to take) and crossed to you. He was taller than you’d expected, though you didn’t really have that much comparison or frame of reference. Built exactly like you saw him in your head, and - apparently as customary - his shirt was very dark navy, top few buttons undone; as if he wasn’t already pretty easy on the eye. And you realised that you were about to find the answer to the biggest mystery of all: what his name was.

He stopped just in front of you, not exactly sure how close he should get. If you were both having the same sort of visions, then there was already a comfortable level of familiarity you should have with each other. And yet, this was the first time you were meeting. Which was the most appropriate? He immediately laughed, scratching the back of his head and then running a hand through those curls. You paid attention to this, to how large his hands really were; you’d not really got a good idea of that in images either. How your hands were going to look so tiny in his. “I guess you’re her… The girl of my dreams.” And you weren’t sure if he meant that literally or, just because he’d been dreaming about you the way you had him. You blushed gently, but he smiled sincerely, “Oh. Well. I’m Ned Kendall and this is really awkward-!” You giggled a little, responding in kind, “I’m Y/N. This is amazing - you’re… you’re real!” Ned too chuckled, and his eyes traced your body, damn near respectfully, as if he was checking that you were every bit as faultless as he remembered you. This was beyond something like a fantasy come to life: “You are too… I’ve written you for so long and you’re standing right here.” You gasped gently, “Oh, you’re a writer?!”  Clearly you’d never heard of him. Ned wasn’t sure he wasn’t actually glad of that, now he could guide your reading a little! Introduce you to his best work first. His nod was fairly confident, although his smile was a little bashful, “Yeah. And you…?” You rummaged around in your bag for a moment, and produced a fairly small sketchbook. It wasn’t that you thought you’d forget what he looked like, but almost that you could prove to him this was meant to be. You flicked through the pages to one of your favourites, even with how quick it was and turned it around to him. “I’m an artist.” He held his hand out, blue eyes wide and curious, “May I?” You nodded, relinquishing it to him, and Ned began to scroll through your work. Drawings they might have been, but it was just like looking in a mirror. “Wow… I’m as in your head as you’re in mine, huh?” “If you’d ever set foot in my gallery then…” You trailed off, “Wait, if you write - about me - then?” “Oh, yeah, you’re- you’re out there on bookshelves right now.” He shut your sketchbook and handed it back over, “You’re… an incredible artist.” You immediately blushed, “I mean I wish I’d have read your work before now. So then I could return the compliment. But now my visions make sense. You’re not… looking at love letters, you’re writing… novels.” He nodded slowly, but grinned, “Love letters is romantic though - and I could do that. If that’s what you wanted!” You laughed, that sound he’d heard so often but now got to experience in real life, “I’m… somewhat of an idealistic romantic. And I guess you can tell that by the way I’ve been looking for you all evening.” Ned didn’t dare tell you that his notion was the exact opposite, “Well. We found each other. Exactly like they say in all those interviews.” “Yes!” Then your eyes widened too, “YES! Oh my goodness, it’s just- it’s just like they say-! That’s crazy-! This is really happening and… it’s all true!” That excitement was back on your face, and Ned found it unbelievably adorable. His head tilted, and you caught that mischievous glint in his eyes: the one you liked so much. You wondered what was coming. His teeth sank into his bottom lip for a second as he mulled his question over, eyes flicking to your lips; “Well I feel like this could be too soon, but if we’re Soulmates then… I don’t know about you but, I kinda… I feel like I know you.” You nodded, absolutely knowing exactly what he was feeling; in fact, you were literally the only person in the world who knew precisely what he was talking about right now. “And I’d like to kiss?” Ned watched your expression change to intrigue, from fairly soft to sly, your eyes narrowed and you almost gave him a smirk. “Well, I’m glad one of us voiced it first.” Ned was curious, that wasn’t an expression he’d ever seen from you in his dreams, you were always happy sure, but this smile was new to him. Even when his visions were at their sexiest this wasn’t a look on your face. He realised there was still so much to learn; but with the rush that almost-smirk made him feel, he knew he was looking forward to learning. Ned didn’t move particularly slow, but he supposed you’d both been waiting for this for roughly the same amount of time, arms sliding around your waist he pulled your body into his, leaning down and closing his eyes to capture your lips. He already knew what you looked like: now he wanted to experience you for the first time. The taste of your kiss was exquisite and he didn’t even notice liquor; heck you really had been out here trying to find him all night. There was the faint hint of something - but he thought that might just be your lip balm. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling through his curls and both of you made the same hum. Synergy, perhaps? He wasn’t exactly sure if there was a *click* and the world stopped spinning and this weird feeling went away - why did the people on TV never talk about the important things? He wondered if the kiss was so good because you were his Soulmate, or because in reality he really had been waiting so long for this. Ned’s tongue ran yours teasingly and you weren’t about to let him be the only playful one here; drawing him closer and carding your nails over his scalp; Ned shivered. And all he could think for a moment was kissing you like this with you beneath him in the sheets - where he could trail these kisses all over your body. To hear more than just a gentle hum out of you. The kiss was certainly confident - and you supposed neither of you had to hold back; there was no need to ask where this was going. You knew exactly where this was going - to the end of the world. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a keen rush of excitement through you. This was beyond finally finding someone; this was finding the someone. But his lips were soft, and he was gentle even when he was playful. You wondered what Ned Kendall was thinking; and you wondered a lot of other things too - you’d certainly need to pick up a novel or two of his… You wanted to know him. You wanted him to know you, better than you knew yourself. There was no thought in your head of slowing down. You didn’t have to think like that anymore. You both pulled back, taking deep breaths. The fireworks were still going, and the illuminated colours on his face highlighted all those smooth lines and those cheekbones that you loved drawing so much. Much better in person… You bit your lips together, savouring the feeling of his still on them. You were a little flushed, but your eyes were bright as you looked back at him - loving that confident little smile on his face. Ned had been the first one to voice the kiss, and you wondered if he would mind you voicing taking this further than that. What he might think of you for doing so. As if you were moving too fast? There was only one way to find out, and you mirrored the smile you saw; “Whaaat if we did more than just kiss?” Then, to make sure you explained why you’d be the kind of person to jump into bed with a man you’d just met (because you certainly weren’t that type and didn’t want to give that impression.) - “Ned, I feel like I already know you better than if we’d been on a bunch of dates.” Your eyes were almost pleading him, “I would never normally do this but… this isn’t normal. Is it? I just- Of course this feels right, but it feels so right. I have never felt like this and even though I know why… I want to follow what I feel. And I… I want you.” There were a few seconds pause as his bright blue eyes looked between yours, but there was absolutely no hesitation in his gaze. He was perfectly happy with following your suggestion. In fact, Ned chuckled a little as he nodded; “Ha, funnily enough I was just heading home. And we would literally only have to walk.” He waved in a vague direction. You couldn’t help but grin, so he had been in the city all along, “Sounds perfect!” Ned held his hand out for yours and you couldn’t help but eagerly take it, then wrap yourself around his arm. This seemed a little crazy and reckless, even if he was The One. But it was a New Year, that old ‘new beginnings’ cliche. And you’d found yours - why not get a little reckless? Ned couldn’t help but look at you as he began walking you back to his apartment, he liked you already. After all the worrying he’d done to Sally, Ned saw he’d needn’t have done any of it. But part of him couldn’t believe that you were up for this already. As you walked plenty of people also heading home from their New Year’s parties wished you a good night, and yelled holiday greetings. From couples who looked seriously loved up, to groups of drunk friends spilling all over the street, to couples who looks a little nervous to be together - Ned would reckon they were as new as you. And yet, also realised that it was highly unlikely any of them were what the two of you were - and certainly didn’t realise what they were witnessing. There was no neon sign. No giant arrow to say ‘They’re Soulmates!’, not another person on earth knew you’d met up tonight - even if you’d both talked about each other before… Ned held your hand a little tighter; no-one was taking you from him now - that only made you snuggle a little more into his arm. Suddenly he smirked in realisation; ‘Holy shit, this is going to be a normal New Year’s for me… A normal night out!’ His eyes flicked to you, ‘I’m gonna end up with a gorgeous woman in my bed, only this one is destined to stay.’

 ***

As you entered the lobby of his apartment building your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest. You’d never felt desire like this before, but you also felt so nervous. There were still so many ‘what ifs’ and you were supposed to spend the rest of your lives together. What if Ned didn’t like what he saw, what if you didn’t? What if when you told him all about you, he pushed you away… What if he had so many secrets, one that matched the haunted look on his face you saw once too often in your dreams. You shook the thought away - you couldn’t think like that. One step at a time. You could worry about your forever in the morning, right now you kinda wanted him to shove you against the back of the lift; to hell with making it to his bed. He weaved you through those leaving the penthouse parties, carrying their heels and half-finished bottles of champagne. Shaking his head as he pushed the elevator button. “Typical New Year, huh?” “I guess not for us.” He laughed, watching them shriek as they stumbled over each other. “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to making this a typical New Year.” You giggled, “Me either. But hopefully I won’t only find you at midnight next year.” His eyes flicked to yours, “Whatever’s meant to be.” You both laughed at the shared joke as the elevator pinged and more leavers spilled out. Ned dragged you in and pressed the button to his floor. The doors slid closed and, as the lift began moving, you were left in the quiet at last. He closed the gap between you; grabbing your chin between his thumb and his index finger Ned kissed you again. This one far harsher than the first, and you squeaked in surprise as he did push you against the wall. Oh, okay, this was going to go just the way you wanted it. And be far better than any fantasy. Ned’s hands roamed your body, and up into your hair as the kisses became hot, passionate, teasing. Every so often his touch caused you to groan into it, and you could feel him smirk - at least that gave you a good gauge of what he might like. Mind you, you were probably helping him on that front also. By the time the elevator slowed to a stop at his floor you were already halfway through the buttons on his shirt. He was reluctant to release you, and yet eager to get you back to his place, and lacing his fingers with yours once more, Ned ran you down the corridor. You couldn’t help but laugh - this felt so teenage romance, the same rush, the same quick whirlwind of no patience. Of wanting everything to happen right then and there. A little too excited Ned had to fumble with the keys a few times to actually get in, but once the door was open it was closed just as fast. His shirt didn’t take long to find the floor as once again his lips found yours. You ran your fingers over his warm, supple skin and received a few delightful hums of your own to keep. Your clothes didn’t take long to find the floor either, as he guided you back towards the bedroom, and you both left a trail. Your body threaded with his - and dare you say perfectly? - and your nervousness wore off. Only excitement remained, and the feeling that this could only be right. This was fate. It had pulled you together, and now you were getting your first opportunity to be one. Ned entwined your fingers, head tilted, he searched your face. He had all the time in the world to get to know you, to get to know your body, to be so in tune with you that all he could ever give you was pleasure. That might take a little bit of time - but it started tonight. And skin to skin, your body beneath his, Ned already knew you were gorgeous, and he was going to get lost in you. You’d found your ideal weight - that old joke of ‘him on top of you’ - but as you let your eyes glide down his body you noticed his chest was awash with freckles, and you wanted to kiss every single one of them before the night was through. Ned’s exploration of your form didn’t last too long, right now he only wanted to be inside you - and the desperation of it was his only thought. He had time, he’d apologise and he’d do you right, just not right now. He was compelled otherwise, and you didn’t seem to mind that - possibly because you were feeling the same thing. Damn Soulmates... Ned nearly chuckled, but was happy he could at least pull delightfully sinful sighs and moans from you as he tested that you were ready for him. As he pushed into you Ned realised that he was still looking into your eyes. Normally by now he’d have turned his bed mate over. But you… you he wanted to see, wanted to watch your emotional responses as they crossed your face. It’d never been like this… not with any girl. But here he was, and Ned actually wanted to look into your eyes… If he wasn’t careful, he’d be spilling I Love You’s before he was ready.  

***  

Ned woke naturally to the sunlight streaming through the window. Glancing at the clock, he was glad it wasn’t really that late in the day. His arm was still around your bare waist and he pulled you closer to him, you moaned gently still not awake and cuddled yourself into his warmth as he kissed your shoulder. With his free hand Ned moved locks of hair out of your face and lay there quietly admiring you. How many times had you had sex last night? It all felt like a weird (magically induced) blur. So, he’d just call it innumerable, with a smug little smirk. Eventually you stirred, and you appreciated how much you were going to enjoy this when you woke up looking into his pretty blue eyes and realised that he wasn’t just a dream. Ned would never be just a vision in your head ever again. You couldn’t help but pull him into a delicate morning kiss. Sighing blissfully, you stretched your body out, propping yourself up on the pillows and smiling at him, your body ached a little - but it was a sweet ache and you didn’t mind too much at all. You spoke softly, almost dreamily, as you continued to stare into those beautiful eyes: “I know you’re made for me. And that I would feel like this no matter what, but… I’m glad he’s you. In my wildest dreams I didn’t ever think he’d be like you.” Somehow he was not only your Soulmate - the person you really had no choice but to be with; and you wouldn’t have thought that would happen if you weren’t at least compatible - Ned was still ticking all your boxes.  And you could threaten easily that you loved him for it. Ned bit his lips together, even though he’d been smiling. He still needed to confess to you, he wasn’t sure he could put you through this without beginning on the right foot. Even if it took a while to confide the whole truth, you had to know. He sighed gently, fingertips stroking down your back; “Look I’m not perfect, and you have a lot to learn and I kinda want to apologise in advance… if we’re really meant to be Soulmates. If this is really… THAT.” You tilted your head slightly, but all you did was smile mysteriously; “Well… so do you. But we’ll get though it together. We’re meant to, right?” You took his other hand, and kissed all his knuckles, and then his fingertips, “You’re not going to scare me away, Ned Kendall.” Besides, you’d seen what your future held. You wondered how much you should keep to yourself… you wondered how much he’d seen himself. How much Ned already knew without realising… diamonds and wearing white… You chose to believe these things could come true. Your time together could still only be measured in hours, but you already wanted these things with him. He chuckled, running his thumb over your lips, “I guess. But I do have one request. Unlike all those other Soulmates out there that share our fate… Can we please not go public with this thing?” At the look on your face Ned changed his track, “Not yet. I’m kinda ‘A Big Deal’.” You found that understandable, as a writer people knew his name and his work. You weren’t sure you wanted the world to know that you were part of the New Year’s Day Phenomena either. But it would be a little hard not to tell some people about it - your best friend already knew. And if your clientele saw him kicking around your gallery… You nodded in agreement, “Well Mr. Big Deal, I can’t wait to read... about me.” Ned continued to stroke his fingers down your back, with a smirk, as he rolled onto his side pressing his lips to yours, you accepted his kiss and stole another: “Well, I want to see how you draw me… and maybe I could pose for you. Like Rose and Jack.” You couldn’t help but scoff, before cackling, “Holy shit, a Titanic reference? I can’t believe you’d do that-!” “Terrible, I know. You’ll have to get used to this.” He grinned, affording you another kiss. “Mmm.” You hummed in agreement, “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.” You looped your arms around his neck and let Ned pull you back on top of him, tangling your bodies together once more as you continued to deepen your kisses.

Right now it might only have been hours, but you could both see your future, soon it would be days, months, years… And maybe eventually you’d tell the world, and join all the Soulmates that came before you. Or perhaps you’d stay quiet, and just smirk at each other knowingly every time you stood and watched the New Year’s fireworks, or as another couple made the announcement on TV. Whatever it would be, it would be a joint decision. Once you were both ready. For now, you had the whole world in front of you. And you had to learn each other’s. But you couldn’t wait to explore together. Good and bad; and perhaps there was a lot in both your pasts… but you were Soulmates and now bound together by a force bigger than both of you. You would make it through. You weren’t sure you were going to give Ned Kendall the choice either way. And he certainly wouldn’t be giving you one. You belonged to each other now.

---

Thank you!!! Thank you for reading the final fic of 2020! Here’s to 2021! 🎉

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

every time I remember you, I regret not writing to you more often. So, here I am again. There are so many things on my mind ... but as I am typing, I know one thing I can start with, or more like dedicate this whole letter to. I think it's a good time to write everything down here and now – to you. It’s  personal, I hope no one I know ever find this, the chances are zero, but even if, it doesn’t matter anyways. So, it will be a long letter, you’re warned!

It started in fall, one and a half years ago, when I was at a friends place. She had invited some friends over to hang out in the evening. Another friend of a friend was also coming, he wasn’t there yet and I didn’t know him, just his name from stories. So we were sitting in the room, playing something as he also arrives. The moment he entered the room, I knew. Normally I don’t „sense“ the energy someone brings or something like that, but in this moment, I just felt I would like him. I felt we would get along. And I wasn’t wrong.

We all continued to play and chat, I didn’t talk to him directly that evening, just within the group. One time someone said something and he responded, the answer he gave, the words he chose and how he pronounced them were exactly what I was thinking and how I would’ve responded myself. There is this quote I read some months ago, it’s about how with so many people on this planet, it’s no coincidence that others are thinking the same, but it’s still a fucking wonder to meet someone who says what you are thinking. But I didn’t know this quote back then, I just sat there and felt it’s immensity. The next really weird thing, well, one of the thirst things I noticed probably, he looked and spoke just like him. With him I mean the one (and to this day still the only) person I was „lovestroke“ for. Really, if you could see them both, you wouldn’t believe it either. With the difference, that he was not only cuter, but also the fact that he was in that room and friends with my friends, what meant that we two might actually have things in common. Kind of unreal! For a moment I also thought: How come y’all never introduced us? Isn’t it obvious we are alike, or might be? How could we know our friends for years but our paths never crossed? Of course everyone only has their lives on mind, but this just crossed my mind in an egocentric flash. Well on this evening, we all didn’t stay long. When I walked home I checked to find his social media, but his account was private and I didn’t send a request. Shortly after when I came home I got a notification and saw that he followed me.

After that night – nothing really happened. Not nothing, we sometimes texted a bit. We skipped smalltalk, just talked about music and stuff, but like I said, not much. Once he told some personal things. Nothing more. There were a lot of other things going on in my life and it just got less.

Many weeks later when I hung out with two of the friends who also know him, they mentioned his name, then looked meaningful at each other. When I looked confused, one friend told me the two of them hooked up, but it was clear she wasn’t positive about it or him. She didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to come across interested.

Let’s fast forward several months. It was summer and our mutual friend asked me if I’d be down to go swimming the next day. I said yes and got to hers in the morning and she suddenly said we’ll drive to his and pick him up because he’ll be coming as well. I literally went „!“ inside. So we got there and picked him up. Everything was normal, we met other friends and went swimming. Before that I wasn’t sure how it will be, if I’d still get this feeling, or do I just like him friendship-wise? But this afternoon let no doubt. It was a crush. We talked a bit and also I recognised that he looked at me sometimes. I was sure I wasn’t just imagining.

A month later a big group of friends went on holidays together for a week, including me and him. One night when just the two of us were outside and talking I regretted everything later in bed because I thought I messed it up by not talking much and when saying the wrong things and so on. But then, one night, he slept in my room and we finally hooked up. Also the next day in the bathroom. On our way home we also cuddled in the car and when we said goodbye we said we’ll see each other. Usually, after a week with many people I’d want to chill, but I immediately had the urge to see him again the moment I sat down on my bed. We texted and set up a date a few days later. I couldn’t wait.

We met and went on a hill to watch the sunset. We made out and walked around. It never felt so right for me to hold someones hand publicly. I also told him I would leave for a while, in a month. Before we said goodbye, we talked. I was kind of an idiot because I overshared, and lowkey told him I like him, which I regretted later. When I walked home that night I remember smiling like a dumbass. When I thought about him, I had to smile. Never had I thought that this can be true, that you just have to smile and can’t fight it. So weird. Felt like I was micro dosing molly for a week straight.

Anyways. Then the trouble began. Nothing big in the beginning, but it was very hard to set up dates with him in general and when we were about to meet again he cancelled right before. It wasn’t like when you make plans with someone and they then can’t make it and you’re fine with it, because I was actually sad about it. Also it felt more like it was due to his mismanaged time and that it wasn’t as much as a priority for him. When I saw him in person I felt like he reciprocated everything, which I also never experienced like this. So I was confused. Then I straight up texted if he wants to see me again, or not really? Something that I would have never done that quickly anytime before, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up and was running out of time before I was leaving. He replied that I got it wrong, he really wants to see me again.

And we saw each other again. I went to his place. There was a bit of a fog over it in the beginning, but i eventually passed and we hooked up. I slept there. The next day, he brought me to the train. I think we even kissed as goodbye. He said he would like to do this again, I replied I’d love to. This was the last time I saw him for about a year.

I texted the next days for new plans, nothing came out of it. So I decided to wait for him to ask the next time. I waited 7 days. I almost went mad. It was his birthday in between and I decided not to text him, would’ve been weird. I texted a friend, who's also friends with him and asked if I could meet her. We met and I told her pretty much the whole story. She listened the whole time and asked things in between. Then she said she knows the reason he didn’t reach out. He has another girl and is really in love. I started crying in the middle of the street.

He would have never told me, called, texted or just anything. I was hurt by that. My friend said she would talk to him and hint that he should tell me. And he actually texted me a few days later if I would want to meet „to talk“. I agreed. When he finally responded he postponed the meet up again. I couldn't wait another several days for a conversation that he might reschedule again. It was clearly not important to him at all. I said we should just drop it. That’s was it. No final talk.

Months later, when I was back in town, I saw him on Bumble. I asked my friend about it, but she said it’s weird since she still has his girlfriend. Then I see him on Tinder with an up to date profile. In my mind-delusion I assumed they might actually not date anymore and my friend just doesn’t know yet. Then I saw him again for the first time since everything at a party. He talked to me normally, like nothing happened. Some days later I ask friends why he is on Tinder when he still has a girlfriend. For some reason a part of me expected to hear „oh yeah they broke up“, but no, they told me they both are on there to meet „friends“. I let my illusions go and tried to accept everything as it was.

The funny thing is, I started the draft to this story some days ago. Wanted to write it down to be finished with it and let it go once and for all. Since then I found out they broke up. But this doesn’t mean anything now. I accepted that there will be nothing serious between us, or, at least, I am on the best way to it. I will see him again, because of our mutual friends. So we’ll see how I will do.

I just rarely had such a vibe with someone and it's hard to let that go, you know? Meeting someone you could actually fit together with, someone you feel like you can be authentically yourself in front of at some point, ... it basically never happens. It would have been easier to let it go if he would have been honest and told me in a last talk. Of course, in the beginning I would have been sad as well, but eventually, there is less potential to obsess when it feels finished. And doing the correct thing is what stays, I'm not just saying that, you know I really do appreciate it. Still don't know if I should be angry or just forgive by myself, without ever bringing it up again.

That’s all about this story for now.

I really hope you are good.

Love,

ZL

[musedblues]

Born To Love You [Part: 7]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there’s no telling if he even has a clue

a/n: I can't really believe I've finally finished this. If only you all knew how long this story sat in my drafts before I even considered sharing it. I'm eternally gratful to those of you who’ve stuck around and shared your thoughts and shown me and this fic such sweet love. I can only hope I've done some kind off justice in bringing this wild ride to a close. As always, and especially now,  I really can't wait to hear what you lot think. So here you have it.... The End! 💖

w/c: 4k

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Even after all this time, not a moment passed that didn't dazzle you. No little gesture slipped by unnoticed, or underappreciated.

From across the room, you adored the way his eyes glowed as he laughed. How they shined and crinkled in a pattern you'd memorized long before you were brave enough to stare. How they always sparkled just so when he spun into a fit of giggles, a sound you couldn't help but turn toward.

Joe tossed his head back, letting out a hearty chuckle as James and Andy filled him in on the details of their recently disastrous road trip. For their anniversary, they planned to cruise around the countryside for a week. But a flat tire, and a run in with a couple wild animals sent them running back to London before the week was up.

You couldn't have gotten luckier, when you found the perfect house in the safest part of the city with the best schools; just a half an hour drive from where James and Andy had moved a couple years before- after living with you for longer than you could recall in a flash.

They helped you move boxes from your old flat, and stood with you in the empty place, taking a  silent beat to say goodbye to all the life you each lived there. You'd fondly remember the parties, and even the tears. The day you found out about Olive. The room you brought her home to. The place you loved. But it was never the same after your dear flatmates found a home of their own.

On their generous drives to help you unload boxes in an all new place, that's when your pair of best pals really got to know Joe. They (like everyone else) laughed at most of his jokes, and beamed when he laughed at theirs in turn. When they weren't helping you unload boxes, they were off cackling with Joe, too awestruck by shared conversation to help you move your sofa into a reasonable spot.

And when you and your man with fossil colored eyes were settled, James and Andy still managed to stop by for plenty of surprise breakfast visits. And every time they stopped over, they each took turns insisting that their location was the sole purpose you'd been so keen to move to this part of the city. And while they might have been half right, you'd never let on that it was one of the many reasons.

London just made sense. It was closer to Gwil's new place. He'd been traveling to and from the city for work so often that he'd felt like his usual train car was more of his home than the one down the road from your old flat. So he found a cozy space just outside of London and loads more work within the first few days of settling in. When he wasn't busy on set, or away for an audition, he was just a few streets away- ready and willing to come and take Olive on days he hadn't planned to, at her beck and call.

Some days you missed when all Olive knew how to say were a handful of words. But you knew you'd soon miss all of the girls never ending questions, too. "Why can't cats talk?" "Where do all the badgers sleep at night?" "Why do I have to wear socks with my shoes?" She had a knack for asking the silliest questions when you least expected it. She'd come out of no place while you were busy making dinner. While she should have been practicing tying her shoes. In the dead of the night, at the edge of your bed. She'd stop everything just to ask a question or two, and some days you reckoned she fancied getting you to giggle more than hearing an actual answer. You always chuckled before you could muster the brain power to give any semblances of an educated response. And when you were too busy, getting ready for work, or hurrying about the market before it closed, Olive would ask Joe.

You loved the way Olive made him laugh then, too. Just like you. But before ever giving a reasonable answer, he'd always ask her the same questions back. "Well, what do you think is at the bottom of the ocean?"

And as she decidedly rambled about imaginary creatures and cities, Joe would listen. He'd even remember the names of some of those made up monsters long after Olive had moved through several more memorable questions. You couldn't believe how patient he was. It was astounding to you, the way Joe dropped everything to bend at Olive's will, as she wrapped her fist around his wrist and yanked him across a bookstore toward the children's section.

You'd find them after getting what you strolled in for, and join in for story time, before checking your watch and ruining all the fun. Joe was usually more disappointed for those moments to end than the kid who was hooked on his every fictional word.

You loved Joe's heart. How you could tell when it was in the right place. When he offered help and advice and suggestions to anyone who trusted him enough to pour their heart out to his open ear. How he at least pretended to be excited when your friends begged the two of you to join in a night out at the end of a particularly busy week. Neither of you were keen on letting them down, because you'd come to value those rare nights out with the people you loved. You'd made a sacred, personal decreed to never let your friends forget how vastly you'd cared for them. So you were right behind Joe each time another offer came to sit among your pals and listen to their lame jokes and drunken singing.

But it was no secret that nights in were your favorite. You might have marveled even more so, over Joe's heart, then. You relished how it hammered under your palm, as his pulse raced from your touch. You loved the sound of its steady beat under your ear, as you rested against his chest till morning. He'd run a lazy set of fingers through your hair while the quiet of the new day threatened to lull you to sleep again. Then he'd say something so ridiculously hilarious that you'd laugh your drowse away.

You never took for granted Joe's countless attempts to get you to smile, despite yourself. In the middle of movies, at the end of long hard days- and during times you wondered how much stress you could endure before your head exploded and your dramatic expiration ruined the upcoming holidays.

When you and Gwilym argued over Olive's imminent school year and how many summer holiday trips were one too many, Joe waited for the bickering to end. Then he'd say something that made stupidly perfect sense. He'd make you and Gwil  apologize to each other, and you did with all the grace of two grumpy toddlers. Then you'd all go to some posh brunch place and try and enjoy the last of the perfect summer weather that crept into the first few weeks of London's picturesque autumn.

Olive would stop eating to ask one of her latest queries to the sweet elder waitress who dropped off another round of drinks. You'd all take turns giving the kid answers, and steal bits of the chips she'd left over. When your meal was finished, Joe and Gwil went off to see a game together, and you were left with your darling girl for a whole glorious day.

Times with just the two of you weren't very rare. When you could, you made sure to take afternoons off work and save the laundry for later to spend a day with Olive. Of course, some were just as difficult as ever. But between odd growing pains and missed nap times, were icecream dates and trips to the aquarium. The latter, a place she always begged to spend hours strolling through. So when you could, you'd be quick to take her.

And when Gwilym took Olive along to visit his mother's family in Wales, you'd gotten used to the tiny wave of melancholy that came when your girl wasn't attached to your hip. But unlike all the other times before, you weren't nearly as lonely.

When it was just you and Joe, and a handful of days to waste however you pleased, you had to stop yourself from wondering how you'd gotten so lucky. You knew if you thought too long, you'd start to feel bad about how everything came to be. But you learned to let go of the regret attached to the mess you'd made during your first month long visit to London. You realized that it was silly to wish for a redo. Because everything worked out anyway, didn't it?

Joe was always quick to remind you how lucky he felt, too. Sometimes he'd say so, when he worried about the future and stopped rambling long enough to let you promise everything was going to be okay. Or first thing in the morning, when you got to wake up with the sun instead of a blaring alarm. But most of the time, he showed it. He'd leave silly little notes for you to find while you brushed your teeth. He'd bring your knuckles to his lips while waiting in the queue at the market. He'd take photos of you walking through the park and pointing to a pair of birds flying close overhead. He'd upload them in the middle of the night- when he said he was staying up to finish writing a script, or memorizing lines of another.

You'd get the notification and smile to yourself while you pretended to be asleep in the other room. When it was just you and Joe, it felt too good to be true. But that feeling didn't go away when your time alone was over.

Ben asked you to fetch him from the airport after he'd spent months away filming in another country. You and Joe fought over who got to hug him first, but when the blonde materialized from baggage claim, his arms were too stuffed with packages to dream of embracing either of you. He'd collected far too many presents during his time away- all of them for Olive. You scolded him, reminding Ben of the article you read about how kids with fewer toys grew to become more creative and resourceful. Ben argued that since you weren't going to spoil her that he was just going to have to. He'd leave the dozen gifts in the back of your car, and drag you and Joe out to a pub until you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Life felt too good to be true on nights like then, too.

And the feeling remained when Lucy and Rami got back from acting their hearts out in America. They stole Olive away as you and Joe ambled behind them on trips through high end shopping centres. When that day turned to night, your remarkable friends settled onto your sofa to tell all the stories they'd been saving up. Then they crashed there, when the night turned to morning and the sun threatened to rise before you'd stopped giggling long enough to sleep.

Those times were cherished. When your friends came around. When you went out of your way to go and see them, because it had been too long. You knew you were lucky to have mantiatiend a handful of connections with some of the most adoring and admirable friends that must have ever existed.

And on some especially rare, but guaranteed occasions, everyone got together.

The thought of joining forces was usually a never ending sentiment exchanged through the group chat that kept you all in touch. But it was Lucy's eventual doing, of course. She went about renting that darling little cottage in the countryside- the one she'd found last minute for Joe's birthday.

She got there before everyone, before Rami, even. The paint was a little more chipped, and the trees seemed even more mighty, guarding the home nestled miles away from the nearest town.

"You're just in time!" Lucy squealed as you lugged a bag into the house that hadn't changed a bit since your stay a few years back. You snorted a laugh as you stepped closer to the den full of mismatched furniture.

"For what?" You wondered. No one else had shown up yet, the night was very young.

"To keep me company, duh." Lucy shrugged as she moved to wave out of the open front door.

"Does bigfoot live out here?" Olive asked, as she skipped inside, her beloved worn down stuffed penguin tight in her clutch.

"He might." You chuckled. Because hell, you'd come to believe anything was possible at this point. And you didn't realize Olive even knew about the mythical creature, but you had a hunch about who'd been the one to tell her.

"I can't believe this place is still standing. It's charming as ever." Joe marveled, shutting the door behind him. Lucy beamed, turning to glance around.

"Yes! Remember last time?" Lucy asked, like she really wanted to know. Like it wasn't something the lot of you thought back to often. And right when you considered responding, she spoke up again. "Well forget it because this time is going to be the best ever."

The bubbly blonde recruited Joe to help her finish unloading all the treats she'd brought along to store away for the entire weekend you planned to stay. Olive trotted ahead of you toward one of the dozen tiny rooms you remembered struggling to sleep in last time, finding no reason to bite back your smile now.

It was too cold to think of going out back to enjoy the chest full of sporting goods, or the tattered net that somehow still remained. Olive was already complaining about the chill, so you abandoned your bags and tossed her a sweater, deciding to start a fire in the stone place while you awaited everyone else.

Ben was the next to arrive, bringing his usual ton of liquor and a brand new set of books and crayons to keep Olive entertained. You flashed a middle finger his way when the kid wasn't looking, and called dibs on his most expensive bottle of booze he brought to decorate the counter tops much like the time before.

By then the kitchen had been stocked, and Lucy was on a new mission to make some Pinterest worthy snacks. You scolded Ben for encouraging Olive to dance around the countertops and banished them to find some new trouble to cause. Lucy kicked you and Joe out soon after, following close behind with her plate of savory treats.

Rami dashed in from the cold around then, chucking his bags away and rushing to join the rest of you in record time. The fire you'd maintained was starting to die, and the home was too perfectly warmed to dream of starting up another, for a while. So as the evening shifted, you and Ben offered to clean up and carry everyone's rubbish away, while Joe offered to pour everyone a drink. While you went about your duties, Olive was busy yanking on the strings of Rami's hooding, begging him to join in some imaginary game the two of them made up long ago.

"I'm really glad she's joined us this time around." Ben grinned, catching a glimpse of Olive, her curls peeking around the corner, her laughter floating from one room to another. You agreed with the sentiment as you tossed your collection of rubbish in the bin. And as he followed suit, Ben rambled about his high hopes to have a couple of children of his own one day. It was something you'd always suspected Ben was keen on, but a subject he'd only just ventured into discussing lately.

"You ever think about having anymore?" He wondered in passing.

"Sometimes." You smiled to Ben, offering an innocent shrug, before catching Joe's eye from across the kitchen. He balanced a trio of glasses of wine on his way out, shaking his head of coppery hair. He shot you a look you knew well, an eager grin below a set of fiery eyes. "Sometimes" was an understatment. But Ben didn't need to know everything.

By the time Gwil showed up, Olive was on cloud nine. She ran to attach herself to his ankle, so you took his bags while he bent to scoop her up. Then, you reckoned, that this might have been the first time everyone was together that Olive might be able to recall for years to come.

She bounced from one person to another, showing off nicely colored pictures in the books Ben had brought along. He shot you a wink from across the room before she fell asleep with a dozen sunset toned crayons in one fist. You gathered her from the floor and carried the girl to the room you'd chosen hours earlier.

And before you'd even finished tucking the kid away in bed, another set of feet creaked into the room behind you.

"Here's this. And some things she forgot last time." Gwilym extended Olives favorite stuffed penguin in one hand as he rested a bag decorated in cartoon drawn bats on the chair in the corner. Your tradition of trading the girls things might never end. You'd be rattled if it did, actually.

"Oh, thank God. I mean, I know I asked you not to forget that, but I'd forgotten." You chuckled in a whisper, tucking Olive's ratty old penguin beneath the covers at her side.

Gwilym chuckled too, saying something about how he'd nearly left her bag behind on his rush to get here before nightfall. And then a silence fell, as you both waited a beat to make sure Olive was out cold. It was second nature, something the pair of you became accustomed to after the first year, when leaving Olive alone for a minute was usually followed with unhappy, ear piercing cries. And as you thought back to then, you seemed to think back to everything all at once.

"Lucy said that last time we stayed here won't be worth remembering, because this time will surely be the best." You said with a lithe grin. "And I think she may be right, but last time wasn't so bad."

"It wasn't?" Gwilym turned to you with a quizzically raised brow, a hint of a smile on his lips. You knew he was asking if you were sure. If you remembered correctly. How he'd said things he didn't mean, last time you were here. How you hardly slept that night. How it haunted you for days afterward. How he knew that.

"It wasn't." You kept your smile, sure. It could have been much worse. You could have been alone through all of that shit. But you weren't. You had Gwilym. And you hoped he knew what you meant, now. How grateful you were for him, and the kindness he'd show you, how it still remained. You couldn't go on worrying that his company might fizzle away in the years to come. Because it couldn't. You wouldn't let that possibility come to pass. So you bumped your shoulder against his arm and nudged Gwilym to leave the room.

"Let's go have some fun." You whispered. Gwilym let his smile linger as he studdied you for a beat. Then he nodded, and led the way back to everyone else.

The coloring books had moved to rest on the mantel, and bottles of alcohol had moved to the coffee table for easier access. And then you all took turns cleaning up for the evening and flipping through stations on the telly till some classic film flashed across the muted screen. And it was lots better than last time, with familiar drinks mixed in fancy new ways, and favorite laughs decorating the old unchanged home.

By the time Ben had drunken himself into a fit of random laughter, and Gwilym was nodding off between Rami and Lucy, Joe was saying something about American traditions. He demanded everyone's attention, and insisted the lot of you confess at least one thing you were thankful for. And after Lucy shouted the name of the drink in her hand and Gwilym sat up to clink his cup to hers, you all started giving actual answers. Each revolving around family, and friends, and health and happiness. But before anyone could get too choked up, Ben stood to shift gears with his favorite game of drunk history that never really went the way he wanted it too.

But it wasn't till the next morning that you realized it must have been that silly American holiday. And when you rolled over to find Joe was already awake, you announced how poorly you felt for not realizing when he made everyone say thanks. You hadn't even said good morning before you started yammering promises about how you'd remember to have a proper celebration next year.

But instead of saying good morning, or acknowledging your apologises, Joe broke into a laugh. The kind of laugh that reaches his eyes, the way you love so much. Then he told you he loved you, and you said it back; and then you sprung into another lucky day among friends.

You spent the weekend watching Gwilym teach Olive how to bake and assisting her in passing around treats she helped pour spoonfulls of ingredients in to create. Rami was most often roped into her imaginary games, and he played along with ease. You and Joe were invited to join in one morning, but neither of you could grasp the ever changing rules to Olives satisfaction, and you were swiftly kicked out of the loop while she and Rami played on.

Lucy made sure Olive was perfectly content snuggled up with Ben to watch cartoons, before she pulled you into her room with a bottle of wine for each of you to sip from. You spent a whole afternoon there with her, taking turns spilling your guts over all things you could only discuss with your dearest darling Lucy.

And when the getaway was over, everyone left in separate hurries much like before. But unlike then, you weren't so worried about where everyone might end up. You weren't worried about where you were going, either. You'd all managed to keep coming back together so far, and with an established faith that your group would keep finding excuses to do so, you didn't despair.

You remembered everything, on your drive back to London. The time you'd closed your eyes on this ride, years before. How you and Gwilym survived the nonsense you'd swept yourselves up in. Lucy's unconditional friendship. Rami's strong hugs. Ben's strong feelings.

You thought of what Joe said to you, when you met. How he said he saw a future with you, before he even knew your name. And the thought tore you away from remembering everything to look ahead. To look over, and settle your gaze on Joe. His pretty profile, and the shine of his moonstone eyes. You couldn't quite picture the places you'd end up, but you realize that you couldn't dream of a day without Joe at your side. He was always meant to be there.

While you drove, he entertained every one of Olive's questions that echoed from the back seat. You turned a grateful smile his way every now and again and savored the way he smiled back, in the way you loved so much. In a way that you didn't have to wonder how he felt, or what might come next. Unlike before, Joe made up a million of your memories. And unlike before, you knew he always would.

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taglist: @sonic-volcano @imtheinvisiblequeen @redspecialty @itscale @stardust-killer-queen @joemazzelo @dancetohotspace @kiwi-hardy @joeneslee @borhapqueen92 @im-an-adult-ish @johndeaconshands @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @beepbeephardy @slutforbritdick @joemazzmatazz @almightygwil  @sadhwstudent​ @freakibanana @lelifesaver @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band

[dreamcatcherthinks]

Elastic

Hey everyone! This account has been extremely inactive for the longest time. Out of curiosity, I logged in today and found this fic in my drafts. So here, it is now, three years later :)

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Annabeth Chase was ready to find her soulmate. Ever since a month ago when her best friend, Piper Mclean had met Jason Grace, the boy she was destined to be with, Annabeth had realised that she missed her soulmate. It was a crazy feeling to miss someone you had never met. But she couldn’t help it. She did miss him.

At least, she was pretty sure her soulmate was a ‘him’. She didn’t really care either way but the snippets of images she sensed and her own gut told her that her soulmate was a guy. 

And this bond between them, this stretch of what felt like an elastic rubber band that literally linked her heart to his was the reason why she was wandering around in the middle of the city this early in the morning.

She had woken up gasping as she suddenly felt their bond pull taut and instinctively knew he was closer to her than he had ever been. Making a spontaneous decision, she had gotten ready and ran out the door, wearing the most comfortable pair of sneakers she owned.

From then on began a game of tag. Annabeth blindly followed the pull of the bond, weaving in between the early morning traffic and meandering through empty alleys, growing more and more excited each time the bond stretched a little more, showing her that she was getting closer to him. She groaned a little, frowning as she stopped at a junction, wishing she had a built-in GPS system to find him instead. After a few moments of consideration, the bond deigned to tug her to the left, letting her know the direction she should take.

She set off to the left. Her feet echoed rhythmically on the pavement and her mind wandered. It seemed like he was searching for her too. The elastic connecting them growing looser as the distance between them reduced, as they drew closer to one another.

She looked at her empty wrists, like she had every day since the morning the cord had glimmered into shape in her mind. Usually, the first words a couple would speak to each other when they met would be etched on their skin, right above where their pulse could be felt. She had wondered if maybe her partner couldn’t speak but had decided against it the night she heard some indistinctive words spoken by a male voice echo in her dreams.

Their connection worked differently from others. It was almost as if something didn’t want her growing too close to her soulmate before she actually met him. They couldn’t communicate by writing messages on their skin and having it appear on the other’s body like Piper and Jason could. They couldn’t read each other’s minds like Silena and Beckendorf could and they didn’t even have the timer on their wrists ticking down to the day they would meet like Will did.

Instead she got random snippets of her soulmate, jumbled bits and pieces that flashed through her mind like a butterfly, gone as quickly as lightning, but imprinted in her memory just as strongly. A moodboard, an aesthetic of her soulmate that taunted and teased her curiosity.

When she thought about him, she swore she could faintly hear the sound of water. Sometimes, of water lapping gently across a pool, other times of waves crashing along rocks. Perhaps he was a swimmer…..She had also grown to associate blue with him, yet always sensed a hue, green like the sea when she tried to reach down the bond.

This form of communication suited her. Going to the beach calmed her down now and ever since the bond, in a rare flash of helpfulness, had showed her a large ‘Hi!’ scrawled along a tanned arm in blue ink, (she suspected he was trying to see if the message would reach her like it did with Jason and Piper) she could never look at a blue marker without remembering him, remembering the future that waited for her with him, the promise that her future would be a stable and certain one, albeit a future with a very clumsy boy.

She found his clumsiness, which she felt the effects of, every time he stubbed his toe or walked into a door, both vexing and endearing. Of course she would have the bond that would let her feel her soulmate’s physical pain and of course her soulmate was one who somehow always seemed to bruise his knees. Sometimes it felt like the soulmate system was designed to infuriate her and only her. Annabeth was a girl who liked to know everything. No surprises. No sudden revelations. No curveballs. But, even though it could be annoying at times, she had grown to enjoy being in the dark . The fact that she could feel his pain reassured her that he was a real person who breathed and existed and fell….hard. And often. But still.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and walked briskly onto the sidewalk. The roads were getting busier by the minute and the air was getting warmer. But the bond between them hung looser than ever, like a relaxed rubber band. She was closer to him than ever and she was not going home without finding him today.

She pushed away a few strands of her hair that had sneaked away from her ponytail, feeling anxiety spark up her fingers and ignored her craving for a coffee. Her stomach grumbled in protest and just as she had begun to battle with her hunger and aching legs, a dull thud reverberated down the side of her head. She stopped cold. A sharp pain followed it, driving her to the ground. Her knees barked at the impact, her body jerking as the pain struck her head in waves.

Annabeth buried her face in her hands, clenching her fists, letting her nails dig into her skin. A useless attempt at distracting herself from the searing, blinding agony that burned through her head, her heart.

It stopped just as suddenly as it had started. Annabeth breathed in deeply and raised her head. Some of the people passing by flashed her concerned looks but kept walking. There was a blur of commotion in front of her. A huddle of people surrounding something. An accident, perhaps. She hadn’t noticed anything else but the pain.

Annabeth wiped the tears from her eyes and noticed a flash of red on her skin. Was she crying…blood? No.

She looked down at her hands. There was no sting as the blood dripped down from a cut she couldn’t see and onto the pavement stones.

She stared at it. She felt empty. Empty and alone. Her chest stung, as if a rubber band had snapped against it. And it hit her. A revelation that she would have given anything to not know.

In the stretch of space that extended between her heart to his, there was nothing. Only a dark void to fill in the gap left by an elastic band that used to connect their souls together.

She understood then, why they didn’t have the first words they would say to each other inked on their skin. 

Annabeth raised her head, still on the ground, staring without seeing at the group that had begun to dissolve as people moved away, clearing a path for a vehicle with a siren. An ambulance. Her thoughts snapped to attention. What had happened here? She hadn’t heard or seen anything from the moment she had fallen.

Her eyebrows furrowed as her gaze latched on to the scene in front of her. There was someone sprawled on the ground, his hoodie splattered with blood, his dark hair, messy and rumpled, falling on his forehead. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, a vacant stare in a green that was achingly familiar. Voices pierced the white noise in her head - complaints of a speeding driver, sympathies for a strange boy who moments ago, had been rushing across the street, nervous and excited, and in a whisper, quieter than the rest, she heard the echoes of a future snatched away. 

Close. So, close. 

[polymetis-23]

Diary Entry Sept. 26th, 2021

Day 1 - The hunt begins

I spent most of today working on updates to my hero gear based off the trial runs these past few weeks. First I removed the giant skirt from my costume and replaced it with a utility belt. Sure those might not have been the most iconic thing about steampunk but they tinkered a lot so I'm sure they were around plenty. I hope to make more gadgets as time goes on so this will be a good place to store them. For now it is a simple belt with pockets as found at hardware stores. I know, it's ugly and doesn't really fit and I wish I had time to be proper about it, but with The Eye out there it seems somethings will sadly have to be function over form. 

In addition to adding the tool belt, I have been working on the wrist crossbows (told you I wouldn't forget about them). I've moved them down from the back of my hand to around my wrist and made the bow limbs out of a semi-bendable metal. They work like springs and shoot the dart out fairly fast … or at least that is the current theory, I've really only added the wrist strap, had to finish some homework.

As the sun started to set, it was finally time for me to find The Eye (seriously does anyone have a better name for this person?) I could've sworn I was in a movie. The sky was overcast but no rain and everything seemed eerily quiet. Without a better idea I started from where I last saw them, the eye was still on the wall and it didn't look like anyone had been home in a while, I hope she didn't kill him. Anyway, I wasn't about to break into someone's house because that is illegal so I sat on the roof and surveyed for any mysterious red lights. It may not have been the most efficient way to find them, but hey that red glow is the only thing I have to identify them at the moment, and well the eye. I saw a few flashes over the course of the night, and a few more eyes around the city. Some the crime was obvious, another breakin or general vandalism, but others a dark red eye was just on a wall, nothing around to denote why.

Day 2 - Uh yeah, exams are a thing

    How, might I ask, are we in the third week of classes and I already have a quiz. Like seriously what are we supposed to have learned at this point? Even if they had taught us something, this is the absolute worst time, now I have to spend all day studying and I can't go out tonight. I was getting so close last night to actually catching up to The Eye. Sure I hadn't actually seen them, but I was getting quicker at navigating the city so the time between red flashes and my arrival at a scene was getting less and less, it was only a matter of time until I caught them.

Day 3 - Crossbow work

    The forecast for today is rain, lots of rain all day and I don't really fancy going out and getting soaked or slipping and falling on my butt while hunting for Eye, so I guess today is a design day. It actually works out really well because now I will have the wrist bow ready for when I finally do encounter her. Next thing I need to work on is tranquilizer darts, I don't want to permanently hurt those I bring in, after all I'm not the judge, jury and executioner, I just bring people in to meet justice. 

    After today's tests the bow seems to be great … or at least manageable. I still need to improve the aiming, for some reason the bolts won't group together. And I need to make an automatic reloader attachment, I have plenty of darts held on the cuff, but it would be nice for the system to be semi automatic incase I miss a shot or more probably I am fighting more than one opponent and need to incapacitate them both in quick succession.

Day 4 - The Evil Eye

    Finally a semi-free day. I was able to make a few small adjustments to my weaponry between classes then waited until dark to roam the streets. The clouds from yesterday blew by leaving not a trace and letting the nearly full moon illuminate the streets, although that could also be from light pollution … I guess it is good that I can see and not trip, but I would've liked to be able to see the stars.

    The night started relatively calmly, I was finally getting used to the red haze that settled over the world when I used my goggles. If I ever learn how to actually code, I'll have to write a program to filter out the ambient light, but for now I would just have to let my eyes adjust. I got lucky in my positioning tonight, I hadn't seen any pattern in how The Eye chose their targets so I had decided to sit on a random tall roof top and was rewarded with a beam of red two blocks over. Although I had previously only seen an aura of red indicating The Eye's (this is gonna stick now isn't it?) presence, it wasn't hard to imagine that they had the ability to focus it. 

    I ran across the rooftops, which were thankfully connected, I'll have to figure something out for when they aren't. I guess I could run at street level but that is more crowded and less direct, plus heroes are known for leaping across roofs right? Regardless I soon arrived at where the beam had been and looked for the source. Below me on the street there was a fight going on and sure enough one of the combatants' hands were surrounded by an aura of red. Upon closer observation I was shocked to find out this wasn't a fight, it was a beating. The man The Eye was 'fighting' was just laying on the ground not even trying to defend themselves. It was clear to anyone watching that the fight was over and didn't need to be continued so why was The Eye still there? I called 911  and reported the situation so her victim could get some help. I doubted they would be moving by themselves any time soon. 

    After placing the call I turned my attention back to the street to apprehend The Eye myself, but they were already gone, an eye left on the ground above the injured man's head. I could already hear the sirens of the ambulance and knew he would be okay. I waited until the paramedics started treating him, then left. I spent the rest of the night searching for another sighting of The Eye to bring them in, but they seemed to have gone silent for the moment. I suppose I will have to try again tomorrow now that I had seen they were not only bad, they were straight up evil. Attacking someone for no reason at all.

Day 5 - The Conversation

    So classes were normal today and nothing special happened except well, I finally got to talk with the eye. I went out a little earlier than I usually did planning on scoping out some of the roofs on campus. Although I was currently preoccupied taking down The Eye who seemed to operate across the river, I knew I would be coming back to stop crime on campus eventually. There is a really nice iconic roof space above the main lobby of campus where I was planning to start. Up there you can see all around campus, sure it wasn't the tallest building, but it did have a great view.

    Anyway, I was up there planning to see what was what and keeping an eye out for any red flashes in the city when from behind I heard:

    "I thought they blocked off all entrances to the roof" they had, I have just been practicing picking locks. Yes I know that skill is rarely used for anything good, but sometimes it can come in handy, like tonight with the door

    I turned around expecting to see some other student, while it wasn't a common hang out spot, people definitely still came up here. Instead I was confronted with The Eye herself, what was she doing on this side of the river and at my school no less. Of course I immediately confronted her about her illegal activities and she scoffed at me. I mean she literally scoffed and called me naive, how am I naive when I saw her commit those crimes? Like seriously? It quickly became apparent that she wasn't remorseful at all and needed to be brought in. We had a brief altercation which I definitely nearly won if she hadn't taken a cheap shot and knocked me on my butt I would've had her. As it was I landed with a loud smack and was slightly dazed. The only sound I heard was "stay down, this isn't the world for you" When I got my bearings again, she was gone and I was alone on the roof. 

    I layed back down and stared at the sky. This is going to take more work than I thought, but I'm sure it can't be that much more.

Day 6 - A day to relax

    Not much happened today, I ended up sleeping through my alarm which I guess is a natural consequence of staying up into the early hours of the night every day for a week. I did my laundry, bought a few groceries and sloughed through some homework and … that was about it.

Day 7 - Coding is still the worst

    So I have a problem set due for my coding class and I swear this class should be worth twice the amount of credit listed on the syllabus based on how long it takes me to write a 'simple' program. I guess I am learning some things because I can follow the code examples given in class, but I definitely can't recreate them. I'm gonna need to find another way to code my goggles or get someone to do it for me. Superheroes have a man in the chair right?

    I eventually got the problem set turned in and started to draft ideas for the semi-automatic wristbow, still very rudimentary though.

[eskalations]

"I wouldn't tell anyone just yet." The doctor advised her in a gentle tone, seeing the pallor of her skin. The older woman put a hand on her knee in what she assumed was an attempt at a comforting gesture. "Pregnancies at this age rarely make it."

A series of oneshots documenting the life and times of the Amestrian First Family.

A/N: So this idea popped into my head wayyyyy before the events of the first chapter did - however, I held out on writing this one down! I hope you enjoy!

Thanks for reading!

~

"Mama!" Elizabeth shouted as she bounced excitedly down the steps of the daycare. Riza could feel her heart clench as she watched her daughter's delicate sandals slide haphazardly on her feet, the mother fearing the young girl would trip if she didn't slow down in those shoes. However, Elizabeth made it safely to the ground.

Riza breathed a sigh, glad to have her daughter in front of her once again. She had certainly missed the sweet child.

"Elizabeth, you have to be careful." The woman crouched down to meet her daughter's gaze, using a hand to push an errant strand of black hair behind her ear. "We don't run down stairs. You know that you aren't allowed to do that in the house, either."

With Elizabeth's normally demure nature, Riza thought the girl would quiet after being chastised, but that was not the case. Instead of flashing a pout – reminiscent of her father's – Elizabeth smiled even brighter.

"I'm sorry, Mama!" She chirped, bouncing up on the balls of her feet, tiny hands gripping the straps of her little pink backpack. "I'm excited! Miss Helen is so pretty!"

Having met the young girl's new teacher less than a month back, Riza nodded her head in agreement. She grabbed the little girl's hand as they made their way back home. The five-year-old could barely contain her excitement as she talked animatedly about her day.

It had been a hard decision for her and Roy to enroll their daughter into an educational daycare separate from Central Headquarters. Both had always had a certain peace of mind knowing that their sweet girl was being taken care of just a few floors down, but life inevitably had to keep moving forward and Riza was learning that the hard way.

Two weeks after they had decided to allow their child to attend Central Children's Daycare, Riza had received some startling news.

She was pregnant at forty-one years of age.

The doctor had been shocked – she had been shocked – but it shouldn't have been much of a surprise. Due to their age, she and Roy hadn't bothered with any form of protection in the last year. It had taken them awhile to fall pregnant with Elizabeth, so they felt they had no real reason to worry at this stage in their life. Turns out, they were wrong.

Once Riza started feeling ill, the thought never even crossed her mind. The sickness in this pregnancy spanned the whole day, whereas with Elizabeth, she had only had it in the morning. Roy had guessed she had the flu and insisted she visit the doctor, which after a full week of vomiting daily, she finally agreed to.

That's when they received the news.

Riza had been numb – a familiar rushing in her ears blocking out the words of her physician. She could hardly believe what she had just been told. As her doctor listed out the possible risks for her falling pregnant at such a mature age, Riza could feel herself getting more and more nauseous at the thought of it.

"I wouldn't tell anyone just yet." The doctor advised her in a gentle tone, seeing the pallor of her skin. The older woman put a hand on her knee in what she assumed was an attempt at a comforting gesture. "Pregnancies at this age rarely make it."

Would she even have a child at the end of this?

Roy had been over the moon – disregarding all the risks that came along with the unplanned pregnancy. Just as he had been for her pregnancy with Elizabeth, the moment he knew, he became her second shadow. It was annoying, more so than the first go around, but when she caught glimpses of the worried look in his eye, she let him do as he pleased.

Riza watched as Elizabeth very nearly skipped down the sidewalk, going on and on about how Miss Helen's father worked in the hospital and how she had thought it was amazing that Elizabeth wanted to work in the same place. The man didn't practice Alkahestry but apparently Elizabeth's teacher had been impressed that the little girl knew what it was.

"I told her about Mama!" Elizabeth pointed at the woman holding her hand, her grammar and sentence structure not as great as it would be in a few years, but still Riza understood. "I told her about the accident."

The First Lady nodded her head, smiling down at the girl. When the child's attention strayed from her though, she couldn't help the slight frown that made its way to her features.

She still didn't know what to think of the young girl's interest in alchemy.

Riza should have known it would happen sooner or later, given the lineage she came from. Not only was Elizabeth's father a renowned alchemist, but her grandfather had been as well. In some strange way, alchemy must run in their blood. It had certainly skipped over Riza, the woman never caring much for the science, but from the moment she watched her daughter's eyes light up at the doctor's ministrations, she knew Elizabeth had been bit hard by the 'alchemy bug'.

Her and Roy had not discussed it much since they knew children at this age were subject to change. Elizabeth's favorite color changed near weekly, so who's to say this wouldn't change as well. She could end up completely detesting alchemy by the time she hit her teens.

Riza seriously doubted it though.

"Mama?" The girl tugged on her mother's hand, fighting for her attention. Beside them, on the road, a car breezed past, breaking Riza from her thoughts. She pulled the child in tighter, hugging her to her side.

"I'm listening, Elizabeth."

The golden tones of the setting sun fell over her daughter's small features. Riza could see the worry behind the crease in the girl's brow and the pout forming on her pink lips.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked softly, excitement forgotten. Riza's heart clenched once more at her daughter's distraught look. She could hear a slight shaking in her voice, signaling that tears were not far off.

Sometimes she forgot how in tune her daughter was to the emotions around her. If anyone's demeanor changed in even the slightest way, Elizabeth would pick up on it. She was very sensitive to her environment, and though he would never admit it, Riza felt like that was something she had inherited from her father. Both were highly emotional people, just in different ways.

Diffusing the situation, Riza crouched down on the sidewalk, ignoring the looks of the pedestrians walking past them, and grabbed her daughter in an affectionate hug. The girl gratefully returned the gesture.

Snuggling her face into her mother's neck, Elizabeth whispered worriedly. "Is it my baby sister?"

Riza sighed at the question, picking the girl up off her feet and placing her on her hip.

"No, Elizabeth – it's not the baby."

She hadn't wanted to tell her daughter of her condition until she was at least five months into the pregnancy. Her doctor had told her to be cautious for a minimum of twelve weeks, but to take great precaution even after that. Knowing how emotional Elizabeth was, Riza didn't want her child to have to go through the heartbreak of losing a sibling if that's how it all ended.

Roy had agreed – but subconsciously, Elizabeth hadn't.

Their daughter was smart. While her words and grammar were still those of a young child, her emotional intelligence was far beyond her years. She could tell something was wrong with her mother. No matter how many times Riza tried to convince her that she had a stomach bug and was just feeling under the weather, the girl wouldn't buy it.

The situation had gotten so bad that Elizabeth had taken to joining her and Roy in their bed almost nightly. This confused both her parents as Elizabeth had never had much trouble sleeping on her own and rarely caused a fuss at night. When asked why she was fearful of sleeping in her own room, she had asked a question that absolutely broke Riza's heart.

"Is Mama dying?"

She had said it with tears in her eyes, lip wobbling as she curled into her mother's side and shoved her face roughly into her neck. Her behavior had worried her parents so much, that they decided to break their silence on the subject, sharing with Elizabeth that in less than seven months, she would become a big sister.

After that, Elizabeth had no problem sleeping in her room once again.

Now, five months into her pregnancy, Riza was feeling better about things. Elizabeth had enjoyed her first day at her new daycare, the morning sickness was gone, Roy was working on drafting up a new trade policy with Aerugo, things were looking up.

As they sat at dinner that night, Riza watching Roy listen raptly to their daughter's rehashing of her day, the woman couldn't help but think to herself that nothing could ruin this moment in her life.

Unfortunately, she was wrong.

Barely in to her sixth month of pregnancy, Riza retrieved her daughter from school and noticed an immediate difference in the girl's usual happy demeanor.

"Elizabeth?" Riza had asked as they began their walk home. She waved at the little elderly woman who sat on her doorstep, greeting the children as they were released from 'school'. Riza looked down and noticed that Elizabeth hadn't even bothered to raise her hand. Something must have happened, that wasn't like her daughter at all. "Elizabeth, what's wrong?"

The girl was strangely silent, her dark eyes staring at the sidewalk in front of her. Knowing these kind of situations were only made worse by prying, Riza decided to let her decide when she was going to come forward with what was bothering her.

By the time they reached their home, Elizabeth still had not said a word. Looking back at the two guards who accompanied her everyday on her walk – something she had only agreed to due to her pregnancy – she could see they were just as confused by the young child's behavior as she was. They were used to watching the mother struggle to curb the young girl's excitement and now today she had barely bothered to even look up.

More surprising was Elizabeth's reaction when she walked through the door.

It was evening, so Roy was already home for the afternoon. Knowing that Riza's feet had been bothering her, he had offered to start dinner for her so she wouldn't have to stand for long. Hearing his two favorite girls enter the hall, Roy turned the stove down to simmer before poking his head out of the kitchen.

"Hi Lizzie." The Fuhrer called, gifting the child with a sweet smile. Riza knew he still missed having their daughter at Headquarters, the man having made it a habit to visit her every day on his lunch break – however, he had been happy to see how much fun his daughter was having learning at her new daycare. He loved getting to hear about her day. "Did you enjoy daycare today?"

Elizabeth's brows drew inward, her expression growing darker as she continued to stare at the ground in front of her. Riza, still holding her hand, shared an uncertain look with Roy. Neither adult knew exactly what had gotten into their daughter.

Without another word, Elizabeth let go of her mother's hand, trudging up the stairs to her room with her backpack still over her shoulders. Roy couldn't hide his surprise as the sound of their daughter slamming her door echoed through the hall. Riza's face wasn't much different than his own.

"What happened?" There was a certain fire in the man's eyes that the woman recognized far too well. It was the same look he got whenever something – or someone – threatened anyone who was of great importance to him. "Did something happen at the daycare?"

"I don't know." Riza answered truthfully. She moved to free herself from her outer coat, the days getting chillier, but her husband beat her to it. She could feel the tension in his hands as he slid the fabric from her shoulders. "She pouted the whole way home."

Roy's brow furrowed, much in the way their daughter's had. Despite her worry, Riza couldn't help the soft laugh that erupted from her lips.

"She reminds me of someone else I know."

The comment had Roy rolling his eyes as he placed her coat on the rack. When he turned back around, his face softened. Riza imagined it was because his gaze had fallen squarely on her swollen stomach.

"Maybe this one will be more like you." Roy sighed, placing a gentle hand on the crest of her belly. The baby had been moving, but he had yet to feel it. Riza placed her own hand on top of his. "I don't think I could handle another 'me'."

Riza laughed at his lament, squeezing his fingers. "Imagine how I feel!"

"I know." Roy smirked, his thumb rubbing a circle above her belly. "I thank whoever will listen daily that I have you in my life."

Riza gave him another smile before turning towards the kitchen, determined to help him finish dinner. She knew he would argue, saying that he could finish it on his own, but she actually enjoyed the act of getting to cook with him. It gave them some time to talk – alone.

Well, as alone as two people could be with two guards always standing just outside their door.

"She's a very well-behaved child." Riza reminded him, lifting her apron over her head. She reached behind her to tie the strings, but Roy beat her to it. Lifting her hair, she continued as he tied the garment securely around her. "We could have ended up with children like the Havoc boys. Then you would have a little more to worry about than just a few grey hairs."

Roy snorted at the comment. "Poor Havoc and Rebecca. I don't know how they survived all these years."

He kissed the back of her neck as he finished, reaching around her to turn the dial of the burner up once again. Riza leaned back as he brought his other arm to wrap around her. Blame it on her pregnancy hormones, but she found herself craving her husband's touch more and more throughout the day. Roy didn't seem to mind at all – in fact, he was quite happy about it.

"I am worried." Riza admitted, leaning her head back on his shoulder. She could feel him tense at the remembrance of his daughter's sour mood. "I've never seen her so upset after daycare. I hope the kids aren't causing her any trouble."

Roy pursed his lips, trying hard to push down thoughts of showing up to her 'school' to teach said "bullies" a lesson. "I hope so too – for their sake, of course."

Riza rolled her eyes and swatted at his thigh. Roy knew better though; the woman was just as protective of their child as he was.

"Maybe she got in trouble with her teacher?" Riza proposed, giving him a sideways glance. Her amber eyes locked with his own, worry evident in her gaze. "You know how upset she gets when she's in trouble."

"Miss Helen's gone…"

The two adults separated at the sound of their daughter's voice. Turning around they saw her standing in the doorway, the evening sun that poured through the window, illuminating the wet trails that kissed the skin of her cheeks. Already she had changed into pajamas, the shirt not matching the pants, but the little girl too upset to care.

The sight broke her parents' hearts.

"Lizzie," Roy murmured gently, making his way to the now trembling girl. Riza stayed by the stove to keep an eye on their dinner – her mind, however, was with her daughter. The mother watched as Roy scooped the girl up and into his arms, cradling her close to his chest.

With her father holding her like a baby, Elizabeth's composure broke. Wrapping her small arms around the man's neck, the young girl buried her warm face into the shoulder of his button-down. A few moments later, choking sobs could be heard.

There was a stricken look on Roy's face as he patted the distraught child's back, sharing a concerned look with Riza. "Lizzie, I'm sorry Miss Helen is gone."

Turning the burner down to simmer once more, Riza chose to join her husband and child in the doorway of the kitchen.

"She didn't say goodbye!" Elizabeth very nearly wailed, her voice shaking as she turned her dark eyes towards her father, the pain evident in their depths. "She left. She left."

Riza raised her hand and rested it over her husband's on their daughter's back. Roy had already started bouncing the girl, attempting to get her to calm down. Riza could see he was at a loss for words, so she decided to step in.

"I bet she had a good reason for leaving." Riza's hand slipped from Roy's to run through her daughter's dark locks. Her hair was getting so long now that it was almost past the middle of her back. It was tangled from the fit the child had probably just thrown in her room moments before. "The good thing is that you'll get a new teacher who will be just as special."

At her mother's words, Elizabeth's face returned to her father's shoulder and the sobs began again. Roy's eyes widened at her response.

"Hey…" The man mumbled into her ear, continuing to bounce as her trembling returned with vigor. Riza removed her hand from the girl's hair, which was then replaced with Roy's. His fingers gently held the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into her skin. "Lizzie, you need to calm down. You'll love your new teacher just as much."

"She…She…" Elizabeth tried to say, but her sobs were causing her to shake too much. Roy waited as she caught her breath, still shushing her between bounces. "She don't like me."

The adults were too surprised by her words to bother correcting their child's grammar. They shared a look of disbelief before their gazes fell back to their daughter.

Their sweet, sensitive, perfect, daughter. The thought of anyone taking issue with the small child was truly a foreign concept to them. Surely, Elizabeth had misinterpreted something.

"Elizabeth," Riza stepped around Roy, meeting the eyes of her daughter over the curve of his shoulder. The girl's eyes were bloodshot and clear liquid still sat in pools at the bottom of her lids. If Riza wasn't careful, her pregnancy hormones were going to send her into a round of tears as well. "What are you talking about? There's no way your teacher couldn't like you."

Knowing the girl was as well-behaved as they came, and that the Havoc boys had all come out of that school unscathed and liked by each of their teachers, Roy had to agree with his wife. He nodded in a show of support for the statement, pressing a gentle hand to the head of his daughter.

Their agreeance did very little to calm Elizabeth's fears. While her breathing was no longer labored – a new set of tears fell down her cheeks. Propping her chin on her father's shoulder, the girl gazed at her mother sadly with big, black eyes.

"Trouble."

The one word had Riza sighing in relief, her earlier theory proven correct. Now knowing the reason behind the young girl's mood, the mother found herself bestowing a gentle smile on the child. Noticing the release of tension in Roy's shoulders, she could tell he was relieved as well.

"There's no reason to get so worked up over something like that." Riza brushed the bangs back from the girl's face, their tips wet from the earlier round of tears. "That doesn't mean your teacher doesn't like you. If you apologized for what you did, then I'm sure everything will be back to normal tomorrow."

Rather than giving her mother a smile in return, the furrow in Elizabeth's brow returned. Her arms tightened around Roy's neck, drawing herself closer to the chest of her father.

"I didn't do it."

Riza was surprised by this, Elizabeth not normally the one to strike up a defense. Their child was honest to a fault and was rarely able to get away with anything. The Havoc boys once teased that she was a notorious squealer whenever they would try and put their crazy plans in to action.

That's why her denial in this situation was so unusual.

"What do you mean, Lizzie?" Roy asked, turning his head so he could see his daughter's expression. His hand was still on her back, the warmth meant to encourage her to put her trust in him and reveal what was bothering her. "What did you get in trouble for?"

The furrow in her brows deepened, the tears forming in the lower portion of her eyes once more. "Stealing."

To say the two parents were surprised was an understatement.

"Stealing?" Riza asked for clarification. Elizabeth whimpered, nodding her head and hiding her eyes in her father's shoulder. "What did she say you stole?"

"Paper," Elizabeth mumbled, the words muffled by the fabric of Roy's shirt. The man ran his fingers through her hair, encouraging her to say more. "Timothy's paper."

"Did you take it?" The girl's mother asked, shifting closer to her husband and daughter. At her words, Elizabeth shook her head vehemently, looking up at her mother.

"No," Elizabeth answered honestly. Riza could see the genuine hurt in the young girl's eyes at the accusation. "I promise."

Roy patted the girl's back. "We believe you, Lizzie."

Riza nodded her head to show her support for her husband's statement. "We know you wouldn't steal. Your teacher doesn't know you that well, so it was probably a misunderstanding."

Elizabeth looked unconvinced, but nodded nonetheless.

After the discussion, the family went back to preparing dinner, Roy allowing their daughter to assist him in stirring the stew that sat on the stove. As Riza watched her husband and daughter make dinner, she couldn't shake the strange feeling that was nestled in her belly. She tried to brush off the interaction as a fluke, one that wouldn't be repeated in the future.

However, something told her this wasn't the last time her daughter would come home in tears over the actions of her new teacher.

~

Roy walked Elizabeth to daycare the next morning.

It was their daily ritual, since Riza usually finished her duties earlier in the afternoon and was able to do pickup. Besides, with Riza now pregnant, the woman tended to oversleep more often than naught in the mornings, making Roy the obvious choice as Elizabeth's chauffeur for drop-off.

The girl was quiet, gripping his hand tightly as they made their way down the sidewalk. The street was bustling with cars, the citizens of Central speeding down the pavement. There were a few honks and waves, all directed at the Fuhrer, which he gladly returned with a smile. However, once the act was over, his mouth would fall back into a frown as he watched his daughter stare glumly at the laces of her shoes.

Roy remained silent for the entirety of their journey. He knew that when he was down, the last thing he wanted was for people to try and cheer him up. Elizabeth would see, after attending school, that things were different from yesterday. That was the only thing at this point that could possibly raise her spirits.

With his two standard bodyguards behind them, Roy approached the small, white building that was the Central Children's Daycare. Already, there were many parents in the schoolyard, kissing their children goodbye and wishing them a good day at school. A few of the children waved at Elizabeth, to which she raised a tentative hand in response.

Roy smiled. His girl was still in there; she was just a little nervous.

Crouching down to her level, Roy adjusted the straps of her pink backpack over the shoulders of her lavender dress. "It's going to be fine, Lizzie."

His words were meant to be encouraging, but Elizabeth's frown grew. Her dark eyes peered resolutely at the ground in front of her, refusing to look up into the gentle eyes of her father. Knowing that there was little he could say to comfort the girl, he ruffled her hair before standing up, about ready to take his leave.

That's when he noticed something – or someone – from the corner of his eye.

Standing on the porch of the daycare, the door wide open for the children to make their way inside, stood a young woman. It wasn't the button-down or pencil skirt that caught the Fuhrer's attention, it was the piercing gaze and hateful expression.

With eyes as red as blood and hair as white as snow, it was obvious the woman was Ishvalan.

"That's Miss Abra."

The whisper came from behind his leg, Elizabeth having angled herself to hide behind him at the sight of her teacher. With those words, Roy could feel the bile rising in his throat.

Surely, this woman wasn't taking her hatred for him out on his child.

The bell rang out to signal the start of the 'school' day. The other children began filtering in, but Roy could feel Elizabeth's grip tighten on his military blues. Ignoring the eyes he could still feel boring into him, he patted her head in encouragement, trying not to allow himself to fear the worst. Elizabeth could usually pick up on emotions, so if he acted nervous, she would feel that way as well.

One of the other little girl's in her class, came bouncing over, blonde curls flying behind her as she excitedly grabbed for Elizabeth's hand. After sharing a look with her father, she allowed the other child to pull her away and into the school building.

Once all the children were inside, the young Miss Abra glanced once more at the Fuhrer, before following suit behind her students.

'Now this…' Roy thought to himself, slowly turning away from the building to rejoin his bodyguards. The men nodded at the Fuhrer as he once more took the lead. '…could potentially be a problem.'

That thought was the one he brought up with Riza that night as they lounged in bed. While he had told his wife upon arrival at Headquarters about catching a glimpse of Elizabeth's new teacher, he hadn't mentioned her Ishvalan heritage. Once Riza knew of this tidbit of information, her worry mirrored his.

Elizabeth hadn't been upset when her mother had picked her up from school – however, she hadn't been happy either. When asked if she had gotten in trouble again, the girl responded with a quiet 'no', but Riza could tell there was something else bothering her. Given her susceptibility to other's emotions, Riza now theorized that the young girl could probably sense the disdain her teacher felt for her.

"I guess our worries from before have proven to be valid."

Roy spoke quietly, knowing the Elizabeth was asleep just down the hall. The girl hadn't fought against her bedtime, but neither parent wanted to wake her in the midst of their discussion. It was one that they had always feared would come about, but that they hoped against all hope they wouldn't have to deal with.

How foolish they were.

With their bedside lamps still on, the couple regarded each other. Roy was in a pair of sleep pants, while Riza wore one of his larger, cotton button-downs. Anyone who looked in on the scene would see a pair of normal, run-of-the-mill parents – however, that was only half the story. Normal parents would never have to discuss the treatment their child was receiving due to the sins of their past.

Normal parents weren't murderers.

Riza rubbed her belly, feeling the child within beginning to wake with her lack of movement. "We knew this day would come. I think we became complacent somewhere along the way thinking it wouldn't."

Roy turned from his back to his side, reaching a hand out to lay next to Riza's on her stomach. It had become a part of their nightly routine for him to try and coax a kick out of their baby.

"I don't know what the right answer it." Roy admitted quietly, rubbing a thumb into the fabric of his old shirt. Riza's fingertips met his own, giving him the strength to continue. "I can't blame her for the hatred she has."

"No." Riza agreed, flashing a sad smile his way. The blonde fringe that hung over her forehead, drifted into her eyes as she looked down at the sheets between them. "I can't say I blame her either – it's justified."

"But to take it out on a child…"

"Roy," Riza stopped him, her amber eyes lifting and staring into his. He could see the ancient pain behind her gaze. "We killed innocent children in a fight that was meant to be amongst adults. I don't think it's fair of us to judge."

The man knew she was right.

"So what do we do?" He finally asked, rubbing his palm over her belly. He could have sworn he felt something, but couldn't say for sure. Perhaps, the baby was already cursing their parents for bringing it into an existence like this. An existence where they could possibly be hated. "Should we pull her from the daycare?"

Riza gave him an unimpressed look. While Roy would love to have his daughter back within the walls of Central Headquarters, they had sent her to Central Children's to get her ready for Primary School next year. She needed to be exposed to a school structure and to school lessons. It was paramount for her development.

"I don't think that's the answer." Riza voiced dryly, patting the top of his hand when he pouted. "You and I both know that she needs to start schooling. The Havoc children began early and so did the Elrics. I want her to have the best opportunities possible, especially since they're available to us."

Roy understood this since he wanted the same thing. "I know, but that still doesn't answer my question."

Riza sighed, knowing he was right. "I guess we should talk with the headmaster of the daycare and let her know our position. I'm sure they could move Elizabeth into another class."

"Away from her friends?" Roy asked sadly, hating the situation they had put their daughter in. Riza's look mirrored his own.

"Yes, away from her friends. I just don't see any other options. Let's give it a week and then make the decision."

The Fuhrer could agree to these terms, not wanting to jump the gun before giving this Miss Abra a chance. It wouldn't be fair to try and ask for her forgiveness by performing acts of repentance, if he wasn't willing to give her the same opportunity in return.

As if agreeing with the two adults' decision, the baby within Riza's womb kicked weakly against the wall of their mother's stomach. Roy's eyes widened in surprise as Riza's lips grew into a soft smile. He always had that look of wonder on his face when it came to their children.

"Did the baby just…?" The last part of the question drifted off as he stared pointedly at her stomach, his dark eyes practically begging the child to do it again. However, at this stage, Riza knew the baby wasn't going to be noticeably active often. She was happy though that Roy got to feel some of the movement she had been feeling over the past few weeks.

With a hand lain over his, Riza rubbed a thumb against the rough texture of his skin. "I think the baby agrees with our reasoning."

Roy smiled down at her belly. In the dim lamplight of the room, the couple shared a gentle kiss – the beauty of bringing another life into this world hitting them once more. They had never expected to have Elizabeth and now they were getting the opportunity to have another, surely their luck would run out somewhere along the way. After all, neither of them had ever done anything to deserve such good fortune.

After turning out the lights and snuggling down in bed, Roy wrapped his arms around his wife, palms flat on her stomach, trying his hardest to get the baby to kick again.

"The doctor says everything's alright?" Riza smiled at his question, knowing good and well that she had told him exactly what the doctor had said after her visit on Monday.

"Everything is as it should be." Riza assured him, patting his hand in a comforting gesture. "Though she's still cautious given my age, the baby is growing at the same rate Elizabeth did. We aren't out of the woods completely, and won't be until their born, but the doctor seems to be rather hopeful now that we've made it to this point."

Roy smiled into the back of her neck, nuzzling his nose into her skin. When he inhaled, he could smell the mint fragrance that was used in her shampoo. It smelled like her, it smelled like home.

"Are we still good on the names?" He asked, curious if she had changed her mind. From the pat on the back of his hand though, he could tell she was still resolute on what they had picked out only a month before.

"Yes." She answered, twining her fingers with his. "I think the names are perfect."

Roy smiled before drifting off to sleep.

Whatever problems came their way; they would face them together.

[dragonnan]

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The work I thought it would be fun to share is an in-progress unpublished work that will likely take a while to put together.  I was incredibly inspired by the brilliant writing of both @hanuko and silentsaebyeok who both have stories about Wilson Fisk.  Here is my take on that character in an Avengers fic!

Untitled Fic

Setting: near the end of Homecoming and just prior to Tony reconciling with Pepper

AU of Daredevil season 2-3 (Karen didn't murder Wesley as Fisk's mother didn't remember her visit.  She only remembered Ben)

Late afternoon sunlight had turned every pane of glass into a pool of gold.  The patio doors of the tall office building had been left open – allowing the haze of late day warmth to coil upwards; carried on drafts of air heated from the concrete below.  Rubber soles squeaked softly against marble that knew mainly Italian leather and the rare alligator hide.  Two-hundred dollar sneakers were incongruous to the wealth of the man sporting them, but then, Tony Stark had never been a fan of the expected.    

“So what wrong side of the bed did I wake up on this morning to earn this clandestine meeting before my Kai Jiew has had time to settle?”  One hip resting on the edge of the railing, Tony managed to shudder back a yawn before it became embarrassing.  Behind him, the familiar snap of a briefcase lock barely drew a glance as “Dilbert” pushed up his glasses and withdrew a thick file from the depths.

Further in the shadows, the larger man, silent, stood with his head at an oddly subdued angle.  Often reticent in the blessedly few interactions Tony had ever had with the man, it was little surprise that it was his assistant who spoke.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark.  I assure you this won't take long.”

The unstated request, of course, was that Tony sit at the table positioned within the large room.  Tony raised an eyebrow.  “You didn't say please.”

A smooth, tight lipped smile, followed his quip.  Meanwhile, the still silent other member of their trifecta finally stepped forward – grasping one of the stuffed leather office chairs and rolling it back before seating himself.  Wilson Fisk wove his hands together above propped elbows.  “I appreciate your willingness to meet me so early, Anthony.  I felt it best to speak with you privately given the... delicacy... of the issue at hand.”  He gestured towards the single remaining chair.

Well that wasn't at all circumspect.

Returning the tight lipped smile in kind, Tony grabbed the chair facing the head of the table and sat; leaning back and settling his arms on the padded rests.  “You know, usually I let Pepper handle SI business.  Not sure if you got the memo but I'm not actually CEO any longer.  How was prison, by the way?  I heard the kitchen got a new chef.”

Ignoring the comment, Fisk tapped his thumbs together and kept a close study of the polished inlay before him.  “That is something we share in common,” he looked up, then, finally, “I, too, find that most business affairs tend to be... tedious.”  Fisk grinned, a flash of small, even, teeth, before he nodded towards his assistant... Wilbur?  Weston?  “Mr. Wesley, if you would please?”  He turned back to Tony – also leaning back and resting his thick hands over his thicker waist.  “I can assure you, however, that what we're here to discuss is a matter that falls somewhat outside the purview of Stark Industries.”

While his employer spoke, Wesley neatly stacked the pages of the file before sliding the bundle across the polished tabletop to Tony.  Eager to just get everything done with, Tony pressed his hand flat on the cover to slide it close, flipped it back... and froze.

Across from him, Fisk continued speaking.  “I have found that I have an over-abundance of pressure on me as I attempt to rebuild was was lost during my incarceration. Aside from the judgement of the good people of this city I also have faced an ongoing assault from a number of vigilantes.  This city, for all of its potential, has the unfortunate side effect of breeding these... vermin... faster than the rats that inhabit the sewers.  As it is they are beneath the notice of those who claim to protect the people of this city.”  His hands stilled – lying one on top of the other as Tony silently turned to the next page.  “Too busy protecting the rest of the world, perhaps.”

Tony made himself turn to the next page; his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Of course it isn't in my nature to harm innocents.  I find it distasteful to involve women and children in such matters.  And, yet, I find that it is, in fact, a child at the center of my current dilemma.  Of greater irony is that this child has both power and connections that would, under normal circumstances, place him outside the reach of those who would wish him harm.”

The forth page was a photo – clipped from a newspaper and a duplicate to the framed image that sat on the worktable in Tony's lab.  In the grainy image he stood, one arm slung around a young man's shoulders, as the kid received his certification for completing the “Stark Internship”.  Tony licked his tongue across his teeth before closing the file once more.

Fisk let out a soft hum.  “As it is, prison has a way of creating strange bedfellows.  I met someone – a man you may know.  Adrian Toomes.  After some persuasion he had something very interesting to share with me.  Something that, I can only imagine, you would wish to keep out of the hands of certain individuals.”

Tony wanted to clench his hands – his fingertips twitching before he pushed them flat against the wood beneath them.  “Just to clarify you're threatening my intern?”

Fisk leaned forward; hands folding tight before him on the table.  “I was hoping we wouldn't have to play any games but given your refusal to read the rest of the documents Mr. Wesley provided, I will summarize them for you.” Here he stood; walking to the open doors facing the patio.  “I know who Peter Parker really is.  I know about his aunt.  I know the names of his friends, where he goes to school, and where he buys his favorite sandwich every afternoon.”  He rested his hands behind his back; squinting in the sunlight.  “If he continues to disrupt my affairs in Hell's Kitchen, the consequences could be... unpleasant.” He glanced back at Tony; his face serene.  “You realize I'm asking for very little.  Keep your new pet leashed and allow me to conduct my business in peace.  The child will never have to know my name. Other than what he may learn from news reports; of course.” Tugging his cuffs, Fisk turned to more fully face into the room.  “I never wanted to involve you.  This is the sort of attention I have spent a fortune to avoid.  As it is I find myself in a position where reticence could cost me even more.”  

Pushing to his feet, Tony could no longer stop his hands from fisting at his sides – though he managed to control the tremor as he joined Fisk.  Side by side, the other man practically loomed over him.  

“So you aren't just threatening a kid – you're threatening everyone he cares about.  Little bit budget TV villain but you do you I guess.”  Pulling off his tinted glasses, he stared up at the other man.  “The thing is this little weekly drama you're playing?” he waggled his fingers back and forth, “way above your pay grade.  Maybe stick to collecting on gambling debts and playing whack-a-mole with the other lowlifes in your contacts list.”

The smallest of smiles twitched at the corner of Fisk's lips.  “I know you're someone who prefers visual aids,” his voice became guttural – losing the soft quality, “perhaps a demonstration would help to convince you.”  

A glance to the side, the barest nod to Wesley, and the other man typed into his phone.

There was a moment – silence this far above the city.

And then an apartment complex, three blocks away, exploded into flame.

Horrified, Tony gave Fisk a single look, seeing the purpose in that cold gaze, before twisting the dial on his watch and backing up just enough to turn and take a running leap.  One foot caught on the railing and with a surge of his muscles, he launched himself out into open space.

Terrifying free fall – the ground racing towards him at breakneck speed.

And then smooth metal wrapped his body and he shot towards the blaze.  

:Cutting things a little bit tight, aren't we, Boss?:          

      “No time to chat, Fri.  Emergency response status?”  He twisted his body into an angle as the building grew large in his visor – too few residents stumbling free out onto the pavement.

:Fire and Rescue are three minutes away:

“Shit.”  Aiming for a top floor window that had been blasted out with the explosion, Tony shot through the opening and made a quick scan of the room.  He winced at the sudden burst of heat that briefly enveloped his suit.  “Anyone on this level?”

He almost swore he could hear his AI sighing.  :Apologies, Boss.  I am unable to differentiate life signs from the ambient temperature.  Also the heat is steadily rising and will soon be at levels exceeding this suit's tolerances.:

Ignoring the warning, Tony finished his check of the room and moved on to the next apartment.  “Yeah, let's put a pin in that.  Adjust audio input and scan for human voices.”

In the second apartment he found a single person – deceased.  Same for the next two.  In the forth apartment there were two dead but he also found a child – burned and terrified but alive – buried beneath the blankets in her parent's closet.  Tony kept her wrapped to protect against the flames and rushed her to the sidewalk and into the arms of one of the firemen who had just arrived on scene.  

“Explosion – multiple charges – there's still people...”  He coughed at the black smoke boiling from the ruined building and dropped his visor back into place before returning inside.

Even with the protection of his suit the heat was breathtaking.  There were no more survivors on the top floor so Tony proceeded to the next level down.

:I'm detecting instability in the surrounding structure.:

“We got three apartments left on this floor.  Stop listening to the walls and keep listening for voices!”

The next sign of life he found, however wasn't a human but a howling dog still locked in its kennel.  Tucking the kennel under one arm, Tony finished his search of that floor – finding three additional people and four more pets.  With everyone holding their respective creatures he didn't risk another flight but, instead, soaked several blankets in a shower and guided them to a stairwell FRIDAY had located that was still relatively flame free. Then, turning back to his task he set out to locate more survivors.

Another five minutes in – fire and rescue now dousing the building as fireman began going door to door on the bottom two floors, Tony took the last one remaining.

It was then that disaster struck.

He'd just entered the first apartment – already racing towards the elderly man collapsed on the floor when there was a sudden burst of flames across the ceiling above – overlaid by a warning from FRIDAY.  

:Boss, there is a weakening of the...:

“Shit!”  His heartbeat was a drum in his ears as hooked a thick blanket from the ratty chair in the living room – slow motion tornados of smoke lifting up from the surrounding dry surfaces.  Propulsion would actually take longer – factoring in the time to slow his speed before reaching the man.  It was a fast paced eternity bolting across the ancient carpet.  The blanket billowed out ahead of him and cloaked the man just moments before he wrapped arms around him – knowing that even inside the blanket he was burning the old man with the super heated surface of his suit.  

He managed two steps to the window.

And then the world shattered in a concussive blast.

[fernwehbookworm]

Haunted- Chapter 2

As soon as Kara gets back to CatCo, she pitches her idea to her editor, Snapper Carr. He stares at her for a solid four minutes before grunting out a response. “Fine. But you better do this right. Just the facts. We don't need a eulogy. We need an article that will blow the other four out of the water. Get going, Pony Tail."

Kara escaped his office as fast as she could before Snapper could change his mind.

It was already the end of the day. Kara had spent so much time at L-Corp she had worked through her lunch, very rare for her. With her stomach growling, Kara packed up a few things she thought she might need on her desk and decided to head home. While Kara walked the five city blocks back to her apartment, she ordered more takeout then she would probably eat but everything sounded so good right now. It was better leftover anyway. She is barely through her door when the delivery guy knocks. The smell of Chinese food permeates the entire apartment and Kara can barely focus enough to pay and set up her laptop before diving in.

When the first few bites settle into her stomach and take the edge off her hunger, Kara can actually pause to log into her computer and start researching. In between bites, Kara scrolls through article after article on Lena Luthor. Really, there is nothing about her up until her brother's arrest. There is one short piece back when she was four and being adopted by the Luthor's, her tiny hand is obscured by her father's as the now family of four leaves the courthouse after signing the papers. The occasional mention on various projects for school fairs but Miss Luthor is always listed as 'not pictured.' The next picture Kara finds is of Lena graduating high school as Valedictorian at the age of fifteen. She had refused to give a speech, stating 'who am I to speak about our high school experience when I was barely here even two years? They laughed and cried together. They have grown together in ways I will never understand. Let one of them tell them of a hope for the future as they look fondly on the past."

Which Kara thought was a pretty good speech in itself.

Then Miss Luthor was gone again, only resurfacing in research papers and a start-up application with a man named Jack Sphere,  who Kara finds is the now CEO of Spherical Industries. Shortly after that is when Lex Luthor is arrested. After scouring those police reports, Kara finally finds how. Lena Luthor turned her own brother in. Her public statement says that she suspected something had been off with her brother. At first she assumed it was the pressure of taking over LuthorCorp, which he quickly renamed to LexCorp, after their father had died. But it continues even as the company went into a period of growth and prosperity. Investors were practically knocking down Mr. Luthor's door.

Miss Luthor noticed a heavier rotation of women through her brother's life. There had always been a new woman every couple of months because Mr. Luthor had been known to get bored easily. He was a very intellectual man, he even claimed his sister was his only match for wits. Then it seemed like a new woman every week. Miss Luthor worried about a scorned woman trying to blackmail her brother and said so to him. 'He just chuckled real lowly. And said there was nothing to worry about. It was all taken care of.' A quote from the police report.

She didn't know then, that he was wooing these women, giving them everything they could ever want, paying off their debts and dressing them in the finest clothes, and just when they would say they couldn't be happier, he would kill them. He would drug them and tag them like farm animals or game. Then hunt them like those very animals in the huge forests on the Luthor estate. Miles of undeveloped trees that were privately owned. Police still don't believe they have found all the bodies of the missing women who are presumed dead by Lex Luthor's hand. He buried them where he killed them. Still in torn designer dresses with diamonds around their necks and bright orange tags punctured through an ear.

Miss Luthor had started to see signs of the deeds slowly. Blood on a dress shirt carelessly left in a bathroom. A hunting cabinet left unlocked. Dirt tracked into Mr. Luthor's bedroom because the maids had been dismissed for the week. That's when she started spying on him. As a child, she had hid from an verbally abusive mother and knew all nooks and crannies of the Luthor estate. When she finally caught him drugging the next victim, she knew. She took what evidence she could to the police and cooperated fully. Lex Luthor escaped before being taken into custody and no one knows where to. As Miss Luthor gave the federal agency access to LexCorp’s financials, a whole other slew of accusations were leveled on the former CEO. He had been selling weapons on both sides of wars around the world, profiting from death and destruction. His list of crimes went on and on.

Kara begins to write, switching between tabs on the internet browser. It takes hours just to get her notes into a semblance of order and a skeleton of a rough draft. Kara even uses her found pen to take physical notes and jot down ideas as well. Kara works until her eyes start to burn and half her food is gone. By eight, Kara was also halfway through a bottle of wine. She pushes past that, diving in and losing herself in the research and the stories of Miss Luthor’s employees.

Kara blinks hard to try and rid the sleep from her eyes, she is too in the zone to stop now. When she opens them again, she startles at the woman sitting next to her at the table. Kara instantly recognizes her with the long dark hair and piercing green eyes. She’s even still wearing the lab coat that she was in the video.

“Okay, I’m dreaming. I have to be.” Kara mumbles to herself and rubs her eyes.

“Oh, yeah. You are definitely face down on your laptop. It’s quite adorable. Too bad all those ‘F’s’ are going to take up your pages. I hope you auto saved.” Kara watches the phantom of Miss Luthor laugh and then she ties up her hair in a high ponytail, exposing the sharp jawline that Kara saw in her company portrait.

“Yeah definitely dreaming. I think I’ve been thinking about you too much.”

“Honey, no one ever thinks of me too much.” Miss Luthor raises an eyebrow and flashes a smirk Kara’s way.

Kara blushes. “Well since this is all not real, care for an interview? Maybe my subconscious can tell me something.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I’m here. I mean, I feel real. But I have never met you before. But I’ve been watching you for a while and all of a sudden you can see me.”

“Sounds very dreamish to me. So, Interview?”

“I don’t think that’s how dreams work.” Miss Luthor says with a laugh.

“I don’t think I could dream up that laugh, Miss Luthor.”

Miss Luthor winces, “If this isn’t real, then please call me Lena. Miss Luthor makes me feel like I am in a Boardroom.”

“All right, Lena then. I’m Kara.”

“Really? I thought it was Pony Tail. At least that's what that angry goblin man called you.”

“You saw that?”

“I’ve been with you almost all day. I've seen everything.”

“Everything?” Kara’s voice gets a bit higher.

“Don’t worry, I stayed out of the bathroom stall.”

“Oh good, my subconscious lets me have my privacy.”

“Still don’t think that’s true, but tell me, Kara, why are you doing this? Why are you trying to make me look so good? You don’t even know me?”

“I’m not trying to make you look good. You were good. The things you were doing for your employees and National City is amazing. Not to mention your charity helping third world countries. Like, What weren’t you doing?” “I wasn’t living. I was working myself until I couldn’t think to fill the void of loneliness that I thrust upon myself by turning in my brother and cutting my mother out of my life.”

“Wow, intense. But you didn’t find joy in anything you did.”

“I did. But it was always just so temporary. And I had no one to share it with. I never understood why people would talk about sharing their lives with significant others but when the machine malfunctioned and I saw the bright light. It all hit me at the same time and then I was there, watching you interview with Jess.”

“Man, I really wish you weren’t dead. I would have loved to meet you.”

“But I don’t think I am.”

Kara jerks awake, scattering her papers and pens to the floor. She casts about for Lena before realizing she was in fact just dreaming. A glance at her computer screen does reveal a stream of F’s going on for way too many pages. The sun has long set and Kara looks at her watch to see that it is now three in the morning. She groans, she has less than four hours to sleep before getting up again.

Kara is dead on her feet the next morning, she bought two caramel ice cappuccinos for herself and drank them both before they had a chance to melt. Kara has to do a double take when she sits at one of the cafe tables. She swears Lena is sitting across from her, but when Kara blinks, she’s gone. Kara shakes her head and chalks it up to the lack of sleep. On the street, as Kara works on her vanilla cream-filled doughnut, she almost drops it because someone runs into her, she has an apology half way out of her mouth before realizing that the person is long gone.

Eyebrows drawn together, Kara finishes her trek to work and hides in her cubicle. Luckily, Snapper seems content to allow her to work on the Lena Luthor story and leaves Kara alone for the morning. It’s nearing noon when Kara’s phone buzzes.

Noonan’s?

Alex knows her sister very well. Noonan’s sounds perfect.

20 min? Kara responds.

A thumbs-up emoji comes in response and Kara begins saving her place so she can head out to meet her sister. Kara logs out and stands to swing her bag onto her shoulder, somehow knocking her pen container to the ground in the process. Kara groans to herself and stoops to pick them up. Someone giggles at her misfortune but Kara can’t pinpoint which one of her coworkers it was.

Kara shakes her head and lets it go.

“Hey Alex,” Kara greets as she sinks into the seat across from her sister at Noonan’s.

“Hey Kar… you look exhausted.”

“Gee, thanks. Good to see you too.”

“I’m your sister, I’m supposed to call it how it is. What’s up?”

Before Kara can respond, their waitress interrupts. “The usual, dears?”

“Yes,  thanks, Carol.” Kara says.

“So?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing, really.” Kara tries to wave off her sister’s concerns but Alex continues to stare her down. “It’s just this L-Corp article. I stayed up way too late researching and fell asleep at my computer.”

“You have got to stop doing that to yourself.”

“I know, I know. I even had this super weird dream about Lena Luthor.”

“Weird how?”

“She was just there in my apartment, sitting at my table, and we just started talking. But then she kept saying how she didn’t think she was actually dead. It just felt so real. I don’t know. It was weird.”

“Sounds like you have been really focused on this. You were probably just overtired.”

“Maybe, but forget about me. What’s new with you?”

“Not much. I’m thinking about asking Kelly to move in.” Alex winces at Kara’s high pitched squeal.

“Not much?! That’s huge Alex! Really? I’m so happy for you!”

Alex laughs at Kara’s enthusiasm. “It’s not that big of a deal. She hardly ever goes back to her apartment anyway, mine is closer to both of our jobs and she already has half my closet space.”

“But still! That’s great. I love Kelly, well not how you love Kelly, but like I love Kelly as a very possible future sister-in-law.”

“Whoa, slow down sis. Let’s take this one step at a time.”

“Sorry, I just excited for you. It will be great. We should have a dinner party after you ask to celebrate.”

“Here you ladies go,” Carol set’s down the plates of food, Kara’s piled high with extra fries and a couple of extra pickles next to her burger.

“Thanks,” Alex accepts her club sandwich with a hungry grin. "Want my pickle?"

"Always," Kara grins as she grabs the spear from her sister's plate.

As Kara settles back into her chair, she does a double-take. She could have sworn she had seen Lena Luthor watching her from the door. But when she looked again there was just a woman with dark hair waiting for a seat.

"What's wrong?" Alex asks, noticing her sister's confusion.

"Nothing. Just, jeez, I must be really thinking too much about this article. I keep thinking I see Le- Miss Luthor out of the corner of my eye. It's happened a couple times today."

"Well, maybe when you finish this article, you should put in for some personal time. You haven't taken a day off since you became a reporter two years ago. And you have been pushing really hard this past couple of weeks. We even canceled the last two game nights, which, by the way, Kelly wants to have on Friday."

"Oh! Yes! I met a new friend interviewing for this article. Winn, he asked if we could hang out sometime so I told him he should definitely come to game night."

Alex raises an eyebrow at her sister.

"What?" Kara asks through a mouthful of fries.

"Kar…"

Kara swallows. "What?" She asks innocently.

"I think that poor man was trying to ask you out."

"Wha-? No. Wait." Kara rethinks their last interaction. She frowns hard and then shrugs. "He isn't really my type, plus I'm a little put off of men still. Don't get me wrong, I am still attracted to them but after Mike, I think I need a break from them."

"Hey, you won't find any arguments from me. Women are prettier anyway." Alex laughs.

"All right you big lesbian, yes they are. But I'm not really feeling the dating thing anyway. I just need some 'me' time."

"I don't need to know about your 'me' time. Some things are just best for sisters not to know.”

"Ugh, Alex! Not like that. Well… a little like that, but not the point. Okay changing the subject. How are you asking Kelly to move in?"

<><><><>

Kara was really starting to hate this feeling of being watched. It had nagged at her all day. Like someone was just behind her, watching everything she did. It followed her all the way home and into her apartment. Kara was trying to just chalk it up to lack of sleep and overthinking but then she just thought about it more and it became a vicious cycle. The back of her neck prickled as she locked her front door and Kara only hesitated a moment before chaining the door along with the deadbolt. Kara knew she should sleep, but this article needed to be done and prepared for whatever new information L-Corp sent out when they concluded their investigation. To Kara though, that information would be last. She really wanted to focus on Lena's life instead of her death. Kara ordered pizza and began to dive deep into her research again. Each new charity or fundraiser event leading to a new one. There were some that Kara could not find clear evidence of it being Lena so she emailed Jess who responded promptly with a list of events and organizations that Lena decided not to be listed on or listed as a minor contributor even though the exact opposite was true.

Around 9, Kara can feel her eyelids growing heavy as she shakes off sleep and takes another bite of her half-finished pizza. Or she tries to. Darkness envelops her consciousness and panic feels like it wraps around her heart.

“Where am I? Come on… come on. I have to find a way back. There… There! I have to—”

Kara jerks awake, knocking her pizza box onto the ground and nearly punching her computer screen. Though the confused, muddled images fade, the fear keeps her heart pumping. Kara isn't really sure what she was just dreaming of but it raised goosebumps on her arms.

Kara stands and shuts her computer. Even as she is telling herself how ridiculous it was, Kara checks all the locks on her windows and balcony doors. She even rechecks her front door. Satisfied, Kara goes to brush her teeth and climbs into bed. She still can’t shake the dream. Kara lays awake, listening to every noise of the city and her neighbors.

Kara must have drifted off at some point because soon she is woken again by a rattling noise. It’s slow, coming back to consciousness, but when she does, her knuckles tighten on her comforter as she remains as still as possible and held her breath to pinpoint the cause of the noise.

The rattling continues and seems to be growing more agitated. Quietly, Kara gets off her bed and grabs her baseball bat from her closet. Alex had insisted on her having  something to protect herself when she moved out on her own. She had laughed at the time but she wasn't laughing now. Kara tiptoes back out into the living room, bat half raised as her eyes straining in the darkness. Luckily, the moon is full and illuminated the living space enough for Kara to look for anything out of place. The rattling noise came again and Kara's head snaps in that direction, lifting the bat higher.

With a laugh, Kara releases the breath she is holding. Streaky is perched on the fire escape swatting at the window to be let in. The stray cat had selected Kara's apartment to escape to when he sensed storms coming or drops in temperature.

Kara sets the bat against the couch and unlocks the window to let the demanding feline in.

"Hey bud, trying to scare me to death?"

Streaky just lets out a meow of protest at how long it took for Kara to allow him entry.

"Yeah, yeah," Kara says to him. "Come on, I'll put some food and water down. Then, you have to let me sleep. I only have three more hours."

Kara digs in the bottom of her pantry for Streaky's bowl and food. She fills one half with the dry food and the other with water. She has to concentrate not to trip over the cat circling her ankles. Kara sets it down with a scratch behind pointed ears and earns a contented purr.

By the time Kara is crawling into bed to try and sleep, Streaky is making himself comfortable at the foot of it.

Kara's alarm blares all too soon and she is starting to seriously consider time off like her sister suggested. Kara rubs the sleep from her eyes and looks at Streaky. He is sitting up with his back to Kara. He is too stiff for his normal behavior. As Kara watches him, Streaky's head slowly pivots to the right, then back to the left, as if tracking the movement of something. But he isn't looking at the ground. Streaky is looking straight ahead, if even a little up.

"Hey…". Kora mumbles, trying to break the creepy behavior, she taps him with a foot. Streaky doesn't even budge from his watchful stance.

"Okay, weirdo."

With the sun rising, most of the anxiety from the night before had faded, but the cats strange behavior still set prickled at Kara's neck.

She decided a shower would help clear the night from her mind and the sleep from her eyes. The hot water soon had the bathroom steaming and Kara lets her tense shoulders relax under the water pressure. She knows she can’t stay in all morning but boy, is she tempted to. Streaky is protesting at the closed bathroom door, hating being shut out of a room. With a groan, Kara turns off the water and grabs the towel from the bar next to the tub. A quick pat down before stepping out to wrap her hair up.

Kara turns to wipe the moisture from her mirror and freezes with her heart.

Help Me!

[elejahfanfic]

Hello Love/2

Fanfiction

Part 2

AU story with tvd characters

Miguel Galindo x Elena Gilbert💖

Ft. Klaroline, Kennett

It's a love story -no vampires. Human.

Featuring a song by David Bisbal_Me enamore de ti

Also, Yemaya is played by Zoe Saldana.

♡□

So much is going on in this ch, there is so many characters - I hope it still has a coherent flow - 😅

Thanks for reading. 😀😘

Tag_@miguelsbrat

♤♡◇♧

Niklaus, or better known as Klaus to his family and friends, just taken a cab to take him to the Mikaelson residence.

He still wasn't sure if he made the right decision to return home after so many years abroad, where he had built a very good reputation and established himself as a prominent young architect making his firm The Wolf Group, as they called themselves, one of the very best. He left it to be run by his partner, Marcel Gerard.

It was one morning after he spoke to Miguel that he made the abrupt decision to take a sabatical year and spend time with the family. Actually, to be precise, with his siblings, as his relationship with his parents was not a good one.

***

Meanwhile

In Rebekah's office, she was looking at the photographs that were to go in the next issue.

"Get me Damon" she said to her assistant Vicki.

"Anything else?" Vicki asked.

"No. I'll be working till late, so you can go. Thanks" Rebekah said.

The eldest of them was Finn, who tragically died in a car crash, at the age 20. Niklaus was their second child. He was three years old when they adopted Miguel.

Rebekah chose to work hard to prove to her father that she can get the fashion magazine up and running and make a huge success of it when she took over. So, at work she was known as the shrew, some of her co-workers would refer to her as a blood-sucker at times. The Mikaelson family was regarded as the most ambitious when business was concerned. Their parents taught their children to be excellent, to strive to excel. To be the best. And they made them proud.

After, Kol, Rebekah and finally Henrik followed.

Miguel fell in love and chose to go to live in San Diego to work after he married. And as his wife died, instead of returning to New York, he chose to go to Mexico City. As for Klaus, after finishing his studies decided to travel the world, finally settling in Europe starting to work as an architect in a small firm.

The Mikaelsons were a big family.

But lately, work was all she had on her mind.

Damon got to her office in a little while, and as he entered the first thing she said was-

"We are professionals and personal stuff should never affect the work-still- I am going to say this, because Elena is my friend and I love her dearly - you're an asshole! If you weren't so damned good at what you do I would kick you to the curb."

"That's not bad. I kind of thought you would dagger me!" Damon said.

"Let's get to work. Look at those", she now showed what she didn't like about those photos and asked for a new photo session with the next month's cover person.

***

Elsewhere

Bonnie and Caroline met Elena for some good old retail therapy. The best remedy when trying to kinda mend a broken heart. A change in style, hair was Caroline's suggestion. Also, they all had already received an electronic invitation to the Mikaelson cocktail night. And they need great dresses for the occasion.

Elena kept quiet about her unusual meeting in the cafe.

*

In the Upper East Side, Miguel met his son at his new school. Cris as he and all his family and friends called him didn't want to go to a private school, and so Miguel enrolled him in the public school recommended by Rebekah.

Cristobal, looked a lot like his mother, very savvy, goodhearted teenager, who knew exactly what he wanted in his life. He was very close his father. The death of Emily, cut them both and glued them even more together. Sometimes Cristobal took more care of his father, than the other way around. Mostly because Miguel was very dedicated to his work.

There were certain things he still needed to do regarding the transfer, and he now dealt with all that.

"There something different about you dad" he said to him when they got out of the school.

"In what way?" Miguel looked surprised at his son.

"I don't know.  But- different! You have a happy face."

"I have a happy face?"

"Yes. Usually it's - just serious." Cristobal said as he opened the car door.

Miguel looked at the watch and he had promised their housekeeper Senora Vega that they would be on time for the evening dinner. "Come on, we are late."

And there was a certain truth, he felt different. The woman Elena that he had met in the cafe was not getting out of his head. He had not felt a tingle in his heart for a woman for a very long time.

***

Greenich Village

Elena returned home later that evening and looked at the dress she chose for the cocktail party. Then at her new hairstyle, running her hands through them, inhaling deeply.

"Stop it!" she said to herself in the mirror, "stop thinking about him. Don't need anyone right now. Good-he looked so good in the three-piece suit- too good. "I am going crazy- what's wrong with me?!"

This man was not even her type. She prefered guys in jeans, with a badboy vibe about them. 'Mike' was completely the opposite. What was happening to her. Rebound thoughts. Totally crazy. Sliding the dress safely into the small closet, she went to the living room and put one of her mix playlists on.

Taking her laptop, she made hetself comfortable on the sofa. It was time to do some work. Lena's Cookie website needed updating. Browsing through the photos of her recent cookie creations made her stumble on a few she had done for her friend Yemaya's birthday. Though she was from Brasil, she was very much into mexican art and so she had requested mexican sugar cookies for her birthday fiesta.

Thinking of 'Mike', she looked up a recipe from her notes.

Me enamoré de ti, jamás lo imaginaba

Que algun día yo, de amor iba a vivir

***

A couple of blocks away

"Move in with me" he blurted out inbetween kisses and half way to bed disregarding supper.

"Enough of work." Bonnie said closing Kol's laptop nestling comfortably on his lap, pulling him into a kiss.

Kol finished writing the draft of his last research paper.  Bonnie sneaked up on at him with a trey of food and wine.

"Who is joking? Move in with me. I'm serious. I want you here - all the time. It's crazy paying for two apartments, sleeping ovet here- there."

"Ok," Bonnie said,"yeah, let's be practical"

"This is not about being practical," Kol drew his fingers up her cheeks, looking at her dreamily, "I really want you here with me all the time."

"When you look at me that way, I could never say no."

"You drive me crazy" Kol smiled, "At times I can't believe you are real - and you are with me"

"Shut up and kiss me" Bonnie pressed her forfinger on his lips.

She was a person so very open hearted, giving and so loving. He met her accidently, so he thought, as he waited for Rebekah to meet him for lunch at the bar. He didn't know that the Rebekah and the others set Bonnie and he up on a blind date. He complained to Rebekah that he had no luck in the love department and that he had enough of dates that led to nowhere.

He kissed her, and he took that as a 'yes'.

***

Stefan met his fellow journalist Yemaya for a last minute check before he gave in his article for print.

"Stop joking"

"Want to grab a drink?" he asked casually.

"Just one!" she stressed out, "Last night I had one too many"

"Wow- in the middle of the week ?!"he teased her as he knew her rule not to drink during the week.

"We took Elena out to kick her shoes off. She was really down."

"I heard," Stefan said, "I cannot make excuses for my brother, he is not bad-but he makes hell of mistakes."

"All the time!" Yemaya added.

"Yeah, but I am not really into the Damon- Elena talk. Actually, I need a date for a cocktail party?!"

"You got invited too?!" Yemaya was surprised.

"Maybe it was some mistake, but it came from Mikael's official e-mail!" Stefan said.

"Yes. I would like to be your date!" Yemaya accepted happily.

"Good!"- Stefan smiled, and  now waited for her to finish off what she was doing.

 ***

Days went by in a flash, and everyone had mostly work on their mind. Well, not everyone. Elena had something else on her mind, or rather someone else.

The Mikaelson cocktail party started to be the thing everyone started to talk about.

Esther and Rebekah were deeply immersed in the event. Everything had to be perfect.

Esther had invited all her family for a family brunch the day before.

Kol, Miguel and Cristobal arrived an hour before the meal. Cristobal immediately went with Henrik, who was two years older than him and that was a bit strange as he was in actual fact his uncle.

"What is not weird with this family" Cristobal said looking at Henrik wide-eyed.

"I kind of have to get to know Klaus and Miguel- they look too serious" Henrik said.

"Dad can be fun-he just doesn't like to show it much!" Cristobal explained. "Show me the last vynils you’ve bought."

"Come on" Henrik said gesturing to follow him to his room.

*

Rebekah walked in the living room all chirpy, "Gossiped much?!"

"No. Why would you think so?" Klaus said. "Then you have changed- you always had something smart to say about me"

"I did hear already comments about what a dragon you are at work, " Klaus teased, "it's only fashion, but I guess it has to be run with military precision. Father must be very proud!"

"There-you see" Rebekah looked at Miguel, who wanted to stay out of it.

"I hear you have new friends," Klaus said,"kicked the old snobby ones to the curb, I hear"

"I am sick of her snoby friends- yes-I have managed to make proper friends, and if you behave, maybe I will introduce them to you!" Rebekah shot back at her brother tapping him on the shoulder.

Esther walked into the Salon and there was gladness in her heart. All her children were there, and that was a rare occasion in the last years.

Her husband now joined them and they sat down for a very different brunch they all were used to. It was warm, chatty and quite lively.

Esther was counting her blessings, though her heart was not entirely at ease.

***

The next day, the pre-cocktail buzz was already in full flow with both the hosts as well as their invites.

Caroline talked to Elena over the phone about the cocktail party and Klaus.

"He looks really good," Caroline said, "you should check his site- he has done some amazing stuff."

"Caroline, you are telling me that I get into things head over heals like instantly. Rebekah is great, but he is a Mikaelson. Do you really want to get involved with one of them?"

"Elena, I know what you're thinking. Too close to home. Could mess up a great friendship if things go bad"

"Not thinking anything. Ok. I got to go. See you later"

"I will pick you up," Caroline said, "oh, I went back and changed the dress. I am wearing the blue dress - right- Jess is hear to do my hair. I will see you soon."

"Ok." Elena put the phone down.

Elena went to do her hair and make up herself. She was good in anything creative. She decided to wave it a bit and pin one side. She was going for a more natural look, and yet looking glam.

Simplicity has always been her motto. And yet, everything she did never looked simple. From her range of cookies to her relationships. 

The door bell went and Elena was surprised to see Yemaya at the door. She had already been ready and dressed.

"Hey- Sorry. I just had to come" the woman stormed in.

Elena could see that her friend was all flustered. Something major must have happened for her to be coming and not calling.

Elena now waited to hear her spill the beans.

"Ok -I am going to say it- huh- I slept with Stefan. We went for a drink and it was just one drink -and we talked and he drove me home and then we kissed and then we kissed some more and- you know the rest."

Elena didn't understand what was so bad about it. He and Yemaya were work collegues. And that is exactly now what was Yemaya's concern.

"I said I would never get involved with someone I work with."

"Shall I guess what you told him in the morning?! Exactly that?! Right?"

Yemaya nodded. 

***

In the Mikaelson Mansion, Esther Mikaelson was going through the list with her personal party organizer for the afternoon cocktail party the family was hosting for an exlusive charity event for the hospital Miguel and Kol worked for. Just one look from her said volumes when she was displeased with something. When her favourite sister died in the car crash, everyone thought that she would retreat and never come back, as she did go away for a year to grieve and be by herself. The grief changed something in her, she became a recluse, but adopting Miguel, brought her back to life. As he now walked out into the garden, greeting her with a small kiss on the cheek.

"How are you, querida madre?"

"Very well - even better now that you and Cristobal are here." Esther replied.

"This looks beautiful. Thank you for doing this."

"Darling, it is nothing. It's my pleasure. Where is Cristobal?"

"With Henrik" Miguel said and now greeted Kol and Bonnie.

Kol then went on to introduce Bonnie to Klaus and Miguel. Rebekah quickly snatched Bonnie away from the men.

"So, I'm hearing wedding bells from the distance!" Klaus teased Kol.

"Unlike you, I actually want one woman for myself!" Kol threw back at him.

"You haven't changed at all!" Klaus said. "I will leave you two to discuss whatever medical thing you will discuss"

"Bonnie" Miguel started, " she seems to be lovely!"

"What about you? Are you never going to find someone again?” Kol asked his brother.

"I don't know," Miguel said, "maybe"

"What does that mean? Have you met somebody?" Kol continued with the quizzing. "Dr Ruben has set her eyes on you. She's been asking me if you were dating anyone?"

"Please don't play the matchmaker." Miguel warned.

"Don't worry -"

Cris and Henrik came up to them and Kol now turned to them, quizzing them about the band they were forming.

The guest started arriving and Cris now observed how Esther and Mikael, together with Rebekah glided among the guests and how masterfully they played the hosts.

Damon and Stefan arrived together. Krystal made a solo appearance. 

Elena, Yemaya and Caroline entered like a grand trio.

Rebekah was there like a shot and greeted her friends.

"Who invited Krystal?" Caroline shot at Rebekah straight out seeing the woman mingling with some of the guests.

"Father's office - she is the best model and it's about business -if you thought that this was a family thing only, then you are mistaken -come on -let me introduce you to Miguel and Klaus."

Elena's heart dropped when she heard the name, but when she actually saw that it was the man she had met in the cafe, her heart started beating uncontrollably. She tried to keep her composure as Rebekah officially now introduced them.

"Hello" Miguel said, curling a smile at the brunette.

"Hello" Elena muttered and smiled back at him, “I thought your name is Mike?!”

"Uhm - it's Miguel - when we were kids Rebekah would call me Mikey - uhm - I don’t know why I introduced myself using my childhood nickname - just felt like - I suppose being back in New York”

"Oh, you've met?" Rebekah said slightly wide-eyed.

"Yes- a few days ago" Miguel said, his eyes still fixed on Elena.

Se pinta de colores toda mi alma

Con esa dulce luz de tu mirada

Y al verte sonreír, vuelvo a tener fe

Elena nodded, confirming it was so, looking at her friend and then at the suave looking cardiologist.

The waitress with champagne cocktails approached them and Miguel now took the glasses and offered one to her.

"Strawberry Bellini! I think you will like it." Miguel said to the brunette.

"Thank you!" Elena took the glass. She was at ease now. His charm just enveloped her and she didn't care anymore that she had seen Damon and Krystal at the party.

Not standing far from them, Caroline already chatted with Klaus as if they knew eachother forever. He offered her a Mimosa cocktail. 

"You are looking in the direction of that brunette like she had done something to you so disgracefully" Klaus commented since Caroline looked at Krystal off and on.

_ to be continued