#its a must for Luca to read every night before bed

[michealhehejackson]

Saw this image and I immediately knew what I had to do.

Luca looks really grumpy in this, but I promise they love each other

[agirlattea]

Sincerely, a Rainbow of stories for you:

Please Tell Me the Story of the Rainbow: Part 4

(Location: Akira’s room, Central Kingdom, Night Time)

Akira: Yes?

Rutile: It’s Rutile. Is now a good time?

(Sound of door opening)

On the other side of the open door stood Ruitle, holding a familiar book to his chest.

Akira: Luka Caroll’s magical picture book….

Rutile: Prince Arthur lent it to me. If you don’t mind you you like to finish reading it together?

Akira: Really? I’d love to!

I invited Rutile into the room, and we sat side by side on the bed, with the book in between us.

Rutile: I heard from Mr.Cock Robin that all of Luca Caroll’s picture books are one of a kind.

It appears that these kinds of books are impossible to mass produce, and so he carefully draws each one using magic.

Akira: So this book is precious.

Rutile: That’s right. It’s the only one of its kind in the world. Just touching it makes my heart beat faster.

Rutile gently stroked the cover of the book, as if nostalgic for an old notebook.

Rutile: Well then, do you want to open it?

I held my breath as Rutile’s beautiful fingers slowly turned the cover of the picture book.

As he opened the book, rainbow colored lighted spilled from the pages like river water and spread across the carpet of the room like ink smudges.

A gentle breeze swayed golden buds, which bloomed into flowers and started to dance in the wind.

Mysterious creatures run across amethyst colored hills and soar through azure skies.

A fantastic world spread across my vision, like a melody flowing from a music box.

I held my breath at the sight as Rutile narrowed his eyes in fascination at the illusion that enveloped us.

Akira: “Magical Picture Book” is a perfect name for this one of a kind book.

Rutile: Truly, it's like a dream world…

Akira: What story is told in this book? I still can’t read this world’s characters…

Rutile: Ah. That’s right, sorry. The book is about a little girl who travels the world riding on the back of a butterfly-like creature.

The mysterious creature’s name is Roxy.

Akira: Roxy… the floating butterflies over there fit that description, right?

Rutile: You’re right! Their fluffy bodies are cute.

Akira: Their transparent wings are also beautiful… depending on how the light hits them, they change color!

It’s like their dyeing the wind in color every time they flap their wings.

Rutile: Wow Master Sage, that’s such a poetic expression!

Rutile: Roxy might not be a human or a wizard, but she’s a very important friend to this girl.

The overflowing love that this book manages to transmit really warms my heart.

Akira: I can’t read the story, but the flowers, grass, sky, clouds, and creatures…they’re all drawn so carefully…

Just looking at it puts me at ease.

This fictional world must be very important to Mr. Caroll.

Rutile: I think so too.

The rainbow colored butterflies floated gently through the picture book’s illusion.

I could almost hear the twinkling sound from the bring fluttering of their wings.

Akira: A dear friend who is neither human nor wizard…

Like Roxy and this child, it’d be nice if wizards and humans could come to understand each other better and become friends too.

Rutile’s encouraging nod was the motivation I needed to come to my decision.

Akira: To that end, I’d like everyone at the manor to attend the exhibition.

Rutile: It’s an exhibition where everyone can truly go enjoy the works on display, without distinction between humans and wizards!

Rutile gazed at the picture book with a face full of hope as he said that.

Akira: I’m excited!

Rutile: I am too!

I wonder if we’ll be able to find more works by Luca Caroll…I’m excited now, I don’t think I'll be able to sleep!

Seeing Rutile’s jovial smile reminded me of nights I couldn’t sleep before big events.

Rutile: Master Sage? Why are you laughing all of a sudden?

Akira: Haha, sorry. I was just remembering times I couldn’t sleep because I was looking forward to something.

Rutile: So even the Sage has had nights like that.

Akira: Yeah, like… the more I tried to sleep, the more awake I was. As if my heart was… how should I put it?

Rutile: Leaping?

Akira: Exactly.

Rutile: Like you can’t stop your heart from jumping around?

Akira: Yes!

We looked at each other and laughed.

Akira: I think I’ve just become more excited for the exhibition.

Rutile gently closed the picture book and held it tightly.

Rutile: I wonder what kind of person Luca Caroll is?

Akira: I’m curious how he was able to draw such a pretty world. Snow and White didn't know much about it.

Though, Shylock said she might be a long-lived witxh.

Rutile: Like this picture book, I’m sure she must be thoughtful and kind, though a little mischievous and cute…

I’m sure she's a very nice person!

(Location: ???)

???: This place is so warm. I’m sure this must be what it feels like inside of an egg. Don’t you think so?

Warm… protected… I feel very safe.

No… I felt safe… until now

You know Roxy, if I stay here I can meet everyone I love. Even hear them call my name…

But you know, I’m scared. A gentle voice… a nice figure… my favorite name…

It feels like the moment I close my eyes they’ll disappear. I’m afraid to leave this place.

I’m afraid of myself changing.

I’m afraid of losing something much more precious.

If this is an egg, I wonder if i have to hatch someday?

(Location: Exhibition at an Old Castle, Central Kingdom, Day Time)

A few days later, the day of the exhibition finally arrived.

The venue, an old castle, was bustling with people.

I, accompanied by a few wizards, look around the venue as I make my way to greet the nobles who invited us.

Akira: What an amazing castle! Is the entire building being used for the exhibition?

Shino: Is it even possible to see all of this in one day?

Cain: The list of exhibits was pretty long. To think they’ve collected this much!

Heathcliff: They don’t appear to have been collected randomly. The organizer must have carefully selected the pieces he thought were good… I can feel his commitment.

Chloe: All the guests here are so fashionable! I guess that must be because they’re interested in art.

Ah! That embroidery is beautiful! I’d love to see it up close!

Rutile: I’d also love to take a look!

Rutile, who stepped forward as he said that, bumped into a shadowy figure.

Little Girl: Oof

Rutile: Ah, I’m so sorry!

Little Girl: Umm…

She appeared to be a few years younger than Mitile.

Cain gently caught the petite girl, who looked confused.

Cain: Are you okay?

Little Girl: Ah…

The girl’s gaze was confused, as if dazed. Her large purple eyes swayed with anxiety.

Riquet: Are you lost? Did you come here with someone?

Little Girl: ….

Mitile: You seem to be lost. Do you recognize anyone around here?

Cain: It’s easy to get lost in such a big venue, but its alright now, you don’t have to worry.

Chloe: Then I'll call a staff member…

Suddenly, the girl grabs Shino’s sleeve, as he looks around with everyone.

Shino: …? You…

Little Girl: There you are!

I could see a young man walking towards us at a brisk pace through the crowd of people.

He had bright blonde hair and pale amber eyes. He was probably a little older than Cain.

Although the colors of his suit were subdued, the pattern of the shirt peaking out through the hem was stylish.

Little Girl: …

The girl let go of Shino’s sleeve and ran up to the man. She pushed her shoulders together, as if touching in wings and hiding them behind her back.

Young Man: I’m so glad I found you!

Excuse us, I apologize for the inconvenience.

Heathcliff: Are you her parent? I’m glad you found her, she seemed to be lost.

Young Man: The second I took my eyes off of her, I lost her. Alright, let's go.

Gently taking the girl’s hand, the young man bowed to us and left.

Young Man: Are you okay? I’ve been feeling a little hazy lately but… are you worried about me, Luca?

Rutile and Akira: Eh?

Akira: (Luca… could it be?)

The back of the young man and the girl quickly disappeared into the crowd of people.

Rutile: …

I was a little worried about the girl, but I decided to let the matter be and take a look around the hall.

Akira: It looked impressive from the outside, but the interior is even larger than i expected.

Heathcliff: Since the venue is so large, let’s check the map before we set off. Is there anything in particular you want to see, Sage?

Akira: You’re right… there’s so much to see, so I’m worried we won't get to them all.

Translator’s note: It appears that I’ve misgendered Luca. In previous chapters I referred to her as he/him, but it appears she is a girl.

Back to event Masterlist

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 12/1

HOW IS IT DECEMBER ALREADY WTHECK

The Last Session #1 - Jasmine Walls & Dozerdraws

Roll for initiative! Jay, Lana, Drew, Walter, and Shen have played Dice & Deathtraps together since high school. Now, on the verge of graduating college and scattering, they've decided to finally complete their unfinished first campaign. But when Jay's partner Cassandra joins as a new player, Lana's afraid the party won't ever finish their quest... 

Red Sonja 2021 Holiday Special -  Mirka Andolfo, Luca Blengino & Zulema Lavina

An all-new She-Devil tale, from ongoing Red Sonja architect MIRKA ANDOLFO and a cavalcade of creators! The grim Sonja is not one for ebullient festivities. But her recent "adoption" of the mysterious child Sitha has (temporarily) melted her defenses, just in time for revelry. But will outside forces aiming to prod and pillage put a pause on the party? By MIRKA ANDOLFO (Sweet Paprika)!

Maniac Of New York: The Bronx Is Burning #1 - Elliott Kalan & Andrea Mutti

After the tragedy of The Death Train, Detective Zelda Pettibone and mayoral aide Gina Greene have lost the trail of the Maniac - and the support of the city. Copycats are springing up, tensions are high and traffic is a nightmare. So, what happens when your favorite unstoppable, mindless killer resurfaces in a Bronx high school? Can Zelda and Gina get there before Maniac Harry adds to his body count? Will the stu-dents tear their attention away from their phones long enough to notice there's a mon-ster in the halls?  

Magic The Gathering: Master Of Metal # 1 - Mairghread Scott, Jorge Coehlo & Various

When the fate of the Multiverse is at stake, what game will the scheming Master of Metal play? Tezzeret of Esper, the cruel artificer now free from his former master Nicol Bolas, the God-Pharaoh of Amonkhet, has traveled across the Multiverse seeking the answer to a question only he knows. Once he finds it, he will manipulate anyone necessary and do whatever it takes to claim his prize... but to what end?

King Of Spies #1 (of 4) - Mark Millar & Matteo Scalera

The world's greatest secret agent has six months to live. Does he die quietly in a hospital bed, or does he make up for a lifetime of bad decisions? He's been propping up an unfair system for over forty years. Now he knows where all the bodies are buried and has nothing to lose when he turns his guns on everyone who ever made a buck creating the mess we're in right now.

Evil Ernie #1 - Scott Lobdell & Ariel Medel

After ERNEST GLECKMAN is mortally wounded, he discovers he must "pay down his new lease on life" by serving as a part time fixer for a death cult. Each time he manifests his dark side as EVIL ERNIE it becomes harder to maintain his tenuous grip on his inherently good humanity. ERNEST GLECKMAN is a good kid with exceptional grades in his senior year at college...his only quirk is the rock band he sings in every Saturday night. He enjoys the rock esthetic and "dressing the role" if not acting like a nihilistic punk. All that is changed when he assumes the role of... EVIL ERNIE who is the polar opposite of ERNEST. ERNIE is vicious and cruel and sadistic as he employs all manner of torture or murder (or oft-times both!) against his targets. 

Animal Castle #1 - Xavier Dorison & Felix Delep

On the Farm all animals were equal. In the Castle some are more equal than others. For fans of the bestselling Stray Dogs and the Eisner Award winning Beasts of Burden comes an animal fable at once familiar and surprising!   You may think you know the story but set aside your assumptions, this animal uprising is unlike any you have read! Nestled in the heart of a farm forgotten by men, the Animal Castle is ruled with an iron hoof by President Silvio. The bull and its dog militia savor their power, while the other animals are exhausted by work, until the arrival of the mysterious Azelard, a traveling rat who will teach them the secrets of civil disobedience.

Thud #1 -  Bryan Peabe Odiamar

Bo is a creative in his early 30s living in Oakcago. Lately, he's been feeling apathetic, directionless, and tired of the repetitive nature of his life. In the midst of his confusion, the one constant in his life has been a comic book character that he created and has drawn since he was a kid. An accident will change everything he thinks he knows.  

What’re you picking up for the first week of December, Fantomites?

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Train Day - Rowe and Mason

[I TRIED SO HARD TO COME UP WITH WHUMP ON A CHOO CHOO BUT  

I 

COULD 

NOT

so here’s some “training Whump” but with a Twist! Mason and Rowe (who belongs to @whumpzone (and Tomas) The Training is from this prompt, and this interaction :)

hehehehe sorry Rowe Also I kinda want to write more Training!Rowe but who knows]

CW: Conditioning, past abuse discussed, cursing, dubcon touch (non sexual), misunderstanding (look Tomas is TRYING), implied electrocution, Pet Whump, conditioned mindset, dehumanization

[Rowe’s Masterlist] [Mason’s Tag] 

Mason sat, scribbling notes with the office phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear.

“Just a general kind of refresher?”

Tomas nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “Yeah – nothing harsh, though. He’s been acting out lately and I just don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Acting out how?”

Tomas bit his lip for a second before he sighed. Strangely enough, he felt almost like a teacher phoning home about a disruptive student. He would never hurt Rowe, but he needed some correction.

“Uh, marking up things around the house” – destroying my favorite shoes- “messing with things he knows better than to mess with” – playing around with the collar I should have thrown away – “I mean, he cut his own hair for goodness sake.”

Mason wrote down attention seeking and hummed understandably. “Has anything changed recently? Did you get a new job or move or something to that effect?”

A pause.

“Well, Luca’s been coming around more...”

Mason leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin creeping along his face. By the blush in the man’s voice, he could tell Luca was more than just a random friend. He chuckled silently and shook his head. That explains it.

“Alright. Has he ever been through a formal training before?”

“I, I don’t think so. I got him, uh, he came to me through some, not, great circumstances, if you know what I mean. Pretty rough shape. So, uh - no. I’m going to go with no. Or at least, not like, kind training.”

Mason nodded subconsciously as he took more notes. Alright, a little handholding necessary with this one. Fair enough.

“Sorry to hear about that. Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything other changes?”

Another pause, longer this time. Mason just waited, understanding that some people who were embarrassed about needing a trainer for their pet. Really, there was nothing to be ashamed for, but there was still that expectation. Sadly, that mindset is what messed up the pet in the first place.

“He has nightmares,” Tomas blurts, feeling like this might be the only opportunity for Rowe to get some professional help. “Almost every night – all from before. Not me, all before.”

“Oh,” Mason said, dropped from that professional voice to one a little more casual. Clients liked that, made them feel like friends or something. Personal anecdotes. “Yeah, one of my boys got those too after a little scare with a SUV that was speeding through our neighborhood. It’s fixable.”

“Thank goodness,” Tomas muttered, head in hands. “He’s still scared of that guy. I just, I just wish he wasn’t so scared of everything. I want him to be calm, and comfortable, and feel safe with me. I, I care about him.”

Companion, Mason noted. “Sounds like you’re trying all the right things. I’ll see what I can do to help you and-” he checked the form again “Rowe.”

A sigh of relief from Tomas. It had been a while since there was someone who could help him with Rowe. After, after the whole Kasia debacle that blew up in his face.

It was nice to have someone on his side again. Someone who wanted to help Rowe like he did.

A few more pleasantries, and they said their goodbyes. Mason hung up the phone, glancing over to the pet that had been kneeling in his office. It had been trembling the entire time, not daring to look up. Mason stretched as he stood and made his way over to it. He crouched down, taking the pet by the chin to examin its face.

Big, scared brown eyes couldn’t decide where to look; flickering from the floor to his face, but never quite reaching his eyes. Poor thing flinched when he brought up his other hand to inspect the sloppily shorn hair. He could already tell that the pet was layered in scars, trying to breathe silently but given away by a slightest rasp. It tried to studder something out, but the words got caught.

Mason tutted, using his thumb to rub the boy’s temple in comforting circles. Barbaric. That’s the only way to describe the treatment of the pet’s previous owner. How could people do shit like this? Pet were just that - pets, not just living punching bags. Disciple needed to be humane, needed to help get the lesson across instead of useless violence.

The comforting touch seemed to confuse it even more, the pet staying stalk still. He tried a different spot, and the pet quickly relaxed, neck going slack. Mason smiled a little, faintly remembering another pet that came through a while ago. Loved touch, that one did.

He wondered how it was doing now.

~

Rowe couldn’t stop shaking. He was trying, oh he was trying his best but he just couldn’t seem to stop. The man was big, biceps as big as Rowe’s head. He was shorter than Master Tomas, but he scared Rowe more.

And that made him feel so guilty.

He should respect his Master the most; should be the most concerned about what Master Tomas thought or wanted. He shouldn’t care so much about what happened to him, or about what this man would do. He just needed to be good, and obey. But he was scared. This man was going to fix him, teach him to be better, and with Rowe’s old Master that always meant pain. Pain and darkness and hunger that hollowed him out. Burns and cuts and lashes and begging that made everything worse.

When the man lifted his other hand, Rowe flinched away from it. He wasn’t ready to be hit again. Master Tomas had been too easy on him! Too pitying, too nice. He had gone soft, spending all this time doing house chores and sleeping on a bed and reading. Now he needed to learn his place again and it scared him so much.

“P-p-please Sir, please. I-I-I-I, I, hng-“ Rowe’s voice cracked, and he could feel heat rush to his face. The man made a little clicking noise, and Rowe froze. A thumb was rubbing little circles into his temple and he didn’t know what to do. He found himself looking into the man’s face, utterly confused. Was, wait – did Rowe do something right? What was happening? It, it didn’t hurt. It felt kind of nice. What was he supposed to do? He stayed still, chest rising and falling quickly.

The man made an expression, but it was gone so quickly Rowe couldn’t tell what it meant. Hands reached for his neck, and Rowe whimpered. But they just laid across his skin, not squeezing or putting any pressure. Even so, Rowe still felt faint. Oh, oh oh he must have been so so so bad.

But there was no pain. The man’s fingertips pressed into the back of his neck, right where his spine met his skull. Little circles again, digging into the muscle. Rowe’s head moved a little with the motion for a second - before he felt the tension in his neck just melt away.

It felt so good, his eyes fluttered closed. It was hard to keep his head up straight, gravity pulling it back to rest on the man’s hands. Rowe was still incredibly confused, but he didn’t want it to stop. Didn’t want to mess up somehow and lose this reward that he certainly hadn’t earned. He almost didn’t hear it when the man started talking.

“Feeling a little ignored, eh? Had a bitch of an owner before, didn’t you. Fucked you up real good.”

Rowe’s brain snapped to attention hearing mention of his old owner. He tried to shake his head a little. No, no his old owner was fair. Rowe was the one who kept messing up and needing correcting. He was just a pet, that was how he was supposed to be treated. He knew better. He knew it.

“Hey hey hey,” Mason said, suddenly stopping the motion and firmly holding Rowe’s neck straight. The brown eyes flew open, wrenched from his blissful state. “No, you don’t correct your Trainer. Your old owner was wrong. Now, let’s get you all fixed up for your Master. No more acting out, no more breaking your rules, no more attention seeking.”

Rowe cringed in on himself as he was reprimanded. Yes, yes that’s what he had been doing. Trying to take up Master’s time like an ungrateful thing. He could be good. He could show the man he was well trained.

“I-I’m, I’m sorry. Please, p-please p-punish me, I-“

Mason scoffed lightly, releasing Rowe and stand. “Yes, but that’s only part of the reason you’re here.”

He paused. “Talkative. Does your Master like you to talk with him?”

Rowe’s jaw snapped shut, eyes wide as he realized what had happened. He covered his mouth with his hands instinctively but nodded to answer his Trainer’s question.

“Alright. What does he do for punishments?”

Rowe shivered, starting to tremble again – wait when did he stop – remembering his old punishments. But Master Tomas never did that. He was so kind to Rowe.

“He, he, he h-has me remove spider-rs? Sometimes? Or, um, or he, um.”

Mason sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course, one of those loosey-goosy owners that never punished anything. Probably too afraid to seem like “the bad guy” or like the pet’s old Master. Two extreme pet owners; too much punishment and not enough.

Rowe stopped talking immedicably, unsure of what to do. The Trainer gestured for him to stand as well, and Rowe obeyed. Mason took a step behind him, pinning one of the pet’s wrists to the small of its back while the other hand firmly gripped the back of its neck. The lack of collar made sense now.

“Come on. Let’s get you to the training floor and get started.”

~

Tomas was pacing in the waiting room. The door opened, and Tomas wheeled around.

“Master Tomas!”

Rowe came up to him excitedly, not falling to his knees, but standing sheepishly in front of him. Tomas looked him up and down, a little shocked.

“Rowe? Oh-h, you seem, well.”

Rowe nodded, eyes locked on Tomas’ face. “I, I am! Thank, thank you.”

Tomas glanced over and saw Mason leaning in the doorframe, looking rather smug with himself. Tomas smiled at him half-heartedly. He filled out the paperwork quickly, anything he had to do to take Rowe home.

Every day Rowe was gone made Tomas doubt his decision more. He was so glad they were going home, and that all of this was behind them. He already felt awful for sending Rowe away for the week or so he’d been gone. He’d thoroughly missed having Rowe around the house.

The moment they left, Tomas took Rowe’s hand.

“Are you really okay? Rowe, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that to you. Did he hurt you? What did he do?”

“I’m fine, M-Master,” Rowe said, smiling. There was a pause in the conversation for him to add more, to answer the other questions, but he didn’t. Tomas swallowed, not really believing him.

~

Rowe curled his toes and twitched his shoulders as he spoke. (If you have to move, if you have to flinch or feel scared, move somewhere your Owner can’t see. No one wants a pet that flinches away) Master Tomas seemed concerned. And sorry? Sorry for what? Rowe was his pet and Master Tomas could send him wherever he wanted.

His trainer had been fair, helping Rowe be the best he could. But, but he didn’t want to go back to the Trainer. Under his arms still stung, the little electrodes removed only that morning. There were so many things he had to remember, so many secret rules that he needed to follow to keep Master Tomas happy. To make sure Master Tomas knew his pet was calm, and comfortable, and felt safe with him. It was a lot to remember, but his Trainer has explained that this was how Rowe showed how thankful he was.

You don’t need attention; you need to make sure your Master is happy.

He, he kind of liked his Trainer, but he was also so scary. He got loud sometimes, able to make Rowe nearly fall apart with just his words. And he was downright terrifying when he made Rowe tell him about his nightmares. All the little details and everything that happened. Making Rowe say it over and over again; but with a different ending. Saying that Master Tomas had come and saved him. Taken him away from his old Master.

His Trainer said it would help. Help stop the nightmares. That, and the stretches that didn’t hurt so much after hours of practice. Master Tomas had saved him, and he was forever grateful to him. So thankful to be his pet.

Pets smiled. Pets did what they were told. Good pets followed the secret rules, the ones that kept them good pets. His Trainer had explained those, too. Explained why Master Tomas acted how he did. Why he acted kind.

Why he told Rowe he was a person.

He wasn’t, Rowe knew and his Trainer made sure he knew, but it made Master Tomas feel better to say. So, it was a good thing. Anything that made Master happy was a good thing. Rowe just had to play along. It wouldn’t be hard, as long as he reminded himself the truth when he was alone.

He was a pet.

He was there to be a companion to Master Tomas.

He wasn’t a person.

He belonged to Master Tomas.

He did what Master Tomas wanted.

Master Tomas saved him so he could do whatever he wanted to Rowe (even play this pretend game with him)

He was a pet.

Rowe just had to follow his secret rules.

Just because Master Tomas hadn’t given him rules didn’t mean there weren’t any.

[retrievablememories]

a sudden desire | johnny (m)

title: a sudden desire pairing: johnny x black reader genre: fluff, smut, fantasy/sci-fi summary: when you make an emergency landing on an ice planet, you have no choice but to seek refuge for the night. word count: 5.4k warnings: detailed description of an injury, mentions of violence, tending to wounds, mentions of insecurities, heavy petting, fingering, some dirty talk, unprotected sex—do not try at home!! 🔞 a/n: this exists in the same universe as my other fic, empathy. i’m developing this universe literally as i go, so plz excuse any plot holes, illogical shit, etc. i feel like this might be a bit too similar to another fic i wrote on here, but whatever chile it’s an excuse for some johnny smut so...bone app the teeth

The cold bites into your nose, fingertips, lips—the very bone marrow of your body. All you can do is shudder against the strong, icy wind beating across your skin and cling tighter to the backpack on your shoulders. You flex your fingers on the backpack straps to keep the blood circulating in them, though that doesn’t do much good when they hurt too much to move properly.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” Ten curses beside you, and you’d agree if your lips didn’t feel frozen shut. Out of all places for your ship to give out, it’s just your luck that it happened on Kankara. Ice planet or not, though, you all made it out only by the skin of your teeth. The raiders who were on your tail would’ve surely taken advantage of the ship’s ruined state—one that they caused—if Laila and Lucas hadn’t taken them out with their gunning skills.

You, Ten, Lucas, and Laila huddle together near the entrance of the repair garage as you watch Johnny transfer the team’s credits to the repairman. Surprisingly, he’s one of the few other humans you’ve encountered in your travels across the galaxy, and it makes you wonder how he ended up here.

You already know there aren’t going to be many credits left after paying to fix the extensive damages the ship sustained, which is even more reason to get it in working order again. Because once it’s running, you can seek more missions—and more bounties.

“What’s the cheapest place around here that we can crash at for a while?” Johnny asks the man once he takes his Unit Pad back. The man scoffs, throwing him a look that’s equal parts sympathetic and amused.

“Not many hovercabs run around here, especially this time of night. The closest and cheapest place you’ll reach on foot is Drakar’s Motel...but it ain’t shit to write home about.” The man gives Johnny the directions. Most of what he says goes in one of your ears and out the other. You’ll be amazed if half of your brain isn’t frozen by the time you get indoors.

Laila sighs at the prospect of shacking up in a strange place. “I wish we could take the smaller craft,” she says, stomping her feet like a child.

“Too bad it got damaged too,” Lucas says, rubbing her shoulders in a futile attempt to warm her up. “These raiders are fuckin’ ruthless, man.”

“I guess it’ll have to do,” Johnny sighs, pocketing his pad and making his way back to the group. He reaches for one of your hands and you uncurl it from your backpack strap to take his. It’s an effort, but you feel better the instant his skin is on yours, so you think it’s worth it.

The snow never stops falling on this planet. It’s a perpetual winter, only much less jolly and welcoming than your typical winter wonderland. There doesn’t seem to be much of anything here. Just scattered buildings, empty streets, snow, and more snow—like a frozen desert. You don’t mind a bit of cold weather every now and then, but this is an extreme you don’t think you could ever get used to.

Kankara’s neighboring moons hang large in the sky, providing ample light to travel by. At least you don’t have to worry too much about whatever’s lurking in the dark.

Thankfully, you don’t have to walk the streets for too long before a bright glow begins manifesting through the ice and snow, as if some holy mirage. The slanted edges of a building come into focus, and it becomes clear that this is the motel’s silhouette.

“Finally!” Ten kicks a mound of snow in front of him and it sprays up around Laila, who promptly blesses him out for dousing her in more cold. As usual, Lucas has to squeeze his way in between them to stop the ensuing mess.

The first thing you notice about the motel is its neon sign. Not all of the letters work, so it looks more like “a a’s ote” than “Drakar’s Motel.” You simply chuckle and roll your eyes at that. If you were the one who had to come out in this cold to fix the letters, you’d leave the shit alone too.

There’s not much to see on the outside of the motel, with white powder covering nearly every inch of its exterior. You have to admit that it looks quite small, though, even from farther away.

When you all get inside, you realize it’s not much better. The temperature in the lobby is only a few degrees higher than the outside, at most. Not brutally cold anymore, but certainly not enough to warm anybody up. The lobby itself is barely bigger than one floor of your ship, and the burning fluorescent lights make you feel like a bug pinned underneath a glass pane, strangely lit up and displayed for all to see.

An extraterrestrial you recognize as a Vykyll sits behind the check-in counter reading a magazine. They’re balancing their chin on one of their tentacles, looking half-asleep and extremely bored with their job...or with life itself. Their nametag reads “Srynei.”

Srynei looks up from their magazine and gives you all a weary expression. “Before you even ask, there are only two one-beds available. The other rooms are either occupied or defunct.”

“One bed?” Lucas echoes, his eyes widening. He looks stuck between incredulity and annoyance.

You and Johnny glance at each other. He shrugs. “Well…it’s not like we have the money to pay for anything better, anyway.” He takes out his Unit Pad to hand to the alien. “Book it for five nights.”

Srynei places their magazine down and takes out a Unit Pad with the motel’s logo on it. “2 rooms for 50 credits a night...you got it.”

“Defunct? What does that mean?” Laila asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

“It means we can’t stay in those rooms, dumbass,” Ten replies, flicking her forehead. She catches his wrist before he can pull away fast enough and twists it, making him yelp in pain.

“I know what it means, watermelon head. I’m asking, why are they defunct?”

“Burst pipes, leaks, shattered windows from the sheer amount of cold...not my problem, though, I just check in the guests.” Srynei rolls their eyes as if they’re exhausted with the absurdity of the entire situation. You can’t imagine how many off-world visitors Kankara gets for the motel to still be in business, but stranger things have happened.

After the transaction is finished, Srynei holds out two room keys and you take them. 102 and 105, which means at least you won’t have to venture back out to use the stairs.

“So who’s sleeping with who?” Laila asks.

“I thought that was obvious,” Lucas snickers, wrapping his arms around her and Ten’s shoulders. He squishes them against his body in a too-tight hug and they both complain for air. “We should all leave these two,” he nods his head in your and Johnny’s direction, “to themselves, shouldn’t we?” It makes sense. The statement is innocent enough, but the sly faces of your three friends reveal their true thoughts.

“Can you not?” You laugh nervously, tossing Lucas the key for room 105. “I’m about ready to hit the sheets, so…” You don’t wait for his response before making your way down the hall, which is a tad narrower than you’re comfortable with. Everyone else will probably end up walking single-file to fit through. “God, this place is a claustrophobic nightmare.”

You fit the key in the lock and try to keep your mind off what Lucas just said. With some success. Okay, not a lot.

You and Johnny have been together for a little over 5 moon cycles now, but it’s safe to say you haven’t done much other than kiss and cuddle—which is mostly fine with you. But sometimes, you wonder how he feels about it and if he’s...content with it? Or maybe even growing tired of it? You feel bad for even thinking like that, because you know he doesn’t care and you shouldn’t either, but…

This isn’t the first time you’ve slept in the same bed together, but now that’s it been brought up, you can’t keep your mind off the subject of doing more. And as if on-cue, it makes your oh-so-familiar self-doubts rise to the surface.

“Are you okay?” Johnny’s voice interrupts your thoughts. His hand clasps over yours, and that’s when you realize you’ve been fumbling with the key in the lock for a good few moments now. He steadies your hand and helps you finally turn the key and unlock the door. “You must be really cold, let’s get you inside.”

“It’s not gonna be much warmer in there...” you say. The other three are already raising hell as they try to squeeze past each other in the small corridor, and you know it’s going to be a long few days.

The room is just as small as you expect it to be—and just as cold. There’s a heating and air conditioning unit by the window, though you doubt even it works judging by the room’s temperature. “Sometimes I feel like we never left Earth. Some of this stuff is so similar…” You wonder if the motel was purposely modeled after its Earth-based counterparts, or if there simply weren’t enough funds to spring for more advanced alien tech.

You don’t know a lot about Kankara, but you’ve heard it mostly described as a vast and cold-hearted place. The latter characteristic is undeniable of the weather, but you don’t know if you can make that kind of snap judgment for the planet’s inhabitants. Living somewhere like this will make anyone’s ambitions and hopes shrink to near nothingness, centering more on survival than basic pleasures.

“Takes getting used to,” Johnny sighs, closing the door and stripping off his two outer jackets as carefully as possible. “It’s like déjà vu.”

“You should get cleaned up,” you say, fiddling with the switches on the HVAC. As you thought, nothing works. That’s lovely.

“You should go first.” Johnny comes over to you and rubs his hands on your arms to try and warm you up.

“No way, I’m not the injured one here. I’d think you need it more than me.”

“Isn’t the first and probably won’t be the last. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Johnny moves your braids to the side and kisses your cheek in what is usually an innocent gesture. Him saying, “Don’t make me beg,” immediately after, though, makes it decidedly less so.

“O-okay,” you squeak, rushing to grab your clothes and head to the bathroom.

The bathroom is plain as hell, but clean, at least. You scrub off as much of the day’s dirt and grime as you can. Thankfully, the water isn’t as cold as the rest of the place, but it still isn’t as warm as you’d prefer.

Johnny takes his turn after you dress and come out. You climb onto the bed and notice that a portion of the window is in view—he must’ve pushed the drapes back. You stare out of the glass, watching the snow fall endlessly and wondering how it never piles higher. It’s as if the planet is in stasis, perpetually frozen on both a physical and time-based level.

Johnny comes out of the shower shirtless and looking not much happier than he was when he got in. His mouth is tucked into that straight line that always makes you laugh. “The hot water only lasted about 2 more minutes before it cut out on me, so that was fun.”

You try not to snort. “That’s tragic, Johnny.”

“Truly a modern tragedy,” he says sarcastically, brushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. He glances at you over his shoulder as he puts his worn clothes away. “Maybe we could take a shower together next time.”

“I’m sure,” you murmur, embarrassed, tucking your knees up close to your chest.

You glance at the wound just below the left side of his ribcage. It’s mostly scar tissue, no thanks to the cauterizing heat of the blaster shot that struck him, but it still looks horrible. And it must feel similarly, with the way he moves around the room being extra careful of it.

“You need to redress it,” you tell him.

“I know,” he sighs, his shoulders slumping at the thought of doing that. Johnny turns back to look at you, a pout on his bow-shaped lips. “Will you help me?”

A small smile crosses your lips. “Okay.” Johnny roots around in his pack for the medical supplies he remembered to pack before you all ditched the ship. He takes out the roll of bandages, AntiBac Gel, and bandage clips and hands them to you before gingerly climbing on the bed, propping a pillow against the headboard to lean on.

“We’re lucky we got away when we did,” you say, spreading the AntiBac over the wound. “Those bastards wouldn’t let up…”

“We definitely would’ve been way worse off without the others,” Johnny agrees. He glances at your hand moving across his skin. “Seeing you fight always reminds me of when we first met, though…all those training sessions we had, I mean.”

“Why?” You grimace slightly at the scarred edges of the wound. Not because you’re disgusted, but because you feel bad at how painful it looks.

“Back then, you were ruthless…and it fascinated me. Even though I’m not a huge fan of violence.” His lips twitch as if he doesn’t mean to smile about it, but he does anyway. “And you’re still the same but it’s...like, different, you know?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” You laugh, unraveling the bandage and beginning to wrap it around his chest.

“I can’t explain it,” he says, looking at you from behind his still-soggy bangs. You glance at him, drinking in the curve of his cheekbones and his chin in the light of the bedside lamp. “It’s just...everything seems a little different when you’re in love with someone.”

Your fingers falter with the bandage for a second, and you hope he doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you say. “But...I’m just doing what has to be done. To keep ourselves alive. It gets scary out there, and…” You falter, unsure what to say. Or if you should say what you’re thinking.

“And you can’t live without me?” Johnny says, putting his hand over his heart.

“You literally never get tired, do you?” You grin, finishing the bandage and securing it with the clips.

“I dunno, sometimes. I am just a human, after all.” Johnny brings a hand up to tuck a stray braid back into your scarf. He lies back on the small bed when you’re done, taking your hand in his and kissing it. “Thank you, my queen. How can I ever repay you from saving me from a certain demise?”

“You’re such a clown.” You shake your head, laughing and pulling away from him long enough to put away the makeshift first-aid kit.

After you store the supplies, you climb back onto the bed. It’s barely enough for the both of you, let alone Johnny’s big body, and you find yourself nearly on top of him. You mentally will your palms not to sweat as you sit in such close proximity to him while he’s half-naked. You do enjoy it, though. A lot. You find yourself tracing one of his many old scars—one long line extending across his bicep—with your gaze.

“Didn’t you get that one from the day we escaped the EECA?” you ask quietly.

Johnny glances at it and nods, his lips curling into a slight smile. “Mm...yeah. Remember when Lucas kissed you that day?”

“I don’t want to remember.” Your skin grows hot with the memory, though more out of embarrassment than anything else.

“Did you enjoy it?” His eyes crinkle with laughter.

You give him a skeptical look. “No, not really!? We didn’t know each other that well then, and I don’t like having my personal space invaded.”

Johnny considers that, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth before looking at you. “What about me?” His tone lowers and he inches closer, glancing at your lips.

You raise your eyebrows and place a hand on his chest. “I know you aren’t trying it with a serious wound right now.”

“I’m already halfway hard.” He smirks, adjusting his sleep pants.

Your chest warms straight through, enough to make you forget all about the frigidness of the motel room. You feel both anxious and enthralled. The two emotions create a conflicting dichotomy inside of you, and it makes you uncertain of how to respond. You shove his shoulder, making sure to be careful of his side. “What kind of freak gets off on having their wounds tended to?”

You both laugh, but Johnny grins nervously after a moment, suddenly becoming much more shy than he was a few minutes ago. “You know it’s all just me being silly, right? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just want you to be comfortable.”

You just hum and look at him, regarding his features, before kissing him very tenderly on the lips. “I know, John.” After you pull away, you continue observing each other, though it doesn’t feel awkward, just—tense. Without a word, you both lean in and kiss again, a little deeper than before. His hand cradles the side of your face and neck, drifting between the two as if he isn’t sure where to settle.

Johnny licks into your mouth and you respond in kind, sliding your arm across his shoulders to pull him a little closer. Your touch is often still tentative with him, especially when you’re more intimate like this, still not quite sure if you’re allowed to have this, if it’s okay to indulge.

Johnny pulls away slightly to rest his forehead on yours, his lips still moving against your mouth when he speaks. “We...really don’t have to if you’re not ready,” he says, sounding slightly winded from the kiss alone.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you respond. You touch the hem of the bandages where they meet his skin, a little above his abs, and your hand keeps hovering there, unsure if you can touch him that way.

“It doesn’t matter,” he responds, moving closer to kiss you again.

You don’t know how long you sit there simply kissing each other, tasting each other’s lips as if there will never be enough of this—this sweetness shared between you.

After a beat of hesitation, you allow yourself to touch his abdomen, feeling the firm indentations of muscle underneath your hand. He’s impossibly warm even though you’re on an ice planet—it’s like he’s his own personal space heater. His skin is soft under yours, and he smells good enough to drown in forever.

In response to your touches, Johnny’s hand leaves your face and travels to your side, sliding down your waist and lower to your hip. His fingers are close to the inside of your thigh, moving over the fabric of your pajama pants.

Your hand drifts to the waistband of his pants, too, though you hesitate to go further. You realize with a bit of surprise, though, that you very much want this, more than you possibly let yourself believe. There are still many things you’re apprehensive about doing or saying with Johnny, but in this present point in time, you feel positive that you want to feel him in, around, under, over top of you—it doesn’t matter how.

Johnny’s lips separate from yours, and he moves his mouth to the soft skin of your cheek, ear, jaw, neck. Wherever he can reach is fair game at this point. “You can touch me. If you want.” He says this while kissing your neck, letting his voice vibrate across your nerves and seep into the very fibers of your being.

You take up his offer.

You tentatively slide your hand past the waistband. You don’t go underneath his underwear, but that’s fine for you. For the both of you. Instead, you feel him over the fabric, caressing the curve of his hardening cock and teasing the sensitive head with trembling fingers. Johnny moans softly against your neck, sighing and pressing his hips a little closer into your hand.

“Should I let you have all the fun?” he asks, kissing your throat.

“No,” you reply, breathless but still amused, “that wouldn’t be very fair, would it.”

Johnny vocalizes his pleasure and agreement when his fingers slip lower, pressing between your legs and gliding over your clit through the layers of your clothing. Your breath hitches, but you don’t stop stroking his dick, and he grows bolder with his own actions, sliding his hand up and away—only for a second—and then down into your pants, burdened with one less layer and giving you more calculating touches.

He strokes your clit as if he’s never touched anything so gently, and it makes you grip the back of his damp head and pull him closer to you, if at all possible. He answers that need for proximity by coming back up to claim your lips again, your tongues gliding against each other’s in the room’s quiet.

Your fingers are sticky from Johnny’s precum leaking into his underwear and onto your hand, and likewise, you are growing increasingly wetter in his hold.

Johnny moves as if he means to climb on top of you, but he winces and grunts halfway through the motion and you stop, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Are you hurt? I told you this wasn’t a good idea…”

“Stop worrying about me,” he says, though he doesn’t try to move again. “It’s just a little pain...but, um...maybe on the side is better.”

You nod, and you both spend a few awkward seconds shuffling around on the bed so Johnny is spooning you instead, your back to his front. You feel a little disappointed about not being able to see him, but that dissipates when he resumes touching you and kissing your nape. You mean to reach behind you to take care of him, too, but he seems content with gently rocking his hips against your ass, grinding his dick between your cheeks.

“Is this enough for you?” he asks, his voice soft and deep.

“W-what?” You can guess what he means, but being asked takes you off guard.

“Do you like how I’m touching you?” Johnny applies a little more pressure on your clit when he asks this, and you try unsuccessfully to not shudder like a leaf in a windstorm at the sensation. Combined with the sound of his voice, it’s an electrifying kind of feeling. “Or do you want more?”

It seems like every part of your body is throbbing with yes. “I...want more.”

Johnny lays a kiss against your shoulder. You feel him pull your underwear to the side and drag his middle finger against your clit and down to your hole, teasing you as if he doesn’t think he’ll insert it. Your body tenses and you moan. You don’t know if you should press back against his dick or into his hand, and it’s the sweetest, yet hardest, decision you’ve ever had to make.

Johnny finally eases his finger inside of you and makes a sound you can’t quite distinguish. “Is this all for me?”

“W-who else would it be for?” Your words are almost lost to the pillow as you use it to muffle your increasing sounds.

“I’m flattered, really. You shouldn’t have,” he snickers, pumping his finger into you. He makes sure to drag his palm across your clit as he does, carefully but firmly enough to make you pant. He caresses your inner walls until he finds your G spot and then focuses his energies on pleasuring that part of you.

“Shit...Johnny…” You curl your fingers into the fabric of the sheets beneath you.

Johnny slips another finger into you, and the stretch sets your nerves on fire with a more intense bliss. His mouth returns to your skin, kissing and licking and biting you everywhere.

“Johnny, please…” You reach back to grasp his hair, needing something to hold onto. He slips his right hand to your front, grasping one of your breasts through your shirt and running his thumb over the hardened nipple. You two are a tangle of limbs at this point, blurring into each other in the best possible way.

Your abdomen grows tense and your stomach warms as you come closer to your orgasm. You find yourself gripping Johnny’s arm, wanting him deeper inside of you, yet nearly wishing he’d stop for fear of being overwhelmed.

“Are you gonna come? Good. I wanna feel you gush around me,” Johnny whispers into your ear. He slips his right hand past the collar of your shirt, palming your bare breasts and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

You moan brokenly as the cord tethering you to your composure snaps, making you come and clench around Johnny’s fingers. The sound of him fucking you with his hand grows wetter, and you hear Johnny cursing in response.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore of his fingers curling into your spot, he pulls them out and puts them in his mouth, sucking them clean.

“You taste so good.” Johnny sounds drunk with lust—as if him rutting against your ass wasn’t enough of an indicator. You crane your head towards him, grip his chin, and bring his lips down to yours, tasting yourself on his mouth. He kisses you hungrily as soon as your lips meet. You almost have to pry him away to say your next words.

“I want more...” you say quietly against his lips.

Johnny smirks. “How much more?”

“You know what I want.”

“Hm...do I?”

“John…”

“Yes, queen?”

You blow air through your nose in lieu of cackling outright. “Inside me, please.”

Johnny gives you a soft peck before gripping the waistband of your underwear and pushing it down your legs. You help him slide them off the rest of the way, and he does the same for himself. His dick springs up between you, flushed and wet with precum. He grips it and guides it between your thighs, though he doesn’t enter you just yet.

The tip is sticky as it pokes against your thigh and then slides through your lower lips. You shudder at feeling him so close to you, hard and warm and yearning. He rubs against you like that for a few moments, his shaft stimulating your clit and making you leak onto him even more, his dick glistening with it. Johnny grasps your hip and moves your body in tune with his own movements, and you swear you see a tiny explosion of stars every time the vein on his cock rubs your clit.

“You’re killing me,” you sigh, rolling your head against the pillow before quickly stopping. You don’t need the hassle of retying your scarf if it comes off—and God knows it will if you continue.

“I think I’ve tortured us both enough.” Johnny places the tip at your entrance and slowly inches inside. Even that much makes you gasp, and you continue whimpering as he spreads you open with his thick shaft. Johnny’s breaths grow more labored, and he groans long and low when he finally bottoms out.

There’s little room left for words when he starts thrusting, taking it slower than you expected—but you don’t mind. Even though you’re already soaking and pliable from his earlier actions, he takes his time with fucking into you, guiding you along his length and pushing his hips to meet yours in an intimate rhythm. When he brushes against that same sensitive spot with his dick, you feel like your body’s been gripped with an almost painful kind of pleasure. One that holds onto you and refuses to ever let go.

It’s all so overwhelming.

“I love you,” he moans, pushing his cock in and dragging it back out with all the leisure in the world, “so much.” Your mouth falls open, and you want to say something back, anything, but you can’t make the words come out. Instead, you’re taken aback as tears spring to your eyes, choking you and closing your throat off to any sentiment you might want to express.

This isn’t the first time he’s told you that. You both know this well. But within this context, it makes your head spin with a new kind of dizziness. It all feels so good, too good, too much to bear.

You bite his arm to keep yourself silent, though it’s too late, and he feels your tears dripping onto his skin. Johnny handles you as if you’re made of glass, drawing your face towards his as he looks at you and wipes your wet cheeks. You still aren’t comfortable crying in front of him, but he never minds.

“Look at me,” he says. Johnny’s still moving inside you, sliding into you all slick and deep, and it makes you feel nearly too vulnerable to tolerate, as if you’ve been flayed open. But you do it anyway, latching onto his warm eyes. His skin shines from a thin layer of sweat, and it makes his hair stick to his forehead. The lamp light hitting his face makes his eyes look like two never-ending pools of warm honey, and he cups your face and kisses you tenderly when you lock eyes, and it’s all just too much.

“John, holy fuck.” You don’t really mean to say that, of all things, but it can’t be stopped once your orgasm floods through you, only it isn’t the violent and quick kind—it’s more of a slow buildup that finally bursts apart, spreading ecstasy through your whole body. You moan and tremble uncontrollably as Johnny slowly strokes you through your climax, still rubbing your clit and fucking into you deep.

Everything becomes a tiny bit blurrier for you, but you don’t fail to notice his own reactions as he grows closer, his thighs trembling from the effort of keeping his pace even. Finally, Johnny crushes your body against his as if you could melt together, pulling out to cum over your thighs and stomach. He buries his face into your shoulder and groans against you, and it’s a sound you think you’ll want to hear for the rest of your life. He keeps stroking his dick in between your thighs until he’s spent, his chest heaving from the effort of it all.

You both lie there for a few long minutes, simply trying to catch your breath. You still feel the dried tears on your face, though you try your best to ignore them, not wanting to ruin the moment with unwelcome feelings.

Johnny pulls his hand out of your shirt and sits up, though it takes an extra bit of strength on his part. You feel strangely guilty about how much you dislike suddenly being parted from his touch. As if he can sense your unease, Johnny grasps your hand in both of his and gives it a long kiss before going to the bathroom.

You hear the water running. Then, Johnny comes back quickly with a small towel. He climbs onto the bed and helps you into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry it’s not warm.” He smiles sheepishly, dabbing the washcloth against your cheeks as he erases the remnants of the tears.

You give him a small smile in return. “Nothing on this planet is.”

He cleans the mess he left on your lower body before tending to himself. After he’s done, you both pull your clothes back on—because it’s far too cold to sleep without anything on—and Johnny finally finds a shirt.

In the dark of the room, you curl up against each other to keep out the chill. When you wake up in the morning, you know you’ll be greeted to more cold and snow. It’ll still be days before you can return to your ship. Depending on how many credits are left, you might have to swap a few meals for Reserve Paks instead of eating decent food. You can already taste the lukewarm, oatmeal-like consistency of it in your mouth.

Despite that...you still have your friends and teammates. You still have Johnny. Maybe this could be a peculiar form of happiness. Maybe this could be contentment. Something that belongs wholly to you.

You trace a circle on the back of Johnny’s hand, studying his features illuminated by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. You shuffle closer to be level with his ear, and he blinks at you sleepily.

“I love you too.”

[mostly-marvel-musings]

A Mere Mortal - Chapter 6

A/N: This story is based on Landlord Vampire Fic Frenzy hosted by the amazing @just-the-hiddles​

The last chapter guys! Can’t believe this series is ending! I had a LOT of fun writing this and hope you had as much fun reading ;))

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Loki x Human! Reader

Word count: 2427

Warnings: Angst, kissing, some fluff. 

Tags: @buckybarnesplumwhore​​​ @ladyacrasia​​​ @tcc-gizmachine​​​ @alexakeyloveloki​​​ @rogerrhqpsody​ @eveybitch 

…

Your body was on fire yet again.

Every touch every kiss made your head spin. He was leaving a trail of hot kisses down your jaw and neck before reaching the spot that made you moan loudly as he sucked hard.

You rolled over and straddled his hips placing your hands over his chiseled chest. You leaned down to kiss him and he sighed opening his mouth to allow your tongue to explore. The fight for dominance continued as his hands tugged your hair. You slid your own in his raven black hair.

You rolled your hips against his clothed erection earning another grunt from him. You were placing wet kisses down his torso almost reaching the waistband of his underwear when he grabbed you and spoke in that deep honey dripping voice,

“We have plenty of time for that later darling. Allow me to taste you first.” Your eyes flew open as you stared at Loki’s lust filled face.

Gasping loudly, you scrambled awake, looking around the silent, dark bedroom, hair a terrible mess, sheets sticking to your sweaty body. There was no sign of movement anywhere as your rapid breathing slowed down. Bear’s faint snores by the foot of your bed was the only sound in the room as you turned on the lamp.

These recurring dreams were starting to scare you. Almost every night you woke up drenched in sweat, involuntarily turned on and terrified out of your wits. At first, you thought they’d go away like any other dream, but this was starting to seem deliberate.

Could it be? Did Loki have the ability to control your dreams? There was no handbook of Vampires 101 to confirm your theories.

…

The clock read 4:00 am as you stretched out on the sofa with the computer on your lap as you went through endless articles about alleged vampire attacks in Dewsbury. Sleep had evaded you long back, so you chose to get yourself a glass of milk in hopes that it’ll find its way back.

A top most article about Jenny’s death caught your eye as the page loaded to the local news site, heartbeat quickening as you read through the description. The fact that you knew the killer that you had occasional wet dreams about the same man and who’d possibly kill you without flinching made your throat go dry.

A shadow moved across a large window to your left as you saw from the corner of your eye. Sitting up immediately, you put the laptop away and went into the kitchen to grab a knife. Making sure the front door was locked, you went around guardedly checking all the bolts in the windows. Heart pounding out of your chest at this point, you saw no movement outside, yet heard Bear barking loudly from your bedroom.

Was the window shut? Did he see something too?

As frightened as you were, you ran upstairs with the knife clutched tightly in one hand and looked around your bedroom after flicking the lights on. Bear immediately trotted to your side, no longer barking but whimpering faintly. Adrenaline was coursing through your body and it felt like every single cell was wary for signs of intrusion.

“I guess it was nothing buddy.” Your feeble voice tried to calm your down more than the pup.

As if on cue, your phone rang from downstairs making you jump. Bear followed you down the stairs as you went over to the table to see who would be calling at this hour.

It was Bucky.

You had been ignoring his calls and messages all week, still not ready to face the whole situation.

How does one face such a situation? Was he outside your door just lurking in the dark?

Considering not picking it up, you were about to walk away but something inside you made you reach for it and attend the call.

“Will you stop patrolling outside like a fucking stalker?” you demanded rudely.

“I—what? (Y/N) I’m not. Do you see someone outside right now? Do not open the door unless I tell you it’s me. I’m coming over right now. Please stay inside (Y/N). It’s not safe.” He kept rambling, his voice evident with panic and concern before he kept the call, leaving you more terrified than before.

…

You were pacing around the room, after turning on every single light in the house, fingers tapping on your arm nervously as you waited for Bucky to arrive. Outside, the sky had turned the faintest shade of pink and grey marking the approaching dawn.

Three sharp knocks on your door made you jump out of your skin and Bear stand up & cautiously stare at the door. You heard a ‘(Y/N), it’s me’ in Bucky’s distinct voice, which you had missed even though you wouldn’t admit.

Opening the door slightly, you peered out to find Bucky’s face covered in a fluffy scarf leaving only his beautiful steel blue eyes visible, hands tucked inside his sweater, looking at you in concern.

“Are you alright?” concern evident in his voice, after pulling the scarf down to his neck.

You just shrugged in response, opening the door further for him to come inside.

“I thought vampires don’t get chilly.” You turned your back on him as you walked inside, your voice quiet.

“Well that’s a myth.”

As Bucky stepped in, Bear began growling viciously, baring his teeth.

“Could you, um—” he began, gesturing at the dog but you cut him off, turning to face him.

“He stays here. Shh. It’s okay Bear, he means no harm. Actually I don’t know.” You pacified the pup who reluctantly stopped, but kept eyeing Bucky as he removed his jacket and scarf and placed it on your coat hanger.

Bucky turned his gaze on you as you said those words, guilt visible in his eyes, “I would never cause you any harm (Y/N). I never meant for you to find out. Not this way at least.”

You wanted to believe him, the sincerity in his eyes made the ice wall you built around you melt a little. You didn’t know how to feel still, sitting on your sofa you gestured for him to take a seat. He smiled gratefully as he sat next to you albeit keeping his distance. Bear walked up from his spot and jumped up to settle in your lap protectively, making you scratch him behind his ears in reassurance.

“So, if you weren’t lurking outside this house, why did you call me? You had a ‘feeling’ I’d be awake?” you knew you were being rude, air quoting ‘feeling’ for emphasis but there was a considerable amount of anger inside.

“I had a nightmare that you were hurt. I wanted to make sure you were okay, you answering the call confirmed my fears that you were in trouble.” He answered honestly, there wasn’t a trace of deceit or falsehood anywhere.

“Oh” suddenly the back of Bear’s head seemed more interesting as you felt a pang of guilt at his admission.

None of you said anything for a few moments, the sky outside had turned lighter as the fog outside started to disappear along with the gloom.

“I’m sure you must have a lot of questions (Y/N). I’m here to answer them.” Bucky murmured softly after a long silence.

You cleared your throat as if to begin your interrogation and straightened up, suddenly becoming aware of your outfit. You must’ve been looking like a wreck in your ratty old shirt and sweaty bottoms that clung to your legs, you hadn’t even bothered with your hair.

“So when did you, um—I mean how did all this even—uh” you struggled to string together a simple question. Understandably, Bucky helped you out.

“It’s okay, I understand. Let me begin by telling you my story?”

Your wordless nod encouraged him.

“My family has been here since early 1900s, my mother, father, my sister Evelyn and I bought a home which you’ve been to.” He gestured to you as he spoke.

“So you did lie about Evelyn.” You couldn’t help but interrupt. This time it was Bucky’s turn to bow his head in guilt.

“Continue.”

“I was born in the year 1950 and my sister two years later. We were that clichéd happy family for years. My parents were very social so we’d have parties at our house every other day. That is how we came across Lucas Klyn. He was a young businessman from a little town in England. Charming in his ways he had no problem in enticing my little sister. Evelyn fell madly in love and had plans of eloping with the man, until of course she discovered his secret. She threatened to reveal his truth to the public which didn’t end very well on her part. Nor mine.”

He paused as a sad, wistful look spread across his face and without a second thought you reached out to hold his hand which was resting on the back of your couch. He looked surprised but gave you a small smile at the gesture in return.

“I heard Evelyn’s screams from the woods one night and went outside to find her running away from Lucas. It was as if a predator were stalking their prey. Before I could help, I saw Lucas such the life out of Evelyn’s body and snap her neck. I was too late. I couldn’t save my sister. She was just 26 at the time.” He paused again, closing his eyes as he recalled that fateful night.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, squeezing his hand once more.

“Lucas came after me next as I ran for my life, he caught up in no time and grabbed me from behind and fed on me. He taunted me to run but I was too weak. He fed me his blood forcefully before snapping my neck and killing me instantly. And just like that I was the first vampire in Dewsbury in 1978.”

His words sent shivers down your spine. For forty two years this man was dead, a walking corpse. A vampire. And he was sitting right opposite you, telling you a folklore of his own life. He was a victim just like his sister. He was innocent and he had been telling the truth this whole time.

“So you died in 1978? How did you��?”

“Survive? It took years and years just to accept what I was. I didn’t let my parents notice. I moved away under the pretext of higher studies. I went to England to find Lucas, and when I did find the bastard, I killed him.”

“I met Loki there, who helped me a great deal when I found out what he was as well. Turned out Lucas had made several enemies there. Loki became a friend and he moved to Dewsbury with me a few years later when I received the news of my parents passing in a road accident.”

“I didn’t want to live here anymore so I moved to the States. I met Sam in 2018.” He admitted as your eyes went wide at the confession.

“Sam as in my Sam? How did you—? Wait he’s not a—” you couldn’t believe it.

Sam knew Bucky? Did he know what Bucky was? Was he a vampire too? Had he been lying to you this whole time as well?

“No he isn’t. Calm down (Y/N).” he could see the panic in your eyes and he grabbed your upper arms to pacify you.

“He told me about you, he always spoke about you. One day I got a chance to see you in that café with Sam. I was fascinated by you since then. Something about you made me want to know you better.”

“You were such a free spirit, an independent woman who move from one place to another in search of stories. The fact that you had an idea of moving to Dewsbury excited me. I saw it as an opportunity to meet you, know you.” He admitted quietly.

Your head was spinning at this recently acquired information. On one hand you were glad that he was being so honest with you, you felt bad for the guy for having gone through so much, flattered that he thought you were interesting enough.

A pitter-patter of raindrops reached your ears before you saw out the window; the initial drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, turning the sky a deep shade of grey again.

“It’s a lot to take in I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Loki isn’t bad, but he has a hard time getting control of his emotions. Trust me, I know.”

“He killed an innocent woman and left her on the streets.” You countered.

“Because he saw us kissing that night. He’s quite fascinated by you too. I don’t blame him though.” He replied coolly, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked at you.

Rolling your eyes at this comment, you huffed, “I have the ability to attract vampires it seems.”

He chuckled, boldly inching closer to you, “I give you my word Loki will cause you no harm, ever. Trust me (Y/N).”

“And I can kick-box remember?” you teased, a smile crept up on your lips as you remembered the last time you’d said that to him.

As though he could sense Bucky’s intentions were no hostile, Bear promptly got up from your lap and trotted away to watch the rain not before giving you a concerned glance. You chuckled at his antics and shook your head.

Testing the waters, Bucky reached out and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes to exhale loudly.

He leaned over and placed a soft kiss to you cheek. You turned your head to catch his lips in yours and cupped his face. The kiss was innocent yet intense, demanding yet delicate. His scent clouded your senses as he moved closer to you, deepening the kiss.

You broke the kiss first to catch your breath, foreheads touching as you held onto his neck.

“It’s been quite the day. I guess I should leave.” He whispered, placing another kiss to your lips before leaning away.

He was about to get up to leave when you grabbed his elbow,

“With the rain outside? Wouldn’t want you catching a cold. Stay. I’m gonna make us some coffee.”

…

An Epilogue is needed yes?

[elizabethsharmon]

The Moon Song

So that leaves one more possibility. Eliott takes a deep breath and thinks now or never. And so he jumps to the unknown and asks, “Is it about me? About us?”

And when Lucas lets out a choked sob, tears rapidly falling from his eyes, Eliott crashes into the sea, hitting the rocks at the bottom.

Eliott could feel something was wrong. How something has suddenly shifted between them after that trip to Basile’s grandpa’s house, not so obvious at the first sight but still there nevertheless. How his smile isn’t nearly as bright as usual, how it isn’t really reaching his eyes. Just a forced tight lipped smile from time to time. How he isn’t laughing as much anymore, or barely at all, how quiet the flat is without his laugh echoing through it all the time. Just a small chuckle whenever Eliott is trying to joke to make him laugh. How his eyes are missing their usual spark. Just the hollow depth of the ocean, one that doesn’t make Eliott nearly as excited to want to drown in it. How he’s giving up his act whenever he thinks Eliott isn’t looking, shoulders hunched, empty looks, overall sadness. How his insomnia seems to have come back, how he tosses around in bed most nights, only to give up and start walking around their small flat, wood creaking quietly under his feet, silent noises coming up from the kitchen. How Eliott always finds him an hour or two later, fast asleep on the couch and carries him back to bed, how Lucas clings extra tight to him in his sleep then, as if he was afraid Eliott would let go of him.

He tries not to dwell on it for too long, waiting for the gloomy mood to pass, even though seeing Lucas like that, always so lively and everywhere and now quiet and blue, is killing him. He tries to blame it all on the bac and school stress, this dread of everything ending and not knowing what to do next. He can relate to it, too, after all.

But then again, his mind is constantly drifting back to that one Saturday back at the end of February when Arthur was staying over. How he woke up early to go to an abandoned building on the other side of the city, leaving Lucas a note he’s going out to take some photos for his project in case he would wake up before his return. How Eliott kissed him when he came back and found them talking in the living room, how he went to the bakery a moment later to give them some more time to talk. How later that night, when Lucas was in the kitchen cooking dinner and singing off key to some song on the radio, his phone buzzed on the coffee table and Eliott glanced at it and saw the message on the home screen. Not that he wanted to, he just happened to look in this direction and he read it unconsciously. Thanks for listening, I really needed this. And talk to Eliott. He will understand. How Lucas came into the living room a moment later, carrying two bowls of pasta, how he unlocked his phone, read Arthur’s message, his eyebrows furrowing momentarily, only to shake his head lightly and put the phone away. How he looked at Eliott, smiling slightly and asked if they’re watching the film he brought from work or not. How later, that night, Eliott couldn’t fall asleep until the sun started to rise, how it crept to the darkest corners of his mind that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t school that was making Lucas so sad. But that it was him.

And he wants to talk to him about it, he really does. He wants to hold him close, wrap his arms around him and ask him if everything is okay, if they are okay. But he also wants to give him some space, to give him some time, hoping that when Lucas is ready, he will tell him himself what’s on his mind these days. So he lets it be.

The thing is, you see, that feelings are like a dam and sometimes the water is too turbulent and overflowing that the dam breaks and you can’t pretend anymore, you have to swim to the shore before the stream takes over and drowns you.

And that’s how Eliott finds Lucas when he silently sneaks into the bed one morning after he woke up early to buy fresh pastries for breakfast. And when he curls his arms around Lucas’ chest and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, he feels how wet it is, notices how his chin is wobbling, how his jaw is clenched, how hard he’s closing his eyes, how he’s grasping the bed sheet with his fists, trying to pretend he’s still asleep, hoping that Eliott won’t notice. And the sight of him like that breaks his heart.

He reaches over to hold his hand, Lucas involuntarily letting him, Eliott’s lips brushing the skin on the back of his neck, trying to calm him down, trying to say I’m here, it’s okay, everything is okay . And when he feels Lucas’ muscles finally relax under his touch, he lightly turns him over so they’re facing each other now. His face is pale, eyes bloodshot and eyelids a little bit swollen, parched skin underneath them. He keeps his eyes fixed on Eliott’s chest, only briefly looking up when Eliott bumps their noses and whispers a soft hey .

The silence fills the room, only the sound of their breathing cutting through. And after a moment, when Lucas’ chin wobbles again and a single tear falls down his chin, Eliott traces it with his thumb and asks, “Are you okay?”

But Lucas only shuts his eyes, another tear escaping through his closed eyelids. Eliott feels like he’s on a cliff, looking at the never-ending firmament, the sound of waves crashing down audible in the distance, a violent breeze pushing him to the edge.

“Is it about school?” he asks again, squeezing Lucas’ hand along the way. “I know how hard the last year can be with the exams and everything and—”

“No.” His voice is watery and he whispers so quietly that if Eliott wasn’t so close he wouldn’t hear it at all.

“Okay… is it about your mom?” he asks, taking a step to the edge of the cliff, brushing Lucas’ hair back from where they fell on his forehead.

“No.” He tries to breathe but it comes out as a shudder.

So that leaves one more possibility. Eliott takes a deep breath and thinks now or never. And so he jumps to the unknown and asks, “Is it about me? About us?”

And when Lucas lets out a choked sob, tears rapidly falling from his eyes, Eliott crashes into the sea, hitting the rocks at the bottom.

He takes him in his arms, sitting up a little bit, just enough to lean against the headboard to make it easier for Lucas to breathe, when violent sobs ripple through his body, making it difficult to catch a breath. He holds him tight, one of his hands rubbing a soothing hand down his back, the other in his hair, brushing through it with his fingers. Lucas pulls him closer, grasping at his t-shirt with his both hands, his face on Eliott’s chest, leaving wet spots from where it lies.

Eliott holds him tight, whispering shhh and it’s okay and I’m here, Lucas, I’m here and kissing his forehead from time to time. He hopes Lucas can’t hear how fast his heart is beating from where he’s laying on his chest, but he must, surely he must.

But they get through it, the hiccupping becomes less and less frequent, the tears stop falling, his breathing gets more even, his body slumped, weakened, tired from the crying. They breathe together in the silence of the room, the sunlight barging inside through the closed curtains, until finally, when it seems like the worst is over, Eliott quietly asks, “do you want to talk about it?”

Lucas fidgets in his arms, shaking lightly, and burrows his face even deeper in Eliott’s t-shirt. “imscaredyoullleaveme,” he mumbles something unintelligible in his chest.

“Can you say it again, baby? I can’t hear you like this.”

Lucas stays silent for another minute and Eliott begins to think that perhaps he’s fallen asleep, but then, he’s leaving Eliott’s embrace and sitting in front of him. He looks at his lap, picking a thin thread on his sweats and when he’s ready, he looks up, his eyes even more bloodshot than before, and with a shaky breath and brutal honesty says, “I am scared you will leave me.”

And just like that, Eliott’s world turns on its axis.

“I— I would never, Lucas, why— what—,” he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, mentally giving himself a pep talk and hoping that his brain will take the gist and let him form an actual, coherent sentence. Lucas looks at his lap again, looking so small and defeated, like he just wants to get it over with and leave. And Eliott can’t have that. He lifts Lucas’ chin with his fingers, forcing him to look at him and his eyes are big, and sad, and so blue, and Eliott just wants to hold him and take care of him for the rest of his life. For as long as Lucas lets him. “I am never going to leave you, Lucas, okay? I’m here for the long run.”

“You can’t say that,” he says quietly, sadly.

“What?”

“You can’t say that you will never leave. You can’t say that. You…” he takes a breath and looks up to the ceiling, trying to keep his feelings at bay, “don’t make promises you can’t keep. People always leave.”

Eliott shakes his head, the pain in his chest growing stronger with every word Lucas says. “Not me. I will never leave.”

“Someone better might come along though. And then you’ll leave.”

“I will never leave you, Lucas.” But he still doesn’t look back at him, his eyes transfixed on a suspicious spot on the ceiling and Eliott can’t have that. He takes his hands in his own, interlaces their fingers and squeezes once, and twice, and pleads, “hey, talk to me, please. Where is this all coming from?”

Lucas sniffles and looks down at their hands, musters up his courage and finally looks back at him again. “You left Lucille for me. You might leave me for someone else. It happened once. It can happen again.”

His words stab Eliott right in the heart, he firmly shakes his head and huffs, “it’s not the same, Lucas. You are not Lucille. This is not going to happen to us.”

“It might.”

“But it won’t,” he assures him.

But Lucas doesn’t seem to believe him, his chin up, his eyes challenging him, “You don’t know that. Humans are never satisfied. You said it yourself.”

“What? When did I say that?” Eliott quizzes him, brows furrowing, trying to remember.

“When we came back from the farm?” Lucas provides. “When we were talking about Arthur’s father cheating? You said that you cheated on Lucille with me. And that humans are never satisfied.”

“But Lucas, I wasn’t talking about me! Or us! I meant it in general, like society, some people, not me.”

“You don’t understand it, do you?” Lucas asks.

“What? What don’t I understand?”

“That you’re… you’re you. And I’m me. I’m just me.”

“And I love you, Lucas. I love you more than you can imagine, fuck, I love you so much that I can barely breathe sometimes—”

“No but… Just look at yourself!” he huffs annoyed, waving a hand in the air in front of him, “You just walk around looking like that , being you , so smart and talented and so passionate about life and art and everything, and people want to be with you or… or be you, and some probably want to be with you and be you at the same time! You’re like the sun, Eliott, don’t you get it?”

“And you’re like the sun to me, Lucas, is it so hard to understand?” he questions.

“No, I’m not.” he shuts him down. “I’m not the sun, I can’t be. I’m just me. You’re the sun, Eliott, with your hair, and your blinding, sunshine smile, and your personality, with your everything.”

And it’s futile to fight with him, isn’t it? Because no matter what he says, Lucas will always try to have it his way. So Eliott lets him win.

“Fine. I’m the sun. Burning people when they get too close.” he can see Lucas opening his mouth to interrupt him, but he continues, not letting him get in the way. “But you… you’re the moon, Lucas. Orbiting around me, always there whenever I need you, complementing me, always there providing the light whenever I’m in the dark.” Lucas stares at him with mouth agape, star-struck, “No. You know what?” Eliott carries on, “You’re like a constellation of stars. Shining brightly on the night’s sky, a welcoming, comforting presence. You’re my Polaris, Lucas, guiding me whenever I’m lost.” Lucas’ thumb is suddenly on Eliott’s cheek, brushing away the tears that fell from his eyes. He didn’t even realize he started crying. That they both did. He leans into Lucas’ touch and looks into his glassy eyes, “You’re like a galaxy to me. You’re my whole universe, Lucas. And I pick you. I choose you. I love you. You’re not a stop along the way, you’re my final destination, Lucas. Don’t forget that.”

And then, like a wave crashing into the shore, Lucas falls into his arms again, hugging him tightly, and whispering “I love you.” And Eliott whispers back, “I love you, too. So, so much,” and right after that, he repeats, “please never forget that.”

They stay in the tight embrace for a while, just breathing each other in, two broken boys, insecure and so afraid of hurting each other, of living through another heartbreak. And then, all there’s left unspoken, they tell each other in a way they kiss, languidly, their bodies leaning close. And when they part, foreheads still touching, Eliott asks “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could see that something was bugging you, you know. But I thought it’s just school. Or more like I hoped it’s school…” he adds on a quieter note.

He shrugs, playing with the hem of Eliott’s t-shirt. “I didn’t want you to think like I depend too much on you, that I need to be coddled all the time. I thought that if I stay quiet and don’t say anything, it will go away. But it didn’t and… I don’t know. I just didn’t.”

Eliott nods, brushing the strand of Lucas’ hair that’s fallen on his forehead, “You can always talk to me, okay? Remember that I’m here for you. Always.”

“But you’re not.” he says timidly.

Eliott’s hand falls down to his lap, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not here. That’s the thing.”

“I know, I know that we didn’t spend much time together lately, it’s just that with classes and work, I—”

“Except that you’re not.” He sees a confused look on Eliott’s face, takes a deep breath and explains. “You’re not working. Or at least you weren’t. Last Friday? I finished studying with Imane late and I texted you? You said your shift is gonna take longer cause you have to go through the inventory. And I just… I don’t know. I didn’t want to go back to an empty flat again and I thought that you could use a hand and maybe if I helped you it would go faster and that you’re probably starving there so I got us takeaway pizza and went to video club. But you weren’t there. Your coworker said that you switched shifts. So I… I got back home. Thinking that maybe I mixed something up, that maybe you’re at home already or something. But you weren’t here.”

Eliott remembers the texts, remembers how he came back home from the urbex party way past midnight, sneaking into the bed and wrapping his arms around Lucas, how he stiffened then and asked him “how was work?” and how Eliott said “fine, but tiring” and “I missed you” and how Lucas just hummed and didn’t say it back. How Eliott woke up the next morning, alone, cold sheet’s on Lucas’ side of the bed. “I’m spending a day with the guys today. I’ll be back late, don’t wait for me,” a note pinned to the fridge said.

And all the pieces fit together now, don’t they? Lucas’ insomnia, abandonment issues, his fear of Eliott leaving him… Everything because he was too scared of giving away another part of himself. And so he didn’t.

Lucas starts fidgeting in place, anxiously looking away, and Eliott realizes he’s been silent for too long, so he asks, “Why didn’t you say anything? You knew I was lying… why didn’t you say something?”

Lucas shrugs again “Because I didn’t want you to think I’m controlling you, I just… really went there by accident.” Eliott nods and squeezes his hand, saying I know , “I wanted to give you space and I… you don’t have to tell me where you were, but please, Eliott, please don’t lie to me. Not now… not like that, just… please don’t.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? He kept it hidden for so long, he didn’t even know why. It was stupid to do this in the first place but then he started drowning and it was more and more difficult to swim up and keep afloat, so he let himself go down and stay there. Kidding himself that maybe Lucas won’t notice. He was only going there before or after classes when he was in school or at nights when Lucas was partying with the guys anyway. But he did, of course he did. It’s Lucas after all.

He exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding and swims up to the surface. “Please, just don’t be mad at me.”

“I don’t want you to tell me like that. I don’t want you to feel like you’re forced to tell me now.” Lucas quickly adds but Eliott just shakes his head.

“I want to tell you. I really do, just… promise me you won’t be mad at me.”

Lucas looks him up and down, thinking about it for a moment. But then he nods and says, “Okay. I promise”

“Remember that place I took you and the guys and Alexia to? Where we had the party later?” Lucas nods again, eyeing him curiously. “I… I’ve been going to abandoned buildings like that for some. It’s called urbex,” he explains, “it’s about exploring places abandoned by society and left completely unused until they turn into those modern ruins. There’s like a whole community of people doing it, it became kinda a thing in the past couple of years.” He stops his ramble, giving Lucas time to process the information.

“How… For how long have you been doing that?” He asks the inevitable.

Eliott closes his eyes. He was afraid of this question, even though he knew it was coming. But he doesn’t have a choice, does he? Lucas can see right through his bullshit, he always could and he doesn’t deserve to be lied to. So he swallows and tells him the hard truth, “Since I started uni?” He peeks one eye at Lucas and he can’t help but notice the hurt look on his face. Fuck. “Student’s union hosted a party at one of the urbex locations and I just… I don’t know. I liked it. A lot. I started researching stuff about it and I found some places around Paris like that and I went there and then I just… got into it and started finding places on my own.” He shrugs, “I know it’s stupid—”

“It’s not.” Lucas cuts in. “It’s not stupid if you like it. And you do. Don’t you?” He smiles at him and Eliott smiles back.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“See? It’s not stupid. Okay, so tell me more. You just go there or…?” He leaves the sentence unfinished, letting Eliott take over.

“Yeah. Usually, yeah. You know, there’s no real point to it. Like… it’s not like running a marathon, you don’t get a medal because you managed to get in some place. And you don’t do this for others anyway. It’s more about proving yourself that you can do this.” He rambles, but Lucas just nods, understanding what he means either way. “It’s kinda like climbing, if you think about it. You prepare for an expedition, you go there and you reach the summit.”

“And those other people… this community? You do this with them?”

“No. I do this on my own. Sometimes I bump into someone when I’m out, but not that often. We meet from time to time though at urbex parties. It’s fun, and you know, it’s a great opportunity to share experiences and find out about new places or get some tips on how to access some spots and stuff like that.”

Lucas hums. “And last Friday… you were at one of those parties?”

“Yeah. At an abandoned racecourse.” He says, pensively, dreading Lucas’ reaction.

But he just nods again,“Okay… but how do people know that you were there? Like, you said it’s kinda like climbing, right?” Eliott nods. “So when climbers reach the summit, they leave something there for others to find, right? So they wouldn’t be considered a fraud.”

“Yeah, but you know, you don’t really do this for others, you only do it for yourself.” Eliott explains. “But yeah, it’s kinda the same. Some people don’t care about this so they just go and leave and you have to trust their word or don’t. Others take photos and post them somewhere to prove they were there, some leave something for others, like a tag or something.”

“And you?” Lucas questions, “What do you do?”

Eliott can’t help but grin at this question. “Wait, I’ll show you” he gets up to get his phone from the pocket of his jeans that he discarded earlier on the floor and plops down on the bed, browsing through the gallery already. When he finds the photo he was looking for, he gives the phone to Lucas and waits for his reaction with anticipation.

Lucas looks at it, back at Eliott, back at the phone, and laughs loudly and Eliott can feel his smile growing wider now. “A raccoon. Of course it is. Why am I even surprised?” Lucas laughs.

“Hey, it’s not a raccoon!” Eliott corrects him. “I mean, okay, it is, but look closely.”

“Okay, I’m looking…” Lucas huffs amusedly. “Am I supposed to see something specific though?”

Eliott takes his phone back and holds it so both of them can see the screen. “Here,” he points to the left side of the picture, “that’s a raccoon.”

“Yes, I can see that, Eliott. Are you telling me that the other side is something else?”

“Of course it is, Lucas. Look!” Lucas squints and scratches his head but just looks at Eliott incredulously, so he gives up and tells him, “that’s a raccoon. And that,” he points to the right side, “is a hedgehog.”

Lucas’ eyes widen and he stares at Eliott for a moment with his mouth open. He collects himself after a moment and looks at the phone again.

“A spike, right here.” Eliott points to it with his finger. “Can you see it now?”

“But… but why?”

Eliott shrugs. “Because this way you’re always with me, even when you’re not.”

The silence is charged, something shifting in the atmosphere between them, and then Lucas speaks up again.

“Okay, so… you go there, you tag the place, and others know that you were there. You’re like some secret badass street artist. You’re like Banksy but you know. French edition. More hot, with better hair, too short jeans and going to far dirtier places.”

Eliott chuckles, “You don’t know if I look better than Banksy, you haven’t seen them.”

“Well, let’s just say that I have wild imagination and if someone’s not showing their face to anyone, then they definitely can’t be hotter than my boyfriend.” Lucas wiggles his eyebrows and Eliott blushes. “So? Do you have a nickname?” Eliott can feel his face growing hotter and Lucas notices it immediately, if the way he smiles widely is anything to go by. “Oh. My. God. You totally have a nickname. It’s your alter ego, you have to have a nickname.” Eliott groans and tries to hide his face in his hands but Lucas is faster and reaches over before he can. “Come oooon, Eliott, tell me, pleeeeaaaase.”

And well, Eliott is only human. So no one can really blame him that it takes him one look into Lucas’ puppy dog pleading eyes and he gives in. “But you won’t laugh?”

“I won’t,” he crosses his fingers over his heart but Eliott knows it’s all for nothing.

“It’s Otteli.” He says silently.

Lucas just blinks at him and then he’s laughing, “I’m sorry, it’s what?”

“Otteli.” He rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but he can’t really be mad at Lucas, can he? Not when he laughs like that, so beautifully, in a way that Eliott’s been craving to hear for months.

“You really used all your brain cells on srodulv, didn’t you?” Lucas teases and Eliott rolls his eyes again.

“It’s not like that. It’s kinda your fault, you know?”

“My fault?” He asks taken aback.

“Remember last year when we went out with guys and girls to get drunk and say goodbye to the summer before the school year began?” Lucas nods. “And how you and the guys got totally wasted?” He nods again. “And how you started switching syllables of every single word you were saying and how you were laughing cause you thought you’re so funny?” Eliott smirks when he sees a hinge of embarrassment on Lucas’ face. “We got back home but you wouldn’t stop doing that and I tucked you in bed and you said ‘goodnight, Otelli’ and I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I just liked it. And it reminded me of you. And it sounds similar to Othello and Shakespearean tragedy is always relatable so… yeah.” He squirms under Lucas’ scrutinized gaze.

And then, there’s Lucas, getting into his space, putting both of his hands on Eliott’s shoulders, his own hands immediately finding their place on Lucas’ hips. Lucas kisses him on the cheek, his mouth lingering there for a brief moment and then he looks up, his eyes half-lidded and teases. “Well, I like it. Makes me feel important.”

“You are.” Eliott’s hands roam around his back, pulling him closer. “You are important. To me, you’re the most important person in my life.”

Lucas smiles and lies down, Eliott wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. They lie like this for a while, Lucas gently tracing the skin on Eliott’s firearms with his fingers, and then he shifts slightly, so he can look at Eliott asks another scary question, “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, worrying his lips between his teeth. “At the beginning I just wanted to keep it to myself, I didn’t want to make a huge deal out of it. And it’s stupid but I just had this voice in my head, Lucille’s voice, saying that it’s my another whim. And when I started to dig deeper and get really into it, this voice got louder and louder and it took me a while to get rid of it, you know? And then I didn’t want to worry you cause you have enough stress with school and life and me and I didn’t want to add this on top of things. Cause you know… this is not exactly legal? And like… not completely safe? I mean, it’s also not that dangerous and I know what I’m doing and I’m being careful and just…” he quickly adds, but Lucas just nods, understanding visible in his eyes, giving Eliott the strength to keep going. “And then… and then I wanted to tell you because I felt bad about hiding it but I just kept thinking that I was hiding it for so long and that you will get mad and think that I don’t trust you, and I do, Lucas, I trust you with my life and you know me by heart and—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lucas’ hands are suddenly cupping is face, tilting his chin up so he can look into his eyes. “Just breathe. It’s okay. Everything is okay. I’m not mad at you. Yeah, I wish you told me sooner, but I understand it. I really do. And it’s not like I wasn’t hiding things from you either. So… it looks like we both have some things to work on. Like you know. Communication. And stuff.”

“Oh yeah. And stuff.” Eliott laughs, putting his hands on top of Lucas’.

“But hey… we’re fine, right? Or we will be?” Lucas asks and Eliott hates the bit of insecurity he can hear in his voice.

He closes the distance between them and pecks him on the lips, one, two, three, four times, and says, firmly, strongly, surely. “We are. And we will be.”

And the sun shines outside, but here, in a tiny flat in the heart of Paris, they lay like this, limbs tangled, hands intertwined, eyes closing, both exhausted from the emotionally charged morning. But something feels unfinished so before the drowsiness takes over, Eliott has one more thing to do.

“Lucas?”

“Mhm?"

“There’s another urbex party next Friday. Would you like to go with me?”

Lucas shifts his head slightly from where it’s laying on top Eliott’s chest to look at him. “You want me to go with you?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like you to see it for yourself. You don’t have to of course if you don’t want to or don’t have time or don’t feel like it, I won’t be mad if you don’t, but—”

“Hey,” Lucas interrupts his ramble, smiling at him, “I’d love to go with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles and Eliott’s heart does somersaults in his chest.

“Okay. It’s a date then.”

“Oh a date, Mr. Demaury?” Lucas teases, his eyes glistening with joy.

“Yes, that’s right. How about I pick you up from school, we’ll go and grab something to eat and go see a movie? And then we’ll go to that party? How does it sound?” He asks.

“Sounds like a date.” Lucas smirks.

“Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

And then, they fall asleep like that, holding each other, breathing in, feeling light and hopeful, after months of keeping things in, the pastries long forgotten on the kitchen counter. But it doesn’t matter, mundane things don’t matter when they’re together because that’s some cosmic thing, isn’t it? A love like theirs.

And then, next week, they go for dinner and a movie, and Eliott takes Lucas to an urbex party. He glances at him constantly, checking his reaction, and Lucas just stares star-struck, mouth agape, and when Eliott asks “What do you think?”, he says “It’s amazing. I love it.”

And then, suddenly there are people all around them, there’s this overexcited girl, Jo, if Eliott remembers her name correctly from the last time, asking “oh my god are you Lucas? The Lucas?” and when Lucas nods confused but going along, she almost jumps on him, hugging him tight.

And then, there are others coming over, high fiving Lucas and saying “it’s so great to finally meet you, man” and Lucas looks at Eliott puzzled but Eliott just shrugs and laughs and pulls him in for a kiss, a small crowd around them cheering immediately.

And then, there are people asking Eliott about his escapades, and he answers them excitedly, glancing from time to time at Lucas, standing always by his side, a proud look on his face.

And then, Eliott shows him around, telling him about the history of this place, showing him the street art, his tag among them, taking out the template and spray paint from his backpack and asking Lucas “do you want to do it together?”

And then, on their way home, Lucas teases Eliott mercilessly because “why didn’t you tell me you’re a celebrity?” and “wait, if you’re an urbex king then what does that make me?”

And then, when they come back home, a giggling mess, stumbling in the hallway, chasing each other's mouth, Lucas whispers "wait, I have an idea" against Eliott's lips, and takes his template again, along with the blue and orange paint and leaves a tag above their bed, a raccoon and a hedgehog intertwined, their very own dream catcher, looking after them.

And then, a week later, Eliott buys gold and silver paint and paints the sun and the moon and the stars next to them, so they would never get lost in the dark again.

[jungcity]

from saint. | love, eternal.

7:08 AM. 20** 

What should I call you? But hi, diary. I am Saint. Saint Jung. Son of Jung Jaehyun and Y/N Jung. Today, I am seven years old. I asked Daddy Taeyong to buy me a really, really, really old diary. I don’t know where he found you, but I am glad to write on you. 

Mom is busy, so is Dad. They said seventh birthday is important and must be grandiose (I hope I spelled that right). But to be honest, I want it to be as simple as possible. Since I am not really comfortable with parties. Dad insists I should wear suit (it’s itchy), but Mom only laughed at him and told me I should wear something casual.

Mom has been cooking all night long for my birthday. Dad said we could order food in a restaurant, or we could contact a famous chef from Seoul to cook my birthday dishes. I don’t know if this is my birthday or my parents’. I hope that doesn’t sound disrespectful. 

Yesterday, my zipper’s bag snapped open because of its content. Gladly, I am already inside the limo when it happened. My classmates had thrown me an advanced birthday party at school. Judy, Heidi, Gale, and Anika gave me tons of chocolates. I hope I could eat it all but I have to share some for my family. Mom wouldn’t be pleased if I ever get toothache. 

That’s it for today, diary. 

P.S.: I heard Mom and Dad talking about my angel blood last night. I didn’t understand one bit of their conversation. But I hope I will, someday. 

—

8:26 PM, 20** 

Hi, diary. This is Saint Jung once again. We have written letters for our moms today. Miss Rona was pleased to read mine. She said the letter does not look like it came from a seven year old. Oh, I know, you’d like to read one of the excerpts of my letter right? 

Well, here it is: Mom, thank you for shining like a star in our lives. You are the light in the darkness. I love you. And Dad. 

That’s it. Was it too cheesy? I have to give the letter to Mom. I hope she does not cringe. 

—

3:11 PM, 20** 

This is Saint Jung. I already gave the letters to my Mom. She cried. So hard. I was afraid Dad would scold me when he returned from work. But he only sat with me on the veranda.

It’s odd. Because I was wearing my pajamas and Dad was wearing his suit. Someday, I’d like to be just like him.

He wasn’t mad. In fact, he was glad. And we’ve exchanged stories until I fell asleep. 

“Mom cried,” Saint said, lips quivering. Jaehyun’s heart thudded because of his son’s face. He couldn’t believe this bundle of happiness is his own flesh and blood. 

“Because she was so happy to read your letter,” He patted Saint on his head. 

“Really?” the little boy asked, wiping his eyes off tears. Whenever he looked at his son, it was always like seeing the little version of him.

“Come here, bud.” He smiled. Saint sniffed before sitting on his lap, still wiping his eyes. 

“Did I hurt Mom?” 

Jaehyun let out a chuckle, “Of course, not. You made her so happy today. I am so proud of you, Saint.” 

Then he kissed the little boy on the cheek. Saint giggled, flashing Jaehyun his two deep dimples. 

“Will you write Daddy a letter, too?” He asked, hugging his son tighter. 

“Of course, Daddy.” 

The both of them held each other under the stars. With his arms draped around Saint, and the little hands of his son hugging his torso. They stayed like that for an hour. Exchanging little stories about Jaehyun’s work and Saint’s school. 

“One day, I hope you’ll be happy as I am, Saint.” No response. Then Jaehyun heard soft snores from the little boy. He chuckled. Then he carried his son to his bed, tucked him in, and kissed his forehead. 

—

 9:14 PM. 20** 

Summer vacation has started. And we are here in Greece. All of us. Including my other daddies and Mama Yuqi, and Mama Chaelin. Mama Yuqi brought Zion with him. 

Zion, he is my cousin. Mama Yuqi and Daddy Lucas’ son. He told me we should go explore Greece on our own. That boy. If I inherited my Dad’s silent demeanor, Zion inherited Daddy Lucas’ extroverted side. No wonder Mama Yuqi’s always on edge with him. 

But of course, I said no to his offer. You might call me a bore. And I might be a bore. I just do not want to worry Mom. Dad would never like that. Mama Yuqi said Dad is the human embodiment of petrifying when he’s angry. 

 — 

 8:56 PM. 20** 

Dad and Mom fought. Over apples. I don’t know if I should laugh, or cry. It’s their first time fighting. And it’s… because of an apple that wasn’t precisely cut. 

I stumbled upon Mom and Dad hissing at the kitchen. 

“You’ve been doing this for so long, chérie.” Dad said, frustration was clear in his voice. 

“Why are you so sensitive today?” Mom asked. 

Dad sighed of frustration, “Because—” 

“Mom? Dad? Are you fighting?” 

It was obvious that they were. But Mom quickly hugged Dad and pretended to wipe his mouth. “You are so like a child when you eat!” She pinched Dad on his cheek, and I know that hurts. 

“We’re not, baby.” Dad said through his dimpled smile. 

I shrugged and walked straight to the refrigerator and grabbed some milk. “Dad, what is ‘fuck’?”

By my words, Mom gasps. Dad choked on his apple.

“Where did you learn that word?” Mom asked, kneeling in front of me. 

“Zion said it’s a magic word,” I told her, cupping the box of milk with my little hands. 

Mom turned to Dad, “Call Lucas.” She said. Then she looked at me, “That’s a bad word, honey.” 

I blinked, “Is it Mom? But Zion said it is a holy word. Because fuck creates babies.” 

“Call. Lucas. Now!” Mom repeated, there was a warning in her voice that made Dad dashed for the telephone. 

After that, Zion didn’t talk to me for weeks. Because according to him, I ‘betrayed’ our friendship. But then came his birthday, and my gift, he could not possibly say no to that. And he ended up forgiving me. 

 —

 1:37 AM, 20** 

Hi, this is Saint Jung. You’re probably wondering why I wrote this in such late time. I am now eighteen. Eighteen means parties, girls, and trouble. I just came back from one of Zion’s party. Uncle Lucas, (it’s odd to call him Daddy) and Mama Yuqi had gone to another country to celebrate their anniversary. Leaving their house to Zion’s hands. 

Zion. Alone. Mansion. What did I expect?

It was a mess. There was trouble. Zion made out with different girls tonight. 

But I didn’t. No. I did. I did make out with one girl from my class. Her name’s Veina. (Mom will prolly scold me for this)

We made out. And I think… this is so odd. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be writing this on here.

But her lips, damn, it was like velvet cake against mine. She smelled like lavender with a mix of strawberry. I could not name her scent exactly. She was unique. 

 — 

 3:42 AM, 20** 

I got into a car accident. Right. The good boy Saint in an accident? A nightmare. 

Mom was angry. Dad was furious. 

I feel like shit when Mom cried at the hospital, I hate seeing her cry. And I hate myself to be the one causing her tears. All of my uncles has paid me a visit, with a lot of scolding and pinching ears. Uncle Doyoung was beyond furious, even furious than Dad. With what happened, he postponed giving me a Ferrari. Right. He promised me that car, months ago. But Saint has been a bad boy. 

Zion was laughing and rolling on the floor when he visited me. The only thing that stopped him was the shout of Mama Yuqi. 

And yes. I’d hate to say this, since I don’t want to sound so self-centered and narcissistic, but yeah, a lot of girls had been on the hospital to visit me. Of course, rudeness isn’t in my vocabulary. And I’d feel an absolute jerk if I didn’t show kindness to the girls. Mom is a girl. A woman. Call me old-school, but I believe that when you hurt a girl, it would be like hurting your own mom. 

After all the commotion, Dad sat beside me. While Mom sleeps on the sofa. He sat beside me and I swear, my breath hitched when I saw tears in his eyes. Dad never cried. Or so I thought. 

“Be careful next time,” was his words, before leaning in to me and kissing my forehead. 

I know. Don’t judge me diary. I know it’s cheesy, and unmanly-like. But that’s my Dad. He’s loved every fiber of my being ever since I was born. 

 — 

 11:23 PM, 20** 

I got into a fight. And we had to move houses because of the trouble I’d been into. Worrying Mom is on the very least of my priority. But I guess I’ve been born to worry her. 

Some dickbag in school called Dad an alien. I have to be honest, Mom looked like she’s near her forties. Yet Dad looked like a twenty-three year old man. It doesn’t make sense to me, either. But hearing my Dad being called an alien has sparked an anger inside me I didn’t know existed. 

So I threw the punch. And I hit him until he’s a bloody mess on the school hallway’s floor. Bad temper, I must admit. 

And now we are here. Far from the city. In the middle of the forest. Near Uncle Doyoung’s mansion. Right.

Yes, Zion laughed at me until his chest hurts that he needed a nebulizer to help him breathe again. 

 — 

 4:09 AM. 20**

This is Saint Jung. Twenty-one at long last. I want you to know, diary, that I am writing this entry with bloodshot eyes and alcohol drowning my lungs.

It’s my first time to drink like this. 

But what would you do if your mother and father told you that you’re half-mortal, half-angel? And that you would live a long life. Without a mother. And that your mother would be reincarnated someday? But the take is that she won’t be able to remember you. 

It’s fucked up. It’s beyond me. 

But now I understand. I understand why I seem to have this divinity inside me. Why I could run faster than Zion even in his wolf form. Damn, I should’ve known that something is up with me too, when Zion admitted that he is half-wolf, half-human to me.

I should’ve asked Dad when I felt my system convulsing with power. Of strength. Of something I did not understand then. 

Dad. Wait, diary, I have to process this one. Give me a minute to breathe.

Dad is Lucifer. Right. The banished angel from heaven. The morningstar. The Prince of hell. He is a f u c k i n g angel. And I am a f u c k i n g nephilim. I would’ve ended up not believing it, if only Dad didn’t show his wings. Fuck. Sorry for the curses Mom. I had to.

I couldn’t process this in one night. But I need to. So Mom would never cry in front of my door again. Begging me to open it. 

 — 

 2:29 AM. 20** 

Mom and I, we’ve talked. She showed me a picture of a girl with black hair and blue eyes and told me she was Aurora. Mom said it was her one hundred years ago.

Why am I only knowing all about this now? I don’t have any idea. But I am glad they deemed me worthy for this mind-boggling information. 

Aurora was Mom’s face one hundred years ago. Aurora’s reincarnation was Mom today. 

Mom said she would die one day. Her face would disappear from this world, but her soul will not. She said, with tears in her eyes, that I should wait for her to be back. I should wait for her be reincarnated again. 

She’s my mother. She’s my everything. She’s the only flower in my garden. And Dad. Of course, I will wait for her even it takes her a thousand years to be back.

It hurts. I know that sounds weak. But it hurts. I am hurt. I don’t want to wake up one day without her. I think I’d rather die than be parted away from her. 

“Saint,” Dad called out from behind my door. I stood up and laid the controller on the bed. 

“A minute?” He asked. I nodded and guided him towards the veranda. It was frightening, to see Dad. He was so like me I always thought I’m looking at the mirror every time I stand face to face with him. He could pass as my doppelgänger. No joke. 

“How are you, Saint?” He looked at the horizon of gleaming lights far away from us. 

I propped my arms on the railings before answering, “Wrecked.” There’s no point in lying. Dad could smell a shit from miles away. 

“I was like that when I knew about your mother’s real identity,” He smiled a bitter one at me. “Pushed her away. Like a douchebag in a cliché novel, said your Mama Chaelin.” Then he shook his head while sighing, “But where did all those pushing led me? Back to her.” 

“That’s romantic, Dad. But forgive me if I am too hurt to comprehend.” I admitted. 

Dad put his arms around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. “We have to be strong for your Mom,”

Surprisingly, a hot feeling around my eyes blurred my vision. It took me a while to realized that I was crying. “I can’t lose Mom, Dad. I can’t.” was what I said between sobs.

Dad held me tighter and closer while I sob that night. 

Losing Mom would be my downfall. It is the bane of my existence. I would simply shut down once it happens. 

 — 

 That was Saint’s last entry. He never continued his diary ever again after knowing the truth.

[the-fiction-witch]

Yes My Queen P2

TV SHOW: WOLF HALL COUPLE: RAFE X READER RATING: SWEET

I Smiled as I sat in the drawing room and doing my knitting trying to ignore the other girls as they whispered among themselves doing their embroidery and knitting, I didn’t want to talk with them or to have their comments in my ears. I couldn’t help but glance up to the young lady, the one my husband coverts, the one he takes on scenic walks though the gardens and fucks in the king’s chamber late at night. She often gave me a side eye from the seat by the window, she sat sewing I never responded, almost ignoring her as I sat by the fire knitting. 

“My lady? What is it you are knitting?” she asks 

“I don’t quite know just yet. I shall knit until something comes to me” I answered faking a smile to her 

“That's lovely My lady, I would have thought by now the king may now have blessed you”

“No, shouldn’t be long now” I said back she nodded with a sly smirk, 

Oh darling go along, report back to my husband, go and have your fun with my husband. I hope you enjoy him, he’s twice your age and the gap shall only grow as he enters his silver years to come, enjoy his tiny prick. I’ll let you two have your fun, thinking you're hiding your times from me, I’ll just stay here on the throne, in this beautiful castle, while I enjoy the company of my own little plaything. Who adores me, cares for me, pitches me woo at all opportunities, who fucks my royal pussy like he was born to do so, three times the size of my husband and twice the stamina.

You go and enjoy my husband’s fat body sweating over you while he tries to find your pussy because he can’t get it up enough to slip inside.

I’ll just be in my chamber, having my third orgasum, with my sweethearts blonde head between my legs, taking the time to pleasure me and to care for me feeding me compliments at every moment, fighting off his desire towards me at times forcing his erection away from me so he doesn’t make a fool of himself or all over me again. 

“My lady a Letter from my Lord Cromwell's household” A messenger says handing me a scroll 

“Thank you” I nodded taking a look at the letter and the seal I knew who it was from and I didn’t want to open it here in front of the ladies of the court 

“What new’s my lady?” My handmaiden asked me 

“Business I’m sure” I smiled as I stood putting the scroll and my knitting in the pockets of my dress “Ladies, If you’ll excuse me” I bowed before I headed out of the drawing room. 

I hurried to the library, checking it was empty as usual, so I locked the door behind me, I made sure to note the seal and ties hadn’t been broken and it hadn’t been tampered with, I opened it breaking the sweet wax seal. 

I unrolled the letter seeing his beautiful handwriting and reading the sweet words as I sat by the fire.

“My Queen, it is with a grave hand I inform you of the business within the clergy and with the struggles to the south, I know how you like to keep informed on these matters. 

Enough with the petty excuses and covers. 

My Queen, words can not express the deepness of my desire to see your perfect face again. I would sell my soul to the devil himself to be with you, for just a moment just long enough to see your smile. I sit here now , my bedchamber, the household fast asleep, and I cannot help but think of you. Not a moment of my day goes by I do not think of you, but moments like this when I'm alone my mind floods of you. The sweet walks in the gardens with you beside the roses even if you always smelt sweeter and looked more beautiful, sitting on your bench hidden away from everything as if you and I where all that mattered in the world the sweet contours of your beautiful hands being call I am able to explore without risk of exposure and even then it makes my heart beat like a jack rabbit. The afternoons in your library, with the rain beating at the windows flames flickering our shadows dancing in the firelight sharing in stories from your books between the gentlest of kisses, feeling the softness of your lips, the warmth of your mouth, the sweet taste of you, I crave to be with you to hold you in my arms again, to whisper the sweetest nothing's in your ears, to be close enough I can feel your skin, I can kiss your lips, I can feel the heat of your body, the sweetness of your scent, the sugar of your taste. As I sit here writing this my lady, I shiver, I quake, I shudder with the meer thoughts of you. 

And I cannot even bare to begin the thoughts of you when I am alone in my bed. My bed feels so large without your body to share it, my arms so empty to be devoid of you, I cannot prevent the thoughts of you flooding my mind. 

Your delectable skin between the cotton covers, the feeling of moving my hands against your smooth skin, of kissing your skin gently, of hearing your gasps, of feeling those unforgettable bosom within my hands, of feeling your body against my own, of feeling my hands on your positiour, of hearing your gasps, of hearing your moans, of feeling my fingers… inside of you. Of feeling your lips connected with my own, of feeling your skin against me, of feeling your lips around my manhood, of feeling yourself around me, of our souls in the heated throws of ecstasy, fighting of our desire for each other for moments more, of the waves of pleasure only you can supply me with my queen. I fear that I have been forced in the morning light to pleasure thinking of my queen with me but my hands do not compare to yours. Often I have mornings whispering your name among my sheets and well, making a mess of myself. I cannot bare us to be parted by one single moment more my love, I beg of you the king is sending lord Cromwell and his son to france to discuss things with him, so the king and my Lord will be gone, I beg of you, visit me, here secretly. I promise my love I shall express in all that ways I can my love for you and how much I have missed you.``

I stopped putting my hand to my chest gasping at the intensity of the letter, I almost wanted to fan myself.

"Ohh Rafe, you do know how to make a lady feel desired" I smiled.

I smiled as I stood at the end of the bed tieing my corset, I glanced up seeing Rafe sat on the edge of the bed smiling at me as he watched me. "You look so perfect my queen,"

"Not as perfect as you my love" I smiled to him

"I am somewhat happy the king's eyes wonder, if they didn't I may never have gotten to touch the queen" he smiled standing and wrapped his arms around me 

"You wouldn't, sometimes I wish that I hadn't been married to the king, then I could marry you" 

"You… could always if you wanted to"

"What?"

"We could run away, elope together. Or you could let the king have his whore and we could be together" he smiled 

"We could, but I don't think it would be so easy" 

"Perhaps we should give him a reason" he smirked untieing my corset slowly pulling off my ties letting my corset fall 

"Like what?"

"Like… perhaps I should give the king exactly what he wants?"

"Oh? And that is master Sadler?"

"A pregnant wife" he smirked tugging my undergarments off me 

"That is what he wants, I'm not sure he'll like that another man put an heir in me"

"He'll accept it or he'll just have to let me have you won't he" he smirked caressing my skin 

"He will" I smiled tugging him to bed.

I sat smiling as I held my baby bump the king was thrilled but he still took time with his lady but I didn't care I spent time in my library, 

"Rafe stop it" I giggled petting his hair

"I'm sorry my love, I can't help it. Listening to him kick is so peaceful"

"I know" I smiled kissing his head “shouldn’t be long now,”

“I hope not. Y/n… what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want the king raising our baby, it’s our child. What will we do?”

“If its a girl, He’ll throw me away he’ll want nothing to do with me, if he’s a boy then I don’t know” I explained “perhaps if its a boy we should run off”

“Perhaps? Just give the word and I’ll get it organized my darling” He smiled kissing my head “I shall obey my queen without question, the moment you ask it off me then I shall do it”

“Without question? Anything?” I giggled

“Anything you ask my love” he smiled cradling my stomach smiling even wider as the baby kicked “If my queen asked it off me, I would match myself to the gallows at her command, I would walk barefoot over a blazing fire, I would crawl from portsmouth to scotland if you asked it off me,” 

“I would not ask such things of you rafe, I only ask that you stay with me”

“Then I shall my lady” 

I smiled as I laid in my bed almost in tears holding my little baby boy, the women who helped me now all returned to the business, leaving me alone with my sweet boy as he cried. My door quickly opened revealing the king, Lord Cromwell, the chancellor and Rafe. He hid himself away trying to not look too excited while everyone else was here.

“Where is my son?” Henry smiled as he came to me seeing the baby “Good girl” He smiled kissing my head “he’s strong? And healthy?”

“Yes my king”

“Good,” “A Perfect chain of events my lord” The chancellor nodded

“The image of you my king” Lord cromwell nodded 

“He shall be named. Paul” 

“Perfect my lord”

“Excellent choice”

“Come! We must celebrate” He says pushing them all out the room to go and drink, I laughed playing with my little boys fingers, and a few moments later rafe creeped in and rushed to the bed 

“Hi”

“Hi” I giggled

“How are you?” he asks holding my hand 

“I’m alright” I smiled giving him a kiss “Look at our little boy”

“He’s perfect my darling,” He smiled giving his head a kiss “Paul?”

“No we are not keeping that”

“How about… Lucas?”

“I like Lucas,” I smiled “You want to hold him?”

“Of course I do” 

“Okay, gently” I smiled passing him over 

“He’s so perfect, you did brilliantly my love” He smiled kissing me gently “hi little guy, don’t you worry daddy’s going to take such good care of you” 

I sat on my little bench feeding little lucas, it starting to hurt a little where he was nursing so hard, I liked being in the garden it was a nice place to nurse as it took so long and often knowone wanted to see anyway, 

“Oww” I complained as Lucas sucked extremely hard “You know what lucas sometimes you are just like your father” I sighed “won’t let go of my breasts once given the opportunity of them, Umm yeah, I have to prize your daddy’s hands off me with a crowbar somedays” I giggled just then I heard something behind my little bench people were moving 

“Are we alone?”

“Of course, knowone comes out the the gardens”

“What is it? What is this news you bring?”

"The Prince Is not the King."

"what?”

"he can't be," 

"Henry's got nothing, Lady Of Norwich said so, he bedded her daughter and nothing,"

"Then the queen?"

"The queen has been bedding another"

"Who?"

"A maid heard it was one of Cromwell's boys"

"The prince is not a Tudor. He's a Sadler" 

"are you sure? it could be a Cromwell? it could have been his boy Gregory"

"He looks exactly like sadler"

"Do you think she knows?"

"Of course she does, she has to." 

“What proof other than his looks and hearsay have you got?”

“Many have seen Master sadler coming and going from her room,” 

“And… he’s confessed it, He has been bedding the queen and the young prince is fruit of him” 

I quickly pushed lucas way fixing my dress hurrying to my room where I saw the king beside the crib 

“I have heard rumours.”

“What rumours my king?”

“Rumours that you think me a fool!” He yelled “You will confess to me. And confess to me now. Have you bedded another?”

“....Yes” I admitted 

“Is the prince. My son?”

“... No”

“Then who is he!”

“Master Sadler”

“Who!”

“Master Rafe sadler.Ward and assistant to Lord Cromwell”

“Does cromwell know?”

“I do not know”

“How long has he bedded you?”

“For as long as you have bedded The lady of Estlen”

“I have-”

“Do not lie to me Henry. I know you have bedded her, and I know of the child she now carries from you, I know you seek to supplant me, to replace me with her. I did no more wrong than you, atleast I love him, I care for him, and him for me. This baby is a sadler. And I have no intention of giving him or my baby up”

“Then he goes to the gallows”

“I will not allow it”

“You may be the queen. But I am still your king! And if I say your toy boy goes to the gallows then he shall go!”

“Where is he”

“The tower. I knew you hid something from me, I knew he had something to do with it, he didn’t even take much to crack” he smirked “Come we shall see him” he smirked pushing me along to the courtyard of the castle where the gallows stood tall rope swinging in the wind crows cawing in the mist. The king took his throne and I stood beside him with my baby.

“What is it you hope to achieve?”

“To keep my bride in line”

“Why is it I must be kept in line for something you had already done”

“I didn’t have the seed of another settled”

“No you settled your own in an unwed woman, not your wife, not even your lady” I said “If we hadn’t of confessed you would never have known”

“I would” “Would you? You couldn’t tell until rumours came” “I knew something was wrong, That child looks nothing like me”

“He’s the spitting image. Of his father” I said “you don’t have to do this. I will go take my lover and leave your castle, you can have your lady and her child. I will not bother you again”

“It cannot be allowed, my wife bedded another, birthed a child of sin. Examples must be made” He says as he nodded to a man who brought out Rafe, shirtless, in chains, his ankles had been broken, his wrists bloody and bruised, I didn’t want to think of the horrors they would have done to him in the tower to make him talk. 

“Please! My lady! My queen! I beg of you!” He screamed before the guard slapped him to the ground 

“Let him hang” 

“No please” I begged as they dragged him to the gallows kicking and screaming 

“He must die”

"I'll grant you a divorce!" I said 

"what?"

"I will grant you a divorce. I will go. I will take my child. Please... just let him live"

"I will not have my name be made a mockery, I have heard the rumours, I have heard the whispers, my wife in bed with another man, Birthing his child, consorting in the dark castle corners. I will not have it be known across this land I let him live" he explained “string him up”

“NOOOOO PLEASE!” Rafe screamed as the guard forced him to his feet wrapping the noose around his neck 

"How are you any better than me, the women in dark corners, your own chamber to touch and bed these girls, I only did what you did." 

“He must die”

“I’ll grant you an annulment”

“What?”

“Freely, I will grant you annulment”

“Drop him!” He ordered

“NOO!” I screamed as the floor dropped, luckily it didn’t break his neck he was alive gasping for breath struggling against it kicking his legs in desperation

“I will grant you annulment, I will take my son, and my lover, I will go leave england, you will never hear from us again, I will never return, it will be as if I never existed, you can take the lady as you’re wife and she will have her child, tell the country I died with my child, tragically young from complications.”

“I’ll never hear from you again?”

“Never” “He won’t come back in another ten years looking for a home or money”

“No, I promise” “Cut him down!” He ordered and the guard cut the noose dropping him to the floor gasping and coughing 

“I give you all until sundown to leave my home. I see any of you again it’s the gallows for you all” he explained and I nodded “You may go to him”

I smiled and ran helping him up where I could 

“.... am I dead, my angel?”

“Not dead rafe your alive. We can go, come on let's get you cleaned up” I smiled 

I smiled as I finished up with the stew for dinner, the smell radiating through our little cottage I slipped off my gloves and headed outside leaning on the door looking out to the little island we lived on, we managed to find a little island with not a soul living here, it was only just away from sweden, we built a little cottage here and worked on making it a little farm for us, “Lucas!” I called 

“Coming mama!” He giggled as he ran in from the little rabbit hutch and run where his little rabbits are “what is it mama?”

“Dinner time sweetheart” I smiled “where’s your father?” 

“By the beach” He smiled 

“Come on kiddo, let's go find your daddy” I laughed so we headed down the little path towards the stone beach “Rafe” I giggled he quickly stood and came over

“Aww hello darling, Hey kiddo” he laughs picking lucas up 

“How’s your neck today?” I asked gently touching his scars from the rope 

“It would feel better if I got some little kisses” he suggested 

“You only have to ask my love” I smiled kissing him sweetly “Come along both of you boys, it’s dinner time” 

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn @i-peachesandstrawberries

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 12: A Boy Like The Sun

Lei’s POV

It was the best dream I ever had— the feeling of Sehun’s lips against mine. His touch was gentle— so gentle that I shouldn’t have felt it long after the moment passed, so faint that it shouldn’t still seize my heart and squeeze my lungs empty and wipe my mind of every thought except those of him. 

Sehun. Sehun, who was never mine. Sehun, who made me believe for a fraction of an infinity that maybe everything in life had led to that moment when he filled my every sense and painted my every thought and memory with colors that I had never seen once with open eyes. 

My best dream. My favorite dream. The dream that blessed me too many nights before and after it became a curse. The dream I would bring back to life every day of every week even if it ended the same way every single time. 

The problem with dreams coming true is that you always wake up or the dream becomes a nightmare. 

Never in a million years would I have believed that his smile and his laughter— the luxuries that were once so rare and more brilliant than the sun in my childhood world— would conspire to break my heart into a million little pieces that were too jagged and sore and bloodsoaked by the piano to pick up and fit back together.

Yes, it was my first kiss. 

He was my first kiss. 

Sehun was my first kiss. 

Sehun. 

And I wasn’t shy— just humiliated by his laughter at my expense. I was just humiliated that I couldn’t catch my breath. I was just humiliated by the urge to kiss him again because it— he— Sehun was everything I was afraid of wanting or needing to feel like one of those people who can smile in the sun and really mean it no matter how many eyes try to rip them apart. 

And I was, for a fleeting second that I wish with all of my soul had lasted forever, proud to have shared my first and only act of intimate affection with Sehun because I always imagined that he was so much more than handsome before he broke my heart with a smile and a wink. 

And if he would have loved me, even in his broken joke of a way that impaled me through the chest, I would have forgotten my refusal to date— just for him. I would have let him in every door, I would have helped him climb over every wall because — well— every wall crumbled at his touch. Not even his ill-timed laughter and mockery would rebuild them. Every door was always unlocked for him, and his kiss blew them wide open with a wild gust of tornado hurricane wind, and it would take all of my strength to lock them.  

I guess I have Minseok to thank for saving my pride. If he hadn’t called Sehun to his side and allowed me to run up to my moonlit bedroom where I could reconstruct my defenses— the defenses that I once imagined applied to everyone but the one who already held my heart in the palm of his hand— maybe I would have acted on that urge to rise on the tips of my toes to kiss Sehun again and again and again even if it was just a joke to him and Chanyeol, even if his heart could never swell for me or break for me, even if I could never look at him while remembering the beloved boy who was always beautifully too far out of reach, always opposed to love despite frequent expressive actions, always just slightly out of step, never quite on the same page, tragically never on the same path for long, never once in a million daydreams close to being mine. 

I closed the door on years of memories, years of looking at one person who never needed to look at me to have my love, years of falling for Lucas’s adamant belief that everything works out for those who are meant to be together, years of praying in the tiniest, most irrational piece of my heart that Sehun and I would someday—

Every thought died when I made eye contact with his poster that hung on my wall since his debut. All at once, as I removed it pin by pin, imagining that this was exactly what I would have to do in my mind with every one of his memories if I ever wanted to stop bleeding, tears streamed down my cheeks. 

Would you think that I’m pathetic if I told you how hard it was to be angry with Sehun for hurting me? Would you think that I’m weak if you knew how long I struggled to pack Sehun’s poster back into its container? Would you call me a fool if you knew that I almost left his photocards up on the wall because I wanted so desperately to remember him without that stabbing ache in my chest— because I wanted to forget that he told me I was annoying for following him and that he laughed at my first kiss and that he dashed my every conception of him? 

I don’t care if you would. 

It killed me to lock our memories away in that box. It killed me to unfasten his bracelet. I hated that I couldn’t just close my eyes and think of Sehun as I always had. I hated that I couldn’t trick myself into believing the lie that nothing had changed— that I wasn’t shattered. 

I don’t care if you think I’m weak because I don’t care about being strong anymore. After all this time, I have accepted that there is only one person who has ever held the power to fragment me like that. I have accepted that I am foolish enough to trust him with that power in every universe. What’s worse: I am okay with spending all that time crying in the dark if it gives me the vaguest hope that he could love me someday. 

I was hugging Sehun’s note that came with the bracelet against my chest when Lucas burst through the door, smiling and unsteady on his feet. “Baekhyun spiked the punch!” He cheered, holding up a clear glass of red liquid. “I brought you some!”

Lucas’s smile faltered when he sat on the foot of my bed. Setting the cup down on the floor, he asked, “What’s wrong, Lei?” 

And before I could decide what was worth sharing and what was worth locking away in the box, I threw myself into Lucas’s outstretched arms, sputtering, “Sehun— Sehun— Sehun—” 

I couldn’t say anything but his name. The name that still made my heart swell. 

Realizing that I couldn’t say anything else, Lucas ran a comforting hand up and down my back, promising, “It’s okay. Just let it out.” 

Until the embarrassment of baring my raw emotions overwhelmed the ache of a broken heart, I sobbed into Lucas’s shirt. If he didn’t smell so different— if he didn’t feel so different— if his voice didn’t sound so different, I would have imagined that (instead of Lucas) Sehun held me together that night. 

When I finally ran out of tears that Lucas could dry, when I finally untangled myself, I rubbed at my eyes. “I’m really tired.” My words blurred together in a pathetic mumble. 

“Oh,” Lucas hummed. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, if you’re sure—” I nodded— “then I’ll just go back downstairs.” He picked the alcoholic punch up off of the floor. “Just text me if you need me, and I’ll come running.”

“I know.” To prove that I would be okay alone— that I could heal alone— I tried to force a smile. Just before he walked out of the door, I asked, “Can you take that box away for me?”

“Sure,” Lucas agreed before knowing its contents. After taking a glance at Sehun’s picture, he swore, “I’ll take good care of this for you.” 

Practicing my hand at pretending to be strong despite the growing urge to snatch my box away from Lucas and return its contents to their rightful places, I lied, “I don’t care what you do with it.” 

Lucas blinked. He didn’t believe me, but he didn’t say so. “Someday you might,” was all he said before walking away with every token of my memories with Sehun.

If I thought that the memories would fade with those objects out of sight, I must have been disappointed breathless at the number of scenes that played in my mind as I stepped out of my white dress and heels into a set of sunflower pajamas. When I settled into bed, rubbing at the headache forming around my temples, I realized that I would never forget Sehun. Only with the greatest exertion of effort would I be able to hide my love for him (and my humiliating utter desperation for his love) behind a mask of exaggerated anger. 

Here’s the truth, if you want it: I didn’t love Sehun any less after he kissed me at that Christmas party. It was with great difficulty that I avoided him over the following two years. The embarrassed anger that would eventually swell in my gut with his mocking flirtatious remarks wasn’t an immediate response. For a while, I was still stupid enough to swoon at his glance. 

I was lying in bed, dreaming of how I would survive without surrendering any more pieces of my heart the next time I saw Sehun, when three knocks sounded at the door. My eyes opened wide to the sight of Baekhyun tiptoeing into my bedroom as if he were afraid to wake me. 

Although Baekhyun and I were not especially close, I didn’t feel bothered by his sudden, unannounced, unsolicited appearance. Spurred by curiosity that burned through my sadness, I sat upright and quipped, “Come on in, Baekhyun.” 

Turning toward me quickly enough to flick his orange-dyed bangs out of his eyes, Baekhyun broke into a glittering smile. “Thanks for the warm welcome!” 

He turned back to trace the outline of the place where Sehun’s poster stood for years. His touch was careful, hesitant as if he feared that the wall would crumble under pressure. “I was looking for the bathroom. It’s a happy accident that I ended up where you are.”

Owing to his devious smile, I didn’t believe that anything Baekhyun did was an accident. Still, I was afraid to say something that would send him away. Forgetting that I wanted to be alone just minutes ago, I didn’t offer him directions to the bathroom. “A happy accident,” I repeated under my breath.

He said, “The party is boring without you,” although he hadn’t said a word since ‘hello’ at the start of the night. “Can’t I convince you to go back with me?”

“I would follow you anywhere, Baek.”

My hand clamped over my mouth after the words fell out as if in an ill-timed effort to contain them. I don’t know why I said that. I had never followed Baekhyun a day in my life— not even that time at the SM showcase when he tried to lead me away from the first Sehun-induced heartache. 

“Anywhere?” Baekhyun winked and melted the block of ice in my chest. 

Stupidly, as if enchanted by his smile, I nodded, conditioning, “Just not tonight.” Although Baekhyun asked for no explanation as his gaze dropped down to his feet in a perfect picture of disappointment, I said, “My heart is too heavy tonight.”

“What if I carried it for you?”

Thinking that he couldn't have been serious, I laughed until I felt his eyes on me. Something about the way he looked at me took my breath away— made my heart thunder as if it wasn’t broken— made me forget that I was supposed to be crying, mourning a dream that I never should have dreamed. 

Once I found my voice, I said, “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Somebody else is holding it,” Baekhyun muttered, likely assuming that I wouldn’t hear. He reached for the ribbon on my vanity— the one I wore on my debut stage— and I raced to reach it first. 

But I couldn’t beat Baekhyun. I don’t know why I tried in the first place. I don’t know why I didn’t want him to touch the item I hadn’t looked at since the first and only time I wore it. 

The ribbon was radiant in his hands. As he traced his fingers over it, eyes widening and glittering as if it were an artifact of his wildest dreams, I told him, “I’m holding my heart. I can feel it pounding. Breaking. Aching. It’s mine again, for the first time that I can really remember, and I wouldn’t give it to someone like you in its current condition.” 

In a wounded whimper, Baekhyun repeated, “Someone like me?”

My heart stilled. I was quick to explain that I wasn’t trying to insult him. “Yeah. A boy like the sun.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows pinched together to form little wrinkles in his forehead. “The sun?”

“Yeah. Somebody who can smile in the sun and mean it no matter how many eyes try to rip them apart.” I burned at how easily I could speak to Baekhyun, who was little more than a friendly acquaintance, when I was a stuttering, blubbering mess around Lucas, who was my best friend. 

The stars shone in Baekhyun’s eyes a thousand times brighter than they ever did in the sky. I couldn’t look away from them. I couldn’t forget them. Sometimes, I count them when it’s hard to fall asleep. 

“That’s what you think of me?” Baekhyun beamed. His smile made me smile too. “You think I’m like the sun?” 

“You’re probably brighter than the sun, Baek.” 

Suddenly, he was too bright, and there were too many parts of myself that I wanted to hide in the shadows. Although I didn’t want to, I needed to look away from Baekhyun’s smile. My eyes fixed on the ribbon in his hand, and I reached for it again. 

Holding it just out of reach, Baekhyun looked down on me with a muted form of his sunshine smile. “Have you ever heard about ribbons and soulmates?” When I shook my head, flushing at the word ‘soulmate,’ Baekhyun continued, “I learned about it from my second favorite love story. Apparently, if you give a ribbon to someone or if someone gives a ribbon to you, your souls will be tied together forever. So be careful of who you give this to.” 

Struggling to imagine that Baekhyun was the kind of person who watched or read romantic stories, much less believed romantic superstitions, I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for some outburst of laughter. “Do you really believe in that sort of thing?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “The couple in the story was together forever, so it can’t hurt to be careful.” He pressed the ribbon into my palm. His skin was fire against mine— a flame that warmed but didn’t scald. I think that’s the first hint that I was dreaming. Feelings like that don’t exist in real life. 

Maybe I scalded him, though. Maybe I gave him frostbite. Baekhyun’s hand flinched away from mine, and he looked down at it as if expecting to find a scar or a blister. There was nothing there.

Frowning, I said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” 

Baekhyun looked up from his hand to meet my eyes. “Huh? You didn’t hurt me. You could never hurt me.”

I wanted to ask him how he could be so sure about something like that, but I didn’t even want to imagine hurting Baekhyun, so I made a joke instead. Grinning down at the ribbon in my hand, I asked, “You gave this to me. Does that make you my soulmate, Baek?”

He blinked a few times, mouth falling agape before a smile broke across his face. “Don’t make a big deal of it.” 

Those words— they struck a familiar chord within my heart, within my memory. I closed my eyes and remembered a golden pink sunset coloring a cotton candy sky, a crown of white roses, a white rose in his coat pocket, a fountain where we made wishes. Deja vu. The memory with Baekhyun that played in my mind had never happened, but still I— I could feel it. 

The last time I heard him say those words to me, did I want to kiss him as badly as I did that night in my room? I must have. Whether it was in another dream— because surely, this was a dream— or another lifetime, those words must have inspired the singular desire to bridge all distance between us. 

The dream prompted me to take the first step toward him— the first step I had ever taken in my life— ribbon still in hand, and I would have brushed my lips against his in pursuit of some cosmic miracle if he didn’t wheeze, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.” 

My eyes, which I must have closed in preparation for some eclipse, opened to the sight of Baekhyun’s eyes swimming in tears. I would have done anything to take that look from his face, even if it was a figment of a dream turned nightmare. Leaping away (despite my persisting desire to cling to him) because I knew I was accidentally the source of his tears, I opened my mouth to apologize. 

Baekhyun didn’t give me a chance, though. Gnawing at his lips as if he was afraid that I would try again to kiss them, he bowed to me. “I’m sorry, Lei. There’s something really important that I have to take care of. Don’t—” A tear streamed down his cheek— “If we’re dreaming, don’t forget me when we wake up.” 

Before I could promise that I wouldn’t, he bolted out the door without glancing back. He was gone just as suddenly as he appeared. And I missed him. I miss him. 

Maybe Baekhyun knew how to carry others’ broken hearts, and maybe he didn’t need permission to do so. After he left, and I settled back under my blankets, the ache in my chest was almost gone. 

I fell into dreams about him— laughing down by some lake, arguing in some darkened corner of an SM banquet hall, talking by the side of some pool, driving through my hometown late at night with the sunroof down, tossing coins into a wishing fountain, stumbling into his arms at a party where we matched from head to toe. Dreams— maybe they’re memories from another life. Maybe I woke the next morning, haunted by the hope that I loved Baekhyun in another life and that maybe, someday, if I did everything right, I would get to live that life again. 

I dreamed of Baekhyun, burned as I wondered how I would ever face him, squirmed as I debated whether he was in real life anything like he was in dreams. 

And then I remembered the dangers of wasting one’s life dwelling on dreams— even the best ones. And I learned to be content with his mischievous glittering smiles and the memory of the stars in his eyes. And I never quite packed it away— the hope that there would be a time for him someday. 

Of course, I think I forgot just about everything when I saw him again— the one who could send me falling with just a glance. 

Sehun. 

Maybe my heart was mine, but that was only due to the force with which I held it whenever Sehun stood too close, calling it to him without words. That was only due to the scowl that I sculpted onto my face whenever the white-hot sting of his laughter wasn’t a distant enough memory. 

And even then, if I’m really honest, if I hold nothing back, I’ll admit that my heart was secretly (not-so-secretly) his all that time.

[padme-parker]

Collide / Chapter 2

[a Star Wars x Avengers crossover]

summary: You get interrogated by the Jedi Council and some calls home are made.

word count: 3,700+

warnings: my shitty writing, a few curse words, plot holes

A/N: I might’ve forgotten to edit some things out lol my bad, also this chapter is really messy but I will come back to fix it once I get the hang of writing for a series

Song(s) of the chapter: Creep by Radiohead, Home with you by FKA Twigs, and Softly by Clairo.

read chapter one here

“Is it alright to feel this way so early? And in my blood, all the sweet nothings fallin' in love overnight” -Softly by Clairo

Anakin was walking amongst the halls with Master Obi-wan and Master Yoda when he felt it, a disturbance in the force. Obi-wan turned to him, “Do you feel it too?” Anakin had merely nodded before taking out his holo device, bringing up a map of the Jedi Temple. His eyes quickly scanned it before finding something out of place, “Look, it’s an unrecognized heat signature in the lower levels of the temple.” Of all the years he’d been living in the temple, he had never visited the lower levels. He knew of its existence and that only certain Jedi, like Master Yoda, could enter. However, he never understood why it was forbidden to enter.

“Master Yoda, what should we do?”

“Go down, you must. Alert the others, I will.” He gave Master Yoda a nod before taking off with Obi-wan. Using the holo map to guide him, he found himself in front of a large steel door. He placed his hand on the door, seeing if it’d budge, but it didn’t move an inch. Beckoning forth the force within him, he imagined the door opening. A warmth that spread from his heart to the tips of his finger, encompassing his entire being until he felt the door shift. Pushing the door open, he put away his holo device, his lightsaber now in his grasp.

“They’re close Master, I can feel it.” Obi-wan took the lead, using the force to guide him to the person they were looking for. It didn’t take the two very long to find them, well more like her. Anakin took notice as to how she was gripping onto the wall for dear life. With her back to them, he couldn’t see her face. Only the outline of her figure, clad in all black. Who are you?

Obi-wan ignited his saber, Anakin following. “Stop right there! Turn around and face us sith!” Oh, so apparently I’m a sith now. Anakin furrowed his eyebrows, why could he hear her thoughts? His ears picked up on the approaching footsteps, as he felt the other Jedi enter the room, his shoulders slightly tensing.

The girl raised her arms slowly, showing defeat. Turning around, his eyes immediately found hers. He watched as her eyes moved across the room until they landed on his. He let his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before composing himself. He realizes that he’s seen her before, in his dreams. The ones where her beauty overtook him, and they’d spend their time together in the meadows. When he dreamt about her, he felt at peace. He felt whole. Even after waking up, only to find Padme at his side, he could still feel her lingering touch. He had always wondered why the force was showing him visions of her, of their future together. Now, he knew why. He felt a tug in his chest, the force insisting that he move closer. To take you in his embrace and never let go.

He watched as you blinked, licking your lips before uttering his name. He watched as your knees buckled, sending you to the floor. He watched as your eyes shut, your body going limp.

It’s you.

He was angry at the force. Why would they send him to you, after he had gotten married to the love of his life. The force had also shown him visions of Padme and him, their life together. He knew it was one full of joy and happiness, the force assured him of that.

“Anakin? Anakin, I asked you a question,” He was broken out of his reverie by Obi-wan, “Do you know that girl?”

“No, I don’t know her.”

-

Anakin found himself in your room, the steady beeping of the machine was beginning to frustrate him. He needed you to wake, he needed to know why you were here, in this exact moment. Why not earlier? Before he had fallen in love with Padme? He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave Padme, especially now that she was carrying his child.

He walked closer to your bed, before sitting on the edge of it. He observed your face, she looks the same. She even smelt the same, like a meadow of flowers with a hint of something fruity. He took his time to observe you, not knowing if he’d ever see you again. What was the Jedi Counsel going to do to you? He gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. Brushing his knuckles softly over your cheeks, he was interrupted by his holo device pinging. Signaling that he was needed elsewhere. He didn’t want to leave your side, but he has a life to get back to. He looked at you one last time before swiftly turning away, leaving you alone once more.

-

A few hours later, you regained consciousness. Sound was the first sense that came back to you, and all you could hear was the stupid beeping of the machine. The next sense that came was sight. Your eyes scanned around the room, noticing the IV that was hooked onto you, along with the heart rate monitor attached to your index finger. Using your free hand, you ripped off the monitor and IV, the beeping of the machine stopped, only to be replaced by a flatline sound. Oh my stars, does this thing ever shut up. Before you could make it to the door, it flew open. Obi-wan, Anakin, and Master Yoda walked in.

“Where do you think you’re going, sith.” Obi-wan asked.

You titled you head to the side, “What makes you think I’m a sith?”

“What other force user would be able to cunningly sneak into the temple unnoticed?” Although his face was completely serious, his voice held a sarcastic tone. “Besides, who wears all black in a Jedi temple?” You gave him a pointed look.

“Uh, Anakin. Duh.” Turning to face Anakin, you also gave him a pointed look. Both brows furrowed as you called him out.

“And exactly how do you know Anakin?” Right, you forgot that they were going to question you. Luckily for you, Fury had gone over the plan with you a couple of times, so you knew what to do.

“I’ll tell you, only if you bring me to the Jedi council.”

-

Standing in front of the council was more intimidating than you thought. Especially when your eyes landed on Master Windu’s. You couldn’t tell who was scarier, Fury or Windu. As intimidated as you were, you were also amazed. Gazing through the windows, you could see the flying shuttles and speeders, something Earth certainly didn’t have.

“Right Miss…” There was a pause, they waited for you to say your name.

Remember, no real names. Why? ‘Cause Fury said so, “Alyra.”

“Just Alyra? No last name?” Obi-wan questioned

“Yep,” the pop of your ‘p’ echoed throughout the silent room, “Just Alyra. No middle or last name. Mysterious right?” You said, wiggling your eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood. When no one laughed or cracked a slight smile, you gave them a tight smile. Right, the Jedi don’t like having fun.

“So Miss Alyra, please do tell us why you’re here.” Fu- Master Windu’s voice booms, showing that he isn’t in the mood for jokes.

-

“It’s extremely vital that you explain to the Jedi Council the reasoning for your arrival. And I don’t care how much you admire that Anakin Skywalker, don’t do anything that will forever alter their timeline. We need him to turn, because we need the Death Star.”

“So, you want me to watch and do nothing as Anakin suffers? Absolutely nothing. Also, how the hell am I supposed to acquire the Death Star?”

“Correct, I trust that you can do that. Right, agent L/N? As for the Death Star, just make sure you get close to Skywalker, close enough that he won’t kill you when he turns, but not too close.” You assumed Fury hadn’t watched any of the prequels because Anakin killed and pushed away literally everyone who was close to him.

You swallowed before swiftly nodding, “right.” you replied. Your mouth had gotten dry all of a sudden. You’d be damned if Fury thought you weren’t going to do anything to help Anakin. You couldn’t imagine yourself holding the knowledge of their future, Anakin’s future, and not doing anything to help. You didn’t know what you were going to do, but you sure as hell knew that you weren’t going to sit around idly. Something had to change.

-

How were you supposed to explain to the Council that billions of lives were being threatened, and that the only way to save them was through a weapon that doesn’t exist yet. On top of that, it was a weapon created by the empire. There was no way Fury’s plan was going to work without questions arising, so you created a plan of your own. Of course one that Fury would approve of.

“I’m here because not only is my planet being threatened, but so is yours, and every other planet in this universe. The only way to stop it from happening is if you train me.”

“Before we can even decide on if we should train you or not, please do tell us, how did you find out about our existence.” Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself before telling them the story.

“Long ago, there was a Jedi named George Lucas.” You glanced at Master Yoda, noticing his eyes light up as he remembered him. “He was a powerful Jedi, gifted with foresight. Almost always, his visions came true. One night, he dreamt of the destruction of Coruscant and it’s people. At the time, he didn’t know that it didn’t only affect Coruscant, but the whole universe. Scared of being caught in the destruction, he warned his friends, Jedi or not. Together they fled using the bridge, coming to my home planet. There, they started their new lives. George Lucas then created comics and movies to serve as a reminder to himself and his friends of their home. He did his best to replicate Coruscant, but I must say, it’s more beautiful in person.” I can’t wait to see Naboo though. You smiled, a frown soon emerging. This means that I can never tell Anakin of his future, not even a little. They wouldn’t believe me.

You cleared your throat before speaking again, “If that’s all, I’d like to go for a walk.” You waited for one of the Jedi to reply.

“Alright, you have 30 minutes. We expect you to be back once those 30 minutes are over. In the meantime, we will be discussing your stay here.” Master Windu said, waving his hand to dismiss you.

Quickly walking out of the room, you began to wander around aimlessly. You took in your surroundings, admiring the new environment. Who knows, you were probably going to hate it as time passed. The vibration coming from your chest startled you, picking up the necklace you pressed the button. A hologram of Director Fury and Mr. Stark came up.

“Hey kid, how are you holding up in there?”

“Well, I think I’ve got everything under control. I’ve told them about the mission,” well not really, “So far, everything is going as planned.”

“Alright agent L/N, if that is all, I’ll be ending the call no-”

“Wait, wait, wait! Can I speak to Peter, pretty puhhhleasee! Come on Fury, you owe me this.” You watched as Fury rolled his eyes and huffed out a fine, soon after Peter came into frame. “O. M. G. Peter you’ll never guess where I am.” You panned the device around the hall, showing off the Jedi Temple.

“Holy crap! You're in the freaking Jedi Temple. That’s so cool!” You heard feet shuffling behind you, “Hey, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you later Peter. See ya!” You shut off the device before a voice was heard behind you.

“Were you talking to someone?” Anakin’s voice rang out from behind you, turning around you found him resting against a pillar, looking casual as ever.

“Yes I was, Mr. Skywalker. However, that information doesn’t concern your prying ears.” you smirked.

“And that is where you are wrong Miss Alyra. You see it does in fact concern me, do you think the Jedi Council knows of this device.” He strided up to you, gently grasping your necklace. You were able to get a good whiff of his scent, he smelt like strawberries and cinnamon. It was a peculiar combination but it worked together. Honestly, that was probably the most attractive thing about him, besides his face. You could stare at it all day. There was just something so mesmerizing about his face, it demanded your attention.

“Why are you staring at my face?” He asked

“Hmm, oh nothing. I just thought I’d never see you in real life.”

“Real life? What do you mean in real life?” His brows furrowed, making the scar on his face more prominent. Shit, not even a day in Coruscant and you had already blown your cover, “Have you,” He inhales deeply before continuing, “Have you seen me in your dreams too?”

Wait, what? Sure, maybe you had a sexual dream about him every once in a while, but you didn’t expect him to dream about you too. “Umm, yes…?” It’s too late to stick to the original plan now.

“So, you’ve seen it then? Visions of us, in the meadow?”

“Yes, I was… unaware that you were having these dreams too. I thought I was going crazy.” Maybe you are.

“Well, we’ve only known each other for a short period of time, so it wouldn’t be plausible for you to know. However, I do suggest we talk about this tomorrow. I’m afraid we have to get back to the council now.” He motioned for you to go first, following closely behind you. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence until the doors of the Council came into view.

“Well, here goes nothing.”

-

“The Jedi Council has come to the decision that we will train you,” You let out a breath, “But you need to tell us of the threat first.”

“In my system, there is a moon filled with powerful beings. Their greediness and selfishness will ultimately lead to their demise. There was a famine, the poor and weak struggled the most, while the strong thrived for a short amount of time. However, once the food was all gone, everyone perished. Except for one. His name is Thanos. Struck with grief, he sought after power. Enough power to eliminate half of the universe. He…. He wants to spare us the grief of losing our loved ones to selfishness, but fails to realize how much anguish we will be in if half of the universe just disappears. That’s why we need your help. Without your knowledge and technology, we wouldn’t be able to save the universe. But once my training is over, I will need others to help me.” There was a pause, you let the words sink in before speaking again, “Like I said, they are powerful beings. But even they cannot survive a famine. The only reason Thanos survived was because he was exiled. An acquaintance of mine saw this, through a vision. So it hasn’t happened yet, but it will soon. So the sooner I can get trained, the better. But I will need others to train with me too. I cannot take down a titan alone.”

“It’s settled then, Kenobi and Skywalker, you will train alongside Alyra to help her. We will send more Jedi if needed.” After Master Windu dismissed the council, Obi-wan came up to you to formally introduce himself. Of course, he didn’t need to, you had already known who everyone was. But for the sake of the plan, you had to act like you didn’t.

“Hello there! I am Obi-wan Kenobi. I’d like to apologize for my behaviour earlier.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize. But thanks I guess.”

“I assume no one has shown you to your quarters yet?” You nod, “Let me show you the way then.”

Anakin watched as the two of you left, a gentle laugh escaping your lips. Although Obi-wan’s hands were clasped behind his back, Anakin didn’t like the way he was so close to you. The furrow of his brows were noticeable as he felt the jealousy grow in him. Snap out of it, you just met her. He took big strides in order to catch up to the two of you.

“Hey! Wait up.” Hearing Anakin's voice made the two of you stop in your tracks. “Where are you two heading?”

“I was just going to take Miss Alyra to her quarters. Anyhow, since your quarters seem to be closer to hers, I think you should take her instead.” Obi-wan stated, giving Anakin the information he needed before leaving.

“Well, it looks like your room is right across from mine.” He began to lead the way, taking smaller steps to make sure you kept up.

“Tell me Anakin, what’s it like living on Coruscant?” You’d been curious, life as an avenger was grueling, although you did travel many places for missions, it was never for leisure. Living in New York for most of your life, you lacked knowledge about culture and life in general outside of America. So being in a new environment like Coruscant was quite exciting to you, but it was also scary. Give or take a few Jedi, some senators, and siths; you barely knew anyone.

“Well, I’m not gonna say I love it, because I don’t. But Coruscant does have its perks. There are many different cultures here, you’ll never get tired of it. Plus there’s no sand here, I fucking hate sand. It just-”

“-gets everywhere. Yeah I don’t like sand either. There’s a lot of branches and broken shells in it, making it hard to walk on.” You finished his sentence for him. Not realizing what you said before it was already out of your mouth, you gave him a sheepish smile. Anakin gave you a smile in return.

As your quarters came into view, Anakin grew nervous. He didn’t want the conversation to end, “About tomorrow, how about I pick you up for some breakfast, then we can explore the lower levels of Coruscant while you tell me about your home?”

You looked to the floor, biting your lip to keep you from smiling like an idiot, “Yeah, I’d really like that.” you continued to stare at the floor as you felt your cheeks heat up. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Anakin.” Finally meeting his gaze, you gave him a small smile.

“Sweet dreams, Alyra.” You watched as Anakin disappeared into his room before entering yours. Truth be told, you weren’t expecting much from the Jedi. The room was moderately decorated, only containing necessities. The bed itself looked like a bag of rocks, but was surprisingly comfortable. Going into the refresher, you were delighted to find that it wasn’t some outdated 90’s looking bathroom, but a more modern one. There was a single sink, along with some counter space where you could put your toiletries. A circular mirror was hanging above the sink, giving the bathroom some style. Everything in the bathroom had been so monotone, the same shade of white. Except the shower curtain, which was a very light gray.

Walking out of the bathroom, you noticed a door which presumably led to your closet. In it you found Jedi robes already hanging, there was also some sleep wear too. The robe itself was black, just like Anakins. However your clothing had been variations of white and gray. What a weird combination for a Jedi. It felt weird to be calling yourself a Jedi, it just didn’t feel right.

You decided to take a quick shower before calling Peter again. Turning on the shower, you watched as the water fell from the shower head attached to the ceiling. To your disbelief, the water was already hot when you jumped in. You thought it would’ve taken a while for it to warm up or that the Jedi absolutely loved taking cold showers. They hadn’t given you any shampoo or body wash, so you just let the hot water do its magic. I should probably tell Ani that I need some tomorrow while we're in the lower levels. Stepping out, you hastily dried yourself before putting on your night clothes.

Sitting on the bed, you took off your necklace. Pressing the button to turn on the device, you scrolled through the hologram screen until Peter’s name came up. Clicking on his name, you waited for it to connect. After a couple of seconds waiting, the video connected.

“Y/N!” He said eagerly

“Hi Peter! How are you? It feels like ages since I last saw you.” It had been only mere hours since you had left, while for you it’d been almost two days.

“Honestly things have been...okay. It’s just not the same without you around y’know?” You could hear the hesitation in his voice, as if he was hiding something.

“What do you mean okay? What happened?”

“I meant to tell you this before you left, but everything happened so quickly, and then you were gone before I knew it.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “Umm…. MJ and I broke up.”

“What, why? Peter what happened?” Before he could answer, the hologram disappeared and the call ended. You tried to call him back but the call wouldn’t go through. Giving up, you let out a sigh. It’s probably for the best, I need to get some sleep.

Crawling into the covers, you situated yourself before finding a comfortable position. Thoughts of Peter and Mj lingered throughout your mind as you tried to fall asleep. You decided not to think about them for the rest of the night, and instead think of your day tomorrow with Anakin. Soon your breathing slowed down, a smile could be seen on your lips as you fell asleep.

-

somewhere in the Star Wars galaxy

Darth Sidious sits on his throne, hood pulled up to hide his face. He too, felt the disturbance in the force. Reaching into the force, he sought to find the person responsible for the disturbance. Quickly finding his answer, he lets out a vicious cackle.

so, the last of the Andarae bloodline has returned.

--

read ch 3 here

[teacup-crow]

I Wanted to Love You

Zombies Make 08/08/20, round four! Thanks again @crownleys and @puptart for a really fun day! This one is based (uh very vaguely) on the song Maybe We’re Meant to Be Alone by Bad Suns. Also I had Hadestown stuck in my head so make of that what you will.

Jody looks after an unwell Tom, early season 6ish.

CW: a bad case of the flu – people might understandably not want to read about it under current circumstances! Also delusions and unconsciousness, references to past torture, lack of self-worth. (But it’s sweet and romantic I swear!)

He gasps for breath, fighting with the blanket that is strangling and suffocating him, the hands around his neck squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Tom?”

Cold sweat. Hot sweat. Everything is shuddering and blacking in and out of reality. His lungs are full of fluid – have they dunked his head in the trough again? Try not to panic, then, Colonel De Luca. Don’t breathe through your nose, no matter what. Imagine you’re elsewhere. Detach your brain from the situation. They’re not going to let you drown, after all. You’re too valuable. Don’t give them what they want. Break your own mind before you give them anything. Break, break, break, break.

“Tom!”

They don’t normally use his name – to them, he’s just “the English spy, the English dog”. Monikers which, he supposes, are accurate enough. It’s a woman’s voice, just above the surface. Are they holding her, too? Are they hurting her?! He’ll distract them, if so. If they’d pull his head out, and he could get a look…

“Tom!”

Everything spins, and shifts again, and she’s hanging above him, a cooling palm on his forehead. He’s lying on a pallet, the smell of his own sweat and urine diminished, replaced by the lavender soap of her hair. How did she get him out? Why are those eyes so familiar, and so frightened? Did he dream of her, coming to save him? Is she Orpheus, with his lyre, come to take Eurydice from the underworld? But he looked back. Orpheus looked back, and lost her. The woman is going to look back-

“Tom, do you know where you are?”

“Don’t stop looking at me! Don’t go away! Don’t! Please!”

“Jesus, you’re burning up.” The woman backs away, not taking her eyes off him once. “Can someone get Maxine in here, please? Urgently!”

“Don’t… don’t look away. If you look away, I’ll go back.”

“I’m not looking away, and you’re not going anywhere. Never again, okay?”

His eyes are dull with a lack of recognition, but he gives her the sweetest smile. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

***

“It’s just another case of Junin-2,” Maxine confirms from behind her face mask. “It’s a particularly virulent flu, but he should be fine with a few days of rest, and most of Abel is inoculated.”

“It’s hard enough to make him rest as it is!” Jody whispers back, a hint of desperation in her voice. “He never sleeps!”

Sure enough, Tom is mumbling his way through a myth, dropping in and out of what they assume is Greek. He sits bolt upright. “Any other mortal would have died! But not Orpheus!” He follows up with a round of coughing: the effort apparently exhausts him, and he collapses into the pillows again.

“I’ve not seen him hallucinating this badly in years,” she continues, a little shaken by the fit. “Isn’t there anything we can give him?”

“The Ministry soldiers cleared us out of medical supplies long before their retreat. Redirected them to London, and more “loyal” communities. Kefilwe had to treat people with… I think you’d call it ‘a lick and a promise’? Anyway, our supplies are thin. If he’d been vaccinated, but…”

“Getting a needle in him is a nightmare on its own, I know. I don’t want to leave him, Max, but I’ve got so much to do. If Janine were here-“

“Janine?” Tom’s voice from the bed is frail, but clear. The women turn back to him. “You know Jenny?”

Jody sits back down on the side of the bed, stroking his head again. “Yes. She’s your sister. Do you… do you know who I am?”

“You pulled me out of the underworld. Or maybe that was somebody else. I’m… I’m…”

“I’m Jody, Tom. Jody. I’m your partner.”

“On the mission? What’s your rank?”

She looks up at Maxine in desperation. She shakes her head. “He’ll be okay in a few days. I’ll sort someone to run the township. Try and get him to drink some water.”

Jody’s eyes say water, Maxine? Are you fucking kidding me?! But she turns back to him instead. “No. We’re together. You and me.”

“Not true,” he laughs. “You’re too pretty. Out of my league.”

His lips are warm, and as rough as sandpaper as she plants a kiss on them. “There you go. I just proved it.”

“Oh.”

***

There are stars in her hair, moving and shifting. Are they going to grant him wishes? No, wishing on stars is a stupid game for little children. That’s what Jenny said angrily, catching him at it, the night they arrived at General Bakari’s house. I wish I wish I wish mother and father would come back. He didn’t try again.

Deep inside, he feels like he knows this woman, that her honeyed words are true, that he is in a beautiful future with somebody’s hand in his. It’s feeling of longing he cannot put into words, but his head knows better. He’s still in a filthy cell, still weighted in chains. Maybe they went too far, knocked him sideways in the temple one too many times, but if it’s a dream, it’s a lovely one. It must be a dream – everything is in a haze of warmth, fuzzy through gauze.

“I wish you were real, Jody,” he says, after a new bout of coughing has laid him immobile. “That would be nice.”

“I am real, Tom,” she says, her voice a little stricken. She’s opened the windows, and he realises then that he can hear the patter of rain, smell the unmistakeable scent of it. How sick he used to get of English rain, when he first got there. How much he misses it now.

“I’m real, and you escaped years ago. They’re all dead, all your captors, every last one. You’re back in Britain. Jenny’s here. I’m here. You’re somewhere safe, where nobody will ever get to you. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re just unwell. It’s just the flu.”

“My… throat does hurt.”

“Exactly. Sip some water, and you’ll feel better, okay?”

He takes the cup in shaking hands, but manages, and hands it back with a pensive look on his face.

“I must be difficult.”

“What?”

“I must be difficult to be with. I’m probably riddled with trauma, if what you say is true. I must be difficult to love.”

She traces his face with his fingers, sighing a little in relief to find it cooler than last time. He savours every touch. It’s been so long, in his mind, since anyone did this. “Not for me. I wanted to love you. I chose to. I’ve never wanted that before.”

“You still do?”

“Of course I do. Now take a nap, and I promise I won’t go anywhere. When you open your eyes, I’ll be waiting, right here.”

He closes his eyes. “I always thought that I’d be alone. But partner. I think I like it. I like it…”

If he just keeps hold of her hand, maybe he’ll stay in the land of the living for good.

[ottelis]

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, "And I gave you mine."

.

.

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i.

tw:  brief depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, very brief reference to child abuse, uses of the q slur, mentions of a suicide attempt

~

october 22nd, 1962

01:34

caen, france

~

Outside Eliott's window, the waves sigh against the shore and rest their weary heads on the cool, silver sand. They hold each other, breathing together until they both slip into a dreamless sleep, fading into the depths of the sea. The wind drifts breezily along, whispering its secrets to anyone who is awake and willing to listen; secrets so dark and hidden it leaves a sharp chill in the air and a bitter tang on your tongue. The moon stands guard on her throne in the dark, inky sky—darker than usual—and welcomes all the lonely souls wandering through the night into her embrace. She is the one weaving the waves and the shore together, the one giving the wind the courage to speak its mind. "All is well," she seems to whisper, sing, "There is a calm after the storm, a peace after the war, a warmth and a comfort when burning heat fades away. Brave through, my darlings. To be brave is to be alive, to be well. All I ask is that you remember, still, to be gentle all the while."

Inside Eliott's room, the only light is glowing from the flashlight clasped in his hand like a lifeline. Its beam shines on yellowed, weathered pages filled with words that his eyes drink in hungrily, almost desperately. He's tucked himself away beneath his blanket, the fabric seeming to float just above his skin, leaving the softest touches and the gentlest warmth. Everything is quiet, still, here in this little corner of the gaping world he's created for himself. Here, it's warm, and as wide and as bright as he wanted it to be. Here, he has his books. Here, he has himself and his mind and his heart. Here, he has time halted in its tracks, and it wouldn't continue to tick forward until he told it to. Here, he has all of space at his fingertips, stars leaving freckles that scattered up his arms. Here, he is safe. Here, he rules the world.

Outside, a pebble clatters against Eliott's windowsill, startling him out of his hiding place. Lucas , he thinks. They agreed what felt like years ago that if Lucas ever needed something, he would throw a rock at Eliott's window. But it's late. Lucas only ever needed to come in this late when—

Eliott throws off his comforter, panic shocking time and space back to their natural rhythms. He hurries as quietly as he can down the stairs and to the back door, careful not to wake his parents. He opens the door, an autumn gust sweeping over him. Lucas is standing there, his eyes bleary with tears, his cheeks rosy from the cold, his hand hovered by his mouth with his teeth clamped onto the end of his sleeve. He's trying to stay quiet, hold back the sobs. He's shivering.

"Lucas, what's wrong?" Eliott asks, placing his hands on Lucas's shoulders. "Did he hurt you again?"

Lucas's tears started to fall, but he shakes his head. He slowly pulls his sleeve away from his mouth so he could answer, his lower lip quivering. But all his sobs escape. He throws his arms around Eliott. With a trembling breath, with a hiccup, Lucas finally replies, "He left, Eliott."

Eliott's heart drops to his feet. He holds Lucas as tightly as he can. He feels his tears soaking through his shirt, feels his body trembling with the force of his sobs. He feels tears of his own wet his cheeks. He doesn't say a word. He lets Lucas cry. He shields him from the cold, bitter wind; Lucas doesn't need its secrets when he already has so many of his own. He waits for Lucas, patiently, gently.

"Let's go inside," Eliott suggests once Lucas started to calm down. "Okay?"

"Okay," Lucas agrees, sniffling.

Eliott releases Lucas from his tight hug, instead taking his hand to guide him up to his room. Lucas bites his sleeve again, looking nervously towards Eliott's parents' bedroom.

"It's okay," Eliott reassures him. "They're asleep."

Lucas nods, letting his hand drop to his side.

Eliott opens his bedroom door and enters, turning on the lamp on his bedside table. A small, warm light breaks through the darkness of the room, barely mingles with the darkness outside. Eliott turns to Lucas, his blood suddenly running cold when he sees all the tear stains on his face. He bites his lip, forcing back his tears. He needs to be strong right now. For Lucas.

"Let's sit on my bed," Eliott manages, his voice wavering. He sits, gently tapping the spot next to him.

Lucas nods, another tear slipping down his cheek. He sits, too, letting out a trembling sigh. Words start spilling out of his mouth before Eliott could find his own words, the right words.

"They couldn't stop arguing," Lucas starts, his voice thin. "They were arguing before Maman took me to school, and they started arguing again when Papa got home from work. I hid in my room and tried to block out all the noise but I could still hear all of it. Papa was yelling at her, and I could hear her crying. He... He kept saying that she was insane, and he was threatening to send her to an asylum. He said he wanted to leave, and that he should have left years ago. He said he should've left her at the altar. He said he should've left when she told him she was going to have a baby. He said he should've left the day I, that queer, was born. Maman tried to talk to him but he wouldn't listen. Every time she tried to, he would scream at her and tell her to shut up. And then I heard him walk towards their room. And I heard Maman crying and begging him to stay. Then—"

Lucas started to crumble again, more rivers of tears streaming down his face. "I think he hit her. And then he left."

Eliott wraps his arms around Lucas again, speechless, anger beginning to boil in his stomach.

"He left us, Eliott," Lucas weeps, clinging to Eliott's shirt. "And he's not coming back. And I had to hold Maman while she cried. She's asleep now, but... I don't know what we're going to do. We can't survive by ourselves. We need Papa. But he hurts us. He hurts Mama and he yells at her when she didn't do anything wrong. And when I do something wrong, he hits me and he hits me and he—"

"Lucas," Eliott begs, his voice breaking. "It's okay. You're safe here."

Eliott feels completely helpless as he holds Lucas tighter, closer to his chest. So, he promises him that everything will be okay. No matter how far time stretches away from him, no matter how many tears he sheds, no matter how much it feels like his world is crashing around his ears. He promises him that he's not alone. And a small part of Eliott hopes he isn't lying to him through his teeth.

june 21st, 1968

08:22

caen, france

~

Eliott wakes with a start, instantly blinded by a curtain of sunlight. He blinks through it until his vision clears, then studies his surroundings. A green, luscious forest streaks by through the window, awakened and enlivened by the newborn spring. The sky is clear, a light, crystal blue. He hears the chatter of the other passengers—hushed whispers, joyous laughter, excited gossiping. He sees men reading the newspaper, women with their children in their laps, workers in their uniforms sipping cups of coffee. They all seem ordinary, mundane. It's comforting, almost. How Earth seems to move smoothly, gradually as her people help her along. Walking forward together, guiding her through her orbit, through the universe.

Eliott wonders what the other people on the train would think if they happened to look over and see him. They must see tired, bleary eyes, messy, tousled hair, an old, worn out coat two sizes too small. Can they see the fear that's settled deep in his bones, just underneath his skin? Can they feel his fear that nothing will ever be the same again, that everything has already changed too much? That the world he once controlled has moved on, has found its own orbit without him? Can they see right through him? Can they see all the shame, the secrets, the trauma? Do they pity him? Do they understand his pain, see him in the echoes of their own? Would they just ignore him? Write him off as some strange, young man they saw on the train one day?

Eliott blinks, biting his lip. He can't think about any of that right now. He's supposed to be happy. He's coming home! After almost two, long years, he's finally coming home!

He remembers his sweet, lovely Maman. She came to visit him as often as she could, of course, but now he gets to go home with her. He gets to hug her and hold her close as long as he wants to without nurses telling them visiting hours were over. He gets to see her smile and laugh without a sadness in her eyes as she realizes she'll have to leave him again. He gets to sit in the living room with her and watch TV, or linger in the kitchen while she makes tea and cookies. He gets to spend his birthday and Christmas with her again. He gets to celebrate her birthday, too, Mother's Day. She gets to be his mother again, and he gets to be her son again. He gets to fall asleep every night knowing she's just down the hall if he needs her. Everything will be normal again. Maybe she'll start singing again, like she used to before Papa died. He misses hearing her sing while she wanders around the house.

He remembers Lucas, his best friend, and maybe something more. Lucas hasn't been able to visit him since he's finishing lycée, but they've written letters to each other whenever they could. Eliott has always wondered what Lucas looks now, now that he must be all grown up. He's wondered if Lucas has changed, if his smile is a little more genuine now, if he's learned that the fire within him is something he should embrace, letting it give him the courage that's buried somewhere in there, too.  He wonders if he's spent as many restless, reckless nights as he has dreaming of him. He wonders if Lucas misses him as much as he does. He wonders if Lucas knows he misses him. How he's missed kissing him as slow and deep as the sun sinking into the horizon, how he's missed weaving his hands through his hair until they got lost in its tangles. Has Lucas waited for him, patiently, gently? Or has he moved on? Has he found someone else? Someone better, someone kinder, someone who loves him more than Eliott can? Everything should be normal with his mother, but what about with Lucas? Eliott loves Lucas with everything inside of him, but does Lucas still love him, too?

He loves me, his mind begins to chant, beg. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me. I need him to love me. Please.

If Eliott closes his eyes, he can see them together in his room that day, the books in their laps falling to the floor as Eliott deepened the kiss, the dying, golden rays of sunlight smiling down on them. He can see Lucas, his brilliant, blue eyes suddenly subdued and darkened with desire, desperation. He can feel his heart slowing in his chest, swaying to the rhythm of Lucas's. He can feel his lungs expanding, greedy for more of the air that was suddenly hanging still and silent between them. He can taste Lucas, salty air and sleep. He remembers the fleeting image of his parents finding them slipping through his mind, and how his world ending was less terrifying than this one, blissful moment ending a second earlier than it needed to. Eliott could never find the courage to believe in infinity until he kissed Lucas, loved him. Suddenly, he'd found the strength to fight for infinity, for the boy in his arms.

If Eliott closes his eyes, Lucas still loves him.

If Eliott closes his eyes, infinity is still within his grasp.

But his eyes are open, and the train suddenly begins to lurch to a stop.

What a luxury, he thinks, to come and go as you please. To change along with the world; move forward along with it.

The other passengers begin to gather their things, rising from their seats. The coffee is cold, the gossip has run dry, and there's no more news for today. They must move on. And so must Eliott.

He stands, however slowly, picking up and holding his suitcase with a desperate grip. He lets people walk past him and smiles politely, gathering the courage to keep moving, to live as he once did. He waits until he's the last one aboard, then walks down the aisle, hoping he can turn his mind off, just for a moment.

Remember Maman, he tells himself. Remember Lucas. Remember home.

He steps off the train, looking out at the crowded platform. He used to know everyone that lived in his quaint, little town, but now, he doesn't recognize anyone. A million, blurred faces he doesn't know. And he's a stranger to them, too. There are people in the town he's called home his whole life that don't know who he is, that he even exists. Don't they know him? Eliott! Noémie and Eduard's boy! The artist! The one who flew off to the cuckoo's nest! Don't they remember him?

They pass him by, barely bothering to glance at him over their shoulders. They don't know him. They don't remember him. He's a stranger.

Eliott grips the handle of his suitcase tighter, feeling pressure build up in his knuckles. He just needs to find his mother then she can take him home and he'll be safe. Everything will go back to normal. Everything has to go back to normal.

A small jolt sparks through him, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders but leaving an odd, unpleasant taste in his mouth. He blinks, biting his lip. He focuses on searching the crowd, looking for dark hair and warm eyes and a gentle smile. He takes a few, careful steps forward, flinching whenever bumped into him as they walked on. He feels like he's swimming, the current threatening to sweep him away, further out into the ocean. He starts walking faster, his eyes flickering all around the old, bustling train station. He's getting overwhelmed again, like the doctors always said was almost too easy for him to do. He feels the jolt again, barely, like a ghost, a memory. He tries to ignore it.

"Things are going to be difficult at first when you come home, Eliott," one of the doctors had said. "You'll have to readjust to society. It'll feel like you're starting over from scratch. It's important you still try and control your symptoms. Take your medication. Okay? Like we've been practicing while you were here. And if you ever feel like that isn't working, we are opening a psychiatric office over in Normandy. You won't be institutionalized like you were here, but you'll be able to visit often and they'll help you feel better. You will feel better, Eliott. You're going to be okay."

"I'll be okay," Eliott repeats under his breath. "I'll feel better."

He takes one more step forward, and he feels like he can breathe again. He looks behind him and sees the current continuing, surging. He sighs in relief. He's made it to shore.

"Eliott?" his mother's sweet, frail voice calls, somehow piercing all the noise of the station.

He whirls forward, and then he sees her. His mother. She's grinning like she used to, tears rolling down her cheeks. She holds her arms out to him, warm and wide. He runs to her without a moment's hesitation and falls into them. He has his mother again.

He holds her as tightly as he can, breathing in her familiar scent. He feels her tremble with her tears, and he shushes her quietly, comfortingly.

"I'm here, Maman," he says, beginning to weep himself. "I'm home."

"Don't be gone for that long again," she tells him. "I can't stand it."

"I can't control it, Maman," Eliott replies, biting his lip. "But I'll try."

His mother pulls away, holding his face in her hands. Her smile wavers, wobbling into a frown. "You look so much like your father."

Eliott feels sadness twinge in his chest, too. "I know."

He bites back a sob as he remembers a question that's lingered in the back of his mind since his father died, one he's never gotten to ask his mother. "Do you think Papa would be proud of me?"

His mother wipes away his tears. "He is proud of you, dear. I know it."

He pulls her into another hug, burying his face in her shoulder. "I miss him so much."

"He misses you, too, Ellie," she reassures him, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

The old nickname brings a smile to his face. He lets out a little laugh. "Thank you, Maman. I love you."

"I love you, too," she returns, chuckling, too. She pulls away again. "Let's get you home. Okay?"

It's still hard to stomach the thought of going back home after so long, but he already feels exhausted. He misses his house, his bed, Lucas.

Lucas.

"Okay," Eliott agrees. "Maman, Lucas is still here, right?"

"Of course he is," she smiles. "I thought about asking him to come with me to get you, but I figured you'd want to surprise him."

"He..." Eliott begins, stuttering a little. "He doesn't know I'm coming home?"

She nods, her smile widening. "As far as I know."

"How's he doing?" Eliott asks, anxiety beginning to settle in his stomach.

"He's well, I think," she replies. "He's graduated lycée, and he's heading off to medical school in the fall."

Eliott can't fight his smile. Lucas had always wanted to become a doctor when he grew up. But then his smile fell almost as quickly as it appeared.

"In Paris, right?" he mutters, biting his lip.

"I think so, dear," his mother answers, placing her hands on his shoulders. "But Paris isn't too far. We could always go visit him every once in a while if you wanted to."

Eliott nods. He can feel his hope being chipped away, falling to the earth like ash. It hurts.

"You have the whole summer to be with him and catch up," she says, noticing his shifting demeanor. "And I don't think he's going to give up on you without a fight."

Eliott manages another smile. "Thank you."

"Let's go ahead and get you to him. Okay?"

Eliott nods. "Okay."

june 21st, 1968

09:00

caen, france

~

The car ride home was almost unbearable. The radio was full of songs he'd never heard, and the ones he sang at the top of his lungs before his breakdown had all but disappeared. There were so many new buildings, some so tall Eliott had to crane his head to see the top of them. Buildings were this tall back in Paris, not back home.

"When did they build that?" Eliott asks, pointing at an especially tall, commercial building.

"I think it opened about a year after you left," his mother answers. "Things have changed a lot around here, dear. I wish you could've seen all of it when it was happening."

Eliott doesn't respond at first. He closes his eyes, imagining the town he knew before his life changed forever. Before his father died, before that day at the beach with Lucas, before his breakdown, before his diagnosis, before his long, long stay at the institution. The town with the quaint houses, old brick and mortar shops,  tranquil fields of lush grass and clean, quiet beaches. The town with an almost constantly cloudy sky, the town that always has a chill in its air, the town with millions of drops of blood crying vengeance from deep within its soil. The town that cradled Eliott but then left him to die all alone on the cold, hard ground. This town holds everything he's ever loved, everything he's ever hated or regretted, everything he's tried so hard to forget, and now he doesn't even recognize it if he opens his eyes.

"Me too," Eliott finally says, more melancholic than wistful.

He keeps his eyes closed, letting the music play and the car move onward, hopefully towards something familiar, someone he loves.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me

"Eliott," his mother begins, making Eliott open his eyes again. "I can tell what you're thinking. You've been gone a long time. No one expects you to put on a smile and act like everything is still normal."

"I want everything to be normal," Eliott mutters. "More than anything."

"They'll be normal again soon, honey," she replies, looking over at him with her unwavering kindness in her eyes. "Just take your time. Let yourself heal. You need it."

"I was supposed to heal at the institution," Eliott sighs. "And I did. Now I have to heal all over again?"

His mother considers for a moment, biting her lip. "Healing never really ends, Eliott. There's always something that can be fixed or mended. We just need to hold our hand out to the healing, and once it takes it, it'll guide you through the hurt. And it'll never let go. It's a gift. A blessing. A friend. It's warm."

"Why can't the healing stop the hurt, then?" Eliott asks, getting tearful again. "Why can't it find some other path to take, or clear the one we're walking on if we do have to walk on it? Why do I have to hurt to feel the healing?"

"Maybe the healing needs us as much as we need it."

Eliott isn't sure. He sighs, letting his mother's answer hang in the air, and she lets it hang, too. Maybe one day he'll believe everything she said.

Suddenly, distantly, he can hear the gentle crashing of the waves against the shore. He can hear the water breathe, the sand call out its name. Oh, how he's missed that sound. He looks out the window, and he can just barely see the beach. He's missed the pale sand, the smell of salt in the air...

His mother must have noticed him gawking. "You missed the beach, didn't you?" she asks, smiling.

"So much," he breathes. "I can't wait to swim again. It's been so long since I've..." He breaks off, the beginnings of unwelcome memories infiltrating his mind. He sees his mother's smile falter.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"It's okay," she replies, so quiet Eliott almost didn't hear it. "It's okay," she repeats, louder. "You're home now."

Eliott nods, letting himself smile again. "I'm home."

Eliott keeps looking out the window, watching the waves ripple and curl like ribbons on the horizon. He feels a million emotions swirling around in his chest, his mind. He remembers splashing and laughing and building sandcastles. He remembers choppy waves, cold, biting water, salt burning his eyes. He feels relief, panic, love, abandonment. He wonders if the water is still the same, or if it's not, if it'll ever be the same again.

"Eliott, look," his mother says, pointing ahead.

He looks, and his heart begins to soar. Just ahead, he can see his childhood home with its white, brick walls and faded, gray roof. There's still little ropes of ivy climbing the side of it, it's just climbed a little farther now. There's still the steel blue front door, wooden porch, window shutters. There's still the little bushes lining the driveway, green and alive. It's his house. The one he grew up in, the one he fell in love in, the one he slept in every night, the one where he drank thousands of cups of tea and ate thousands of biscuits. It's his house.

And if he looks just beyond it, he can see Lucas's house. He smiles wider. Lucas must be in there, watching TV or reading a book and not suspecting for a moment that Eliott was just down the street, heading straight toward him. Eliott imagines knocking on the door and Lucas bursting into tears when he opens it and sees him standing there. He imagines them finding somewhere private and kissing again; kissing and breathing the same air and laughing and existing together again. He imagines things going back to normal, everything falling smoothly back into its natural rhythm again. He imagines him being okay, and being okay with Lucas by his side. Is he foolish, too hopeful, for imagining these things?

"I can't wait to surprise Lucas," Eliott says aloud, his excitement beginning to brim and spill over.

"He shouldn't be expecting a thing, dear," his mother replies, winking. She pulls into their driveway and parks their car. "Now go knock on his door and talk with him again. I'll be inside, okay?"

"Okay," Eliott grins. "Thank you, Maman. I love you so much." He unbuckles his seat belt and gives her another hug.

"You're welcome, dear. I love you, too," she returns, hugging him back.

He lets her go and takes a deep breath. He's about to meet Lucas again after two years. Either his worse nightmare or his fondest dream is about to come true. He opens the car door, and steps out.

He makes the short walk to Lucas's house, running his fingers along his bottom lip, a nervous habit. He breathes slowly, taking in all the sights and sounds and smells. He holds his head high and strides up to the Lallemants' front door. He takes another deep breath before knocking on the door.

"I'll answer it, Maman," Lucas's voice calls through the door. Eliott could cry right then and there. His voice! Sweeter, softer than the sound of the waves, or the wind chimes on the porch.

The door opens, and there stands Lucas Lallemant, older, more handsome. His blue, blue eyes widen and his pink, pink lips part in shock.

"Eliott?" he chokes out, half-laugh, half-sob.

"Surprise," Eliott replies cheekily, smiling and tilting his head. Before he can catch himself, his tears start rolling down his cheeks and he envelops Lucas in his arms. He holds him tighter with a new strength, with an old love and fondness. "I've missed you more than anything in any universe, my love."

Lucas hugs him back, tenderly, carefully. "And I, you."

Eliott could hold Lucas in his arms for a million years if he had to. He'd spend every moment running smooth circles over his skin, playing with his hair, breathing him in—his smell, his breathing, his thoughts, his heartbeats. He'd spend every moment trying to get closer and closer, silently hoping one day he'll melt into him and they'll never have to leave each other. Maybe, when they collided, they'd explode into a whole other universe—a whole other parallel universe as Lucas always talked about—one where Eliott wasn't sick, one where Lucas didn't carry so much weight, so many scars. Their universe.

"Eliott," Lucas whispers, almost afraid. "Can... Can we talk?"

Eliott ignores the twinge in his chest, the tug at the back of his mind. He pulls away, his hands drifting down and taking Lucas's. "Down by the shore?"

"No," Lucas replies, too quickly. "I don't go down there anymore. If I can help it."

"Does it remind you of..." Eliott can't finish the sentence, the last word getting caught in his throat.

"No," Lucas says again. "It reminds me of you."

The twinge is sharper, the tug pulls harder. Eliott swallows his nerves. "What do you mean?"

"Eliott, please," Lucas begs, his eyes closed and voice shaking. "Can we just talk somewhere?"

Eliott nods, biting his lip. "Okay."

Lucas lets go of Eliott's hands, looking up at him with pity. Eliott feels like he could explode.

Lucas starts walking towards the shore, but doesn't stray past the small patches of grass, a little ways past their houses. He looks out at the water, his brow furrowed, frowning. His eyes are dry, his breaths aren't shaking anymore. But somehow, Eliott notices, he looks sadder than he ever has before.

"Lucas?" Eliott tries, gently, patiently.

"So, you're home?" Lucas asks, turning to him but avoiding eye contact.

"The doctors said I was stable," Eliott answers, trying to keep the fear from edging into his voice. "So, they said I could go home. Live a normal life again. Be with everyone I love. Be with you."

Lucas takes a deep breath, wringing his hands. He's nervous.

Eliott takes his hands again. Lucas finally looks back at him, his eyes darker, lackluster.

"I love you, Lucas," Eliott says, moving his hands to cradle Lucas's face. "I love you."

Lucas closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Eliott's. Eliott closes his eyes, too, and gathers every ounce of courage he has. He kisses Lucas, but their lips barely brush against each other before Lucas yanks himself away. Eliott swears he hears a sob rip out of Lucas's throat. His eyes fly open, and he sees Lucas backing away from him, hugging himself. There are tears running down his cheeks.

Eliott walks over to him cautiously, wanting to cry himself. He needs to be strong for Lucas. "Ça va, mon amour?" Eliott asks carefully.

"Don't call me that," Lucas begs, strained, tired.

Eliott feels the color drain from his face, feels the wind being knocked out of him.

He still loves me, he still loves me, he still loves me, he has to love me still

"Why not?" he chokes out.

Lucas shakes his head. After a moment, he looks Eliott in the eye. His eyes are shining, hopeless.

"I'm engaged, Eliott."

Eliott's heart nearly stops.

I need him to love me, I need him to love me, I need him to love me!

"To whom?" Eliott asks, his voice strangled.

"Chloé," Lucas answers. "Chloé Jeanson."

"That girl in the year below us?" Eliott asks, his heart racing now.

Lucas nods. He takes a deep breath before he continues. "We're getting married in December."

"And when did you propose to her?"

Lucas bites his lip. "Yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Eliott repeats. He feels tears running down his face.

"I love her, Eliott," Lucas justifies, stumbling through his words, his tears. "And she loves me."

"Lucas, you told me you can't fall in love with girls," Eliott cries, so desperate he can't control his tongue. He rambles, pleads through every hiccuping sob. "Remember? You told me that when we were sitting in my bedroom. And then I told you I can fall in love with anyone, but my heart chose you. And then you kissed me. Please tell me you remember that. Because I can't stop thinking about it. You kissed me and then I kissed you back and we kissed and we kissed and I'd never been so happy. We spent that whole spring, that whole summer kissing each other and every day I loved you more than I ever thought I could. I told you over and over again how much I loved you and you told me over and over again that you loved me, too. Was that a lie, Lucas? Have you been lying to me this whole time? Every time you wrote to me and called me the love of your life, the only good thing that's ever happened to you, those were all lies?"

"I was a boy, Eliott," Lucas bites back, anger twisting his features. "You were a boy. We didn't know anything about love. We didn't know anything! When I met Chloé, I knew!"

"So, you just moved on?" Eliott asks, his face burning bright red. "You fell in love with her? I was in misery in Paris, and you were here carrying on with some girl? I loved you, Lucas. I still love you!"

"If you loved me, you wouldn't have tried to kill yourself!" Lucas shouts, his voice echoing off the air, the water, the sky.

Eliott can't breathe. He can't feel his arms, his legs. He falls to his knees, shaking his head, his body wracked with sobs. "Lucas, I was sick, you know that."

"You could've talked to me that night, Eliott," Lucas replies, just as tearful. "You could've talked to me, instead of leaving a letter at my window sill and expecting me to find it by the time it was too late. You left me with the unbearable thought that you'd saved me from almost the same fate you were subjecting yourself to, but I wasn't gonna be able to save you. How could you have done that?"

Eliott presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, pushing away the memories. "Stop, please," he begs.

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

Eliott pulls his hands away, sunspots crawling across his vision. He can't see Lucas's face, but he can feel the anger radiating off of him. "Lucas, please, if you would let me explain..."

"Maybe someday," Lucas concedes, his voice still sharp and cutting. "Or maybe in another universe."

"Lucas—" Eliott begins, his voice breaking along with his heart.

"Everything has changed, Eliott. We've changed. I'm not a queer like you, and I'm not sick like you. And you're not in love like I am, and you're not moving on like I am."

"Please,"

Lucas pauses. Eliott hears him choke back a sob. "I'm sorry, Eliott."

He hears Lucas walking away, hears the sand shifting beneath his feet. He hears him sniffle, sigh. He hears his worst fear, his worst nightmare, laughing at him from the back of his mind. He hears a voice, deep within his heart wail,

He hates me, he hates me, he hates me

june 21st, 1968

9:43

caen, france

~

Somehow, Eliott finds the strength to rise to his feet and walk back home. He follows Lucas's footprints, like they used to when they were kids. Eliott usually led the way, taking the longest strides possible with his longer legs. Lucas struggled to keep up, often having to hop to the next footprint. Lucas would complain the whole way to their houses, ask why Eliott always had to lead the way. He would wish his legs were longer, so he could follow him easier, run faster than him. Eliott would laugh at him, tell him that maybe someday he would be as tall as he was, have legs as long as his. In Eliott's eyes, it was an innocent game, playful. In Lucas's, it was frustrating and unfair. Yet, they played it every day after playing at the beach, in the water. Because Eliott wanted to play it, and Lucas was always right behind him, nipping at his heels. Somehow, for all those years, Lucas had found the strength to keep walking.

Lucas has gotten taller, though not as tall as Eliott did. His feet are bigger, too. His strides are longer, angry. His feet barely had time to make impressions in the sand, and his footprints quickly disappear when the sand is overtaken by grass. Eliott's footprints are clearer, deeper from the sand threatening to pull him under and bury him, consume him. Somehow, despite the earth's pleading, Eliott found the strength to keep on walking.

He resists the urge to look over at Lucas's house, ignores the hope that he may see him through one of the windows. Lucas hates him, and he isn't sure he can handle seeing that hatred in his face, in his eyes. Lucas is engaged to someone else, and Eliott isn't sure he can handle seeing him kiss her, love her like he used to kiss and love him. The Lucas he just talked to isn't the same Lucas he grew up with, loved. But he also knows he isn't the same Eliott he was when they were kids. He's not the same Eliott Lucas grew up with, loved. Neither of them are the same. He should've known that from the moment he knew he would see Lucas again. He should've known that two years is a long time to be away from someone, especially considering the circumstances of why Eliott had to leave. Lucas has every right to be angry, but Eliott wishes with everything in him that he won't be anymore.

He makes it to his front door, taking a deep breath, another. He hasn't been inside his childhood home in two years. He would've been nervous, anxious, but he's too exhausted from his argument with Lucas to feel anything. So he breathes, and he opens the door.

"I was wondering where you were, dear," his mother calls. "How was reuniting with Lucas?"

Eliott doesn't answer. He drinks in his family's old living room. The once weathered, muted yellows were now a pure white, the rich, darkly stained wood floor were pale and matte. The old, paisley rug had been replaced by a plush, sky blue one. The couch his mother was sitting and reading a newspaper on was plush, too, a steely gray with wooden legs. The house looked new, cold, wide and gaping. Eliott feels like if he spoke, his words would echo for hours, miles. Was this really the house he grew up in? He doesn't recognize it...

"Eliott?" his mother repeats, putting down her newspaper.

He blinks and forces a smile. "Sorry, Maman. What did you say?"

"How was reuniting with Lucas?" she asks again.

He widens his false smile. "Good. I've missed him a lot."

"I'm so glad, honey," she smiles, genuine. "And do you like the new house?"

He nods, tells another lie. "Yeah, I do."

"I'll tell you, though," she begins, getting up from the couch. "I didn't touch your room, besides for some dusting and cleaning. Do you wanna see it?"

His smile falters, only to widen again, but genuinely this time. "Okay. Yeah."

He follows his mother upstairs, the stairs not creaking like they used to. The door to his room is closed, and his mother stands beside it excitedly, her hand on the doorknob. He can't help but smile.

"I remember what my room looks like, Maman," he laughs. "Why is it a surprise?"

"There's a few surprises in there," she replies, winking. "Ready, dear?"

He nods. "Ready."

She opens the door, and steps aside so he can walk in. He steps inside cautiously, but he was right. His walls are still a pale blue, his floor still dark, shiny wood planks. His bookshelf still standing tall in the corner of the room, all his pictures still framed and sitting on top of his dresser. The same sheets are on his bed, all made up. But there was a cardboard box on his bed. He grins, walking over and picking it up. It was heavy.

"Is this one of my surprises?" he asks, shaking it lightly.

"They're all in that box," she replies, nodding. "This is your birthday present, by the way."

He looks up, chuckling. "Is it?"

"No, not really," she concedes. "I do have birthday presents for you, but these are welcome home presents."

He shakes it again, holding it close to his ear. "Can I open it?"

"Of course, honey," his mother says, grinning.

He sits down on his bed, opening the box carefully. On top was a book, old and yellowed.

"The Waves?" he reads aloud, pulling the book out to study out. "Virginia Woolf?"

"It was one of my favorite books when I was your age," his mother tells him, sitting next to him. "That's actually my copy of it."

"Oh, Maman," he replies, suddenly feeling guilty. "You don't have to give me one of your books."

"It's a gift, honey," she reassures him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, I think you need it more than I do. I think it'll help you."

"Thank you, Maman," he smiles, giving her another hug.

"No, go through the rest of the box!" she laughs. "You can hug me when you've seen all of them."

"All right, all right," Eliott gives in, putting the book down and looking back in the box. He sees thick, tawny fabric. It looks familiar. He pulls it out of the box, and tears brim in his eyes again.

"This is Papa's old coat," he says, in awe.

"I know it's still summer, but once it gets cold, I thought you'd like to wear it," his mother says. "Your father loved this old coat. He rarely took it off while it still fit him. Remember?"

Eliott nods. "I remember."

"Put it on," she urges. "I wanna see you wearing it for a bit."

Eliott gladly takes off his old, too-small coat and puts on his father's. It's a little big for him, but it's warm and it smells like his father's cologne. He pulls it tight around his body, letting it envelop him. "I love it," he says, closing his eyes. "I love it, Maman."

"He loved it, too," his mother replies. There are tears in her eyes as she watches Eliott. She's probably thinking about how much they look alike. She blinks, and she's suddenly out of her reverie. She points at the box, smiling. "Oh, there's one more surprise in the box, Eliott. Lucas's mother helped me with it."

His heart sinks at the mention of Lucas's name, but he looks down at the box anyway.

It's a framed picture of a drawing he remembers making as clear as day. It's a self portrait, where his hair is a little lighter, and he's wearing a blue shirt and gray pants. He drew birds in the sky, the beach and the water and his house in the background. At the right edge of the paper, his five-year-old handwriting scrawled out a half-written message.

Be

Fri

For

Lucas had the other half, with his own self-portrait and his handwriting finishing the message.

Best friends forever

"Lucas's mother found this in their house, and she gave it to me and we got them framed. Lucas should be getting his half today, too. Remember the day you made these? The day I had to visit Papa at the hospital in Paris?"

He isn't listening to her. He studies his picture, remembers Lucas's, and it hits him all over again that everything has changed, that everything has been ruined. His tears come back, more bitter, and they refuse to be held back.

"Eliott, honey, are you okay?" his mother asks, suddenly worried.

"Yeah," he lies, leaving the picture sitting in his lap and wiping away his tears. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" she presses, putting her hand on his shoulder again.

He shakes his head, choking out a sob. "He hates me, Maman. He's so angry with me."

"Ellie," she starts, her hand moving to cradle his face.

"He hates me because I tried to kill myself," he sobs. "And he's engaged now and he's moved on without me and we're not best friends anymore."

"Honey, you don't know that," she tries to tell him, but his emotions only surge.

"I do, Maman! He told me! I've already almost lost him once and now I've lost him. He'll never talk to me ever again and he'll get married and have kids and be happy and he'll forget about me. He's gonna forget about me!"

"Eliott—"

"I love him, Maman! I love him and he hates me now! How can I live without him? How can I live without my best friend? How can I live without the love of my life?"

He looks down at the picture in his hands, and he's angry. Angry at Lucas, angry at himself, angry at his mind, angry at his parents, angry at the world. He screams, throwing the picture down on the floor. It shatters into a million pieces, leaving the picture exposed. He hears his mother calling his name, but he ignores her. He snatches the picture, ripping it in half, in fourths, in eights.

"Eliott, please!" his mother yells, grabbing hold of his hands.

He stops, his heart missing a beat and his breath hitching in his throat. He looks down at the paper shreds in his hands, the glass on the floor.

He's out of control again. He's lost it again.

He bursts into tears, his chest tightening, exploding. He falls into his mother's arms, wailing into her shoulder. She holds him close, kissing his hair and comforting him in soft, caring whispers.

He's falling apart all over again. He thought he was stable, he thought was gonna be okay, he thought everything would be normal.

How could he have ever been so wrong?

[pluviophile-bookworm]

Thoughts/ reaction to AWAE 3x5

The cold open featuring Beekeeper Gilbert is the golden content I never knew I needed.

Miss Stacy teaching in the midst of nature is gold, but what draws my attention in that scene is the casual mentioning of the birds and the bees that causes half of the girls to get agitated at the thought that they’re finally getting the talk. I see bees are a recurring image in this episode. I admit to not having seen much of this particular scene as I was looking away from the blood.

Gilbert combining his natural talent as a doctor and his new… I wanna say hobby, that is, beekeeping, to help poor baby Ruby is gold. Seriously, this episode has GOLD written all over it in large bold letters and we’re barely 4 minutes in.

“I thought someone died…” The natives calling out the Whites™ for being drama queens have me wondering whose side I am on, and whether there are any sides at all; the fact is, I tend to overreact a lot, but this was a bit too much even for me. But let’s not dwell on this, there are more important scenes coming up and I have already used way too many words.

Yeah… I skipped ahead a bit. The sight of that needle caused me as much horror as it did Moody.

Gilbert ranting about natural medicine not being taught is such a mood. I think taking up beekeeping will do (and is already doing) wonders for his career in medicine.

Rachel babysitting Delly is giving me such strong New Mum vibes… “Please go to sleep”. This is the Rachel Lynde content I never expected to see but I’m glad I did.

And then Delly falls asleep as soon as she hears Marilla’s voice… I’m crying.

“Bash needs a wife” – who are you to decide that for him, Rachel? I was already annoyed with her for trying to play matchmaker for Miss Stacy without being asked to, but this is even more. Marilla is such a mood in this scene.

Matthew being Soft™ to his plants… as if I needed any more proof that he’s a Hufflepuff!

I live and would die for Anne and Diana’s friendship.

I also live for Diana embracing her own feelings rather than her mother’s visions of what’s “proper” and “improper”. And for the hint of her doing it just partially to spite her mother…

Honestly, Gilbert staying inside and reading the paper with Miss Stacy while everyone else is fussing about the Take Notice board is so in character. It emphasizes the fact that he is actually the adult of the class. I wonder what would make him more interested in the board, though…

Anne the Feminist™ is fascinated about the female doctor

Ok, but… who gives Charlie, by “noticing” Anne, and Diana, by walking in on her and Gilbert almost having a moment, the right to interrupt said moment before it’s even fully developed?

Anne is totally me in her reaction to (1) being noticed and (2) the news about the dance.

 “Sebastian, take a seat.” If I were Bash in that scene, I would be thinking “How about you stop telling me what to do in my own home?”

Now she wants to take Delly away from him? And she thinks that’s good for anyone? Seriously, Rachel Lynde should mind her own business. But I bet she has no business of her own, otherwise she wouldn’t obsess so much over what everyone else is doing.

Anne’s reaction to Charlie posting about her gives off “Belle Reprise” from Beauty and the Beast vibes.

 “Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Sloane!” Try Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Blythe instead. And boy, does this girl have a lot of last names! She’s becoming a bit like Hispanic royalty.

Both Jerry and Diana telling white lies to their friends so they can meet up – classic forbidden romance. I love it!

Look at my boy Jerry quoting Frankenstein! I feel like a proud mother – except, of course, for the fact that I am not a mother and I have no trace of merit in this beautiful achievement. Also, the way she holds the book to her heart, like it’s him, or at least a tiny part of him; and the way he looks back at her… I know this is a whole other fandom, but Andi Mack has taught me that lookbacks are important. My fragile little heart is melting! I might be aromantic by orientation, but I’m still a sucker for beautiful, poetic romantic scenes like this one. This is my new favourite scene of the entire series. If I could bottle it up and save it for a rainy day, oh how I would!

The scene of Gilbert and Bash talking about Mary being followed immediately by Matthew talking to Belle about her becoming a mum… I feel that they are a heartbreaking yet heartwarming representation of the cycle of life and death. Moira has done it again.

Also, Anne’s dress in this scene reminds me of the first dress she was wearing when she arrived. It’s a nice callback, if anything.

That scene of Diana reading in bed reminded me so much of me. I know that feeling so well, feeling a special connection to a book, even for some reason outside the book itself. And, sure, Frankenstein is far from the most romantic of books, but now it will forever be a thing between her and Jerry. And that’s in my opinion, is that special external connection to the book.

Aaand… Rachel Lynde didn’t just try to make the practice dance another matchmaking session for her son and Miss Stacy, did she?

I know everybody talks about Anne and Gilbert in this scene, but my eyes were more focused on my spirit animal Ruby – she is so me, being uncomfortable with the whole thing and the touching and whatnot… except in her it is the result of boys and girls being discouraged from making any kind of contact to one another until they’re old enough for courtship according to their community’s standards. What did people at that time think when they did that? That giving young people virtually no sex ed and doing anything and everything they could to keep boys and girls away from each other – did they think this is the way to raise functional, well-informed people? Because seeing poor Ruby here sure makes me think that her society didn’t do a very good job at that. And the fact that all the girls, even the ones that should pass as intelligent and well-read like Anne and Diana, believe they can get pregnant by just the touch of a boy is just another proof that this is not the way to raise teenagers.

One thing that calms me at least a little is that now they have Miss Stacy and she can, albeit a bit awkwardly at first, educate them on the matter. And I love the fact that she mentions consent because that is really important.

And there’s the sugar – the heart eyes, the longing looks, the held gaze… every single trope about looking at someone special is there in that one scene. I love the way they act so expressively with just their eyes. Seriously, kudos to Amybeth and especially Lucas.

Oh my, there it is! That scene from the preview that everybody has been speculating and freaking out about for weeks. I got literal chills, goosebumps and everything. This scene generated a lot of discourse and it was definitely not for nothing.

Oh my, oh my! The dance is done but they just won’t stop staring right into each other’s souls through those fantastically expressive eyes… I might just die right now, but at least I’ll die happy.

Aaand… the moment is gone and now there’s just tension and awkwardness so thick in the air that you could cut them with a knife – and a knife might not even do the job, if you get what I mean.

Ok, I didn’t think things could get any more awkward, but then we have the exchange with Charlie and it’s even more awkward than Moody telling Diana “[her] dress is very… blue” back in the season premiere. But this awkwardness is different. There’s no tension, no real chemistry. At least that’s how I see it.

The parallel between Anne and Gilbert cooking and ranting about the dance and its consequences for them counts as a Shirbert scene, right?

I love Anne with all my heart but right now I wish she could just go away for a second. She’s third-wheeling and making Diana act cold towards Jerry, which might give him the wrong impression and ruin everything…

Also, I wish Diana would confide in Anne about the thing she has going on with Jerry. It couldn’t possibly make matters worse, now could it?

If Jerry was so confused, and then so happy about the handkerchief, it probably wasn’t really his. It must have been left by Diana. The initials, though… the only J.B. in Diana’s family I can think of is Josephine. If it was hers and Diana left it for Jerry, it would be so nice… Ok, why am I being so stupid? She MADE it for him. Especially. J.B. is him and only him right now. Apparently certain other scenes have temporarily deprived me of the ability to think.

The “Is that how reproduction works” scene is awkward, of course, and it is a different, third kind of awkward: not like Shirbert after the dance or like Anne and Charlie after that. It’s that kind of awkward moments that people with anxiety like me think of when they can’t sleep at night. I mean, just imagine asking your big love to give you the talk. Or having to give the talk to them.

Ruby, Ruby, my sweet summer child Ruby… “what has he seen”? He’s literally delivered a child, for one. Unprepared, at that. But seriously, Gilbert being all like “in my medical experience” – okay, we get it, Mr. Mature Adult Doctor. No offense, though, I love him.

That obituary was just about the best homage they could have paid to Mary, and Bash reading the whole thing to Delphine was both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Now that I use those two words for the second time in relation to Mary’s passing, I feel like these are the emotions I feel about it every time. Every single time.

Baby Delly is the most precious little thing I’ve ever seen.

The Barrys are finally doing something really good (I’m not saying they’re bad people or bad parents, just that they can be a little… stuck in their ways) by deciding to help Bash’s family now and realizing they have missed their chance of getting to know Mary while she was there and giving it to them. I sure hope they allow their daughters, both of them, to have the life they chose, not the one that was predetermined for them by parents and tradition and some twisted idea of class distinction and propriety. They deserve to be given that freedom.

The girls’ ritual was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. How empowering, how beautifully sacred, how emotionally pure and true. And Ruby finally accepted herself as a woman… I relate to that on a deep level because it was hard for me to accept the change from girl to woman when I was that age, too – not so long ago, really. The thing is, there is no real difference between a girl and a woman. I think each one should decide for herself which one she is, and we shouldn’t forget that we have both inside us at all times.

Oh my, oh my! This was honestly one of the most beautiful episode endings I’ve seen on this series and there have been a lot. This baby foal is one of the cutest things ever, a true embodiment of the miracle of life. How fascinating!

So, let’s sum up. In this episode, we saw: the importance of honey; lots of awkward teenage courting; Gilbert going back to medicine; Rachel Lynde sticking her nose into other people’s business even more than usual; Jerry and Diana’s beautiful forbidden romance and character growth; misconceptions about… conception; Shirbert – the whole spectrum of it: awkwardness, tension, angst, heart eyes, lost of eye acting in general; different kinds of awkwardness involving different people, but mostly Shirbert; girl empowerment; and last but not least, the circle of life. I was going to say I want more episodes like this one, but, frankly, I don’t think that’s possible. This was BEAUTIFUL!

[olicitytropes]

Olicity Tropetastic Awards: Season Seven

The time has come to talk of many scenes.

Of bows and arrows and superheroes.

Olicity’s reunion and the baby we knew was a Queen.

But wait just one minute,

Before we go and do all of that...

We thank you all for the time you have shared.

The elevators you have climbed,

The episodes you have faced and scared.

We will keep your stories in our hearts for always,

And we hope that you can too.

Because they would not be bigger than the friggin’ universe

If not for all of you.

-xoxo Ellie, Caitlin, Sascha, Mary, Beccie, Meegan, and Alli (and of course Emily Bett Rickards since she wrote this poem first;) )

@memcjo’s recs:

as darkness falls (a spark resides) - @alexiablackbriar13

It's been two weeks since Felicity found out she's pregnant, and she hasn't told Oliver yet.

Plagued by nightmares about being attacked and the baby being hurt, Felicity struggles to sleep.

After Oliver witnesses one of her post-nightmare panic attacks, she finally tells him about the baby.

**Award: Best Use of Angsty Angst Followed by Sweet, Sweet Olicity Moments**

two pints of mint chip it’s a girl - @alexiablackbriar13

missing scene in 7x22, before olicity move to the cabin. dr schwartz gives felicity an ultrasound, and our bigger than the freaking universe couple discover their baby's gender

**Award: Best Use of Touching, Loving, Sweet Olicity**

Run Away With Me - @dmichellewrites 

This is basically everything I hoped season 7 would be after the prison arc, but unfortunately we didn't get to see it.

Join Oliver, Felicity, their friends, and family as they navigate their lives together post-Slabside. They really can have it all. Watch them balance being heroes, parents, and still manage to hold down day to day jobs. Enjoy their slice of maximum domesticity, and take a peek into their home life together with their four children.

**Award: Most Kickass, Joyous, Amazing Olicity Finding a New Life!**

We Don’t Have To Talk About It (We’ll Find Another Way) - @smoaking-greenarrow

Felicity is at Slabside to pick up Oliver, to finally take him home...when all hell breaks loose

**Award: Most Awesome, Badass Oliver and Felicity Going Through Hell and Back to Find Each Other!**

Come & Talk To Me - @hope-for-olicity

I wrote this story as a fix it for the things I felt the writers forgot or screwed up since Oliver got out of prison. It mainly focuses on Olicity but it also deals with their relationship with Diggle.

**Award: Best Use of Oliver and Felicity Facing Their Fears and Finding Each Other All Over again~ SWOON!**

Dear Felicity - @smoakmonster

A series of letters Oliver journals to Felicity from prison.

**Award: Best Use of Oliver Finding His Voice (and making me cry)**

Nothing Breaks Like a Heart - @by-mintsea

A mid season 7 and Elseworlds Crossover fix it fic. Silences, missing scenes and rewrites from 7x07 through end of crossover.

**Award: Best Us of Oliver and Felicity Fighting for Each Other and Their Family**

@blondeeoneexox’s recs:

The Other Side (of a world without you) - fanfics4you

She stares at the sky, the moon staring back at her. She holds her daughter in her arms as she starts to talk about him. She hopes wherever he is, he is safe. She hopes that he knows. That she still loves him, that he has a daughter who loves him so much, a son who lives far away from this world, leading the normal life he always wanted. She hopes that he knows he isn't alone.

He stares at the sky, his fingers caressing his wedding ring gently. The night is full of darkness and he feels so lonely. He has everything here, yet he has nothing. He sees a shooting star fall from the sky, and he finally smiles. His hold on his wedding ring tightens as he reminds himself why is he doing this again. He knows.

In which Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak spend twenty years apart and then a lifetime together.

**Award: Best Cry Your Eyes Out Til They Hurt Fic**

The Microchip Chronicles - CSM

Post 713. Follows the next nine months of Felicity’s pregnancy.

**Award: Most Domesticated, Blissfully Happy Pregnant Olicity That Definitely Should Have Actually Happened**

The Other Side of a World Without You - MachaSWicket

SUMMARY: Arrow S7 finale SPOILERS ahead. Beware!

**Award: Best 20 Year Reunion I Could Ever Ask For**

The Legacy of a Queen -  inlovewithimpossibility

Series of one-shots from a future AU where Oliver and Felicity are able to raise their children after they defeat the Ninth Circle and Oliver hangs up the hood

**Award: Best ‘What Could (SHOULD) Have Been Fic**

The Hardest Part - @smoaking-greenarrow

Prompt: What if Felicity found out she was pregnant with Lucas after Oliver left and she'd have to raise both of their kids without him. Then Oliver would come back five years later to check on his girls only to find Mia playing with a slightly younger boy who looks exactly like him.

**Award: Most Heartbreakingly Beautiful, Sob-Worthy, Amazing Post-S7 (That Was Absolutely My Fault) Fic**

strange behaviors - @alexiablackbriar13

the 5 times john diggle noticed oliver queen and felicity smoak's latest weird behaviors and the 1 time he figured out what was causing it (spoiler alert: it's fetus mia smoak-queen)

**Award: Cutest Uncle Diggle Reaction to FINALLY Figuring Out Olicity’s Weird Behaviors**

@it-was-a-red-heeler’s recs:

bliss within madness - @alexiablackbriar13

“Hey, Mia. It’s your dad,” he whispered. Pausing, he added, “Mia or Lucas. We don’t know exactly who you are yet. But I promise you, your mom and I are gonna love you to the stars and back no matter who you turn out to be. I’m gonna call you Mia for now, though.” He kissed Felicity’s stomach softly, humming under his breath at the heat coming from her skin.

**Award: Best Beautiful, Blissful Domestic Olicity Moments**

Clean Slate - @smoakmonster

What happens when Oliver loses his memories of Felicity and William? How will this hurting family heal when he finally returns home from prison and doesn't know who his wife and son are?

This series is based on speculation from the Arrow 7x05 trailer that was released on Nov 5. As such, this short series will start in speculation and will likely shift to canon divergence or even au depending on what happens in the next few episodes. Future tags will be added accordingly.

**Award: Oliver Fighting His Way Back to His Family (Amnesia Tropes Are My Jam!) Award**

@msbeccieboo’s recs:

no heart for me like yours - inlovewithimpossibility

After weeks of chaos following Oliver's release from Slabside, Oliver and Felicity finally have a moment to sit down and discuss how they move forward from here

**Award: Best Gorgeous, Sleepy and Oh-So-Wise Oliver Moment**

Deep Water - @it-was-a-red-heeler

A Season 7 Speculation fic.

**Award: THE BEST S7a Do-Over (also the Delicity We All Deserved)**

At Last - @jesileighs

He hadn’t really even noticed there was a change in Felicity until the chaos died down, and even then it took him a couple of weeks to look past the excuses and the way she brushed off his attempts to talk. When he kissed her she pulled away almost immediately. When he reached for her hands she found a way to keep them busy. When he’d make his way to their bed at night, she would make an excuse to stay up and every morning when he woke up she was already gone from beside him. He told himself they were both readjusting. Things needed time to settle. They’d both been through so much.

**Award: Most Beautiful Reunion That We All Wanted But Never Really Got In Canon**

@smoaking-greenarrow’s recs:

Two - @nodecaff4me

Post Episode 7x07 ficlet about the first hours after Oliver stepped out of the gates of Slabside.

**Award: The Focus on Felicity’s Emotions That Should Have Been in Season Seven**

Renewal - @juliesioux

This first bit leads into the story we might never get and I wanted to explore the loneliness Felicity must have felt and the urgency she would feel to go and find him once she could.

**Award: Epitome of ‘Bigger than the friggin’ universe’**

Learning How to Win - @juvinadelgreko

At the end of Arrow S7, Oliver and Felicity retire from the vigilante life only to be interrupted by the Monitor and Crisis on Infinite Earths.

They deserved better. Here’s my take on what better looks like. Begins shortly after Oliver and Felicity moved into their new home.

**Award: Sweetest Life Win That Olicity Deserves**

No Sex Until There Is Hair - @hope-for-olicity

Oliver shaves his head again and Felicity is NOT a fan.

**Award: Best Felicity Completely Understanding Oliver Moment**

@tangled23works’ recs:

Holding On and Letting Go - @smoaking-greenarrow

Oliver is finally home. But he’s not as close to his wife as he’d like to be. To move past the choices he made, both of them need to get a few things off their chests.

This fic can be enjoyed on its own, but if you’ve read The Longbow Hunters, it can also be read as an epilogue for that story.

**Award: Best And Most Sincere Apology By Oliver Queen**

The Longbow Hunters - @smoaking-greenarrow

Based on the set photos from 7x02 and my imagination :)

**Award: Most Badass Felicity With A Plan**

whenever you’re ready - @alexiablackbriar13

Mia and William from 2040 travel back in time to 2019 to access an uncorrupted version of Archer. Oliver and Felicity investigate a break-in at the bunker only to find their children from the future bickering. Emotional confrontations and conversations ensue.

**Award: Most Heartbreaking, Angsty and Beautiful Family Reunion**

[killherfreakout]

tessellate

an Elu AU where Lucas has a crush on his best friend Eliott, and he finds comfort in the stars. [ao3]

CHAPTER ONE: I tripped over the moon about you

a/n: *potential tw: anxiety attack (during oct 10 - dimanche) stay safe!

-

Lucas loves Eliott. There’s no doubt about that. He loves Eliott because he is a great friend, his best friend even (Yann doesn’t have to know). The two have known each other since they were young teens; they met when Lucas was 13 and Eliott 14. Although their friendship is of only a few years, it feels as if they have spent a lifetime at each other’s side - like they were destined to be close in their past lives and future ones, too.

OCT 1 - VENDREDI 21:33

It’s the second week of autumn and the air feels crisp, almost cold enough to make their breath visible. Lucas and his friends are at a house party like most Friday nights. He is outside on the porch of a classmate’s house leaning against a post supporting the roof above their heads.

“There you are,” says a voice from the tall boy coming through the patio door.

“Here I am,” Lucas replies, corners of his mouth involuntarily turning up in the presence of Eliott. He hands his friend the joint he’s holding after taking a hit himself.

Eliott raises his eyebrows in a thank you gesture, locking eyes with Lucas as he brings the rolled paper to his lips.

Lucas’ knees weaken at the sight, flicking his gaze down to the space between Eliott’s lips. He watches as they close around the joint then part until a cloud obstructs his view.

He takes it back from Eliott, pinching the paper between his thumb and forefinger and repeats the action. He thinks it’s the closest he will ever be to knowing what Eliott’s lips feel like on his. Wait, why would he think about that? He must be more drunk and/or higher than he thought.

“Lucas, you coming?” Yann yells from across the backyard, where his friends seem to have traveled to sometime after Eliott arrived. One could tell him ten years had passed and he’d believe it.

He spots Arthur and Basile setting up a game of beer pong he promised to participate in earlier that night. It breaks him out of his trance and he nods in Yann’s direction, signaling to Eliott he has to go.

Arthur and Basile somehow beat Yann and Lucas in a best-of-three match. The losing team were ordered to bring snacks from the kitchen, so Yann and Lucas made their way inside.

In their journey Lucas gets roped into hanging out with Chloé, the first year he has been kind of seeing the past two weeks. ‘Seeing’ meaning flirting with and kissing for the first time last Friday.

Lucas has always been good with girls, he knows exactly what to do to get their attention and have them wrapped around his finger in no time. But he isn’t a player by any means; he just tends to lose interest and lets them down easy before things get too serious.

Lucas is busy talking up the brunette in the kitchen when he sees Eliott walk in the patio door. He’s laughing at one of his friend’s jokes, taking a swig of his drink and almost spitting out its contents from laughing. Lucas is so focused on the sweet sound of his laughter filling the house and Eliott’s crinkled eyes in the glow of the party lights that he realizes he missed everything Chloé just said. His stomach fills with an uneasy feeling he can’t quite explain and immediately swallows the guilt that follows. Here he was being distracted by his friend and not paying attention to the pretty girl right in front of his face.

This is not the first time Lucas has felt this uneasiness in his stomach regarding Eliott. They have been friends for years and tell each other everything; Lucas feels most comfortable and most like himself when Eliott is around. But those unexplainable moments still occur every once in a while.

The first time he felt like this was when the first and second year classes went on a trip to the coast for a beach clean up project. They were on a charter bus to go back to Paris after a long day of walking the shore under the spring sun. He promised Eliott they would sit next to each other since Yann wanted Lucas to sit by him on the way there. When they got on the bus and walked to their seats toward the back, their hands brushed as Lucas’ arm swung back and Eliott’s swung forward. And then not even ten minutes later, Eliott was asleep on his shoulder for the entire three-hour ride home. The look on Eliott’s face as he woke up to the bus coming to a halt is what made his stomach flip. Lucas laid in bed that night trying to understand why he felt like that, all to no avail.

That moment on the bus flashed back in his mind when he was trying to regain focus on Chloé making advances on him. He shakes the memory out of his mind, blaming it on the alcohol and weed he’s consumed tonight, and uses every fiber of his being to give his full attention to Chloé. He looks at her from over the brim of his cup of cheap beer, her green eyes sparkling under the soft orange light of the kitchen. Lucas leans in closer to hear her better because now people are chanting and shouting at someone doing a kegstand in the living room.

Lucas set his now empty cup on the counter and downs his third shot of the night before coming close to her ear to ask, “Do you want to go somewhere.. not as.. loud?”

The girl’s lips perk up in a blushing smile as she nods. Lucas takes her hand and she follows him down the hallway to one of the empty guest rooms.

Once inside the room, Lucas makes the first move to put his lips on hers. Chloé brings up her hands to clasp them around Lucas’ neck and he proceeds to kiss her deeper. She starts to plant soft kisses on his cheek then his jaw then one on his neck before Lucas pulls away to shrug his hoodie off. This is how it’s supposed to go, right? She continues down his neck as Lucas begins to unbutton the flowery blouse she has on.

He’s on the last button when the door bursts open. It’s another handsy couple wanting to do exactly what he and Chloé are doing; there’s a guy backpedaling into the room with a girl attached to his lips. Chloé comes up for air from Lucas’ neck to see who dares to interrupt them right now.

Lucas clears his throat and wipes the leftover lip gloss off his lips when the couple stops kissing to look at them. The intruding girl blushes and the guy turns around and - oh shit. It’s Eliott, of all people, with his hair even messier than usual (if that is even possible) and his lips bright red and puffy.

Fuck. Not again. A familiar but uncomfortable feeling strikes again - Lucas’ stomach flips for the second or third time that night and he lets out a shaky breath. Eliott turns away from the girl, who he thinks is named Marie, and looks at Lucas’ hoodie on the floor then at Chloé clutching her blouse shut. He smirks at Lucas as if to say, atta boy, Luc. It’s unnerving and Lucas doesn’t like it one bit.

Lucas backs away from Chloé and swallows, everyone standing there looking at each other in an awkward silence. Lucas picks up his hoodie and heads straight out of the house.

The following realization hits him at the same time the crisp autumn air does: he is relieved that his makeout session with Chloé was cut short, and he wishes he was the one attached to Eliott’s lips barging into the supposedly empty room.

OCT 2 - SAMEDI 10:04

Lucas wakes up with a headache the next morning as the events of last night come rushing back. Lip gloss, shots, hoodie, door, and.. Eliott. Eliott’s laugh. Eliott’s lips letting out the smoke. Eliott’s red and puffy lips. Eliott smirking when he sees him with Chloé. Eliott’s lips, again. Fuck.

He turns over in his bed to grab his phone and, as expected, there are a million texts in the gang group chat from last night.

Lucas rolls his eyes and types out a reply that is only half true.

Lucas contemplates the right way to tell them, no because I don’t actually like girls and I might have a crush on my friend who is a guy haha. So he settles on:

OCT 4 - LUNDI 08:20

Lucas is chatting with the guys in the courtyard at school when he sees Eliott for the first time since the guest room incident.

“Salut,” Eliott greets the whole group then turns to Lucas, “why did you leave so suddenly on Friday? That girl seemed kinda pissed that you left,” he laughs humorlessly at the last part.

Yann and Arthur look at Lucas quizzically, wondering the same thing. Lucas has a constant stomach ache, but this time he knows what it is: anxiety and nerves.

“Oh, I uh..” was jealous of the girl you were making out with, “Felt sick and needed some fresh air. Then I just went home,” Lucas answers, internally cursing at himself. The statement was also half true.

“Oh okay,” he pauses, “Marie was glad you left though,” Eliott nudges.

The nudge from Eliott cuts deeper than Lucas expected. The bell rings and everyone goes their separate ways to class.

15:11

Lucas remembers he made plans with Eliott to study for French Lit when he walks out of his last class. He dreads it, both studying and being alone with Eliott.

He walks to the library where he said they would meet and sees Eliott waiting for him at a table reading his notes, his fingers grazing his bottom lip like he always does when he’s focused or nervous. Lucas exhales deeply and pulls out a chair across from him, a bright smile blooms on Eliott’s face as he looks up. Shit. The pit in his stomach stays the entire afternoon he studies with Eliott.

It subsides when Eliott comes back from the restroom and he notices Lucas gave up on actually studying.

“What are you reading?” Eliott asks as he takes the empty seat across from Lucas.

“Oh, um, just early astronomical theories. Like, before gravity was discovered and they still thought the Earth was the center of the solar system. It’s actually really interesting--” Lucas replies with a smile that is almost audible before he stops.

“You know what, nevermind. It’s stupid. Yann and Arthur basically fall asleep whenever I even start to talk about it,” he adds with a sad smile, tucking his head down.

“Hey,” Eliott says firmly, reaching across the table to rest a hand on his. “If you like it, it’s not stupid.”

Lucas looks up to see Eliott’s gaze fixed on Lucas, burning its way through his skin. He’s never had anyone look at him with such intensity and such care. Lucas hardly ever feels like anyone notices or takes any interest in what he cares about or likes. Sure, he has the gang and the girls, but all of their conversations seem to revolve around who is hooking up with who and when the next party is.

But with Eliott he feels like more than a default option, more than second or third best. It’s comforting and fucking terrifying at the same time.

“I guess,” Lucas shrugs, shifting his hand out of Eliott’s grasp to pick up the book laying flat on the table. “Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with my fascination with the universe,” flicking his eyes back at Eliott for a moment.

“Whatever you say,” Eliott indulges him.

The ping that comes from Eliott’s phone pops the bubble they occupy.

“Shit, I totally forgot, Sofiane wanted me to help him with this fundraiser for the youth center. But text me if you want to hang and talk about the universe some more.”

Lucas looks up to Eliott standing with his backpack on one shoulder, which would normally make him feel small, but he doesn’t.

“Okay, I will,” chuckles Lucas before turning back to the book that sparked the conversation.

“See you tomorrow, Luc,” Eliott says over his shoulder as he walks to the bus stop.

“Yeah, bye, Eli..ott,” Lucas says, the last part a little too quiet and a little too late. After the events of Friday night, Lucas feels like he is not allowed to use that nickname, feels like he lost the privilege to say it or something.

OCT 5 - MARDI 14:17

Lucas spots Eliott down the hall talking to one of his teachers and Eliott smiles at him. Lucas is looking right at him but doesn’t do anything to respond and looks away. He looks back at Eliott to see him looking at the floor, a little upset. Shit. Why didn’t he just smile back? He’s still his best friend, why is he acting so weird? Lucas kicks himself and that stomach ache is back.

OCT 7 - JEUDI 11:46

Lucas manages to get through the past two days without seeing Eliott at school and, to be honest, he is a bit relieved. He knows that he will just act weird whenever he’s around Eliott again so he’s glad he didn’t have to make it weirder between them.

He couldn’t avoid Chloé though. The universe couldn’t afford him such a luxury; not like they ever do. Chloé taps Lucas’ shoulder, forcing him to turn around and look at her, the sparkle in her eyes missing.

“Hey, Lucas, it’s been a while..” Chloé starts, trying to give him a chance to explain himself for leaving her on Friday, blouse open and all.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I felt sick that night and I’ve been super busy with the bac and stuff,” he explains, and it works, seeing as her face brightened up. He knew the bac thing would work, Chloé is in the year below and has that to look forward to next year.

“Oh, that’s okay.. So, do you want to see a movie this weekend or something? There’s this film festival they hold every October on Saturday and I hear it’s really cool,” Chloé suggests excitedly.

The words come out of his mouth before he can think, “Sure, sounds great.”

“Awesome! I’ll see you then,” Chloé adds, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before leaving him in the hallway.

OCT 8 - VENDREDI 14:42

Lucas makes his way over to the bus stop and can’t wait to just chill at the coloc after the week he’s had. So much has happened and so much has changed in the last seven days. From constant nauseousness, a new girlfriend, and, oh yeah, having feelings for a guy, who happens to be his best friend. On top of that, Lucas hasn’t even hung out with the gang since last Friday and a few days at lunch.

His stomach starts to grumble because he skipped lunch to help Daphné and the girls with the foyer. On his way to the bus stop, Lucas decides to get a snack from the vending machine outside.

He thought he could skate by without another uncomfortable situation, but the universe had other plans. Eliott is standing in front of the vending machine, putting coins in and pushing buttons to get his snack. Eliott turns around to sit on the bench near the curb when he bumps into Lucas.

“Sorry,” Eliott exclaims before realizing who he has collided with. A small smile graced his lips.

It’s like he read Lucas’ mind, Eliott sits and hands him one of the chocolate bars he just purchased, almost as a peace offering - for the collision and for the unspoken weirdness between them lately.

Lucas accepts the chocolate and joins him on the bench. They tear open their bars and start to chew them in silence until Eliott asks what he’s been wanting to for a week now.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been distant and quiet lately.”

Lucas can feel Eliott’s worried and kind eyes on him, waiting for an answer. He makes up another excuse for his behavior, which seems to be second nature these days.

“Yeah I’ve been busy with studying for the bac while trying to find a part time job to pick up the rent that my dad isn’t paying. And I haven’t visited my mom in a while...”

Everything Lucas is saying is true, but it’s not the explanation Eliott is looking for nor the one that actually answers his question.

Eliott finishes the chocolate bar and turns to face Lucas. He gives him a half smile, his eyes warm and understanding. It makes Lucas feel at ease for the first time in a week, like he finally has his friend back.

“If you ever need help with anything you know you can just ask, Luc. That’s what friends are for,” Eliott offers along with an elbow to Lucas’ side, his eyes bright now but still just as warm.

Luc. How can one syllable make his stomach turn? The guilt from before comes rushing back, undeserving of such a nickname.

If the universe got one thing right, it’s putting Eliott into his life. He has been nothing but sweet and kind, a constant support system in his life when his mother and father couldn’t be. It boggles his mind how lucky he is to have a friend like Eliott but how unlucky he is to have fallen for him. Lucas feels so much gratitude for Eliott’s friendship and support but can’t help feeling guilty for not taking him up on it. What is he supposed to do, ask Eliott for advice on how to go about coming to terms with having a crush on him?

The bus pulls up to the curb and Lucas is so lost in thought that Eliott has to grab his arm to get him to hop on the bus.

OCT 9 - SAMEDI 15:49

Chloé is wearing a pink dress and the same lip gloss from the party last week. Lucas kisses her quickly and takes her hand as they walk into the huge theatre. Chloé takes a program with the list of films and cast and crew in it, then points to one of the names and decides that is the movie they should see. They sit in the plush red chairs and the lights go down as they settle into their seats, Chloé’s hand still in his.

They are halfway through the movie when Lucas gets up to go to the bathroom. He just can’t keep up the cute romantic act that Chloé wants from him anymore and needs to get out of that packed theatre. Lucas goes to the restroom and feels better instantly, it’s quiet and the air is cooler there. He washes his hands and uses the paper towel to get the sticky lip gloss off of his mouth and cheek where Chloé kissed him randomly during the opening credits.

So much for giving her another shot. Lucas really thought that he could go out with Chloé again and see how cute and beautiful and kind she is, to have those romantic and sexual feelings he knows he should have for her. Lucas looks at himself in the mirror, pressing his lips together in a flat line. He doesn’t know who he is, how to act, or what to do anymore. What happened to the guy that was confident and smooth, what happened to the guy his friends would look to for girl advice, what happened to the Luc who was always Eli’s best friend? Not this again. But this time there’s no stomach ache, no butterflies, nothing. He just feels empty. Like there’s just nothing left of him.

Finally, after what seems to be the longest hour of his life, the lights come up and the credits roll as Chloé turns to him to talk about the ending. Lucas wasn’t paying that much attention to the plot so he doesn’t know what to say, but luckily she’s doing most of the talking anyway. A couple are coming up the aisle to exit the theatre and his heart drops. It’s Eliott, holding hands with another guy.

What is he doing here? Oh, duh, he’s into film and art and it actually makes sense that Eliott would be here. But what is he doing here, with that guy? Who is this guy? And why is he holding hands with Eliott?

Lucas knows full well that Eliott is pansexual and fully supports him. He’s knows Eliott has been with guys before, but he’s never been in a committed relationship with a guy.

And what happened to Marie? If he’s not with Marie anymore, then does that mean the guest room incident was for nothing? Eliott barging in with Marie, that is. Or, maybe, the whole Lucas realizing he has a crush on him thing.

Seeing Eliott holding hands with a guy makes it even worse. A surge of envy courses through his body and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Lucas doesn’t think, just leans forward to capture Chloé’s lips with his and doesn’t let them go. He opens his eyes after a few seconds to see Eliott look his way, then shuts them again, in a far too passionate kiss for being in public, to avoid seeing Eliott’s reaction.

Chloé is dumbfounded, but pleasantly surprised and blushing hard when Lucas pulls away. He takes her hand and they walk out of the theatre, feeling so shitty for what he just did. Why did he do that? To prove something to Eliott? To Chloé? To himself?

Of course, the universe is up to their usual scheme; Eliott and his date are chatting in the lobby with one of the program directors in front of a booth for a film school. Lucas can’t help but smile slightly at the fact that Eliott looks so happy to be talking about film school and wishes he could share this moment with him. It has always been one of Eliott’s dreams to make a film.

Chloé says something but Lucas doesn’t hear. Eliott looks around the room and locks eyes with Lucas again, the latter averting his gaze after a minute. The stomach ache is back with a vengeance.

“How about some gelato? I saw a place on my way over here,” Chloé suggests, and kisses Lucas as they exit the festival.

OCT 10 - DIMANCHE 17:23

It’s a lazy Sunday at the coloc, Manon and Lisa are watching TV on the couch and Mika is laying on the floor on his phone. Lucas gets up from the chair in the living room to get a glass of water when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Shit. The last time Lucas studied for French was almost a week ago, with Eliott. Eliott. He feels guilty for shutting him out this past week, especially after the bus stop the other day.

Before Lucas could reply, another text pops up and it looks like the universe is packing another punch on this fine Sunday afternoon. He walks into his room before opening it.

Next time. If Lucas has to go on another date with Chloé he will actually explode. What excuse could he come up with now? He used to be so good at finessing himself out of too many dates to make sure it doesn’t become anything more than a casual fling. But this isn’t a fling anymore, it’s completely fake, a cover up. He’s using Chloé, and for what? Lucas is not personally getting anything out of it, other than a lot of guilt and anger. And protecting his reputation. Fuck his reputation, he can’t handle this anymore. But how the fuck is he supposed to go about doing this? Tell her that he doesn’t like her, or any girl for that matter? Tell the guys that all of his moves to win over girls were an act? Tell Eliott how he feels?

He can’t. It’s all too overwhelming, too scary, too risky. What if Chloé doesn’t take it well? What if his friends don’t want to be around him anymore? What if Eliott doesn’t? What if Eliott hates him? He can’t lose Eliott as a friend. He can’t lose Eliott.

The thought of it forces a full-on anxiety attack. Lucas doesn’t register the fact that he’s crying until a tear falls onto his phone screen with the message from Chloé still open. He tosses his phone aside and climbs into bed and just lets it all out.

Lucas hears commotion in the living room, reminding him of the presence of his roommates, and makes half a mind to silent his sobs only to realize that he physically can’t. So he keeps crying and hopes that his roommates leave him alone, he’s just too embarrassed and too afraid to explain why he’s reduced to tears.

The universe spares him that, at least. It would just be brutal if they didn’t.

OCT 13 - MERCREDI 13:55

The gang decides to go to the library after school to cram for the French Literature test they have in two days, and Lucas needs all the help he can get. Imane and Emma join them later, and Lucas gets some tutoring out of Imane. She’s awfully nice to him today and he’s a little suspicious about it. Turns out Manon did hear him sobbing last night and it’s also written all over his face, exhausted and lifeless.

The library seems to be the place to be today. Chloé walks by the boys’ table and Lucas hears her friends whisper and giggle, pushing her towards Lucas. Chloé blushes and stands over Lucas still sitting at the table.

“Hi babe,” she greets him and lowers herself to accept a kiss she expects from Lucas. He indulges her, an awkward second later. She tries to brush off the fact that Lucas didn’t reply to her text and that he didn’t seem all that happy kiss her.

“So, I was thinking.. our next date should be like a romantic walk in the park, or something like that, you know, to talk and spend more time together.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas responds unenthusiastically. At this point, he has absolutely no interest in keeping this going any longer. He thinks it will just be easier for her to break things off instead of him.

“How about Friday night?”

“Sure.”

Chloé walks away with her posse, quietly cheering for her. Lucas feels exhausted just thinking about that date. Maybe she won’t be so quick to break things off.

OCT 15 - VENDREDI 11:41

Lucas’ biology class just got out and he stops at his locker for one last look at his French notes before going in for the exam. He tries to read as much as he can in the four minutes he has before one of the biggest exams of the year when he gets a text. He wouldn’t have opened it if not for the screen being right next to his notes and noticing who the message is from.

Lucas smiles like an idiot looking at his phone and laughs at the stupid and charming hedgehog meme. Then warmth spreads in his chest at the message that follows.

The usual is code for joints and beers at Eliott’s, and it’s amazing how he can anticipate exactly what Lucas wants and needs without fail.

The bell is about to ring, so Lucas ditches his phone in his locker and heads to the exam. Turns out the messages from Eliott helped more than a few minutes of cramming ever could.

14:55

Lucas sees his best friend sitting at the bus stop and waits a moment before joining him. He takes a second to take in the way Eliott’s ears are pinkish-reddish from sitting out in the cold, the way his brows are slightly furrowed as he focuses on reading something on his phone, the small black ink stain on the denim covering his right knee, his exposed ankles.

His heart flutters and feels blood rushing to his cheeks. But he’ll blame it on the same weather that colored the ears under Eliott’s perfectly messy hair.

Lucas takes a deep breath and slumps down on the cold bench next to the other boy.

“So? Did you ace it?” Eliott asks eagerly, turning to hand him the chocolate bar he was promised.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I aced it, but I think I did okay,” Lucas gives him an open-mouthed smile. “Because I had the hedgehog cheering me on.”

Eliott lets out a laugh, bright and loud, bigger than the one at the house party a few weeks ago. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and Lucas can’t believe that he’s the one who brought it out. Lucas laughs with him and swears his heart grows two sizes larger.

19:38

The feeling stays with him all night at Eliott’s. The two boys shared a joint and a few beers each before Eliott wants to take Lucas somewhere. They end up walking down a couple blocks to a secluded area with a park behind a locked gate. It’s dark and cold, but Lucas doesn’t care. Okay, maybe he’s a little scared, and maybe that’s why he stays close to Eliott’s side as they go deeper into the woods.

Eliott leads him down a path to a tunnel under a bridge. They lay down on the hard earth and look up at the night sky. It’s the first time in a long time that Lucas feels completely at ease - no stomach ache, no intrusive thoughts clouding his mind, just at ease.

“This is my place. It’s the best place to look at the stars in all of Paris, the city lights and pollution don’t interfere as much here,” Eliott says, soft and warm, the opposite of the ground they’re laying on.

Eliott reaches into his jacket pocket and fishes out his phone with headphones attached. Lucas watches his face illuminated by his phone’s light and takes the right earbud Eliott offers him. They listen to a song in comfortable silence until something comes to Lucas’ mind.

“You know, when you look at the stars, you’re actually looking into the past,” Lucas blurts out. “The stars are so far away that the light we see is from, like, a million light years ago. And we’ll never know whether the star has died and become a supernova or if its light is just beginning to reach us.”

He’s quiet for a while, until he continues: “It’s crazy, right? And almost a bit sad, I think.” A pause. “I mean, it’s like an author or artist whose works aren’t appreciated until after they’re dead.”

Eliott opens his mouth to respond, but doesn’t.

Lucas only realizes after how somber his words were, and how he had ruined such a perfect atmosphere with Eliott. His heart sinks and wishes he never said anything.

But, like clockwork, Eliott saves the day.

He shrugs and counters with, “I don’t know... But that’s one way of looking at it.”

Lucas turns his head to face Eliott now, but the latter doesn’t remove his gaze from the maybe-dead stars shining above them. He is stunned by the ease that his friend has coming up with the perfect words to resolve any misstep caused by Lucas. He can almost see the cogs turning in Eliott’s head as he strings those perfect words together, a skill he wishes he could possess.

“Well, the way I figure it, it’s comforting. I mean, with the millions of light years between us and the stars.. Even if we can’t see them, you know they’re still out there,” Eliott adds softly, like it’s a secret you have to be in on to hear.

Lucas subconsciously notes the change between the use of we and you in Eliott’s words and takes in the way his eyes are sparkling from the stars they speak of.

“And yeah, you don’t know when the light is coming, but you know that it will come eventually.”

These words linger in the safe bubble they share before Eliott says firmly, “It always does.”