#mel you were right i never should have doubted you i know better

[sad-endings-suck]

this man!! this man right here…

got fifty times hotter, when his life fell apart

[dadsbongos]

studying birds and bees

3.5 k words / warnings - penetrative sex (i imagined a vag but there's no anatomy listed), riding

summary - viktor, alone and glum, is not comforted by the company of a fellow scientist at a hextech exhibition party. not until you mention taking him home, at least.

Gold drenches each wall in streamers and plates. Curtains shimmer overhead. Silver platters dazzle each passing caterer’s hand -- specialties half the size of his palm gleam fresh and dewy. Clear coupes and flutes pass, full of wheat sparkles. Sour, no doubt, but sure enough to waste a man as thin as he.

So surely, in fact, that Viktor actively avoids drinking anything besides water. He’s a common lightweight, never finding time to flex tolerance between working hours, and he distrusts anything he can’t see through. Anything that has a smell, whether it’s sour or sweet, he staunchly avoids.

Similarly, he refuses to follow conversation: people unreasonable or unfortunate in nature that approach are limited to singular, curt responses. Thankfully he’s smart enough, well-regarded enough, famed enough that it has no bearing on his life outside these miserable hours. Hours he’s sure are better spent down in the lab. Nose buried into his work: he’s most comfortable that way, living as he always has.

Viktor believes his hate is layered beneath several swathes of cool. An expression he believes to be neutral -passive, if anything- is actually a scathing scowl that has many guests rushing off to inform Jayce of his unapproachable partner.

He hears that a lot.

He’s impersonal, strange, distant.

He likes living that way. It makes working easier.

Jayce is everything he is not: warm, talkative, generous. His face is on porcelain mugs.

Viktor would know that, he got one for a generous discount of Free. It’s sitting in his sink at this very moment, coffee dribbling the rim and baked into the bottom. It could risk a stain if he doesn’t wash it before bed tonight.

But then, who knows? Perhaps he’ll be too exhausted from standing all night and straining a smile whenever he makes eye contact with Jayce. At some point, the muscles in his cheeks become too sore, so he begins ignoring the man wrapped around Mel Medarda.

If he’s lucky, Jayce will not try waltzing over to ask for the third time if Viktor is enjoying the night.

And if he’s unlucky, as he suspects he is, then someone else is rapidly crossing the shiny tiles toward him. Two glasses, one in either hand, glinting beneath ball lights. Shoe heels clicking closer and closer until it’s pounding right beside his ear.

“Never saw anything like this back home, did we?”

You say it so familiarly, as if you know anything about Viktor’s home. Maybe you do. But not like that.

“No,” he answers politely enough despite pointedly ignoring the glass you offer him, “we didn’t.”

“I got a real drink for you,” you’re not content to be ignored though, “I noticed you’ve been nursing an empty cup.”

“We didn’t have anything like that in the undercity, I don’t know if I trust it.”

“Then trust me,” you sip from your glass, leaving a dewy smear around the lip, “It’s not bad. Sharp, but not bad.”

Viktor leans more weight onto his cane as he leans, grabbing the glass from you before slanting back, “Sharp, but not bad.”

You swing another sip, watching from the corner of your eye as his arm remains stationary -though you don’t comment, “You seemed incredibly lonely.”

“So you thought it’d be generous to bother me.”

“Practically,” you clink glasses, “You strike me as a man who doesn’t get bothered often. Someone should keep you upright.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” not even he can tell whether he means that genuinely or not. Maybe he does, but only as long as it isn’t you providing the company. His eyes flutter and he imagines: if it were Sky, would he be satisfied?

Jayce?

Mel?

Heimerdinger?

His long disgraced mentor?

“You finally get to leave the lab and you insist on spending the time alone, I wonder why…” you say with enough wisp in your tone to excuse it as a non-question.

Viktor puffs a laugh, weighed down by annoyance -- do you have no eyes? Are you ignorant to your surroundings? Scratch that, his laugh was a total scoff by the time it breached his throat.

“I’m not interested in people,” Viktor briefs, then sighs, “Especially the types that feel the need to keep me company- like I’m some sad thing on the side of the road.”

“You don’t want to feel pitied?”

“Who would?”

“People who’ve never experienced harshities.”

Viktor shakes his head, swirling the glass flute and watching the bubbles twirl, “I don’t care for any of this conversation.”

“Then what conversation would you care for?”

“Why are you here?” he forces himself to remain quiet, afraid that raising his voice could attract attention.

“Like I said, you looked lonely,” you turn onto your shoulder, budding it against the wall to solely stare at Viktor, “I wanted to find solidarity between two Zaunites.”

He shoots you a wary look at that; nobody in Piltover refers to the undercity by that name -it would sling a series of implications the council hasn’t even begun to tackle. Hearing it here, no less, strikes him unpleasantly -- are you being bold or defiant? Is this earnest support of underground independence or are you mocking the Piltover riches that fund his life’s work?

Either way, you’re foolish to declare yourselves Zaunites in the back of this room.

“Sky is also from the undercity,” Viktor jerks his chin toward her, as if you can’t spot her defined curls and moonglasses from where you are.

“I’m not interested in Sky, lovely as she is,” you shrug, “I’m interested in you. I was hoping to see the brain let loose.”

“I don’t get loose.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.”

“So, you’ll die having never gotten ‘loose’.”

“I’ll die having not done lots of things, but I will have been part of Hextech’s creation.”

“That’s all you want to do before you die?”

“I want to give Hextech to the people, anything other than that…” he shakes his head and taps a blunt nail against the glass stem, “I will die in any case.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Dying?”

“Yourself dying.”

“It will happen eventually,” Viktor shrugs, “Probably sooner than others. Heimerdinger says the brighter sparks, they go the fastest,” he lets the sentiment sit a moment before awkwardly flipping it back unto you, “How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t think you should ever die.”

“Flattering, but unlikely.”

“Then why do you work like you’ll live forever?” when the only response you get is a single thick eyebrow raise you continue, “Really, you work like a man without time, as if you could just come back into the world after locking yourself away for years. You worry only about the science behind Hextech rather than the humanity in you that wanted you to create it.”

Softly, you cup his shoulder. Regardless of how bold the gesture is he doesn’t find himself wanting you gone.

Perhaps because of the gentle furrow in your brows, your pout accentuated with reddish stains.

“Why don’t you enjoy yourself, Viktor?”

Viktor has so much he needs to do, but nothing as pressing as easing you. He holds his hand over yours, kindly massaging the flat plain across the back of your hand, “I enjoy myself plenty.”

“Alone?” your gaze flicks toward his hand with no subtly, “With only your own hands?”

“Where did that come from?” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter in shock, eyes widening with stained cheeks.

“Nowhere, I suppose. Just curiosity,” you shrug coyly, about as innocent as your prior question wasn’t, “You have no date, after all. And I never see your arm occupied with anything besides your cane.”

“I’m content with my work.”

Unabashedly, almost sneered, you speak without grace for the first time all night, “What a sad way to live.”

“Excuse you?” Viktor scoffs, “Do you not work for the same goal?”

“I’m a person, too.”

“I’m not?”

“Not as you are,” you shake your head, eyes now downtrodden as you finish off the glass in your hand, swallowing without cringe before saying, “If you’re so dedicated to living for Hextech instead of yourself, then I’ll take your drink for you. My only plan tomorrow was to nurse a hangover anyway.”

Viktor instinctually swivels so his drink is out of reach, which is something he cannot explain. Why does he suddenly want it? Why does he suddenly care?

But, more importantly, when did he decide he should never want it- decide that he should never care?

Was it before or after clawing his way into Piltover under Heimerdinger’s wing? Was it before or after Jayce blew up an apartment? Was it before or after Jayce began leaving his side to become a political head?

Or was it everything -- slowly one thing upon the other before he realized he had a carefully alphabetized and numerically categorized library of all the reasons he shouldn’t and couldn’t abandon Hextech. Maybe it’s not advancement now, but the security of a purpose. A goal he’ll die to achieve, and at the rate he’s burning: die before achieving.

Perhaps, one night as a man rather than a scientist wouldn’t hurt?

Viktor gags the champagne in a single swing, startling you to pat his back as he hisses and coughs.

“Viktor! What’re you doing?!” you whisper with all the venom of an outraged mother.

“I’m living,” he shoulders you off and straightens out. Chin jutting with all the dignity of a man who didn’t choke down alcohol at an expensive gala.

“Is that so?” you giggle, silently expecting him to back away, “And does life have you for the whole night? Or just until the party’s over?”

Viktor looks down at his empty glass, then toward yours. Then to the lipstick marring the rim -- it’s smudged at the corner of your lip. It’s darker than the more neutral shade you swipe on before venturing into the lab. Suddenly, his belly is warming and his head is fuzzy -for once nothing but pleasant thoughts consume him. He smiles to one side and clicks your empty flutes,

“I have no plans tomorrow, either, wouldn’t you know?”

“For once.”

Waving away the bitter thought, Viktor leans just that touch closer that sends your sweet perfume up his nose. He feels like maybe he should get another drink and step a little more into your space, if you’ll let him.

“Let’s make the night of it, then?” he’s the one bravely going forward, certain you’ll trail after as he paves toward the bar, “You sounded eager to get me into the world, now what?”

“Oh, Viktor,” you coo, “Don’t ask things like that.”

“Why not?” he’s a little cocky now with some booze in his empty belly, he forgets how unashamed the new assistant is, “Second thoughts?”

“No, I’ll just tell you that I really wanted you in my bed tonight.”

You’re grinning- he’s blushing now, a little surprised and a little delighted. But you just smile that devilish way that always has him distracted.

A new assistant hadn’t been Victor’s idea, and if Jayce had bothered conferring with Viktor at all then you especially wouldn’t have been the hired candidate.

“Or did you intend to die a virgin, as well?” you lull into the shell of his ear, soft and warm lips just grazing clammy flesh.

“You’re forward.”

“Am I? Is it too much?” if not for the slightest concerned twitch in your brow, he could’ve thought maybe you were just laying another harsh tease.

“I find it incredibly attractive,” finally, finally Viktor says the terrible thing out loud. Vivid and bright and all things he is not -temptress! he declared when you two first met.

***

Viktor paused, eyes widening from the doorway and fingers tightening around his cane, “Who are you?”

“The assistant,” you smiled in a way he was sure you meant as warm and welcoming, “Viktor, right?”

How he stared at you, however, told you that maybe you’d bared teeth too sharp. So your lips shut, hands clasping and shoulders straightening. Your name but a whisper into the lab, bouncing off each wall before awkwardly cluttering to the ground. Melting in chunks into the grouts.

“I have an assistant,” he murmured, sights scattered across the area, “Where is Sky?”

“Her day off,” then you groaned, baffled by how confused such a famed brain could get over a truly simple concept, “I can show you my qualifications, if you need to be convinced?”

Your frustration seemed to snap him straight, his jaw unhinged and he flubbed for a nice way to retract himself, “No. No. I’m…” he cleared his throat and glanced away pointedly, “You’re my assistant for today, then?”

“Of course.”

“Ah, perfect,” it was not, in fact, perfect. Viktor dreaded your stay; lingering over his shoulder and invading between his eyes with your perfume. You’re cursed with curves and full lips and fluttery eyelashes.

A temptress!

***

A temptress without trying- or you are trying and you play dirty. Either way…

“I want to see more of your shamelessness, show me how much I’ve missed not living,” he means the last part as a jest, but it seems to make you happy.

…he wants you so bad it makes his gut ache.

You gnaw your bottom lip and nod, “Shall we leave now then? I can certainly make you a drink at home you’d like more anyway.”

Propriety flies out the window.

If Jayce wanted Viktor to enjoy himself, then he damn well would! And he wouldn’t bother with acknowledgments or goodbyes or gratitude, not when your hand tangles with his. Fingers locking with all the familiarity of seasoned lovers, you even add the tiniest swing though sure to not jostle his balance. Peachy streetlights cast the most flattering flushed glow upon you, stray hairs catching gold beneath the beaming bulb. Shining in stressed loops around your head, not like a halo but just… you. Graceful in all the misaligned strands and smudged makeup.

Whether you’re tethered off in a clinical coat with a clipboard perched on one hip or strapped to the finest in this little black number -something you could never pray to pull out of a dump in Zaun.

“I think…” you muse while sliding the front door open, your home smells like vanilla and the space is so precisely spotless he’s not sure you even live here, “I’ll need some help out of this dress.”

Your bedroom is worse off -or would it be better?- not a single article of clothing on the floor, no crumpled notes or mugs of shame decorating the nightstand. Eerily empty until, then, he notices the faint orange flame twinkling over his shoulder.

“Did you leave that burning while you were gone?” he’s too focused on the fire risk of it all that he doesn’t notice you’re stretching out over the bed.

“I figured I wouldn’t be out long,” you prop your head on a fist, the other hand perking onto your cocked hip, “Whether or not I’d be alone when I returned was the only mystery.”

He swivels in place, a humored so that’s why it’s so clean! dying on his lips as soon as he sees you splayed out. Stuttering back and clutching his chest as if scandalized -- as if he didn’t come here for the exact kind of modeling you’re doing. Viktor clears his throat, heat swelling up from the comfortable bubbly in his gut and all up toward his reddening forehead. Brows shooting upward.

Silken sheets caressing your bare skin. Moonlight carding through the askew curtains and layering you in a thin pale gleam. Your hair cascaded down your forearm. And that rouge smudge at the bottom corner of your lip. Tempting.

Viktor lets his cane drift back until it’s slanted against the wall, kneeling onto your bed. Hands trembling as if he’ll sink through and wake in his own sheets. But the feeling of his cold dress buttons beneath his fingertips is real enough; peeling layers from sinewy limbs feels real enough. Nails scrape wrists and hips as he removes his vest, and shirt, and long pants.

“Can I… “ he pauses, swallows, and assesses the curiosity in your eyes. Then, before finishing the question, surges forward -one hand gluing to either of your cheeks, tenderly tilting your face to press his lips to yours. Brows knotting toward the center of his face and cheeks flaming with embarrassment. His lips are incredibly soft, though, and they slot smoothly against yours like gears rolling into one fluid motion. You wonder how familiar that is to him.

Sliding up onto your knees, you tangle your fingers between his and pry his hands from your face. Squeezing him affectionately before using the leverage to lay him onto his back slowly so as to not break the kiss.

Straddling Viktor with both hands still wrapped together, at least until you slip one of his hands onto your chest and the other your thigh. He squeezes, not not affectionately just with something a little… murkier. Hips jump up toward yours -- he sighs, frustrated, and takes it out on your nipple -rolling the bud around his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. Cheeks hollowing around, tongue searing up, bright gold eyes peek over wetly.

You arch your back into his face, lifting off his lap with the encouragement of his spare hand shifting toward your ass. Something soft and thick twitches between your thighs, ripping an earnest gasp from you. Viktor snorts, you feel him smiling into your chest.

not expecting that?

You yank his hair at the base, curling a whine through his throat.

shut up!

Leaky and hot red at the tip, Viktor only thickens toward the base. Maybe just longer than your palm, but certainly fatter than you can hold in one palm. Reaching down just to rut his tip along your slit, both of you huffy messes as you drool down his cock.

Viktor sags back, glaring at you with his ruddy lips -- juicy with raw saliva.

“Enough teasing,” he grunts, trying to force you down with his grip on your hip, “You bring me here just to watch me squirm?”

“I do enjoy the sight,” you mewl softly, swirling his tip around your hole, “Don’t you?”

His head swivels in a very lumpy circle, caught between nodding and shaking before he attempts pushing you down again, “Not as much as I want to be inside you.”

You’re prepared to tease more when he abruptly snaps up while shoving your hips low. His whole face twinges at the sudden movement in his thighs but it’s soon overshadowed by the complete, all-melting mellow of having his cock sucked into velveteen walls. Head thrown back and chestnut hair splintering across the dark headboard -- he grins as you loudly gasp and scramble to grasp his shoulders for purchase.

“Ah- Vik- !” you hiccup, scratching into his shoulder blades.

He hisses, lips curled with utter bliss and eyes fluttering shut, “Feels much better.”

Now both of his hands circle your waist, coaxing your movement with firmly pressed fingers. You pray he leaves bruises.

Viktor chases your warmth every time you squelch off, the most he can manage without an uncomfortable cringe is teeny jumps focused in the pelvis but it’s more than desperate enough. Any concern he could have of you finding his display anything except arousing is tossed out the window as your pace hastens. Leisurely drags rapidly devolving to full bounces, little splatters of your wetness painting up his abdomen. And he fucking thrives on it: sticky and lewd and thick, hearing each thrust hammers him closer to the purest release he’s had in years.

He can’t even pluck grains of thought to discern when the last time he felt so good was- not when you’re canting and wailing.

On a particular grind, you could feel his dick slam into some open-wire spot inside you. White neon sparks crackling so bright your whole body snaps above Viktor while he watches starry-eyed. Bopping that spot impetuously, clinging to frayed energy if it means watching you split apart again. You moan -broken vowels and breathy vik- vi- uh, viktor! vik- vik- vvvv- and shudder, clutching him like you’ll fly off without such an iron hold. Openly tearing up inside you before his eyes are wetting too, and webs of spend sprawl into you.

Viktor greedily snatches you by the neck and wrings you forward, lips spreading until he can lick inside your mouth. Moaning shamelessly into you as he fucks the last of his orgasm out on you.

Left humming, content and pliant, you and Viktor break the sloppy kiss to play more politely. You peck the corner of his mouth, wiping the dazzling threads of spit tying you two by the mouths. Viktor blinks up at you in a haze, smiling aimlessly.

“Happy?” you unceremoniously roll off the man, grimacing as he and everything he buried slide out onto your thigh.

“Very,” he remains slick back on the headboard, moist skin skidding against wood as he slides onto the mattress.

You twist an arm over his waist, chin piking his ribs as you give the most outrageously sweet, “I’m sure you can stay the night, then?”

And as Viktor’s discovered, trying to deny your power over him is useless. Why not indulge just a little more?

“Maybe even for breakfast,” he muses.

tagging those who asked/seemed interested :3

@lpvmal + @im-just-a-simp-le-whore + @littleenglishfangirl + @fortheharbingers + @duffycrow + @zemosbunny + @urmommt + @crocwork-clockodile + @petti-fry + @sparklygreentrash + @marshy-moo

[jayktoralldaylong]

Alright, there's something I'd like to talk about, and let's come at it with an open mind. When Season one of Arcane ended I was 99% sure that Mel was not going to make it to this season. I was praying for every kind of miracle that could happen just to keep that beautiful goddess on screen but she was the first line of contact for that bomb.

Now that everything has been revealed, I want to talk about that bomb.

Ironically, Season two episode one starts with the exact same shine of gold that ended season one.

See, season one:

Season two:

And when the smoke clears we can see her leaning really close to Jayce, like she got blasted towards him.

Now, looking at the seat arrangements from Season one, I can actually see it a lot better now that I'm taking a second look. We can see that she is standing directly in the line of fire, Jayce is standing to her left and Viktor is sitting in his chair, Jayce's chair. Just about everyone sitting by her right died, Salo is sitting furthest away from the blast, opposite her. He probably saw it just a few seconds before she did.

And when she wakes up, all groggy and out of focus, her hands are on his shoulder. They been there, she did not just put them there, she already had her hands on him. Protecting him.

But what I really want to pay attention to, is the look on Mel's face when she and Jayce take in the damage.

The entire place burned down. Realistically, not a single person should have survived that, especially not unharmed.

Then the damage starts sinking in (Don't look at Jayce, look at Mel):

Look at Mel, as they look around the room of injured Councillors.

Jayce is panicking, full on panicking, he's had his nerves rattled, he's never seen anything like this (unlike Mel who, if the audience remembers, grew up in Noxus). And the sweetest thing is how she follows him around, trying to comfort him, while he's trying to shake Cassandra awake.

And she stays right there by his side, until her mother pulls her away (foreshadowing about their duties pulling them apart perhaps?)

Now, imagine you were in the middle of a disaster, a terrible disaster, and you had the power to save every single person in that room, but you did not know this because no one ever bothered once telling you that you had powers. However, in that moment, you did indeed save one person, without knowing, without even thinking. Who did Mel save?

She saved Jayce. (The craziest thing about that.....is that.... Viktor was literally right beside him. He was right beside Jayce OMG 😭😭).

Watching this scene, I cannot imagine the amount of guilt that threatened to swallow Mel whole ever0y time she saw the aftermath of what happened and a small part of her brain would nag her that she could have prevented it, that she could have protected Jayce's friend.

So why Jayce? Why ONLY Jayce?

"Because she loves him."

Obvious answer, two plus two equals four, but this is Arcane we're talking about, there is more to this simple equation and it is plain to see in their reactions in the aftermath.

Jayce is devastated. He is new to war, he does not know shit about it, it scares him to see all the people that he respects flattened like they are nothing. The Piltover Council means something to Jayce.

To Mel, they are colleagues. They are.... people with names and faces and power. They are people she would help on a normal day, but at the first sign of danger she clung to one person.

Jayce was Viktor's first friend, and he was Mel's too. He was the first person to tell her that she was not crazy. The first person to strangely believe in her dreams, to pour out affection not out of arrogance but genuine care that he was not ashamed or even hesitant to show her. He fought for peace when she began to doubt. When she felt unstable, his naivete and pure heart steadied her.

Mel loved Jayce. Loved him so much that she did not freak out when he was tweaking cause of the Arcane. So much that she fought for him when he was getting outright dominated by his ex. 💀💀 And while it is not the space shattering world changing soul bonded union of javik, I think it is beautiful that Mek loved Jayce.

I think it's ironic that the brotherly love that people keep trying to achieve with Jayce and Viktor was represented so well with Jayce and Mel. I think it's iconic that a male and female character that banged on screen can go their separate ways without a dramatic breakup and without losing the entirety of their care for one another (cause some of it was definitely damaged after their individual trauma).

What I'm trying to say is that Mel loved Jayce. The love was there. Call it romantic or platonic or whatever but she cared about him more than she cared about anyone in that room when that bomb went off.

And it just twists something in my heart....that Jayce was so loved by the two people that meant so much to him. That he gave all of his heart out and they gave everything back because of how selfless his love was. Everyone says Viktor and Mel are out of Jayce's league but they both keep putting him first. (⁠T⁠T⁠) They just cannot resist that all encompassing love of his. It saved Viktor, and it saved Mel who finally found her truth, and lost him to find it.

[kirammanswifey]

《A Love Written in Pain(t)》

Ekko

writer's note: i'm sorry for making my boy suffer again, ekko deserves better but i'm a sucker for drama. anyways, this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow it's mel's turn ;)

link:

warnings: fluff, angst, terminal illness, death of oc, ekko is a romantic sweet talented baby, reader can be a jerk sometimes but she kinda cool sometimes.

The music vibrated in the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint and street food. You had come to the urban festival on a friend's recommendation, but you never imagined it would be an afternoon that would change your life. Artists were filling the city's gray walls with bright colors and messages of hope, and among them, one boy stood out.

His white hair contrasted with his skin, and the agile movement of his hand as he slid paint onto the wall was almost hypnotic. The mural he was creating seemed to come alive with every stroke: a girl holding a broken clock, surrounded by gears that spun toward nowhere. The image had something deeply melancholic about it, as if telling a story only a few could understand.

You watched him from afar, too shy to approach, until he noticed your presence. He turned his head and smiled at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of curiosity and kindness.

"Do you like it?" he asked, coming down from the scaffolding with the same ease he seemed to do everything.

"It’s... impressive. But it also feels sad, like it’s about a loss or something that can't be recovered."

His eyebrows raised slightly, surprised. "That's exactly what I wanted to convey. It’s about time. How we always think we have more of it than we really do, but we never know when it runs out."

His explanation fit perfectly with what you had felt while observing it. "I saw it more like a fight... like she doesn't want to give up, even if the clock is already broken."

For a moment, Ekko seemed to look at you differently, as if measuring something invisible. "I’ve never thought of it that way. I like that perspective. I guess that’s what’s great about art, right? It’s a conversation."

You smiled, feeling for the first time like someone understood how you saw things. "I guess so."

"Do you always analyze strangers' murals?" he joked, a playful smile on his lips.

"Only when they make me feel something," you replied with a hint of shyness, but without looking away.

"Well, then that’s a compliment."

Hours passed, but you didn’t even notice as the sun began to set. Talking with Ekko felt like discovering a song you didn’t know you needed in your life. He told you about his workshop, his passion for helping the community, and his dreams of changing the world, one gadget at a time.

At some point, he asked about your story, and although you weren’t the type to open up easily, you felt like you could be honest with him.

"I work with kids," you began, searching for the right words. "At an orphanage near my university. I like to think I can do something for them, even if it’s small. I’m studying psychology, and I want to help people like them... people who feel alone."

Ekko nodded, as if understanding every word. "That’s amazing. It’s like... you take care of people, and I try to make sure they take care of the world around them. Maybe you should stop by my workshop sometime. I work with kids from the neighborhood, teaching them how to fix things, build gadgets. We could join forces."

The enthusiasm in his voice was contagious, but you couldn’t help feeling a pang of doubt. It had been a long time since you let yourself connect with someone new, for reasons he didn’t need to know.

"Really? You take anyone?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Only if they have a good eye for art and a heart for kids. You seem to qualify."

When you got up to say goodbye, he pulled out his phone and offered you his contact. "In case you decide to visit the workshop."

You took the phone, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. You didn’t know what you were getting into, but something told you that Ekko wasn’t someone you’d easily forget.

By the end of the day, as you walked back home, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His paint-stained hands, his sincere laugh, and that strange connection you felt from the moment he looked at you.

You didn’t know it yet, but you had just met the love of your life.

A few days after the festival, you still couldn’t get Ekko out of your head. There was something about him that fascinated you: the spark in his eyes when he talked about his dreams, the passion behind every word, his way of seeing the world with optimism despite the struggles. You found yourself re-reading the festival brochure and checking his social media profile, where he shared glimpses of his life: videos of his skate tricks, photos of murals filled with messages of resistance, and small clips explaining how to build gadgets. And pictures of him too and... he was kinda cute.

Finally, you decided to message him.

"Hey, I’m the girl from the mural. You said I could come by your workshop... Is the invitation still open?"

The reply came faster than you expected: "Of course. Come by anytime. The kids will be happy to meet you. Does 4 PM today work?"

The workshop was located in an old brick building in a lively neighborhood. The exterior walls were covered in vibrant graffiti that seemed to tell stories. The main entrance had a huge phrase in bold letters: "We build the future together." When you walked through the door, you found yourself in a space that radiated creativity and chaos in perfect harmony. There were tables filled with tools, parts of half-built gadgets, unfinished murals covering the walls, and a group of kids focused while Ekko enthusiastically explained something to them.

When he saw you, his face lit up, he said with sarcasm: "Hey, the mural girl is here!

You blushed.

"I hope I’m not interrupting," you said, feeling a little shy as all eyes turned toward you.

"Not at all. Actually, come here. I want you to see this."

He led you to a table full of small artifacts and technological pieces. "This is my experiment corner," he said, pointing proudly at the mess. "This is where the magic happens, although sometimes the magic is more frustrating than anything else."

The kids started to gather around, curious, and Ekko introduced you with a warmth that made you feel at home. "She works with kids too. She helps them find their way."

One of the younger ones looked at you with bright eyes. "Really? Do you do cool things like Ekko?"

You bent down to their level, smiling. "I don’t build things like he does, but I try to help people find their strength. Sometimes, the most important thing isn’t what we do with our hands, but with our hearts."

Ekko, who had been listening, looked at you with a mix of admiration and tenderness. "That was deep. I’ll have to write that down for my next mural."

Hours passed in the workshop. You helped the kids with their projects, painted a couple of things with Ekko, and learned more about his life. In a moment of calm, while the kids were absorbed in their creations, Ekko sat next to you, a screwdriver in hand and a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You know? This place means a lot to me," he started, his tone more serious than before. "When I was a kid, there was nothing like this in my neighborhood. Growing up here was... complicated. There wasn’t always someone to turn to when things got tough."

"How did you manage to get through it?" you asked, genuinely interested.

Ekko smiled sadly. "It was thanks to my mom. She always told me that, even though we couldn’t change where we were born, we could change what we did with it. She taught me not to give up, to find ways to transform things, even if they were small. When she died... well, I promised myself I’d do something so other kids wouldn’t have to feel as alone as I did."

He paused, fiddling with the screwdriver in his hands. "At first, I didn’t know how. I just knew I wanted to make a difference. That’s when I discovered skateboarding, art, and technology. They were my escapes. And over time, they became my way of communicating, of creating something that mattered."

You felt a lump in your throat listening to his story. There was something about the way he spoke, the vulnerability behind his words, that made every detail come alive. "You’ve done something incredible here, Ekko. This place... it’s not just a workshop. It’s a home."

He looked at you, surprised by your words, then smiled, although his eyes glowed with contained emotion. "Thanks. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing enough. But hearing that... it makes me think maybe I am."

"You’re amazing." You squeezed his hand as a gesture of affection and respect, which made him smile shyly.

When the day ended, Ekko walked you to the door of the workshop. "So, what do you think?"

"I loved it! It’s like a refuge from the world."

He smiled, scratching the back of his neck with some shyness. "I try to make it that way. And I’m glad you came. The kids got along really well with you. They liked you."

"And you?" you asked, before you could stop yourself.

"Me?"

"Do you like me?"

For a moment, he seemed surprised by your question, but then he smiled with that spark in his eyes that you were starting to recognize. "I think so."

You said goodbye with a smile that didn’t leave your face the entire way home, carrying the feeling that, in some way, you had found a place where you belonged.

The afternoon sun bathed the streets in a golden light as you walked toward the park where Ekko had arranged to meet you. You weren’t sure what to expect; when he had suggested it, you thought it would be a simple, casual activity. But when you arrived and saw him carrying two skateboards, a mischievous smile on his face, you realized this wasn’t going to be any ordinary day.

“Are you ready to become a professional skater in just one afternoon?” Ekko asked, raising an eyebrow as he held a helmet in one hand and a board in the other.

“Professional? I can barely stay on my feet without falling,” you replied, laughing nervously.

“That’s what makes it fun,” he said, walking up to you to adjust your helmet. His fingers brushed your skin as he fastened it, and you noticed his movements were unnecessarily slow, as if he were looking for an excuse to be closer to you.

“And you? Are you going to wear a helmet or trust your legendary skill?”

Ekko shrugged, smiling to the side. “Nah, I was born for this.”

“Sure, sure,” you replied, nudging him with your shoulder.

The park had a wide track with ramps and flatter areas where beginners could practice. Ekko led you to one of these areas and began with a quick lesson.

“First, keep your feet steady. Don’t look down, look where you want to go. The board will follow your intentions.”

“My intentions? What am I, a witch controlling the skateboard with my mind?”

Ekko laughed. “Something like that. Though, if you were a witch, you’d probably have learned how to fly on this thing by now.”

You tried to follow his instructions, but on your first attempt, the board shot out from under you, and you ended up on the ground.

“Hey, hey! Are you okay?” Ekko was by your side in a second, kneeling next to you as he tried to hold back his laughter.

“I’m fine,” you said, though you could barely stop laughing. “I think the board hates me.”

“No, you just have to conquer it. Look.” He jumped onto his skateboard with a fluidity that seemed to defy gravity. He glided smoothly along the track, doing small tricks to impress you. “See? You just need confidence.”

“Of course, confidence is the only thing I’m lacking,” you joked.

After several attempts, you started to improve. You managed to stay on the board for more than a few seconds, though falls were still frequent. Every time you fell, Ekko was there, offering a hand to help you up, his face a mixture of concern and amusement.

After a while, both of you sat on a nearby bench to rest. Ekko took out his phone and began searching for something in his playlist.

“I’ve got the perfect song for this moment,” he said, setting it to play on the speaker.

Tyler, the Creator’s melodic voice filled the air with the song "See You Again." Ekko looked at you with a smile that seemed to hold something more than just fun.

“Why this song?” you asked, trying to interpret the meaning behind his choice.

“It reminds me of you,” he replied, his tone more serious than you expected.

You paused for a moment, allowing the music to fill the space between you. You knew there was something in his words, something he was trying to say without saying it. But instead of confronting it, you chose to laugh, avoiding the weight of the moment.

“Wow, Ekko, if you wanted to dedicate me a song, you could’ve chosen something less obvious,” you joked, pretending not to notice the gleam in his eyes.

He smiled, but there was something in his expression that made you feel a slight pang of guilt. You knew he was trying to open up to you, and you had deflected it.

As the afternoon went on, the topic faded, but a subtle tension lingered in the air. It wasn’t just about him; it was also about you. There was something you couldn’t share with Ekko, something that weighed on you more with each passing day. Your illness wasn’t an easy topic, especially now when you were just starting to get to know each other.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye as you both walked toward the graffiti area of the park.

“I’m not quiet. I’m… thinking.”

“About what?”

“How easy it is to be with you,” you said without thinking. The sincerity in your words took him by surprise, and you could see his expression soften.

“Well, I’m glad it’s easy. But if you ever need to talk about something hard, I’m here too,” he said, his voice filled with warmth that made you feel guilty.

“Thanks,” was all you managed to respond.

Days later, Ekko took you to the graffiti area. He had been working on something in secret and didn’t want to tell you what it was until he finished.

“Ready to see how I see you?”

When you turned the corner and saw the mural, you were left speechless. It was your face, captured with an astonishing level of detail. Your hair seemed to move with the breeze, and your eyes were filled with a light you didn’t recognize at first. Around your face, Ekko had painted details that only the two of you would understand: small rays of light that seemed to represent hope, and a golden phrase that read:

“Life is short, but art is eternal.”

“Ekko…” you murmured, unable to find words to describe how you felt.

“This is what I see when I look at you. You're art,” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal.

The mural was more than just an image. It was a reflection of how he saw you: as someone bright, unique, and irreplaceable. As you looked at it, you promised yourself that one day you would tell him the truth, even though you feared losing what you had.

The morning began with Ekko knocking on your door, carrying a huge box that almost covered his face.

"Are you going to let me in, or am I staying here decorating the hallway?" he said, balancing the box.

You laughed, opening the door wide. "What do you have there? A corpse?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, baby" he joked, walking in and setting the box on the table.

Baby, that's how he was used to call you now. It didn't felt wrong, in fact, you liked it. It felt so good when he said it to you. It made you feel special. It made you feel loved. It made you feel his.

"It's for tomorrow's event. We're going to need a lot of help to make sure everything goes smoothly."

"An event? What are you talking about?"

Ekko leaned forward, resting on the table with a smile that combined enthusiasm and a bit of nervousness. "It's for the kids in the neighborhood. I'm organizing a sort of fair. Games, music, food... you know, something to help them forget for a while everything that's going on down here."

The morning passed organizing ideas. Ekko had an almost contagious energy, moving around your apartment like a whirlwind while making lists, dividing tasks, and talking about his plans.

"So, what do you think of a painting workshop? We could get some cheap canvases and brushes. I'm sure the kids would love to express themselves that way."

"I love it," you replied, watching his face light up. "How do you have so much energy for this?"

"It's important," he said, his tone turning more serious. "These kids... a lot of them don't have anyone who really shows them that they matter. If I can do something to change that, even for just one day, I will."

Your heart tightened as you listened to his words. There was something deeply inspiring about his dedication, how he used his own pain as fuel to improve the lives of others.

"So, where do I fit into all of this?" you asked, crossing your arms with a smile.

"Simple. You're my right hand. Plus, no one can resist your brilliant ideas and that smile of yours," he said, winking before turning back to focus on his plans.

In the afternoon, Ekko took you to his loft to check out some materials he had gathered for the event. His home was filled with curious objects: disassembled tech pieces, unfinished paintings, and notebooks full of sketches and notes.

"This place is like your brain made into physical space," you commented, looking around with a mix of awe and amusement.

"Is that a compliment?"

"Definitely."

You went up to the roof, where there was a small area Ekko had transformed into a personal retreat. There, he showed you his next project: a portable device designed to help people with motor disabilities perform everyday tasks with greater ease.

"How does it work?" you asked, taking the gadget in your hands.

"It's a prototype," he explained, sitting next to you. "The idea is for it to adapt to different needs. For example, someone with trouble holding objects could use it for a firmer grip. It's simple, but it could make a difference."

You looked at him, impressed. "Ekko, this is amazing. How did you come up with it?"

"I guess... I've always wanted to fix things. People, places, systems... whatever." He paused, looking at the horizon. "I don't know, I feel like it's the only thing I really know how to do."

The sincerity in his voice moved you. "You're not fixing things, Ekko. You're improving them. That's something very different."

Later, as you both worked on the final details for the event, Ekko looked at you with an intensity that made you feel uneasy.

"Can I ask you something?" he finally said, breaking the silence.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you always keep your distance? Sometimes I feel like you're here, but at the same time, you're not. Like there's something you don't want me to see."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't expect Ekko to be so direct.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, his voice firmer. "I've noticed how you avoid certain topics, how you change the conversation when something gets too personal. Is it that you don't trust me?"

"It's not that," you replied, feeling the frustration building inside you. "There are just things I don't need to share. Not everything has to be so... open."

"Not with me?"

His question hit you like a punch to the stomach. You stood up from the chair, unable to stay seated under his probing gaze. "Ekko, it's not as simple as you think."

"Then explain it," he said, standing up as well. "Because from here, it seems like you're more concerned with what you're hiding than with what we have."

What you two had was complicated. You weren't friends, you were more than that, but you weren't a couple either. It was complicated. And you didn't like to think about complicated things.

"You have no idea what you're saying!"

The raised tone of your voice surprised both of you. You felt the stress and physical exhaustion begin to take their toll. Your vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet.

"Baby, are you okay?" Ekko stepped toward you, but before he could reach you, your legs gave out.

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was the sound of his voice, filled with panic.

You opened your eyes under a cold, white light. The smell of disinfectant confirmed what you feared: you were in a hospital. You turned your head and saw Ekko sitting next to your bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands intertwined.

The room was silent, only broken by the soft sound of the monitor marking the rhythm of your breathing. The sunlight filtered through the hospital window, creating patterns on the floor, but the calm was deceiving. You knew Ekko was worried, hurt, but what worried you the most was what Ekko had started to suspect. You couldn’t keep hiding it, and you knew the time to talk had come.

Ekko had probably been sitting in the chair next to your bed for hours, staring at the wall, lost in thoughts that seemed to consume him. You didn’t know if he hated you or if he was just trying to process what had just happened. After all, you had fallen unconscious in his arms, leaving him with a heavier emotional burden than any gadget prototype or community event. Now, he was paying the price for your secret.

“Ekko?”

He quickly lifted his head, and the mix of relief and worry on his face broke your heart.

When he finally spoke, his voice wasn’t the same as usual. There was something broken in it.

“Baby, what’s going on? What haven’t you told me? The doctor... the doctor told me that...”

It was obvious that the doctor had given him more details than you had wanted to share. You hadn’t planned on opening up to him like this. But something in his gaze, the clear worry, and the deep sadness, made you say what you had kept hidden for so long.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you said, taking a deep breath. “The illness I have has no cure.”

After a long silence, and before everything could completely fall apart, you decided to explain more deeply about the illness that was consuming you because you knew Ekko needed to understand it fully, even though you weren’t sure you could save what was left between you both.

“Ekko… what I have is a rare, autoimmune disease. My immune system is attacking my own organs. It’s called Systemic Lupus Erythematosus, and there’s no cure. It’s like my body is fighting against me all the time, little by little.”

Ekko stared at you in silence, as if he couldn’t process every word. He knew that everything you had said before, although important, wasn’t enough to understand what was really happening.

“When?” he asked, his voice tense, almost inaudible. “Since when?”

“I started feeling bad when I was 23,” you continued, your voice trembling. “It hurt all the time, and the fever wouldn’t go away. At first, I thought it was something temporary. But then I fainted once, and that’s when they admitted me to the hospital. That’s when they told me that what was happening in my body was much worse than I imagined. From there, my life completely changed. My body wasn’t mine anymore. I lost energy, I lost weight, and the flare-ups became more frequent. It’s like my body is in a constant war, and there’s no way to win it.”

The feeling of vulnerability overwhelmed you as Ekko, standing at the door, continued to look at you with a mix of disbelief and pain.

But before he could say anything, you threw out one last statement that seemed to come from the deepest part of your soul:

“And I don’t know how much time I have left, Ekko. I just know that I can’t live knowing I’m dragging you with me.”

Ekko stood still for a moment, processing your words. His breathing became heavier, as if an invisible weight had fallen on him. Finally, his eyes sought yours, and what he saw in them wasn’t surprise. It was like, somehow, he already knew, as if he had sensed it all this time.

“Your parents?” Ekko asked again, his eyes fixed on you, searching for answers that you couldn’t hide anymore.

“My parents don’t know,” you said, letting out a sigh that seemed to come from deep within. “They have no idea. How am I going to tell them that? How am I going to tell them? No… I don’t want them to see me as a project they need to save. I want them to see me for who I am, to see me as their daughter, not as a broken thing they need to take care of. I don’t want to be a burden. I’m not going to be a burden.”

Ekko looked at you, his eyes filled with frustration, but also with a sadness so deep that it made you question whether he really knew you as well as you thought.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide all of this from me? Did you think you could protect me from the truth? What were you really protecting—me or yourself?”

The punch of his words was like a gut punch. The wound you had tried to seal with lies and evasions started to bleed, and the emotion overflowed in you like a river that couldn’t be stopped.

“I don’t know…” you stammered, tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know, Ekko. I wanted… I wanted all of this to keep being normal. For it not to be so… so heavy. I wanted to do everything I’ve always wanted to do before… before it ended. I wanted to leave my mark on the world before I’m gone, to leave something that was worth it.”

Ekko began to pace back and forth. His frustration became more palpable, but there was something else in his attitude, something you hadn’t recognized at first.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” he yelled, and the vehemence in his words made everything in the room feel even denser. “I don’t understand why you had to carry all of this alone. Why did you shut me out, baby? Why did you make me believe that everything was okay?”

“Because it was easier that way,” you said, the words tumbling out. “Because what’s happening inside me… how do you explain that to someone who doesn’t understand? How do I explain that my body is already losing the battle, that I won’t be here much longer, that everything I touch will fade?”

The anger in Ekko’s eyes faded for a second, and what remained was a sadness so deep it seemed to swallow the light in the room.

“And what about me, baby?” he said, his voice softer, more broken. “What about us? Did you really think I didn’t care? Did you really think I could go on without knowing what’s happening to you? That I could keep smiling and helping you as if nothing was going to change?”

At that moment, something inside you broke. Without thinking, the words left your mouth, sharp and like a dagger:

“Stop looking for it in me, Ekko. I’m not your mother. I’m not her. Don’t project that onto me! I don’t want to be the memory of what you lost. I don’t want to carry that responsibility, or the guilt of not being what you expected.”

The words hung in the air, and the silence that followed was unbearable. Ekko took a step back, his face contorting with a mix of pain and confusion. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“How could you say that?” he whispered, his voice broken, as if every word he spoke cost him more than the last. “I never ‘projected’ her onto you. It’s just… I don’t want you to keep pushing me away. I don’t want you to keep hiding your fears from me.”

And then, both of you stood there, in that emotional abyss that neither of you knew how to cross. Frustration, fear, love, and sadness intertwined in the room, as if time had stopped completely.

Finally, the silence became unbearable. You sat up in bed, defeated, while Ekko turned and walked toward the door. His body tense, his breathing ragged, and the pain in his face made him feel more real than ever.

Before leaving, he stopped and looked at you one last time. “If you had used your psychology for yourself instead of for everyone else, maybe you could’ve avoided this.”

The door slammed behind him with a dull thud, and you were left there, alone, with the echo of his words ringing in your ears.

Time had passed. The days and nights blurred into a mixture of conflicting feelings, unfinished memories, and a void that both of them tried to fill without success. The argument between Ekko and you had left deep scars, although both of you knew it couldn't be the end. Not for you. However, there was something neither of you had been able to face: fear. Fear of love, fear of tragedy, and fear of losing each other before either of you expected it.

You had distanced yourself for a week. A week that had been heavier than you ever imagined. In every corner, in every solitary moment, in every thought, Ekko was there, like a persistent shadow. No matter what you did, how you tried to ignore him, the emptiness left by his departure enveloped you more and more. You tried to convince yourself it was for the best, that moving on without him was the right thing to do. But you were lying to yourself, you knew you couldn't continue without him. Not that way.

Finally, after days of deliberation, finding the strength to face your own fear, you decided to go find him. You had to talk to him, make amends, and make a decision. If you were going to die, you would do it without regrets, without leaving words unsaid, or missed opportunities. You wouldn’t care about the shadows of the future, but you couldn’t keep living with the weight of silence between you two.

You found yourself standing in front of his door, hands trembling and heart pounding in your chest. You knew what you had to say, what you wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in your throat.

The door slowly opened, and there he was, Ekko, with that gaze that, though intense, still carried a hint of sadness. There was something in his face that told you he had been searching for you in his mind as well, though his eyes didn't yet recognize it.

"Ekko…" you finally said, your voice trembling, "I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Without saying a word, Ekko took a step back and opened the door, inviting you inside. The atmosphere in the room was heavier than you remembered, as if everything unsaid still lingered in the air.

You stood in front of him, your eyes fixed on his, while the words that needed to come out didn't come immediately. But in the end, you decided.

"Ekko, I know I failed you. I know, and I’m deeply sorry. It was never my intention, it never was." You took a deep breath, struggling to control the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "But I'm here because… because I need to know if you're still willing to fight with me. If you're willing to continue this battle, to stay by my side for as long as I can."

Ekko stared at you for a moment, his face impassive, but his gaze was full of something you couldn’t decipher. There was a long pause, and then, with a sincerity that made you shiver, he responded:

"I’ve always been willing, baby. From the moment I met you, I’ve been willing to fight for you, for what we have. I don’t care what comes, I don’t care how long it is. What matters to me is that you don’t leave, that you don’t leave me behind."

Those words were everything you needed. No more doubts, no more fears. You embraced his answer with your soul, with the certainty that, finally, both of you were ready to accept the truth. The truth of who you were, what you felt, and what the future held for you.

From that day on, things changed. Although you knew each moment was a fleeting gift, you decided to make the most of it. Ekko never stopped being by your side, and you did the same for him. You were determined to live intensely, no matter how short the life you had left. And he, he was willing to love you until the end.

He accompanied you to every medical appointment, always with a smile, always willing to do anything to lighten the pain caused by the treatment. The hospital visits weren’t easy, but his presence made everything more bearable. He held your hand before entering the consultations, hugged you after every diagnosis, and never let the moments of uncertainty crush you.

"I don’t want you to be afraid," you said one day, after one of your doctor visits, while walking together through the streets, taking a break at a small café. "But I know you feel it. I know every time we go in there, it kills you a little inside."

Ekko looked at you, his gaze full of both pain and tenderness. "It’s not fear," he replied, his voice soft. "It’s not knowing how to save you. I don’t know what to do when I see you so fragile. All I can do is be here, by your side."

And that was enough. Even though both of you knew you couldn’t stop time, nor the illness, what you could do was share every second, every laugh, every small victory, and every defeat.

But it wasn’t only moments of pain and fear. There were also moments of joy, of beauty, and of creation.

Together, you started working on the project you both dreamed of—the gadget you had envisioned, which could change the way the world saw technology. Even though your health was becoming more fragile, Ekko made sure you didn’t stop. You worked side by side, sharing ideas, making decisions, and facing obstacles, but always together. It was your way of fighting, of resisting, of holding on to life amidst the chaos.

One day, while working on the final design, Ekko surprised you with an idea. "How about, in addition to all this, we paint something? Something that’s ours, something that represents what we’re doing together."

At first, you didn’t completely understand what he meant, but soon you did. Together, you would create something more than just a gadget. You would paint a mural, one that symbolized not only your dreams and love, but also the struggle you shared. The mural would represent life, love, and hope, even though you knew time was limited.

In your mind, that mural became the testament of your story, a reminder of what you had built together. The colors shone on the wall, the shapes wild and beautiful, just like your love. The mural wasn’t just a work of art, but also a promise. The promise that, no matter what else might crumble, your love would never fade. No matter how much time you had left.

The last strokes were made one sunny afternoon, in a deep, shared silence. The piece was finished, and as you stepped back to admire it in its entirety, both of you knew you didn’t need words to understand what it meant.

The mural was more than a reminder of your love; it was a testament to what you had built together, of how, even in the darkness, you had found light. Though the future remained uncertain, the mural would stay there, eternal, as a trace of what once was and would always be.

As the days passed, time seemed to grow more valuable, more scarce. You knew that every minute spent with Ekko was a gift. And although illness had taken much from you, it had given you something you never imagined: a deep, real love that feared no tragedy.

One afternoon, while resting together in his loft, Ekko looked at you seriously, more serious than you’d seen him in a long time. In a soft voice, almost as if afraid of the answer, he asked:

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

You paused for a few seconds, feeling the weight of the question. But in that moment, something inside you broke. You smiled tenderly, a smile full of love and resignation.

"Ekko," you said softly, moving closer to him, "we’re so much more than that."

The smile he gave you was the answer both of you needed. You didn’t need labels, you didn’t need promises of an uncertain future. The only thing that mattered was that, in that instant, you shared something so deep and real that it didn’t need to be defined by words.

And, without another word, your lips met in a first kiss, a kiss full of love, despair, and hope. A kiss that marked the beginning of what both of you knew would be a short story, but one that would last a lifetime in your hearts.

The weeks following the reconciliation were a whirlwind of emotions. Even though you knew time was running out, you decided to live each moment with Ekko as if it were the last, because in reality, it was. Sometimes, the smiles were forced, but in the most sincere moments, you could see in his eyes the reflection of a love so strong it took your breath away. Every time he looked at you, every time he held your hand, there was a mix of hope and pain, but neither of you wanted to face the inevitable.

The illness progressed rapidly. Every day, your body seemed to fall apart a little more. The doctors had told you, warned you, but you never imagined how quickly the end would come. You had learned to live with the pain, the fatigue, the moments of weakness, but nothing had prepared you to see Ekko closely watching the changes happening inside you.

You had already told your parents about it, and when you did it he was there with you, by your side, ride or die. And of course they didn't take it well, but there was nothing they could do. They just let you be happy with Ekko.

Sometimes, when you woke up in the morning, you’d see him sitting beside you, his gaze lost in some undefined point, as if he were waiting for you to wake up from the shared dream. He’d ask you how you were feeling, and you’d always say you were fine, even though the truth was you could barely bear the weight of your own body.

You saw him trying to distract you, taking you to places that made you happy, but you knew nothing could escape that reality. He didn’t want to accept what was happening, and neither did you, but neither of you wanted to say it out loud. No one wanted to mention what was already so obvious.

That night, after another doctor’s appointment that you could barely endure, you lay down hoping to rest, even though it was becoming harder and harder to find deep sleep. Your body no longer responded the way it used to, and the symptoms had started affecting you more brutally. You could barely move your hands without feeling pain, your breathing grew more labored with every effort, but you kept smiling. You had to, not only for Ekko, but for yourself.

Ekko was sitting beside you in the chair he always occupied when taking care of you. His presence was as comforting as it was painful. You knew he was holding onto every fragment of his strength to not show you how devastated he was, but you could feel it in his eyes. He gently stroked your hair and whispered, as though afraid that if he spoke any louder, everything would collapse.

“I promise we’ll get through this. Together, we’ll make it. I won’t let you leave me, not without a fight.”

You looked at him, knowing he was struggling not to cry. But his words, although full of love, only reminded you of the harsh reality. There was no more time for promises, no more room for fighting. The end was near, and you knew it.

“Ekko…” you said, your voice weak. “You don’t have to fight anymore. I’ve loved you so much, you know that, right?”

His eyes filled with tears, but he made an effort to smile. “I know. I know, baby. And I love you more than words can say.”

But what you didn’t know was that, at that very moment, Ekko was also fighting his own pain. While you rested, trying to gather some strength, he was in the workshop, working frantically on the gadget, the project you both had shared. The same gadget that, in his mind, represented everything you had built together. The gadget wasn’t just an object. It was the manifestation of what you two could accomplish when united, when you fought as a team.

Ekko knew the gadget couldn’t save you. He knew nothing could save you. But still, he felt that if he finished that project, a piece of you would remain. A trace of the hope you had brought into his life.

Hours passed, and the night stretched on in heavy silence. Ekko was so focused on his work that he didn’t realize time was slipping away. The light in the workshop flickered as he soldered pieces, making adjustments, checking everything over and over, as if somehow he could turn back time, change the course of history. But he knew he couldn’t.

When he finally gave up on the gadget, exhausted from the intensity of the night and the weight of worry, he went up to the bedroom. He wanted to see you, wanted to make sure you were still breathing, even though he already feared what he might find. He entered the room with the hope that, by some miracle, everything had changed. But what he found was the silhouette of your body lying still. In the absolute silence of the room, Ekko slowly approached, his heart pounding, and when he reached your side, he touched your hand gently. It was cold. Too cold.

The shock paralyzed him for a second. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t accept that you were no longer there, by his side, where you had always been. He looked at you, observing your pale face, your peaceful expression, as if you were simply sleeping, but deep down, he knew there was no turning back.

Desperation washed over him. The pain hit him so hard it felt as though his chest would explode. How was it possible? How could something so beautiful, so real, vanish in the blink of an eye?

He knelt by the bed, gripping your hand tightly, as if by doing so, he could bring you back to life. “You can’t go,” he whispered, his voice breaking with the tears he could no longer hold back. “Not now. Not like this.”

But deep in his heart, he knew it was the end. He knew he couldn’t bring back what was already gone. He couldn’t revive the irreparable. And for the first time in his life, Ekko didn’t have a solution, he didn’t have a plan. All that was left was the pain, and that painful acceptance that it was all over.

In the following week, Ekko lived in a limbo. No one saw him, no one knew how to face his pain. Memories of you were everywhere. In the bed where you slept, in the gadget he completed, in the mural you painted together, in the streets where you both walked, always hand in hand. Everything that had once been a dream was now just an echo, a shadow.

Sometimes he’d find himself in front of your photo, the smile you shared on a random afternoon, one that he could no longer remember without the lump in his throat becoming unbearable. The reality hit him harder each time: you were no longer there.

Ekko became a shadow of himself. His mind still searched for you, as though somehow you might return, as though he could find a way to save you. But nothing could change what had happened.

In his darkest moments, Ekko would remember the last words you had said: “I’ve loved you so much.” Those words gave him strength to keep going, to not give up completely. Though the pain was unbearable, he had loved you, and that was something he would never forget.

And with the gadget in his hand, looking at the mural you both painted, Ekko made a promise, a silent promise: he would live to honor what you shared. He wouldn’t let your death be in vain. Your love, your fight, your story would live on in his heart, forever.

The city, as always, continued its course, indifferent to everything Ekko had lost, to everything that had changed in his world. But for him, the day was no longer just a succession of hours; every second was a struggle to find something that gave his pain and love meaning.

Months had passed since you left, but it felt like your absence was so recent, so sharp, that Ekko couldn't stop feeling that his entire being was stuck between life and death. No matter how much time had passed, your image was engraved in his mind, not as a memory, but as a constant presence, a voice whispering in his ear, as if you had never left.

Today, in particular, everything seemed to pull him back to the pieces of his pain. The project you had worked on together, the gadget, was finally ready. After so many sleepless nights, so much effort and sacrifice, the moment to present it had arrived. It had been a creation of love, passion, and farewell. A tribute to you, to what you shared, to what still remained of you in his heart.

Ekko walked with firm steps toward the community event where he would present the gadget. Around him, the people, some curious, others hopeful to see the result of years of teamwork. But he couldn't see them. He couldn't see beyond his own thoughts, the image of you floating in his mind. Sometimes, he thought that everything he had done in the past few months was just a way to avoid facing the truth: that you were gone and that, despite everything, life had to go on.

He entered the venue, a large hall filled with tables covered in technology, art, and brilliant inventions. The gadget was there, on a pedestal, waiting to be presented. Ekko stared at it in silence for a moment, recalling every afternoon spent working on it together. The design was sleek, full of details that reflected his intelligence and your ability to come up with unimaginable solutions. It was more than just a gadget; it was a piece of you, a piece of what they had been together.

The event began, and Ekko, with a calm that only he could have, presented his creation. He explained, with soft but firm words, how the idea had been born, how you had been the spark of inspiration for something that transcended technology and reached the heart. As he spoke, the words intertwined with memories, with your laughter, your jokes, the long nights spent debating the design, the future, and what they wanted to do. Every word felt like a sigh from the past, a sigh that tried to make the present make sense.

But inside him, Ekko knew that everything he was doing was just an echo of what had been. What remained was the emptiness, the absence you had left in his life.

When he finished, he stepped away from the stage, letting the gadget speak for itself. No one in the room understood what that creation really meant. No one knew how much it had cost, not in terms of hours of work, but in terms of love, sacrifice, and farewell. They didn’t understand that every screw, every adjustment, had been made with the hope that, in some way, it would bring you back, even if only for a second.

After the presentation, Ekko moved away from the bustle, walking slowly toward a secluded corner of the city. There, on the wall, was the first mural that he painted of you. The mural was a mural of love, hope, and pain. A mural that reflected every laugh they shared, every glance, every moment they had lived together. In the mural, you were more than just a figure; you were a story told in colors and shapes, in every stroke Ekko had made, in every brushstroke you had guided. The mural wasn’t just art; it was a piece of his soul, his heart, of you.

When Ekko stopped in front of the mural, the wind gently blew, moving some fallen leaves on the ground. His eyes, moist, traced every part of the painting, as if he were searching for something he would never find. He remembered how you had smiled while he was painting you, how you had loved it so much when he showed it to you.

The mural showed a version of you that was etched in his memory. He saw you, with your serene smile and your eyes full of dreams and desires. But what really stood out in the mural was your figure, as if everything else was just a stage for you, for what you meant in his life.

"We did it, baby," Ekko whispered, as if he could hear your voice responding, as if you were still there. "We did it together. Everything we dreamed, everything we wanted... we did it."

His tears began to fall, one by one, flowing like a torrent he could no longer hold back. His heart broke once more, but there was something in the sadness of that moment that gave him a strange sense of peace. Maybe it was because he finally understood that, even though you had gone, the love you shared could not disappear. Love doesn’t vanish with death; it stays, like a shadow that always follows the light. In the mural, in the gadget, in his memories, you would always be a part of him, forever.

Ekko stepped away from the mural, glancing one last time at the figure that now represented everything he had lost. He looked toward the future, toward the horizon, where the lights were beginning to flicker on, and the streets once again filled with people who knew nothing of what he had been through. An uncertain future, but a future he would have to face, because at the end of the day, what really mattered was how he would live after the loss.

With the image of the mural etched in his mind, Ekko moved forward. And in his heart, a promise: he would never forget what you both shared, he would never forget the legacy you left, and he would move forward with the strength of your love, because now he understood that love didn’t die, it transformed, just like art does. Like you did.

[morgana-larkin]

First off I LOVEEEE YOUR WRITING

Second off I have an angst request! I don’t know the specifics but it can be based off of one step forward and two steps back by Olivia Rodrigo!! And like Mel is not appreciative of the reader until the reader leaves her to focus on her mental!!

Thank you for loving my writing! ❤️ So I’ll be honest and I got a writer’s block while writing this. I got inspiration randomly but it came and went. I did listen to the song a bit on repeat along with her songs ‘good 4 u’ and ‘get him back’ , hope it’s not terrible. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I’m almost done the next chapter of ‘Worth It’. I am busy over the weekend so I won’t get a lot of writing done but I’ll try and get at least the next chapter out.

Doubt

Warnings: bit of toxic Mel at the beginning, angst, fluff, dancing

Words: 5k

You called Melissa on the phone, knowing she should be home by now from work. She picks up the phone on the second ring.

“Hey y/n.”

“Hi Melissa, how was work?”

“It was fine.” Is all she said, she never bothers to ask it back but you always tell her anyway.

“Alright, I had a pretty ok day.”

“Did you call to rub it in my face that you had a better day?” She says and you don’t know where that came from but you don’t point it out.

“No, just called to talk to you. Want me to come over to help cheer you up?”

“Sure.” Melissa says and you hang up after telling her that you’re on your way.

You arrive and knock on the door. Melissa answers it and lets you in right away. She pushes you up against the door and makes out with you for a few minutes. After she strips you both of your clothing when you reach her bed. She pounds all her frustration into you with the dildo you. You come 3 times before she comes herself.

“Feel better?” You ask her and she nods.

“Ya, thanks.” She tells you.

“Of course.” You tell her.

After a couple hours, you go home. You sometimes feel a bit like Melissa treats you like a casual sex partner. You love her and you’ve told her a few times but she’s never said it back before. You two have been going out for about 4 months now, and you were happy at first but now it’s starting to weigh you down. This time you don’t tell her you love her before you get in the car, you just get in your car and drive away.

You send her a good morning text like you do every morning but you don’t receive anything back. It’s always a gamble if you receive a text back or not.

You go to see her that afternoon after you’re both done work but this time she doesn’t let you in.

“What are you doing here?” She asks you.

“I wanted to see you so I came over to see you.” You tell her.

“I didn’t tell you that you could.” She tells you and your face drops.

“Oh, sorry to bother you.” You tell her and you turn around and leave. She shuts the door before you get to your car. You send her a good morning text every morning this week but she doesn’t reply. You send her one on Saturday morning and you tell yourself if she doesn’t reply then you’ll leave her. She isn’t acting like a loving partner, she hasn’t even said it back, maybe it’s because she doesn’t love you. Maybe she does see you as more of a casual sex partner.

She doesn’t reply to your text so you go to see her that night. You pull up to her driveway and knock on the door. She answers and she’s wondering why you’re there.

“Y/n why are you here again?” She says to you.

“I’ll be quick.” You tell her and she looks confused. “Melissa, I don’t know what kind of thing this is between us but it’s not what I thought it would be.” You start and she still looks at you confused. “I thought it would be a loving relationship but it seems that you just see me as a casual sex partner. And that’s not what I want with you. So I’m ending it with you.” You tell her and she looks at you shocked. Before she says anything, you bolt out of there.

Melissa stands there shocked for a couple minutes. She then carefully closes her front door and leans against it and takes a deep breath.

*rewind to the phone call. Melissa’s side*

She sees you calling and takes a deep breath, she’s had a shit day and doesn’t want to get angry at you. She still picks up though.

“Hey y/n.” She says, trying to remain casual.

“Hi Melissa, how was work?” You tell her a bit cheerfully.

“It was fine.” She doesn’t ask you about yours. She wants to distance herself from you. She’s developing big feelings for you and she doesn’t know what to do with it. You’re so young and beautiful, she doesn’t know why you’re still with her.

“Alright, I had a pretty ok day.” You tell her and a bit of anger escapes her.

“Did you call to rub it in my face that you had a better day than me?” She asks you and then mentally facepalms.

“No, just called to talk to you.” You tell her and she thinks you’re too good for her. “Want me to come over to help cheer you up?” You offer her and she knows she should say no.

“Sure.” She lets slip out and she facepalms, she’s supposed to be distancing herself, not letting you come over. You happily tell her you’re on your way and then hang up.

When you come over she pushes you against the door. She missed you and to throw her shit day into the mix, she has your clothes off quickly. It isn’t much longer until she’s pounding the dildo into you, letting her anger, frustration and love into it. You go home after a little bit and she watches you walk away and she looks down. She slowly closes the door and leans against it. She hears you turn your car on and pull away. She lets out a deep breath and a tear slips down her cheek.

She gets a good morning text from you the next morning and she groans. She gets one from you every morning and it’s so sweet and she curses at herself every morning. Why did the universe have to send her someone so young that she definitely doesn’t deserve. She doesn’t reply to you, and it hurts her every time. She knows she should break up with you instead of treating you like this, but she doesn’t have the heart to let you go.

You came over to see her the following day and she sends you away, she’s still mad at herself for letting you over yesterday. She doesn’t want to mess with your head but she can’t help it sometimes. She’s only human and she misses you and in those vulnerable times, it slips through.

She gets a text from you the rest of the week, even on Saturday.

She knows on Saturday that she should be planning dates with you like you guys used to do but she doesn’t. She spends the day by herself and thinking about you throughout most of the day. That night she hears a knock on her door and she goes to answer it. She didn’t expect to see you there when she answers it. Inside, she’s excited to see you again. On the outside, she’s neutral about it.

“Y/n why are you here again?” She tells you and it breaks her a bit to say that.

“I’ll be quick.” You tell her and she’s confused but lets you continue. “Melissa, I don’t know what kind of thing this is between us but it’s not what I thought it would be.” You continue and she has a feeling she knows where this is going and lets you continue. “I thought it would be a loving relationship but it seems that you just see me as a casual sex partner. And that’s not what I want with you. So I’m ending it with you.” You tell her and even if she was expecting this, it still hurts her and she’s shocked.

A million things run through her mind, what should she say? Should she try and make it up to you and get you back? Should she let you go? Before she makes up her mind, you bolt out of there and drive away. She stands there looking at where you were just standing and she’s defeated. She then carefully closes her front door and leans against it and takes a deep breath. She slides down the door to the ground. She turns to her side against it and leans her head against the door “I love you too y/n.” She says to the air and cries.

The next day she’s curled on the couch and stares at her phone, debating if she should text or call you or to let you live your life without her. After all, isn’t this what she wanted? For you to leave her so you can live your life? It is what she wanted, she reminds herself, it still hurts though.

You got home after ending it with Melissa and cry when you get home. You had to do it, she was messing with your head and you have to protect your mental health. The next day you spend all day thinking about her. The first 2 months was great, then you told her you love her and that’s when things started to change. When she started to change.

You did nothing on Sunday, then you went to work on Monday. You walked in the building and went to your desk. A couple hours later you hear a knock on your door and you look up. You see Janine there with a smile.

“What’s up Janine?” You ask her.

“Well I wanted to run something by you before I go to the meeting and bring it up with everyone else.” She tells you and you let her sit and go through it with you.

You and Janine became quick friends at the district. You went with Janine to go to Abbott quite a few times and that’s how you met Melissa. No one knew about your relationship with her. Melissa preferred to keep it a secret and you went along with it cause most relationships with people are a secret at first until it becomes official. But then Melissa wanted to keep it secret and you knew she preferred to keep her personal life private.

Janine runs by what she wanted to bring up to everyone else. You gave her a couple tips about it and told her that it’s great.

On Monday the next week, Janine knocks on your door again.

“Hey Janine.”

“Hey y/n, so they want us to go to Abbott and keep an eye on the librarian program for a few days.” She tells you and you pale. Abbott. Where Melissa is.

“Starting when?” You ask her.

“Um like right now.” She tells you and you sigh.

“Ok let me finish this up, and we can go. It shouldn’t take me more than 15 minutes.” You tell her and she nods and goes.

The two of you arrive at Abbott 45 minutes later. You walk in through the front door and a few memories come back. They used to be happy memories but now they just bring you down.

You check in at the front desk and you make it to the library for the meeting during lunch to introduce the librarian. You walk in with Janine and all eyes go on the both of you. Janine takes centre stage and you see everyone look at her. You take notes about what’s talked about and you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you the entire time. You look up and don’t see anyone staring at you but that feeling doesn’t go away the whole time. You see Melissa there next to Barb but she seems neutral like always.

“Y/n and I will oversee the librarian program for the entire week. If you have any questions, complaints or concerns about it then come to one of us.” Janine says then all the teachers are dismissed.

*Melissa*

Melissa was sitting in the library next to Barb, waiting for the meeting to start. She sees Janine walk in and then she sees you and she freezes. She didn’t expect to see you so soon but the district usually sent you with Janine to oversee changes at Abbott.

She tries to look away to focus on what Janine was saying the entire time but all she can focus on is you. She sees you go to look up and she focuses her attention on Janine before you can see her staring at you. She keeps doing that until Janine finishes.

“Y/n and I will oversee the librarian program for the entire week. If you have any questions, complaints or concerns about it then come to one of us.” Janine finishes and her breath hitches, you’ll be here for the entire week?

Melissa got pulled out of her inner crisis by her best friend calling her name. “Melissa, Melissa?” Barb said and Melissa looked at her.

“What?”

“Well y/n is here, don’t you want to go say hi your friend?” Barb said and Melissa shook her head.

“No, she’s busy overseeing the librarian program.”

“Well I’m sure she can take 10 seconds to say hello to you.”

“Just drop it Barb.” Melissa told her as she grabbed her purse and walked out. Barb could tell something has been off with Melissa for a week, she’s been in a sour mood. Barb is still happy to see you so she decided to go say hi to you by herself.

“Hi y/n.” Barb told you and you looked up from your notes.

“Hi Barb, how have you been?” You asked her.

“Oh I’m good. Can’t say the same for Melissa though.” She said and you raised an eyebrow in question. “She’s been in a sour mood for a week.” She told you. “She would have said hi to you if she wasn’t in a mood.” She told you.

“Oh well that’s alright, I wonder what happened.” You told her.

“I’m not sure. She won’t tell me.” Barb said and then she got an idea. She saw how Melissa looks at you and she might tell you. “Maybe you could ask her if you get a minute.” Barb said and you looked at her confused.

“If she doesn’t want to tell you then I highly doubt she’ll tell me.” You state. “I mean she tells you everything.”

“She tells me mostly everything. There’s still some things she keeps to herself. But how have you been dear?”

“Been better, I was seeing someone but I ended it recently.” You told her.

“Oh I’m sorry sweetheart. Since you’ll be here all week then maybe you can sit with Melissa and I at lunch again.” She tells you and you bite your lip.

“I don’t know how busy I’ll be but I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” You tell her and she nods her head and leaves the library.

Oh y/n.” Janine says and comes up to you. “Would you mind handing these reviews out to the the teachers on the first floor and I’ll do the second floor.” She says and hands you a stack of papers. “And feel free to talk to any teachers, we don’t have much else to do the rest of the day.” She adds and leaves the library. As soon as she leaves it hits you, Melissa is a teacher on the first floor. You leave the library and get started, you decide to just get it over with, with Melissa.

You walk to her classroom and knock on the door. “Come in.” You hear her say, you take a deep breath, open the door and walk in. Melissa looks up at who entered and did a double take.

“I came to drop this off, I’m tasked to hand it out to all the first floor teachers.” You tell her and hand a piece of paper to her. “Just fill it out and hand it back to me or Janine at the end of the week.” You say and turn to leave.

“Wait.” She says and you turn back around. “How-how have you been?” She asks and you’re taken back.

“You should have asked that when we were together.” You tell her and she looks down.

“There’s a lot of things I should have done.” She mutters but you hear her.

“There’s something I don’t understand though.” You tell her and she looks up at you. “It was fine in the beginning, but then the last 2 months, something changed. What happened?” You asked her.

“Nothing really happened, just stopped working.” She says to you and you push.

“I know when you’re lying.” You tell her. “What happened?” You asked again and she went back to the papers on her desk. “Was I not pretty enough?” You ask and she snaps her head at you.

“That’s not it at all.” She tells you.

“Was I not enough for you?” You ask her.

“That's not it either.”

“Then please tell me. I’ve gone through all of the possible reasons in my head and I can’t figure it out.” You plead and she looks absolutely defeated.

“I can’t tell you.” She says and you sigh.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t.” She says and you go to say something but she cuts you off. “Thank you for the paper, I’ll fill it out by the end of the week.” She tells you and you sigh.

“Fine then. Don’t know why I expected an answer. Never got any when we were together.” You tell her and she snaps her head at you again. You go to walk out but then turn around with another question. “Can you at least answer me this. Did you even love me?” You ask her and her eyes widen.

“Why do you want to know?” She asks.

“Because I want to know. You never said it back but I want to know if you did.” You tell her and she regrets the next words out of her mouth.

“You have your answer. There’s a reason I never said it back.” She tells you and sees the hurt on your face. She really wants to comfort you but knows she can’t.

“You should have just broken up with me, instead of just dragging me along and using me.” You tell her and turn around and walk out. You close the door and take a deep breath and continue your work. Unknown to you, Barb heard most of that conversation as she was walking along and hid in the classroom next door and Melissa’s door was open. You continue handing out the papers to the teachers and Barb goes to see Melissa.

“You and y/n went out?” Barb asks Melissa as soon as she enters her classroom without even knocking.

“What?” Melissa asks with a sniffle.

“You and y/n dated. But it ended a week ago, didn’t it?” Barb asks and Melissa nods. “What happened?”

Melissa goes on to tell her everything that happened, holding nothing back.

“Oh Melissa, you should have not let those doubts and thoughts take over. She made you happy.” Barb says and Melissa sighs.

“She did ya. I didn’t have the heart to break up with her so I pushed her to break up with me.” Melissa says. “I miss her so much.” Melissa says and begins to cry and Barb comforts her friend.

The next day you walk in and you went to go ask Gregory a question but before you knock, you overhear a conversation between Melissa and Barb in Melissa’s classroom, the door slightly open.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you walk over to hear their conversation better.

“Melissa, you should tell her the real reason the relationship ended.” Barb says to her.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because then you two would actually talk, and besides, y/n deserves to know the truth.” Barb says and your eyes widen.

“How would I tell her what really happened? Cause I don’t know the whole part myself.” Melissa says with a sigh.

“Melissa, you know the whole reason, stop blaming yourself for being human. You had a lot of doubts about being in the relationship because of the age difference, that’s alright to have. But you should have talked to her about that instead of pushing her to break up with you.” Barb tries to talk sense into her friend.

“She deserves to have a life. One that she won’t get by being with me.”

“And who gets to decide that? Cause I think y/n should decide that for herself.”

“I’m not going to talk to her Barb! I love her too much to let her get stuck in a relationship with someone like me!” Melissa says and you gasp silently so they won’t hear you and then tip toe over to Gregory’s classroom. You count to 10 seconds so they wouldn’t think that you heard everything and knock. Gregory opens the door a couple seconds later.

“Oh hey y/n, what’s up?” He asks you.

“I had a couple questions for you actually, do you mind if I take a couple minutes of your time?” You ask.

“Oh not at all, do you want to come in? I was just writing something on the board before they get here.” He says and you hear Barb exit Melissa’s classroom.

“Oh sure, that’s not a problem.” You tell him and enter the classroom.

*rewind to a couple minutes ago*

“I’m not going to talk to her Barb! I love her too much to let her get stuck in a relationship with someone like me!” Melissa tells and Barb sighs.

Barb speaks the next part quietly. “Melissa, there’s nothing wrong about being in a relationship with you. I’ve been your best friend for many years and you’re an amazing person who constantly puts yourself down for no reason.” Barb tells her and before Melissa can say anything else, you both hear a knock down the hall Gregory speaking.

“Oh hey y/n.” He says.

“Do you think she heard us?” Melissa asks, eyes wide.

“No, I don’t think so. She might have just been coming down the hall and I spoke too quietly for her to hear.” Barb says. “Think about what I said.” Barb says and Melissa nods. Barb then leaves the classroom and Melissa hears your voice.

“Oh sure, that’s not a problem.” Melissa sighs, she really misses you.

You spend the day analysing Melissa’s behaviour when you’re around, and what you overheard might be true. Melissa does seem to keep glancing at you as much as possible, and you see it in the corner of your eye so she doesn’t think she’s getting caught. It’s not as much as she’s looking at you but how she’s looking at you. She has sadness and guilt on her face and it looks like she wants to talk to you but keeps stopping herself.

You decide to go see her at home after school today. You pull up her driveway and go and knock on the door. She opens it about 5 seconds later and she’s stunned to see you there.

“Y/n?” She says in disbelief.

“Can I come in?”

“W-why?”

“Because we need to talk.” You tell her sternly and she steps aside to let you in. You walk in and go sit on her couch. Melissa closes the door slowly, takes a breath, turns towards you and walks over.

“What did you want to talk about?” She asks and you look at her.

“I heard everything you and Barb said this morning in your classroom.” You tell her and she gasps.

“You what?” She asks in shock.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was really going on inside your head?” You ask her and she sighs, then comes to sit on the couch.

“Because y/n, you’re so young and you might not understand it to the full extent.” Melissa says.

“You don’t think I haven’t had similar thoughts, only in reverse?” You say and she looks confused. “I’ve had doubts too, about the age gap, I thought that maybe I was too young for you. I thought you would think I’m too immature or something.” You tell her.

“You being immature never crossed my mind.” She tells you and you look into her eyes and see how genuine she’s being.

“Barb‘s right, it’s up to me to decide what I want in my life. I may be young but I’m old enough to know what I want.” You tell her and she tilts her head at you.

“And what do you want?”

“You, you idiota!” You tell her and she looks taken aback.

“Did you just call me an idiot in Italian?” She asks.

“Yes I did.” You say proudly and she smiles.

“I definitely deserve that.” She says to you. “I don’t know how I’d ever make you forgive me and make it up to you.” She tells you and you go and connect your phone to the speaker in her living room. Melissa is watching you the whole time. You walk back up to her and hold out a hand for her to talk and she looks at you confused.

“You said you don’t know how to make it up to me, start by dancing with me.” You tell her and she holds your hand. You yank at it and she gets up and follows you to the open area. The song starts off slow and you’re humming along to it while you and Melissa slow dances and you can tell she doesn’t know it. Once the chorus goes you sing and spin her in surprise. “Don’t blame me, love made me crazy! If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right! Lord save me, my drug is my baby, I’ll be using for the rest of my life!” You sing and Melissa is amused with this song. The next one starts and this one she knows and she starts singing it.

“Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown.” She starts and she twirls you around. “You do something to me that I can't explain.”

Then you sing. “Hold me closer and I feel no pain.” You both sing it.

“Making love to each other ah ah. Islands in the stream, this is what we are!” She twirls you back into her and your back is pushed into her front and you look at each other.

“Sail away with me.” She sings to you and you both continue to dance to it.

The next song is more upbeat and Melissa knows she’s heard it before but can’t place it. You start dancing to the beat with her and she just goes along with it.

“And I’m singing a song, hoping he’ll be back when he hears it.” You sing and let go of her hands. “My heart goes sha-la-la-la” you sing and clap 3 times to the beat and you do it again while also singing and she laughs. She then goes to your Spotify and plays a song that hopefully explains how she feels. She presses on it and it starts playing and she sings it. You instantly recognize the song but you pay attention to her singing it.

“Remember those walls I built? Well baby, they’re tumbling down, and they didn’t even put up a fight, they didn’t even make a sound. I found a way to let you in but I never really had a doubt. Standing in the light of your halo, I got my angel now.” She sings and lifts you up and spins you. “It’s like I’ve been awakened , every rule I had you breakin’, it’s the risk that I’m takin’. “ she continues and puts you down and cups your cheek. “I ain’t never gonna shut you out.” She says and then spins you around. “I’m surrounded by your embrace. Baby, I can see your halo, you know you’re my saving grace. You’re everything I need and more.” And she locks your hands together and puts one on your hip and you put yours on her shoulder and then she spins you both around. “It’s written all over your face, baby I can feel your halo, pray it won’t fade away. I can feel your halo halo, I can see your halo halo, I can feel your halo halo, I can see your halo halo.” She sings and you can tell there’s more to it than just her singing the words.

You pull her to you and you connect your lips with hers, she kisses you back without hesitation. When you pull back, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and then she cups your cheek. “I’m really sorry for everything y/n. I should have talked to you but I was too scared to and then I believed the doubts that my mind came up with. You’re too good for me.” She says and kisses your forehead. “It broke my heart to act like how I did to you. But I thought it was the best for you.” She told you and you press a finger to her lips before she continues.

“I’ll forgive you, but on one condition.” You tell her and she looks at you with a lot of hope.

“Name it, anything.” She says.

“If you want to get back together with me, then I don’t want to hide the relationship.” You tell her and she smiles and hugs you.

“Of course! I want to be with you again and we can tell everyone!” She says through tears and hugs you tight, a bit too tight.

“Melissa, I do need to breathe.” You say and she immediately lets you go.

“Sorry.” She says and you kiss her.

You both pull back and you start humming a song before singing the next line. “I don’t do boys, just do girls, just do girl with kissable ass.” You sing and she bursts out laughing.

“You’re such a dork.” She tells you.

“Ya but you love me.” You tell her and she hums.

“I do, I do love you.” She says with her hands wrapped around your waist.

“I love you too.” You tell her and she smiles.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

Let me know if you want to be added!

[farfromdaylight]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @anneapocalypse! i'm lazy (and should be working on nano oops) so i'm not tagging today, but take it if you want.

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

37. (Add 16 if you want to count my old account.)

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

302,601. (Add 37k for my old account.)

I have written approximately 500,000 words of fic that has never seen the light of day. Maybe one day it will.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Final Fantasy, primarily, with a focus on XIV and VII these days. I've written sparsely for other fandoms.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

catching sunbeams - Miraculous Ladybug, Marinette/Adrien

remember me when i die (for you) - FFXIV, Crystal Exarch

forget-me-(not) - FFXIV, Warrior of Light &/ Crystal Exarch

the miniskirt - FFXIV, Warrior of Light/Crystal Exarch (NSFW)

roaming sheep - FFXIV, Warrior of Light/G'raha Tia (NSFW)

It's kind of nice for almost all of my most-kudos'd fic to be in my current fandom. It helps, of course, that I write the most popular ship in it. The highest-kudos'd fics were posted near the height of their respective fandoms, so.

I'm also very pleased roaming sheep has done this well! In my experience, oneshots do better than longfic with regard to kudos.

This got long so here's a cut...

5. do you respond to comments?

Yep! I try to reply to all of them, though if someone leaves multiple comments at a time on a chaptered fic I might just reply to the last one. I'm sure I've missed some along the way but I'm always thrilled to get a comment.

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Angst isn't really the right word, but dead end (FFVII, Cid & Vincent) has a very deliberate ending. I tried to write it like a horror movie, where the ending is sometimes ambiguous or otherwise inconclusive.

Or, well. I suppose roaming sheep has an exceptionally angsty ending, LOL.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It's gotta be the oath, which is literally wedding fic.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Nope, never.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Any kind, though I'm pretty inexperienced with F/F fics -- I love many F/F couples but I've never been driven to write fic about them, so I'm lacking in that regard.

These days, if I want to write NSFW fic on its own, it's less likely I'll publish it. I'll write it, but I'll keep it to myself. (I wrote a 15k fic earlier this year in this vein.) I've gotten to the point that I generally want the porn to be part of the plot. That said, I do have some ideas for oneshots, so you never know.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

The Fallout/Final Fantasy VII one is the big one. The total fic is almost 350k. I have posted 10k of it. Maybe one day I'll be able to revise it.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not fic, but I've posted some RP before. This was generally not the best idea as it's rare for a RP thread to reach completion, and interests change, etc.

I guess actually blinded by light (FFXIV, WoL/Exarch) counts for this to a degree, because a good chunk of Mel's dialogue was written by @shepherdtostars; I just turned it into fic.

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

My OCs, who I've loved for 20 years. They're married, in love, and I have written approximately 2 million words about them.

I don't have a favorite fandom ship.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

stares at beyond the vault... i love you but you're such a behemoth, why did i do this to myself

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! I can write banter all day long.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Description. I see the scene in my head like a movie, so I forget... that not everyone does... and I have to write the scene I'm seeing LMAO. I'm working on it.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

This is an oddball question. Just write it? Like, either write "they said in (language)" or get an accurate translation of what you want to say.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Sailor Moon, probably. Or Digimon.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Waffling between dead end and blinded by light. dead end was a real stretch for me in a lot of ways and I'm still very proud of it all these years later. blinded by light is just fun, I really like rereading it. heaven can wait (FFXIV, WoL/Exarch, NSFW) falls in this category too, I'm so happy with it.

[grumpy-zane]

In Which a Man is Misplaced - inbetween shot specifically written to send @tippydoorman to the squiggle zone.

(Takes place between part 4 and 5, and makes reference to a character and event that happens in the fanfic 'Earthtones'. )

The trio stepped out into the tree-shaded street, back into the general traffic of people. Dareth hadn't noticed it before, the large variety of living beings wanderioung about, and his mind once more filled with questions. Certainly the majority of these people visible were because of the other two's presence, why he had never seen so many serpentine so casually in the city in his own time.

Plexi flipped through the keys on his ring, shaking them around to untangle them as he lead the way to a black car. It was a 2 door with a back seat, one that someone would squeeze through the middle to get to, or climb through the trunk. The windows were slightly tinted as well, though the hood ornament slot was empty.

It reminded Dareth of old black and white mobster movies. "I call shotgun!" He clapped Favriles back and winked.

"Got ya there Far." Plexi snickered and took the drivers seat. "We'll get through to the other side of the city as far as we can before we foot it."

"Yeah, right into rush hour traffic..." favrile mumbled as he climbed into the back seat.

"Is that a thing here too? Its why I never drive my van." Dareth fastened the seatbelt to the leather seat.

Plexi relaxed and situated himself, "yeah it is, I think it happens more often now that time has stopped."

--

He had forgotten how atrocious the wait times were before Cyrus had the skyways built. They sat there, gridlocked, for what felt like hours. It didn't help that the radio kept spitting out static and fragments of songs- really it was agitating. After many attempts to get a good signal, Dareth gave up and resigned to muffled voice static, letting his eyes wander to the window.

He knew this neighborhood, one he frequented in his younger years on his bike. The corner still had the cakery where the best crepes in the world were made, a family business that's been doing so for generations. Most of the other buildings on that street were residential apartments, with the other side being banks and offices.

Even here they stand, rising high into the water line. Favrile and Plexi took note of the sudden change, even if it was only briefly. "So. This might be grim, but ah, do you have any family here?" Plexi started.

"Wuh?" Dareth snapped his gaze over.

"You know, family. Relatives- or people you love?"

"Oh. Umm.." he tapped his chin and looked about. His mom would be one, but he doubted she would want to see him- plus he didn't need the embarassment. There was his band teacher who taught him guitar in her off time, the rich great uncle, grandmother on his dads side, people older than him who he had made peace with. People who would get swept up in hours of talking to, hours he didn't have. "I guess not... no I mean I do but no one I want to..." his mind trailed off to one person he didn't think left on fair terms.

So close he was, he could talk to him- he had to be here in the departed realm, but...

Plexi leaned on the wheel, reading his face, "we have time, kid."

Dareth pulled at his sleeve before glancing back to Favrile who eyed between the two.

"What? Someone you want to see before you go back?" Favrile asked.

Dareth looked back and met Plexi's shimmering golden eyes, "Just tell me who, and we'll take a detour."

--

The botanicals were always well kept around this complex, he figured it was part of the reason why his friend moved here in the first place. It was a lot better scenery-wise than his own apartment, being a newer building and all, and felt more homely than it should.

Though of course, wherever Mel went felt like a bit of home too.

Dareth tripped on his footing.

He reached the door labled 112 at the end of the hallway and stared. Plexi said he would be in, which was nice, it meant that they didn't have to go back to Laffys where Mel had worked before the incident.

The image of the scene flashed in his mind as he sucked in and held his breath. He didn't need that now -neither of them did- he was here to visit his old friend Mel, not dwell on what couldn't be controlled.

Hopefully the wound wouldn't be present.

Dareth gently knocked on the door, fidgeting with his necklace.

"Wow, delivery is fast-" a muted voice came from the other side. The door swung open as the older man wish short hair froze. "Brown?!"

"Mel!" Dareth leapt into a tight hug, sobbing, "Mel I missed you so much-"

He stumbled and hit the wall with a light chuckle, squeezing him back. "It's good to see you again too, Dareth." Mel patted his back before pushing him away, "but how did you get here? Come and take a seat."

Dareth wiped his face ans shook his head, "no, no I can't, I'm not dead yet I just," he breathed and wiped his face again, "sorry I just wanted to see you again, I wanted to make sure you're okay after.. after.."

"I'm fine I'm fine," Mel laughed, resting a hand on Dareth's shoulder, "always thinking about others still, huh brown? Got a way to get home?"

He nodded and sighed, "I do... not a lot of time."

"Well, don't let me keep you. We'll catch up when you're ready."

He nodded again and wiped his eyes. "Thank you. I miss you. I'll be back, then we can catch up."

"Hah! Hopefully not soon."

[monstermaster13]

Corey and Oats VS Tepum’Alah the Putrid.

Everyone’s favorite duo loved going on adventures including imaginary ones, and they always defended their owner Mel whenever she dealt with online problems. One morning Mel was having troubles with a petulant user from a discord server known as Tepum’Alah, who hated Mel and Nathan for no reason apart from the fact that Nathan wrote stories about Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi who he shared a similar interest in.

He was delusional and he thought that Nathan’s stories were fetishizing the two comedians, of course Corey and Oats knew better. They heard Mel crying that morning and decided to comfort her. ‘What’s wrong, mommy?’ Oats asked. ‘It’s Tepum, he is an annoying little tool and I wish he’d go away forever.’ ‘What did he say?’ ‘He said that we shouldn’t write stories that fetishize John and Dan because he thinks it’s gross and that I need professional help.’

“Ugh…I hate people like that.”

“Me too.”

Corey and Oats floated over to Carmela who was on duty that morning, telling her that Mel had been bullied. Carmela sympathized with the duo as Oats explained everything. ‘This person doesn’t like our adventures, what should we do? We have tried everything.’ ‘Blocking works on Discord but we can still see his comments.’ ‘Yeah, he posted a nasty comment on Nathan’s tiktok telling him if he doesn’t stop harassing him he will take action.’ ‘Don’t take him seriously, ignore him, or teach him it is not okay to do such things.’

“How?”

“We can use the wish-granter.”

The duo floated over into the bedroom and pulled out their mystical wish-granting item from the box. ‘Oh wish-granter, we seek your assistance, we are dealing with a bully problem.’ ‘So you want to scare some sense into a pesky adversary, well you’ve come to the right wish-granter, i’ll make sure that he should be wary he’s in for something scary.’

‘We wish to haunt him as ghosts and show him the errors of his ways.’ ‘I can do that for you.’ The wish-granter used his powers to transform Corey and Oats along with Mel into ghosts. ‘Awesome.’ ‘Now tell me who you wish to haunt.’ ‘Tepum’Alah the Putrid.’

A ghost portal materialized in the wall and they went right through it, entering what appeared to be a haunting zone. Corey looked into the viewing screen and saw Tepum in there, he had long blackish hair and looked like a typical scene/emo wannabe, he had a poster of the father from Suicide Shop on his wall as well as a figure of the Childcatcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on his desk.

He was in his bed, no doubt sleeping and having obviously disturbing wet dreams about said characters. That was when Corey and Oats entered through the walls…Corey possessed the Childcatcher figure that was on the desk. ‘Teeeeeepum, Teeeeepum.’ Tepum was awoken from his dream by the ghostly moans.

“Huh? What’s going on? How do you know my name?”

“It is i…the childcatcher, you have been a naughty boy, Tepum.”

‘My husbando is real and is talking to me? Am I dreaming?’ ‘It’s gross that you think of me as your husbando. I am a character made to frighten NOT give you a sexual awakening. Why do you fetishize me?’ ‘I can’t help it…something messed me up as a kid and I thought you were sexy.’ ‘You’re a disgrace to fandoms, you know that, right?’

Tepum panicked as he saw the figure moving on its own along with a doll of Ed Grimley. ‘I must say that you find you detestable.’ The doll’s head spun around in an Exorcist-like manner. ‘No, not you…you’re supposed to like that I love you so much.’

Oats made a poster of Martin Short come to life…’Love you? I could never let someone as disgusting as you be a fan of mine. You bully Nathan and pick on him for no reason other than you dislike his stories, you won’t stop ratting about him to your friends on the Simp Central server.’

“Stop this or i’ll…”

“You’ll what? Threaten to take action? We are not harassing you, we are teaching a lesson.”

‘Exactly..and you cannot use the screenshots you took of Nathan’s comments to back up your claims.’ ‘Well he gave me access to his email so he could look at my Vincent Price headcanons.’ ‘No, he didn’t, you left a fucking link for your doc on your tumblr blog for all to see, it’s your fault and now you are paying for it.’

‘It doesn’t matter, once my mutuals are informed of how much of a creep your friend is.’ ‘I’m sorry but you cannot force your mutuals to agree with everything that you say, they have their own opinions and thoughts and guess what, you are the only one on the server that hates Nathan.’

“He’s creepy and needs therapy, he holds a grudge against me.”

“And you have held a grudge against him since 2021.”

‘DjannA’kro didn’t start hating Nathan until you told him to, you told an admin to do it. He should have kicked YOU instead. I am just saying if you want to be left alone and left out of this. You should have apologized and not carried on like that.’ ‘I’ll just tell the admins.’ ‘They won’t believe you, they’ll just think you’re insane.’

Mel manifested next to the duo…’Oh yes, they’ll definitely think you are insane alright, I mean no sane person would ever admit to having a thing for the Childcatcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. What, was your mother drunkenly saying she had a thing for him when she showed you that movie or something?’

Corey made the curtains sprout vines that dragged Tepum off the bed and onto the floor. ‘You better not whine and you better listen up because we are going to scare you straight.’ Just then Tepum’s boyfriend who was actually just some poor guy he brainwashed into being his boyfriend, because Tepum was actually a lesser knockoff elder god that had been stuck in the form of a whiny human hence why he acted the way he did. ‘Do something about it.’ Tepum whined to his boyfriend.

‘Forget it, I had to put up with your stupidity for years. You took me away form my family, removed my soul, brainwashed me into serving you and just because you had to be a dirty perv, you brainwashed me into being your boyfriend. I’ m straight and I never loved you, ever.’ ‘Nooo, say it isn’t true.’ Tepum’s boyfriend nodded and told him he was through with him, taking down all the things he had given him and leaving the apartment.

‘Tepum…we know the real reason you do this, you do this because you hate all the attention the actual elder gods get as opposed to you. You can’t stand how popular Cthulhu is and you want to be as loved as he is, but the difference is, Cthulhu is a monster who is actually really nice, and you are a monster who pretends to be really nice but is malicious.’ ‘Oh alright, fine…you got me. I am not really this stupid whiny excuse for a human being. I pretend to be like that because i’m stuck in this form.’

“There there, it’s alright.”

“We are just here to scare you into being a better person.”

The duo nodded as Tepum took Oats’s hand, the duo floated off and entered into one of many nightmare-scapes, in this nightmare-scape he saw a group of Dan Aykroyd characters having dinner together. ‘Mmm…that looks delicious. What’s on the menu?’

The salesman from the Bass-O-Matic segment along with J.P Valkenheiser looked at him with evil glares…’You are.’ ‘What?’ A Dan Aykroyd doppelganger in a chef���s outfit revealed what was on the plate, it was a flayed corpse that looked exactly like Tepum’s human form. ‘That’s me? They’re eating me?’ ‘Well yes, of course they are. You have always said that you’d love to have a piece of Dan for yourself, and now Dan’s characters are having a piece of YOU.’

Pa Tex took a piece of the Tepum corpse’s hand and began to lick the finger…’Mmmm, fingerlicking good.’ Tepum threw up and then begged Corey to show him something else. Corey showed him another nightmare-scape which showed him in an asylum being tested by a demented koala therapist played by Mel’s friend Eucalyptus.

‘Is this where I am headed if I don’t stop acting like this?’ ‘Yes, your bad behavior is the cause of this, by putting the blame on Nathan, you ignore that it is your own fault.’ Corey explained, showing him the cell he’d most likely end up in. ‘I am sorry if what I did was horrible. I realized that pretending to be like this all the time wasn’t a good way to deal with my feelings of jealousy.’

Mel smiled, knowing that he had apologized. ‘Very good. There is only one person left to apologize to.’ She explained to him as the ghost of John Belushi appeared. ‘Tepum, Mel told me about what you said and how you treated Nathan. Not only did you disrespect me by calling me Dan’s deceased best friend but you act like you know how me and Dan would react to stories about us. Nobody tells us what to do, we are our own person. You were barely even born yet when I was alive, how do you even know I passed away?’ ‘Sorry John.’ ‘Second..don’t mess with my best friend, nobody messes with my best friend.’

John’s ghost pulled a series of scary faces as he lurched towards Tepum, stretching his face and turning into a demonic monster face with sharp teeth, and also showing him a series of nightmare-scapes like the one he was correctly stuck in, all of which showed what could happen to him if he acted the way he did.

Tepum finally realized he made a mistake, immediately losing his fake whiny fanboy personality and he decided that he wanted a change of heart, as a knockoff elder god he wasn’t satisfied with the form he got stuck into and he wanted a new one. ‘We can give you a new one.’

Corey, Mel and Oats used their powers to transform him into a brand new form, turning Tepum’s human form into a supernatural version of Dan Aykroyd just like how Nathan wrote Aykroyd tfs in his stories. The transformation was one that felt really good to him as well and he felt much better thanks to them and he hugged them.

“There we go.”

“Much better.”

‘I have learned my lesson now.’ Corey and Oats smiled as they floated in the air and took Tepum home back to his apartment which slowly transformed to go with his reformed personality and he looked over at them and appreciated what they had done.

Tepum thanked the duo and told them from now on he wouldn’t bully anyone ever again and he apologized to Nathan, and all of his accounts got removed, and new accounts were set up as a result. ‘We did a good job, don’t you think so?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You have shown me that being horrible to others isn’t the way.’

“That’s right.”

The duo said goodbye to him along with Mel as they floated away, floating through the ghost portal and heading back home, their work was done and the lesson had been learned.

When they arrived home at Nile Road, they decided to have breakfast and they relaxed for a bit and got dressed for the day. They decided to play some games on the computer for a couple of hours, followed by some music jam sessions. Furthermore, they had lunch afterwards followed by afternoon tea, they went on a mini-adventure in the afternoon and watched movies, they chatted to their online friends and had a nice time.

They relaxed and listened to music for a bit, writing some more stories before dinner. When dinner arrived they all gathered at the table, after dinner they emailed Jill about their adventure and relaxed. They had karaoke sessions and hugged and played together.

An hour later after that they relaxed before going into the bedroom and getting ready for bed, Corey put on his bat onesie and Oats put on his pink night-gown as they went into the bathroom to brush their teeth, after that they picked a friend to go to bed with them.

When it was bedtime, they got into bed with Mel and snuggled up and had a nice time, they drifted off to sleep and had sweet dreams. In their dreams they went on a fun musical adventure with their microbial friends/family members.

Our adventure ends here but there are more adventures coming up. But today’s adventure has taught you an important lesson, bullying other people just because you don’t like what they write about or what they like to talk about isn’t nice, if you want the person you hate to leave you alone, maybe you should leave them alone first, or be haunted by your consequences for the rest of your life.

[blahkugo]

Rouge

Satori Tendō x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 2.5k

TW: Mafia AU, Dark themes, Blood play (an excessive amount of blood mentions in general), Knife play, Asphyxiation, Angst (?), mentions of death (no main characters), Just two psychopaths going at it tbh.

A/N: I’m so excited to be writing for @the-smut-pile’s newest collab, hosted by @present-mel, @pleasantanathema, and @linestrider. Please make sure to check out the rest of the masterlist here!

Every night, the smell of bleach stings your nostrils and prayers left unsaid weigh heavy on your tongue. ‘It comes with the job,’ they had warned you, had urged a ‘pretty little thing like you,’ not to take a position you couldn’t stomach. You didn't listen, of course.

Because death isn’t a stranger in your life, nor an old acquaintance you catch up with once every few years. It’s a friend that phones daily, a lover you scurry into bed with—the chill down your spine when you walk home alone in eerie silence.

As a doctor you saw it everyday, with every patient that prayed for pity when the pain became all too much. Cries of the sick plagued your every waking moment; who were you to deny them release? Their suffering ended the moment you injected the drugs.

But you’ve never seen death like this before.

“Daydreaming again, angel?” Tendō swipes a disinfectant across the cold metal counter, rubbing until pools of pomegranate red match his long, messy hair. Despite the dreariness of the task, an impish smile remains plastered across his face, the glint in his eyes unscathed by the scene you’d both just witnessed.

“It’s still Doctor to you.” Try as you might, your voice comes out shaky, your heart pounding so hard you’re worried it may actually jump out. That feeling never quite leaves you.

He straightens his gloves and out comes his signature laugh—that high, maniacal, chuckle that stops just short of a song. You’d rip out your car radio if it meant getting rid of it.

“You haven’t been one for a long time.”

The truth makes you shudder, but he’s right, of course. Once your license had been stripped away and you were on the run, your career had officially ended. An ‘Angel of Mercy,’ all the news stations had called you, yapping on for days when you were that week’s most wanted woman.

You don’t have the right to be called a medical professional and yet, you stand your ground. If it means getting him to quit with the dreadful pet name, you’ll say just about anything.

“Your boss calls me Doctor.”

“Because my boss can’t remember your name.” He meets your eyes, lips quirking upward at the little huff that escapes you, your furrowed brows spilling bits of frustration you so desperately attempt to keep bottled. The air hangs heavy with the shrieks of anger you wish you could unleash, all the words you don’t dare say aloud in fear of looking weaker than he already believes you are.

Instead of challenging you further, Tendō simply turns away, chucking the wipes in a bin and humming a tune far too cheery for a man who just ended a life.

When night comes, you dream of the older man who begged to see his children one last time and the laugh that sounds like a song.

—

The next day isn’t any better, because it never is. Ushijima’s moles bring in three more bodies for questioning; bodies, because you’ve been instructed to refer to them as nothing but. And they’re young this time, heavily tattooed kids that can’t be much older than nineteen—children that look so much like the thralls of young men you’ve learned to call friends, you have to avert your eyes when they send panicked glances your way.

You wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons.

“I’ll only ask once,” the gruff, even voice echoes within the small space. “Who’s your supplier?” Your boss is cold and calculated. He never wavers, never says more than he needs to. He’s everything you’d thought the leader of a crime organization would be and more.

Tendō hovers next to him, gnarled fingers twitching eagerly at the knife splayed between them. It’s his weapon of choice, because—as he mentioned your first day on the job—he can ‘take his time with them’.

The captives crack immediately, pleading helplessly for their lives as they vow they know nothing. They probably don’t, appearing to be nothing more than lowly thugs in a long hierarchy of vile men. It doesn’t stop what comes next.

As expected, Ushijima remains silent except for the soft sigh that leaves him. Tendō sighs as well, though it seems more pleased—euphoric, even—than bored. He presses a slender finger into the tip of his knife, watches as a bit of blood runs down his lean arm, paints a strip of his tattoos red, and drips onto the metal table.

“Are they ours now?” Ours. The word brings bile to your throat. Ushijima makes his way to the door, bluntly calling over his shoulder,

“Do what you must.”

You push up your glasses, Tendō grins, and the screaming begins.

—

Blood-stained lab coats are a staple of your wardrobe. No matter how hard you scrub, fingers raw and aching, the faded pinks never seem to give. You quit months ago, resorted to throwing the worst ones away instead of putting yourself through that hell.

This coat’s going straight to the bin.

Through every horrid interrogation, you’ve forced yourself to watch. You’ve never looked away, never dared allow him to smell the fear off of you. You hand him the tools, write the information on the clipboard, assist with cleanup and disposal, and answer any questions he may have—like the good little medical doctor turned mafia member you should be.

And Tendō smiles the whole way through. Even as dagger meets flesh, as pained cries shatter your eardrums, as your vision is clouded with red, red, red—Tendō smiles, humming a tune that you hear long into the next evening.

But today, when the third young man had looked you dead in the eyes and sobbed, begging you to tell his mother he loves her, you couldn’t help yourself.

Of course, the towering redhead didn’t fail to detect the misstep.

“Bad day?” He questions innocently, resting his elbows on the now spotless titanium table. His muscles ripple as he leans, boasting the thousands of dollars worth of art across his arms. It bothers you that you notice it, even more that he probably catches you gawking. He sees everything, after all. Everything but the blood still splattered across his body.

“Won’t be the last, for us at least.” Brows raise, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. If at all possible, the wicked grin on his face widens.

“You’re exactly right.” And like clockwork, he laughs. Your hands grow cold, ice corroding your veins. He swipes his tongue over his lip, leaving a slick shine on his lips. When he rises and steps toward you, you stand your ground, though you so desperately long to run. “Why so serious?”

“They didn’t know anything,” you mumble under your breath, “and you tortured them anyways.” In all your months of working with him, this is the first you’ve complained—and you immediately wish you hadn’t.

Tendō moves even closer, as though entertained by your tiny outburst. Perhaps he’s been waiting for this moment, for you to finally break your silence. When he speaks, his tone is gentler than usual, but still holds every hint of mockery and nonchalance the bastard is known for,

“It’s our job, angel face.” Another step, another tiny breath you’re holding in, worried that the slightest of sighs might shatter your perfected image of faux indifference. He tilts his head to the side, peering down at you, like you’re- a child.

And the glass breaks.

“Enough.” You splay your hands in front of you, halting him in his tracks, just as he invades your space. “Enough of the patronizing looks, and the humming, and the stupid pet name that you know bothers me!” An accusatory finger is jabbed into his chest. “Don’t you feel guilt? Fear? Empathy? You murder people.”

Your chest burns, heaving with rage. Tendō’s half-smile still sits on his face, words of ridicule ready to roll off his tongue any second. But when you look into his eyes, there seems to be something more—an emotion you can’t quite place. Anger? Understanding?

His next sentence is whispered with such sobriety, you’re unsure who it is you’re speaking to anymore,

“People like us don’t deserve those feelings.”

“There is no us!” The claim may come out crazy, hysterical even— a woman covered in warm blood shrieking within a cold, sterile room. For once, you don’t care. “I’m not like you.”

Those words may be what set him off, hand wrapping around your chin and tilting it up so that you’re unable to look away. Fingers that incite panic and enact violence, fingers you’ve feared since your first day here, clutching you ever-so casually. “Exactly. You’re not like me.”

He doesn’t wait for your rebuttal, gripping harder at your face. “I’ve made my peace with who I am, but you,” his breath fans your cheeks, “you only pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

Then, Tendō’s kissing you. And to your utter surprise, you’re kissing him back. Heat rises within you, the hairs at your neck curling as your lips meet with a ferocity. His palms graze your lab coat—no doubt staining his skin with the blood it’s drenched in—before he’s peeling it off.

When you tug at his messy locks, the butcher smiles and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. He pulls you closer, hurriedly stripping you of your remaining clothing, until you’re left in just your panties. Hands roam at your supple skin, kneading at your hips, meshing into you wherever he can. All the while, your lips do the same, bleeding into each other until you’re unsure of where you start and he ends.

“No.” The command is stern, perhaps the most you’ve ever been with him. His eyes narrow in disappointment, limbs rapidly untangling from your body. You shove him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the table, nudge him again so that he falls against it, and grab a clean scalpel off the side counter. “No, we do deserve to feel those things.” His grin returns in full force—and he laughs.

This time, you don’t hate it.

“Deep down,” he grunts as you hitch a leg over his thighs and climb onto him, “you know that I’m right.” The scalpel’s pointed tip grazes his black tee, cutting through the material meticulously. You run a palm up his broad chest before pressing a finger to his mouth, smearing nearly dried blood across his jaw in the process.

“You talk too much,” the hushed murmur tumbling from your lips doesn’t sound like you, is foreign and twisted, and too much like him to bode well for either of you. The muscles in his thighs tense beneath you, his hard chest rumbling in a silent glee.

Your fingers brush against his cheekbones and you gasp, losing all perception of who you are. It’s absurd, but the individual you knew before, the persona you so adamantly believed you could uphold, crumbles with a single, soft touch of his skin.

And it’s unfair, really, that someone so beautiful—covered in art, blessed with hair the color of sweet wine and a laugh that sounds like music—could be so utterly fucked up.

When you nick his cheek, observing the drip of blood that trickles down, you wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons. And when you lick at it, preening at the groan that leaves him, you wonder if you’re just as fucked up as he is.

All at once, you’re flipped beneath him, back crashing against the cool metal table. He climbs down and drags his pants off, yanks you towards him with one pull of your thighs, and presses against your core. A shiver runs down your spine at the heat, crazes you for something you didn’t think you needed.

“By the way,” Tendō speaks through kisses and nips at your neck, “you are just as fucked up.” Though you hadn’t realized you’d said that aloud, you’re unable to retaliate, only wrap your legs around his middle and moan at a particularly harsh bite. He soothes every spot of broken skin with his tongue, drifting downwards until his lips meet your cotton panties. “How cute.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting thi– Ah,” your complaint is cut short when he moves them to the side and licks a long stripe up your slit. And he doesn’t stop, lapping and sucking at your soaked cunt, holding you down with one lean arm when you writhe in response to the pressure. “God, fuck.”

“Satori, but I’ll take God too,” he smirks against your mound. It’s then that he inserts a lithe finger, then two, stretching you out until you’re tugging at his long locks, goosebumps raised as the warmth of his mouth intertwines with the cold beneath your back.

You’re panting, unconcerned with time or it’s passing, only his fingers, his tongue circling your puffy bud, and your steady ascension to the edge. Just as your legs tense, breath caught mid-mewl of his name, he stops. You lean up on your elbows, rut against him, searching for more—friction, movement, anything—but he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck- why?” Your cry is loud, whiny even, but you don’t particularly care when euphoria’s been ripped away from you so suddenly.

“Tell me I’m right,” he teases, eyes peering straight through yours. You whine again, a mix between a pained groan and ‘are you fucking serious?’ before he flicks at your bud once more. “Say it.”

And you do. Because, as strongly as you've denied it, you’re every bit as perverse as he is, every bit as infatuated by the idea of power, of playing God—of holding a life between your fingertips and choosing death.

The second the words are out of your mouth, he thrusts deep into you. Your fingers scramble for purchase, nails dragging against the table, then his back, as skin slaps against skin.

There’s nothing gentle about Satori, all lean, hard muscle and jagged edges, but the pain is just as blissful as the pleasure. His fingertips rub at your clit, other hand moving to wrap around your throat and squeeze tightly.

“Satori, I- I need more,” you choke out, lightheaded. And he complies, shifting you to your side and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Your cries melt into his, sweat soaking your skin, your hair, the table, as he pounds into you over and over again.

“That’s it baby– fuck, let go for me.” He presses the long-forgotten scalpel against your throat—and your vision goes white. Electricity sparks through your spine, your tongue lolls out, and you swear you feel tears run down your cheeks.

He doesn’t stop, working you through the orgasm as your legs bind his waist. A few more thrusts and he’s following you, holding your hips against him so tightly, he’ll probably leave deep purple bruises.

He finally stills, chest falling against yours and heaving, allowing you both to catch your breath. Flashing a set of pearly canines, his wild grin and the glint in his eyes reappear. For the first time since you’ve known him, Tendō is completely silent.

And then he laughs, lawless and untamed, the howl of a hyena that sounds like a song—and you laugh too.

[redinkrain]

Come home.

3.

For a second, Abigael stayed still like a marble statue while Mel’s arms took place around her neck and sobs started to make themselves heard. Unsure of how to be a good friend, the hybrid delicately placed her own arms around the Charmed One’s waist. Posing her chin on top of the Latina’s head, she tightened her embrace and spoke with a gentle voice.

“Let it all go, Love.” Closing her eyes and inhaling a scent that she deeply missed during those few months. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

The British Lady then stroked the witch’s back slowly, up and down, with the tip of her fingers. And Mel cried, cried for minutes, hours maybe. None of the two women were putting their attention on the time passing by. The Vera sister calmed down eventually with the soothing movement of Abby’s hand anchoring her. She took a deep breath and without letting go of Abigael’s neck, she looked into those hazel eyes that haunted her some nights. Most nights, when sleep did came. That damn expression tracing the woman’s gaze. That fucking same expression that always left Mel with the wish to be wholly swallowed. So much words unspoken. But the witch exhausted couldn’t brought herself to have this conversation with the half-demon half-witch, not right now.

Abigael used one of her hand and brought it up to the Latina’s cheek, wiping some tears that kept escaping the witch’s eyes. Mel leaned into her touch but her eyes stayed glued to her guest’s ones.

“I didn’t even say “hi”.” The witch whispered with a smile.

“Good evening, Love.” The woman answered with a small smile of her own and with that accent Mel liked so much.

Mel couldn’t stopped herself and so she put her friend in a new embrace, but this time, she hugged her tighter. Abigael responded to this act of affection with as much will and tenderness. Listening to the beating heart of the hybrid, Mel felt a tiny bit better. In her head and in her heart at list, because her legs? Well, it seemed that her two legs had her own agenda. The witch almost fell but Abby firmly kept a grip on her. She helped the Vera sister to sit back.

“You should rest, Mel. You’re exhausted. Have you eat anything today?” the hybrid asked, worries clear in her tone.

“No.” The Latina simply answered.

“Then rest here. I will go out and buy something for you to eat.”

The half-demon half-witch turned around and was about to leave when fingers gripped at her wrist.

“Wait!” Mel stated. “Can you stay a bit longer? We can grab something to eat on our way home, right?”

Home, what a strange choice of word Abby thought. She never had a home. Not really. What was a home anyway? Was it the same thing for everyone? Or did its definition changed depending on who you were asking? But then Waverly’s voice resonated in her mind “You do love her”. And Abby wondered: what if a home wasn’t a place, what if home and love were just parts of the same coin?

She gazed at Mel, and got down on one knee so the witch didn’t have to look up.

“Allow me to at least bring you something to drink. Tea maybe?” The British Lady asked.

Melanie’s eyes softened even more at that sentence.

“A tea would be great. Thank you.” She smiled at her guest.

“I’ll be back shortly.” Abby said while standing up.

She disappeared in a dark smoke before coming back five minutes later with a cup of tea. The hybrid gave it to the witch. Then, she went to take a stool and placed it in front of Mel. She sat on it and observed the Latina who was sipping her tea.

“So… Why are you here?” The Vera sister questioned quietly.

“Well, because your sister called me and silently asked for assistance regarding your current hunt on demons!” The ex-Demon Overlord said with a little scowl to make a point then it disappeared. “But honestly Melanie, I was worried about you and it was just the perfect excuse to come and do my best to help you in anyway I can… If you want of course.” She continued a little worried about Mel’s reaction.

“I’m sorry Abby…” The witch whispered.

“Why would you be sorry?” Now the hybrid was confused.

“Sorry for not texting you back, for not telling you about what happened. You deserve better than that.” The Latina looked away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she kept her tone light with maybe a little bit of… hurt?

“I-, I don’t know Abby. I guess I-…” Mel was looking for the right words, but she wasn’t even sure to know what she wanted to say.

“You do not have to answer if you don’t want to.” The British Lady tried to be supportive of her friend.

“It’s just, I guess that seeing to pictures of you with your niece, reading your texts. I felt your happiness and I didn’t want to bother you with my pain.” She blurted out looking at the concrete floor.

Abigael took one of her hand and placed it between hers, tugging a little, sign for the Charmed One to look at her.

“Look at me, Mel.” That damn tenderness enveloping her voice again. “You will never trouble me with your sorrow. What you gave me... I will never be able to repay you. That happiness you mentioned? I am learning what it means, what if feels like and… Truthfully you are a part of its meaning. So, I want to be here for you, but only if you’ll have me…?”

The witch was speechless hearing this confession from the half-demon half-witch, but then again, it wasn’t the first time Abigael was being honest about what she was feeling for her.

“I’ve missed you…” she simply whispered.

The British Lady kept her mouth shut, knowing her friend had more to say, but the corner of her mouth curled in a smile. Her hands continued to envelop Mel’s one.

“Abby, I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself since she’s gone. And I know it’s stupid because present me is her past. But I can’t stop thinking of the future. What if changing the present will affect her in the future like you know... she won’t even exist…?” Tears started to flow again, and a river of it made its way on the Charmed One’s cheeks.

“Nothing of what you feel is stupid, Mel. You gave birth to your child, present or future, Eva was, is and always will be your daughter. She’s gone, Love, not lost. You said “goodbye”, not “farewell”. You will see her when the time is right. And of course, changing the present will affect her, but not the way you are thinking.” Abby posed. “Mel, you gave her everything she needed, providing her with security and healthiness. Her future will be bright, and if there is any shadow to come on her path? I have no doubt nor worry that you will be there to protect her once again. You have been an incredible mother to her in a past that she won’t remember and you will be, as I said, a fantastic mother in the future.” The hybrid finished her sentence with so much conviction that the Latina couldn’t disagree with her.

They stared at each other once more, and again Abby wiped away the tears that were still on the Vera sister’s cheek. Something in Mel’s heart burnt at the way Abby was acting right now. She thought about the half witch’s lips, about the taste of her tongue, and all she wanted to do was to lean in and kiss her. When she was about to do exactly just that, Abigael cleared her throat.

“Shall I take you home?” the hybrid questioned gently.

Melanie observed Abby’s eyes, then lowered her gazed to her lips, then her eyes again. A little smirk marked the half demon’s lips. Even though all she wanted to do was to erase this smirk from Abigael with her own lips, the Charmed One stood up straight. Her hand preciously locked up between the British Lady’s ones.

“Yes, please.” looking down at Abby, who was searching something in the witch’s eyes.

Abigael raised in one smooth movement and helped out Mel to do the same. They were so close that their nose almost touched the other's face. Their eyes locked and their lips were about to connect when Mel’s stomach growled.

Abby laughed at the sound, and placed a kiss on her friend’s forehead.

“Come on now Miss Walking Stomach, I think you need to be fed.” the hybrid said giddily.

Mel rolled her eyes at that nickname, and had to hide her smile while Abby turned around. They walked to the stairs and took the direction of the Vera-Vaughn-Greenwood’s Manor, hand in hand without even realizing it...

[hoodoo12]

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 4/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @turtlepated @strange-n-unbluusual @mel-time @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe @sweetcat-666 @genderless-cryptid @monsterlovinghours @heresathreebee @rainingpaint @infptarius

Pate was at a loss. She’d never seen Beetlejuice like this. His hair, already lightened to a pale green shot through with red and yellow and purple in his distress, blanched even further when she mentioned going to Lillian. That alone was enough to convince her that her mentor had somehow trapped him in this mirror-verse where he could see and hear but not be heard.

His increasing upset hurt her deeply, and when he suddenly disappeared from view her heart plummeted and she pressed herself to the glass, hoping to see what he was doing but without him in front of her her own reflection blocked her view. She wished she could reach him, hold him, soothe him, hating her own helplessness.

At length he came back, his pale face even more pale than normal, his ash colored hair still streaked to show his frustration and fear. He looked close to tears, and Pate wasn’t even sure he was capable of tears. His lips moved softly and though she couldn’t hear him the message was clear.

Pate offered him a thin smile and shook her head, pressing her palm to the glass again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him. “Just give me one second to get my phone and I’m gonna call Lillian. She has to fix this. We’ll make her fix this.”

Keeping her eyes locked on his until the doorway and bedroom wall came between them, Pate dashed to the living room to retrieve her phone, hurrying back to the bathroom where Beetlejuice looked visibly relieved to see her return.

She thumbed through her contacts and smashed Lillian’s name, raising the phone to her ear. It was late, but Pate didn’t care if she woke Lillian up. The phone rang several times before it picked up.

“Hello? Pate? What are you doing calling this time of night?” Lillian asked.

“What did you do to him?” Pate demanded without preamble.

Lillian didn’t answer at first, and Pate heard what sounded like bedclothes being swept aside and a lamp being flicked on.

“I take it you mean the creature that invaded my kitchen,” Lillian finally drawled distastefully. “I did what you should have done, I sent him where he can’t harm anybody.”

“Beetlejuice wouldn’t hurt anybody anyway!” Pate insisted hotly. “He’s my . . . ” she trailed off, glancing at him in the mirror, knowing he could hear what she said. “He’s special. He’s important to me and I care about him,” she said. “You have to let him out. Or at least tell me how to and I’ll do it myself.”

Lillian sighed tiredly, as if she were dealing with a particularly exhausting situation. “Pate, whatever you think he means to you, the bottom line is he’s not human. He’s a demon, a wraith, a trickster. You’re better off without him.”

“I don’t care, tell me what to do to let him out.”

“No.”

The blunt refusal startled her. “You have to! You can’t leave him like this, stuck in my bathroom mirror!”

Speaking mostly to herself, Lillian said, “I should’ve figured he’d worm his way out. Should’ve sealed the mirror, too. Pate, nothing good can come of you having a live-in demon, I don’t care what feelings you might have about it. I’m going back to bed and that entity is staying right where he is. Good night.”

The line went dead. Angry, frustrated and panicked Pate immediately dialed again but it went straight to voicemail. Lillian had turned off her phone.

With a huff she slung her phone onto the counter, fixing Beetlejuice with a desperate expression.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” she said. “We’re gonna go over there and make her let you out.”

An idea struck her, and Pate crossed the room to the cabinets set into the wall, rifling through for what she was looking for. She turned back to Beetlejuice with a hand mirror.

“Do you think you can crawl into this mirror?” she asked. “Then I can take you with me.”

⁂

Out of all the crazy things they'd done together, crawling into a mirror that his lover held was barely a blip on the radar, even if she held it out in front of her or to her side as she walked. He wasn't incredibly excited about being shoved in a purse--or to see Ms. Lillian Borden again, truthfully--but he had no idea what else to do.

Beej heard the one-sided conversation Pate had had, had seen the quick look she’d sent his way before saying he was "special", and could only imagine what her mentor's response to that had been. He doubted anything Pate was going to tell her would make a difference. Still, it would be worth a shot to try and talk reason to the woman. He lifted his shoulder in a shrug as Pate displayed the mirror. He had no clue if her suggestion would work but was willing to try. Motioning her closer, she read what he meant and brought the mirror in her hand up to press against the glass of the bathroom counterpart. For a moment, all he could see was his own reflection. With deeper shadows under his eyes than normal and hair that was washed out more than colored, he looked worse than he thought.

Raising a hand as if to touch the mirror image, the interior surface of the mirror was tacky instead of smooth. It took a bit of effort to actually pull his hand back, and threads of what looked like spun glass, growing thinner the further away he pulled his hand, trailed from his fingertips. It seemed reluctant to let him go. If he was ruining Pate’s bathroom mirror, well, she mentioned in passing updating it anyway. Beej heard her asking what he was doing, if it was working, and decided it was better to just go for it and deal with consequences as they fell. With that determined spirit, he shoved his hand back through the glass. It felt as though he was pushing into molten, but cold, lava, all thick and clinging. Good thing he didn’t need to breathe, because it was going to take a moment to get through it and then get clean of it. Tentacles had to assist carrying him through the two layers of glass. Beetlejuice could only imagine what Lillian would think of those, chuckling to himself, then liquidish glass got in his mouth. There was nothing to do about it at the moment; trying to wipe it away would result in an arm moving backwards and that was not what he wanted right now! Finally, after more effort than he put into a lot of things, he managed to push himself into another endless white space. It didn’t look any smaller than the previous ones, and now he wondered how many compacts or other small mirrors he’d crawled through. The second his feet hit the ground and were free of the glass he found it was gone. There was no residue of any sort. Were all mirrors magic and just needed the right person to activate them? A question for Lillian, if she was willing to take questions from a pupil she seemed to like and a ghost she most definitely did not. Beetlejuice went to pound on the glass to alert Pate he’d moved, but the thought of getting snared by the inside of the new mirror gave him pause. He had to wait until she grew impatient and looked for herself.

⁂

Pate couldn’t help feeling a little foolish, standing with the small, round makeup mirror pressed against her medicine cabinet. Whatever Beetlejuice was doing, his reflection disappeared from the cabinet mirror to be replaced with her own.

Turning the smaller mirror around to face her, Pate beamed to see that the idea had worked, Beetlejuice looked out at her from the handheld mirror.

Wasting no more time she went back through into the bedroom, grabbed her wallet with her license inside from her purse, as well as her car keys.

“Let’s go see Ms. I-Know-What’s-Best-For-You Borden and get you back in the flesh,” she said, addressing Beetlejuice in the mirror as she locked her apartment door behind her.

What would it look like, she wondered, if someone saw her talking to the mirror?

Simple, she told herself. They’ll think you’re crazy. And maybe you are.

This time of night traffic was minimal and it didn’t take long to drive straight to Lillian’s downtown shop/apartment. Pate parked in a spot on the street, closing her door with perhaps a little more force than necessary, locking the car and cradling Beetlejuice’s mirror in her other hand.

There were internal steps up to Lillian’s apartment, but the shop was locked up at this hour. Pate rounded the building, heading for the fire escape. She had to set Beetlejuice down and climb up on a dumpster to reach the ladder, but after a few failed attempts she managed to pull it down with an earsplitting creak of protesting metal.

Retrieving the mirror that held her demon lover, Pate raced up the rickety steel steps as quickly as she dared, finding herself at Lillian’s sitting room window. She tried to open the window, finding it thankfully unlocked. She wouldn’t put it past Lillian to have some otherworldly impediments in place, designed to keep out apparitions but not people. Sliding the window open, Pate swung herself in one leg at a time.

“Lillian?” she called into the apartment, making no pretense at stealth. “Lillian, come out here and undo this.”

Pate didn’t hear that?! Maybe it was just spectral, maybe it was just something only people snared in tiny mirrors could hear, but the cries from inside the antique store from the various beings on the first floor were unnerving. Even the shriek of rusty metal joints on the fire escape moving after years of neglect was melodious compared to them. Something had happened. He didn’t know what, but Beej didn’t like it one tiny bit. He yelled at Pate to stop. Even at the top of his lungs she couldn’t hear him. Dredging up the deepest, most demonic voice he could had no effect. He was mute and helpless.

The television was on, I Love Lucy reruns flickering black and white with the volume low. Pate could see the top of Lillian’s head over the back of her recliner, facing away towards the TV. Angered by being ignored, Pate strode across the room, repeating her demand.

“Lillian, you tell me how to fix this. I don’t want Beetlejuice locked away, he’s -”

Pate cut off abruptly as she rounded the chair and saw the figure seated there.

Lillian Borden’s face was almost blue in the light from her TV, her eyes opened but staring unseeing at the ceiling, hands resting peacefully on the arms of her chair.

She was dead.

⁂ The scene inside the old woman’s apartment was nothing short of a horror movie set up. The lights were off, the room lit only by flickering from the television. Pate was demanding an answer and then a response. She stepped around the chair, and her hand dropped to her side as she choked her own sentence off, and her hand mirror slipped from her fingers, giving Beej a roller coaster ride as it fell, then a great view of the ceiling of the room when it hit the floor. If it was good or bad the glass didn’t break he’d never know, because Pate scooped him up almost as quickly as he’d fallen. Her apology he waved away as no worries, and she turned him towards her mentor in the chair. “Oh,” Beej said quietly at the sight of the dead woman. Now that posed something interesting. Never mind there was no way for her to undo the spell that trapped him in his current state, he didn’t sense her spirit or any evidence she drew a door and left the earthly plane. Of course, his view was limited to wherever Pate pointed his mirror. Or he’d been restricted by Lillian’s hasty capture of him somehow. Whatever it was, it warranted looking into once he was free again.

That was low on the priority list, however. He still needed out, and the woman who’d put him here was well past helping.

tbc . . .

[gumnut-logic]

Mosaic Beach

It has taken me since Thursday morning (it is now Saturday night) to write this goes-nowhere-piece-of-fluff. I had a low level migraine Wednesday night and felt awful Thursday morning, so the first 850 odd words are me visualising being in a better place other than outside my daughter’s school. Then Scott had something to say and promptly ate my fic. But then at least he was thinking about Virgil.

Also, Gordon is evil.

As always, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for the read throughs and support. You guys are amazing to me :D

I hope you enjoy this totally lazy fic ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

It was a lazy day.

Virgil suspected John, who had been kicked off Five the day before, had Eos routing all but the most dire situations to local authorities whether Scott authorised it or not.

There were days where Virgil wondered if Scott was really in charge, since John had so much ultimate say.

But that thought was for another day. He was tired and it was likely going to be a day off - please let it be a day off - and he was going to find a corner of the Island to sit alone and scribble in his sketchbook.

He ended up on Mosaic Beach, a personal favourite on the edge of the caldera. Gordon had mentioned it the day before regarding the quality of flotsam available after the last storm and Virgil thought he would see what he could find.

It was overshadowed by an ancient pokey tree brilliant in red blossom and the sand here was a mass of black and white swirls as the coral detritus fought the eroded igneous rocks – the reason they had given it its name. Gordon was right - there was all sorts of things tossed up the sand and Virgil spent the first half hour wandering along the strip of sea wrack picking up shells and whatever caught his eye.

One of the shells appeared determined to return to the ocean and it was with a small smile that he picked up the tiny hermit crab and watched it curl up into its shell.

Holding it gently in his palm, he sought the shade of the giant tree and sat down on the sand in its shadow. Here the breeze was gentle, the sand cool and, leaning back against a rock, he set the little crab down on a smooth patch of sand, along with his small hoard of shells and let it scamper across the little landscape that resulted.

Sketchbook out, he spent the next few minutes sketching the crab madly as it moved about. It shifted angle at random and he found himself increasingly switching from real life to a character sketch. A little personality sprouted from the page that reflected the little crab’s determination.

Ever aware of the crab’s needs above his own, he sketched fast, took a few photos and then gathered the little creature in his hands once more. He trotted down to the rock pools at the edge of the beach and found a spot he felt the crab would be happy.

Crouching down, he watched it scamper into the water.

His lips curved into a smile.

Gordon would know what species it was, where it lived and how to best care for it. Virgil was pretty sure he knew what type it was. Mel was pedantic about crabs and had given them a list of ‘these are endangered, tell me if you see them, kill one and I will kill you’. Fortunately or unfortunately, it wasn’t a long list, so Virgil had memorised it. This little guy...he should be happy here.

The crab found some weed and promptly hid under it.

The rockpool drew Virgil’s eye a little longer before he finally stood up and let the breeze cool his face. A sigh at the sun’s warmth and he wandered back to the shadow of the pokey tree and sat down again.

The little crab stared up at him from his sketchbook, spritely and determined.

Kind of like Gordon really, despite the claws.

That prompted a smile at the thought of his fish brother’s reaction to being compared to a crab.

He would squawk, but he would love it.

Virgil returned to sketching the shells and bits of coral he had collected. Rearranging them, repositioning for lighting. He picked one up and stared at the colours created by a little mollusc. He was ever amazed at what Mother Nature was capable of. Simple geometrics and chemical formulae made one of the world’s strongest and most beautiful substances in nacre. Another broken shell showed the rainbow of colour that he knew his paintbrush would never quite be able to capture, much less the pencil and stick of carbon he had with him today. He was left with a little snapshot from his phone...which was never quite the same either...and what his memory could provide.

Perhaps it was nature’s way of ensuring it was always the most beautiful.

He shifted to scribbling down the beachscape after that. It wasn’t the first time he had drawn this beach, but as with all beaches, it was different every day as the tide sculpted it.

His fingers grew more and more lazy, his lines wandering through more emotion than reality as the day drifted on. At some point, he ate the sandwich he had packed, quite happy to not care what time of day it was and refusing to look at his watch.

Eventually the sketchbook was set aside and he let himself just stare out at the ocean lagoon, eyes tracking the movement of the distant waves and the laps of the ripples against the shore.

And nature’s rhythms lulled him to sleep.

-o-o-o-

“Hey, big bro, you might want to drop by Mosaic Beach before the tide comes in.” Gordon waltzed past the desk Scott was sitting at with a smirk on his face.

“What?” Scott’s brain was still stuck in working out what the hell Simmonds meant by the ‘urgent memo’ that had interrupted his afternoon off.

“The snoring is scaring away all the wildlife.” With that Gordon grabbed a book off the shelf on the far side of the room and backtracked out the way he had come in...without another word.

Scott was left staring where his brother had been.

But then Gordon was worth ignoring some times.

He turned back to his display and continued to try and work out why Simmonds had ordered sixty plastic flamingoes and then memo’d him about it in a panic.

It took him a good few minutes more before throwing it back at Simmonds’ supervisor in Japan with a ‘concerned’ note.

What did Tracy Industries need with sixty plastic flamingoes?

He shook his head and forced himself to stand up and not invest any more in any comms from the business. Today was hopefully his day off and he refused to fall into the trap of losing himself in all the things that required attention.

All the things.

He paused mid rise.

But no. No! Vacation day. He forced himself away from the desk and out onto the balcony.

It was a beautiful out here. The afternoon sun was blazing in a brilliant blue sky without a single cloud. The sea was murmuring far below. It was an artist’s dream.

He blinked as certain Gordon utterings connected neurons together.

A frown. “Gordon!”

No answer.

Another frown and he strode back inside, following the recent tracks of his fish brother down to the kitchen.

Scott found him reading at the table, a phone that was most definitely not his in one hand and the book in his other.

There were lots of photos of crabs.

“What are you doing?”

“Confirming the identification of a crab.”

“Why?”

“Virg found one down on Mosaic Beach and I wanna make sure it is what I think it was so I can report it to Mel.”

The dots that had been connecting earlier fused into a solid line with an arrow pointing directly at Gordon. “And where is Virgil?”

“Snoozing on the beach.”

“And why do you have his phone?”

“Because his drawings were excellent, but I needed a colour shot.”

“Gordon!”

His brother didn’t even look up. “What?” But then he blinked and frowned at Scott. “He’s fine. Well above the high tide line.” A glance down at the book again. “There, that’s it. Oooh, Mel is going to be so excited.”

Scott glared at Gordon for a whole second longer before storming over and snatching the phone out of his hands. Without another word, he strode out of the kitchen and took the path that would lead him down to the reported beach.

Younger brothers were hard work.

The little beach wasn’t the closest on the Island. Probably one of the reasons Virgil chose it to get away from pesky younger brothers. Trust Gordon to find him anyway.

He fingered Virgil’s phone in his hand as he walked. The green leather case was embossed with an elaborate dragon design.

Looking at it, all he could really feel was fondness.

He must be tired. Grandma was right. He needed a day off.

Easier said than done. It wasn’t like he could park himself on a beach and fall asleep.

He grunted as he stepped over some rocks to start the climb down to the little cove. The path was thin and wove amongst several pōhutukawa trees – or pokey trees as Alan called them, their dark green leaves adorned with puffs of red blossom. Birds darted between them squawking at each other. That combined with the surf in the distance and the breeze rattling palm trees, it wasn’t the quietest of places.

Nevertheless, he found his brother sprawled against a rock under the largest pokey tree at the edge of the beach, snoring his head off.

Definitely noisy.

Virgil was dressed in an old pair of work shorts and a t-shirt with a hole in it. Both sported spatters of paint and clearly showed how relaxed his brother was trying to be.

Beside him on a rock, carefully placed, no doubt by Gordon, the brat, was a sketchbook and a box of drawing tools. Virgil’s artist backpack lay folded up supporting his head - again likely Gordon.

Virgil snorted and curled up just a little more against the rock.

Gordon was a shit, but he was a kind one. Virgil slept like the dead and would likely need one of those waves off in the distance to wash over him if he was going to wake up before he wanted to.

Staring a moment longer, Scott sighed, gave up and sat down beside his brother. He dropped the phone onto the sketchbook and looked out at the beach.

Virgil continued to snore.

His biggest little brother had always snored. Scott had cornered him and got him tested for a variety of sleep issues, but he was fine. Just loud.

The terrible two used to make a point of pointing it out as much as possible. But that was before the hydrofoil accident.

Gordon didn’t know it, but due to his injuries, he now snored, too.

The ribbing about snoring in the Tracy household had dropped to a minimum since, Gordon the only unknowing ribber.

But Virgil remained the major noise maker and the brothers worshipped the soundproofing in the villa.

Regardless of the racket, Scott did find it strangely quiet out here. Sitting on the sand with nothing to do was oddly relaxing. Of course, he wasn’t really one to do nothing and Virgil’s sketchbook was right there. Gordon had obviously already stuck his nose into it and Scott was pretty sure Virgil wouldn’t mind if he took a peek.

Would he?

Lifting the phone off the book, Scott carefully picked it up and nestled it in his lap...ever, ever so careful. Okay, so he had some respect and not a little fear of damaging Virgil’s artwork.

The pages were thick and stiff and likely designed to support wet media as much as dry. Most of the work in it was pencil, however, maybe some charcoal? The darks were so deep in some that they had to be.

But Scott was no artist and really only had eyes for the content.

The first page found him looking at himself. Virgil had obviously either captured Scott’s likeness on the sly or drawn from a photo or holoprojection. His drawing stared up at him in almost all three dimensions. The expression on his graphite face was thoughtful, almost wistful. He could see his rendered self was thinking or planning and totally distracted...which was likely why he had no clue his brother had captured this shot.

But the artistic strokes were strong and sure, simple in their complexity.

Scott blinked, moved that his brother was so talented and capable.

Though he really shouldn’t be surprised.

Turning the page, he discovered their grandmother.

He had to smile. The concentration on Grandma’s face was almost comical. A bowl and a recipe book sat in front of her and the very tip of her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth as she frowned at whatever she was reading.

There was a touch of caricature in the drawing, a little exaggeration, but done with love and fondness, not mockingly. His grandmother was beautiful.

Scott swallowed and turned the page to find several detailed scribbles. They looked like pieces of machinery and the pages had notes written down the sides.

It was a spark moment. He knew Virgil well enough for that. One of those times when his thoughts all came together and saw him running naked out of the shower to grab whatever he could find and get it written down.

Several major equipment improvements had occurred exactly this way. It appeared that at some point, this sketchbook had been the nearest note book and had borne the brunt.

He stared at the diagrams, doing his best to work out exactly what they were. Sharp notation, numbers, that had to be the backend of a pod. It clicked. This was part of the pod assembly redesign from the previous year. Virgil had come to him with some major improvements, including a pod body redesign. What followed had been a massive overhaul of all the ‘birds’ assembly systems and a whole new set up, including colour changes according to which Thunderbird housed which pod. Virgil and Brains had been buzzing for weeks.

And it was possible it had all started here on this piece of paper. Now he could see the scribbled down inner workings of the assembly mechanism and the shape on the second page was a worked and reworked pod shell.

He glanced over at his brother who was still snoring peacefully. Virgil was amazing. Scott could not have been prouder of what his little brother had achieved. Yet Virgil never really boasted or bragged or even highlighted what he had done. He was just there. Always there, one step behind him ready to help.

He must be really tired because now he was getting emotional. There had been a few times in the last couple of years where he had come close to losing Virgil. He hadn’t, but there had been nightmares and many a night where he had spent reassuring himself that his biggest brother was still with him.

And yes, he could stand outside his brother’s bedroom door and listen to him snore.

It gave him comfort.

Gordon had caught him once.

That had been a heartbreaking moment.

Because his fish brother hadn’t said a thing, just reached up, squeezed his shoulder, dropped his forehead against Scott’s arm and just stood there for a solid moment. Another gentle squeeze and he left, not even looking up at Scott before he was gone.

It said more than any words.

Scott sighed and turned the page...only to come face to face with Gordon again. Though this time the joy in their fish brother’s eyes was lighting up the page. He was grinning at a shell and there was a speech bubble - ‘Virgil, come and see this!’

Scott had to smile. Gordon was notorious for sharing his beach discoveries. Virgil was usually the target because at least he knew a little bit about their little brother’s fascinations. Scott loved to see Gordon happy, but honestly, he couldn’t tell the difference between one shell or another. He tried. He honestly did, but Virgil had the patience of a saint and was much more engaging.

Scott loved to watch the two of them instead.

And yes, he saw Virgil sneak things into his pockets. Usually shells, but occasionally rocks and bits of coral. Those finds made their way back to Virgil’s studio and there was a whole corner devoted to marine still life.

Which was why it was no surprise when the next three pages of sketchbook turned out to be exactly that. A curly shell, a pile of cockle shells - Scott knew those at least - they were good for fishing. The third page had a plan for a reef painting. It had scribbled notes, much like the pod redesign pages, but this was based around a sketched layout. Scott frowned at it...it was vaguely familiar. He would have to ask Virgil about it when he woke.

The next two pages sported today’s efforts. The same beach he was sitting on emerged from the paper, along with some sketches of a crab. The first few were realistic, but the last one had the little hermit crab with an IR symbol on its side and one of Dad’s old uniform hats perched on top of its shell. It bore a sash that resembled Virgil’s despite the lack of green colour and one of its claws was bigger than the other in a very exo-suit-like way.

That had Scott grinning. This was no doubt the reason why Gordon had run for the crab book. Mel, in her position of Director of the Kermadec Expedition south of them on Raoul Island, was very particular about the endemic crabs on all the islands in the area.

He wondered what she would think of them inducting crabs into IR.

He wondered what she was doing today and if she might be available later for a nice evening together.

That thought was very distracting and had nothing to do with crab identification at all.

Virgil snorted, rolled over off his backpack and face first into the sand.

Scott startled, fully expecting a woken bear of a brother to surface from that.

But Virgil just kept snoring, now snorting sand as well.

He placed the sketchbook down, scrambled around his brother and gently shoved the folded backpack under his head again.

His fingertips brushed sand off Virgil’s face.

And he found himself sitting beside his brother again.

Why was he out here?

Because Gordon was evil and dangled the concept of Virgil drowning in the tide simply to aggravate him enough to do exactly what he did.

Gordon was a shit.

But a good one.

Another sigh and he lay back against the rocks and got comfortable, because, let’s face it, he wasn’t going back up to the villa without Virgil. His brother was safe, sure, but walking off and leaving him to the elements ran against his grain.

And Gordon knew it.

He would throttle, and possibly hug, his fish brother later.

Besides, it was nice out here, taking a moment to just be.

Virgil would approve.

Virgil would fake being asleep just to get him to do it.

Scott’s eyes darted to his now softly snoring brother, a sudden suspicion at the forefront of his thoughts. He would put it past either of Virgil or Gordon’s conniving ways to conspire to get him out here.

Virgil was drooling a wet patch onto his backpack.

Ugh.

Well, maybe not.

Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

Perhaps he just needed to relax.

Relax.

He closed his eyes and folded his hands in his lap. Kayo was good at meditation. So was Gordon. Virgil did some connecting with nature thing that seemed to work for him.

Exhibit A snorted as if in agreement.

He could try.

Out of all the sounds he could hear, only one really held his attention.

That same soft snoring. No waves or wind or birds squawking brought him any kind of comfort.

The sound of his brother breathing evenly beside him, safe and sound, was the most beautiful sound in the world.

What that said about him...well, he didn’t care right now. He was tired and worn out. Maybe Gordon was right. Maybe this is what he needed. He should care, should be annoyed, but the rhythm was lulling and, god, he was so tired.

So goddamned tired.

Virgil kept breathing and Scott followed him into sleep.

-o-o-o-

Hidden in the foliage of the grove of pokey trees behind his two brothers, Gordon just smiled.

-o-o-o-

[dragonthusiast]

Fic 1: Dragon snuggles, part 1 (Kaleth/Mel)

“Hey, honey?” Mel asked from where he was lying next to Kaleth on the couch, his arm thrown over him and his face hiding in the crook of Kaleth’s neck. They’d been taking an afternoon nap, which was not something Kaleth had done much before, but he was an immediate fan. Though most of that came from the fact that he and Mel could cuddle.

“Yes, love?” Kaleth didn’t bother opening his eyes just yet.

“Wanna go for a quick flight?”

That time Kaleth did open his eyes a crack. “You mean in the car?”

Mel shook his head, getting up into a sitting position. Kaleth immediately missed the contact, but he said nothing, letting Mel explain.

“Well, I was just thinking. Maybe we could go fly like we used to, you know?”

Kaleth’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, I see, you want to transform.”

Mel nodded, ducking his head as he smiled shyly. Kaleth felt his heart stutter at the sight. He got up as well, giving Mel a kiss on the cheek.

“Sure, love, I don’t see why not. As long as we do it somewhere no one will see.” Mel nodded, grinning widely, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I hope I still remember how to grow wings.”

“Well, I was thinking you could ride me instead?” Mel suggested somewhat hesitantly before smirking. “In a different way than you usually do, I mean.”

Kaleth’s face went bright red. He was still not used to Mel making jokes like this, and it never failed to completely disarm him, which he suspected Mel enjoyed. “R-right. O-of course.”

Mel laughed. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Before Kaleth could get annoyed with him for being teased like this, though, he pulled him close and kissed him softly, making Kaleth forget all about it.

“Let’s go!”

They let the car take them to the nearest desert. It wasn’t a good place to hide, certainly not, but it offered a lot of space for flying, and barely anyone was there to see them, so Kaleth thought it was a good choice. Certainly better than Mel having to fly in a forest.

As soon as Mel was out of the car, he was transforming, so quickly that Kaleth barely managed to see him do it before he managed to get out of the car as well. He couldn’t help but smile at Mel’s unrestrained happiness at being a dragon again as he jumped around before throwing himself back first into the hot sand and wiggling, flapping his wings and flailing his tail.

Kaleth couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. “Does that feel good?”

“It’s like a dry shower!” Mel replied enthusiastically, jumping up and shaking the sand off him. Then instead of telling Kaleth to get on him, Mel nudged him with his head, pushing him forward. Shaking his head, Kaleth went along with it, climbing onto Mel’s back. As soon as he did, they were surging through the air, moving higher and higher.

Kaleth fumbled to pull his goggles over his eyes while keeping a steady hold on Mel’s neck, but once he did, and he took a moment to properly breathe in the fresh, warm air, he couldn’t help but smile.

He had missed this. The lack of any kind of barrier between him and the outside world, the exhilaration caused by flying on a dragon, the complete and utter freedom…. Kaleth grimaced. Mel must have felt all this, but even more intensely. He should have suggested this to him ages ago.

But there was no use regretting that. He’d just make sure to make this a regular thing if Mel wanted it to be.

They spent the afternoon flying around, only stopping for short breaks before Mel was ready to zip around again, going as fast as he could just because he could. And Kaleth could feel his immense joy at it.

Once Mel finally stopped, landing on a mountain cliff, Kaleth doubted it was because for any other reason other than being tired. And despite his cramping legs, Kaleth would have no problem with Mel flying around for even longer than this.

Kaleth climbed off Mel’s back, trying to walk some of the discomfort off as he made a mental note to give himself a power boost next time. The view from here was beautiful—nothing but the white sands of the desert and the sun touching the horizon.

Kaleth didn’t get to admire it for long, though, as he felt Mel nudge him again. Kaleth smiled, turning around, only to be pulled in by Mel’s strong wings, squeezing him to his body. Kaleth chuckled, putting his arms around Mel’s neck. Was it silly to feel safer like this, even though Mel was similarly strong in either form?

“This was really nice,” Mel said, his voice full of emotion. It seemed he was torn between being happy it happened and sad that it ended. Kaleth pulled back a bit so he could look Mel in the eye, putting a hand on his snout.

“We can do this as often as you want to.”

Mel’s eyes lit up. “Y-yeah?”

Kaleth chuckled again, nodding. He put his hand onto the dragon’s chin instead, and leaning in, he pressed his lips against the impossibly smooth, black scales on his snout. He didn’t think he’d ever done that before, and he couldn’t help but wonder why because this was Mel.

No matter what form he took, Kaleth could see him just the same. Perhaps that was a new development, a sign of their soul bond deepening further, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the reasoning. He just knew he loved the wonderful person in front of him, and that was good enough.

Mel immediately pressed his head against Kaleth’s chest, letting out a rumble of joy, and Kaleth automatically embraced him again, playing with one of Mel’s long ears. He couldn’t help but grin at the way Mel twitched it, pushing it against his palm.

They would certainly have to do this more often. ------------------------------

part two incoming probably

[hookingminor]

Could you do “we team up for the couples contest every year as friends but this year you’re with someone else and i’m definitely Not Jealous and definitely Not Realising Feelings” with Tyson Jost?? ☺️

For the last three years you and Tyson had teamed up to win the annual costume contest that Gabe and Mel always threw. The first year you were very cliche, going as Sandy and Danny from Grease. And honestly, it was so simple you probably shouldn’t have won the contest but your costumes were so well thought out that you did win and ever since then Tyson said he needed you every year because you were a good luck charm.

The next year you’d gone as an alien and astronaut, and your makeup effects had definitely been the reason you won.

Last year you’d pulled out all the stops and gone as Beetlejuice and Lydia, and no one had even come close to the intricacy of your costumes.

This year, however, you had brought a date. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that you were casually seeing someone, but it was a shock when you decided to bring him instead of teaming up with Tyson again.

So, Tyson found himself having to watch you parade around with your date all night dressed as Morticia and Gomez Addams.

He didn’t know why it bothered him.

Maybe it was the fact that he was dressed as a dumb cowboy with no cowgirl by his side, or maybe it was the fact you were wearing a tight dress with a deep plunge and your date’s hand was perpetually rested just above your ass.

“Maybe you should challenge him to a duel,” JT spoke up suddenly, and Tyson snapped his attention back to his friend.

“What?” He asked in confusion.

“Whoever Y/N came with,” JT shrugged, “You’ve been glaring at them all night.”

“What?” Tyson repeated, shaking his head, “No, I haven’t.”

“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said because you’re too busy strangling that guy in your head,” JT explained as he took another sip of his drink.

Tyson’s gaze flickered back to where you stood with your date, deep in conversation with Nate and his date. He watched as you laughed at whatever Nate’s date said, and he felt the betrayal hit him like a ton of bricks when he saw Nate grab your date’s arm in a light-hearted manner as they joked about something.

Realistically, Tyson knew he had no right to be jealous. You two were just friends and there was never anything more to your relationship.

Or so he thought until now.

He knew the feeling was jealousy. There was no other explanation to why his heart clenched when he saw you laughing with your date or the way his stomach did flips when you glanced at him across the room and gave him a friendly wave.

“I haven’t been strangling him in my head,” Tyson lied. He hadn’t internalized it, but now that JT mentioned it, he was feeling some murderous thoughts towards your date.

“You’ve been in love with her for years now,” JT scoffed, “I’m surprised it took you this long to realize it.”

Tyson gave his friend an unamused glare, and JT held his hands up in surrender and walked away to talk to someone else, picking up the hint that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about this right now.

Less than a minute did Tyson stand alone before you excused yourself to join him.

“Where have you been all night? I’ve barely seen you,” you teased your friend, slugging his arm for good measure.

“I’ve been around,” he answered vaguely. Even though he was upset at the situation, he couldn’t help but return the sentiment when you smiled at him, “Who’s your date?”

“Ah, just some guy I’ve been seeing,” you brushed it off casually, “He wasn’t as into the costumes as much as I was.”

“Well, he’s an idiot because you look fantastic,” Tyson complimented, “You’re definitely going to win the contest.”

You chuckled in response, “I doubt that. I don’t have my good luck charm this year.” You meant it as a joke, referencing how you thought he was also your lucky charm, but Tyson commented before he could think better of it.

“Yeah, well, it seems I’ve been replaced and you’ve found a new good luck charm,” he said. Tyson tried to keep his tone happy, but you noticed the bite behind it.

“I could never replace you,” you said sadly.

The mood between you two had shifted. What was a friendly, warm atmosphere had suddenly turned ice cold and you stood there silently now, unsure of how to keep going.

“Maybe I should get back to the party,” you whispered softly. You noticed how the entire party had now moved from the house to the backyard, and you were all alone in the kitchen.

Taking his silence for agreement, you turned your back to leave, but Tyson was quick to grasp your wrist and tug you back.

He still didn’t say anything, only taking a few moments to look into your eyes before he was pulling you closer and crushing his lips against yours.

The kiss took you by surprise, but you gave in easily. Moving your hand to grasp the back of his neck, you pressed yourself further into his body as you moved your lips against his.

It continued for a couple more seconds before the realization of where you were finally hit you. Blushing, you pulled away from him and scanned the room quickly to see if anyone saw your public display of affection, which wasn’t a good look when you were making out with a guy who wasn’t your date.

To your relief, no one could be found.

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have done that right now,” Tyson apologized sheepishly, also taking note of his surroundings.

“Yeah, probably not a good idea to kiss someone with a date,” you agreed, “I’d be mad if I hadn’t been waiting for you to do that for the past two years.”

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Had I known all it would take is for me to bring another date, I would’ve done that a long time ago,” you chuckled. You should’ve felt bad for your date, but you both knew it wasn’t anything serious.

“I’ll let you have this year, but every year after this one you’re mine,” he said, “Exclusively.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but…” you paused for contemplation, “I think I can agree to that.”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXXIX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m scared to see how you guys will react to this one, hope you at least find it enjoyable despite my very self-indulgent plots -Danny 

P.S. Huge s/o to @bwbatta​ bc I decided to update my fic and now I have pretty dividers in all my books! Most of the ones I ended up using are her work so go check it out :)

Words: 4,641

Series’ Masterlist

Book V // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Need Your Love’ -by Joshua Wicker

Chapter One: Dumbledore's Mission.

"A galleon says Erick will crash the car —"

"Shut up!"

"Don't make him nervous," Emily scolded Harry. "If you continue this I won't teach you how to drive!"

"We don't need to learn," Mel snorted. "We'll apparate everywhere..."

"I thought you hated it," Her mother raised a brow.

"Yeah, but she's lazy," Harry smirked.

"Why is Harry here? He's not allowed to leave the house, is he?" Mel frowned.

"He's not allowed to be alone outside, there's a difference. We're babysitting two infants, unfortunately..." Erick taunted.

"What's the matter, Flint? You have stage-fright?" Harry replied.

"Oh please, he feeds on attention! Like a dementor but in a more annoying way..."

"Enough!" Emily looked over her seat. "Is that the kind of things you want to teach your brother?"

"I doubt he'll remember any of this!"

"We know he can do it, Em, we're just teasing," Harry said blithely.

"Yeah, he's the only adult here apart from you, mum. It's kind of his obligation to be good at driving."

The baby let out a squeal of agreement, he was three weeks old but had a good set of lungs that he was happy to use at any given time, especially while everyone was sleeping.

Harry leaned and checked that the baby's blankets. Mel beamed at the sight, the boy had pretty much adopted the boy as his own brother, which she thought made a lot of sense, not only because it was Sirius' son, but because he'd been part of her family for so long that anything else would've been silly.

They were well aware that bringing little Regulus to their driving lessons was a bit risky, but Emily wasn't as keen to leave Mel and Harry alone in the house as she used to, so she put a few safety spells on the chair once the baby was seated while Harry and Mel sat on both sides of it.

Erick turned out to be a good driver, but he still had a bit of trouble understanding how cars worked.

"I have to be pulling and pushing stuff all the time!" He complained as he activated the windshield on accident for the third time. "Why can't I just turn the key and press the pedal?"

"Cars don't work like that," Emily said patiently. "It's complicated, but you're good!"

"He's only gone up and down the street for half an hour, Leggie fell asleep already," The girl huffed.

Emily looked over the seat once again, she was frowning. "Erick, switch seats with Mel."

"You're joking... right?"

"Erick," The woman repeated.

"On it," He said happily. "C'mon Mel, are you scared?"

Ten minutes later, Erick was in the backseat and she was tightly holding onto the wheel.

"I'm doing it!" She said. "Is not that hard, is it?"

"A slug could move faster," Harry was looking at the roof of the car and dying of heat. "I thought you were going to be more... the reckless type of driver."

"Me too..." Erick agreed lazily, he was playing with one of Reggie's feet.

"I'm not going faster, my brother's in the car!" Mel scoffed.

"We're not asking you to! Just enough so we can feel like we're actually moving!"

"Bringing you three was a bad idea," Emily said over the boys' laughter.

"Fine!" Mel pressed down the pedal, the car immediately gaining speed. "I'm was just being careful!"

"Which makes me proud," Emily softly patted her shoulder. "It feels like it was yesterday when you were running around Remus' house in nothing but a diaper and now you're driving!"

"The other night I ran into her wearing no pants, so she's hasn't changed really," Erick murmured nonchalantly. "I stepped on Grey's tail thanks to that... maybe that's why he hates me so much."

"What?" Harry's head snapped to the side so fast he hurt himself.

"I forgot you live here now! Sometimes I sleep like that, s'not a crime!" She looked at Harry through the rearview mirror. "I've been an only child for sixteen years, sometimes I forget there are more than two people in my house..."

"I'm surprised her scream didn't wake up Leon," Erick sniggered.

"He's a heavy sleeper like his dad," Emily responded distractedly.

The conversation died instantly. It wasn't the woman's intention, of course, but it'd been only a few weeks since Sirius' passing, sometimes they would forget for a moment, just a brief second, then one of them would talk about Sirius and everything would start again...

It was painful, and it was weird. Mel had never endured something like this with anyone except Harry. Having a larger group of people sharing the same pain was strangely comforting.

Mel cleared her throat. "It's Harry's turn..."

"I'm okay," He said quickly. "I can learn another day..."

"Glasses, you and I have a tradition of experiencing things at the same time," The girl stopped the car and turned to look at him. "You're not going to ruin our streak. Besides, I need to know if I'm better than you."

Harry stared at her in amusement, then he looked at Erick.

"Is it fun, having her bossing you around all day?"

"I boss her around too," Erick smirked.

"They take turns," Her mother sighed.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry gave the woman a look of sympathy as he stepped out of the car.

"There are worse things than being stuck with two pushy teenagers..."

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Emily smirked. "A pushy teenager and a pushy adult."

"If it annoys you that much I'll move out," Mel offered humorously. "What d'you say, Prince? Should we try our luck outside our comfort zone?"

"You wouldn't last a day," Erick taunted.

"Fiddlesticks," Mel muttered, to which Harry laughed.

It was around three in the morning when someone knocked on her door. She'd been awake for a while now, so she stood up and opened it.

"Hi," She rubbed her eyes. "What's up?"

"Can't sleep," Erick mumbled. "Care if I stay a moment?"

"Go ahead..."

She went back to bed, Erick sat at the edge and stared at her for a moment. Grey let out a sleepy growl, curling further away from his reach. Erick pulled out his pocket watch, now hanging from a chain he'd found in Regulus Black's room back in Grimmauld Place. The reason why he'd taken it was unknown to Mel.

"What's up?" She mumbled, suppressing a yawn.

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

"How lucky I am."

Mel let out a puff of air without replying. He would do this often, say he was lucky to be there, that she'd saved his life... She just wanted him to shut up.

"I really don't want to punch you, Prince, I'd ruin your pretty nose."

He smiled, unbothered.

"You know, a few years ago you would've been pleased to hear me say that, you ungrateful git."

"Yeah well, a few years ago my biggest dream was to become a princess," She joked. "So you see my priorities were a bit messed up..."

"You'd make a cute princess."

"C'mon —"

"I mean it."

"Erick," Mel said in a tone of warning. "Stop."

He'd been acting like that for a whole week: flirting when no one was around, complimenting her... Mel had closed up so tightly around herself that she was barely capable of saying I love you to her mum. Erick had lived deprived of affection his whole life and was just getting out of that environment. At what point had she become the cold, distant one, and he the ray of sunshine?

She knew right away what he was trying to do, but she was so numb... Mel cared about him, but she was not there yet.

Erick leaned on the wall and tilted his head a bit so he could look at her.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" She replied. "It's not your fault... I just — I need time."

He nodded shortly.

"We can talk later?"

He was wonderful, but she was in the middle of all that was wrong in their world, right next to Harry and the lifeline that she still hadn't decided whether she wanted to keep or not.

"We should go to bed," She murmured, still unable to make any real decisions for herself.

"Yeah," He stood up, carefully putting the blankets back in place and dropping them all over Grey on purpose. He put the watch back in his pocket as well. "Sweet dreams, Mely."

The Ministry of Magic

PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES

The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack.

"I have a better way to protect our house," Erick groaned, he was gently rubbing his temples. "Let Leon cry the whole night and not even Voldemort will try to enter... I myself am starting to consider living on the street just to get away from the noise."

"S'not that bad," She answered, the dark circles under her eyes giving her away. "It's hard to get used to being a human, you know?"

"Look at this," Emily unfolded the newspaper. "'Scrimgeour succeeds Fudge' — Well, haven't met him yet but I hope he's got a bit of brain, Tonks told me a few months back that he's certainly a bit brisker..."

The doorbell rang and Mel left to open the door.

The routine at that point was established even if it had been only two weeks since their arrival; Erick got used to life at Privet Drive quite easily, he spent two whole days examining every corner of the kitchen, and when Mel showed him what a movie was, he wasted a whole day in the drawing-room watching the movie adaptations of the books she'd lent to him.

Harry would go daily to check on"Reg". Once he'd stayed the night but refused to sleep in Mel's room, not that she'd tried to convince him otherwise.

"Goodmorning," She opened the door without paying attention, "you're a bit late for breakfast but I'll let it pass as soon as you —"

She stopped talking at the sight of her great-uncle, Dumbledore smiled at her and walked in.

"I can't stay for breakfast, but I dare say I regret it deeply."

"Professor... I — Is everything okay?"

"Certainly."

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Mel turned to see her mother standing near the stairs, gazing at Dumbledore coldly.

"Emily," Dumbledore said. "Good morning... I'm here to speak with Mr Flint."

"Is he in trouble?"

"Quite the contrary, I believe he's never been better."

"Professor," Erick's posture changed when he walked into the room, suddenly he looked more like a young man and less like a boy. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a mission for you... Mel as well, but only if she wishes to go."

"She's not of age," The woman replied quickly.

Mel was ready to accept whatever it was he wanted her to do, she needed to feel like she was doing something. Although she wasn't exactly happy to see him so soon after the end of their last term.

"As I said, only if she wishes to come. I assure you she'd be safe."

The girl looked at her mother and then at the men standing in front of her.

"Can I hear what this is about first?"

Emily crossed her arms without uttering a word, her uncle signalled towards the couch.

"A word, then?"

Erick nodded, making a beeline to the closest armchair. Emily turned to leave, but Dumbledore spoke again.

"You can stay."

The woman shared a look with her daughter, Mel couldn't hide her eagerness to hear what the old man had to say.

"I won't sit there and watch history repeat itself," Emily sighed.

The woman left before Mel could say anything. She would talk to her later, but first, she needed to talk to Dumbledore.

"I beg you not to interrupt me while I speak."

Both pupils silently agreed to his petition.

"Now, I find myself in need of a new Professor, but the man I'd been contemplating for the job has been on the run for almost a year — He's not guilty of any crimes," He added, noticing the way their faces grew worried. "He's just afraid like everyone else... I need you to track him down and point me to where he is so I can have a word with him."

"I'll do it," Erick responded instantly.

"Alone?" Mel frowned.

Dumbledore stared at her for a second too long.

"If I remember correctly today is your sixteenth birthday, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Mr Flint turned seventeen in January — You may know that's considered to be the start of our adulthood."

"Yes."

"Erick is allowed to do magic outside school... But you still have a year left."

"I don't see  —"

"You have Matthew's spirit when it comes to saving a friend, Mel. When you were eleven you left this house with Hagrid so you could look for Harry yourself... The time has come for me to finally be honest with you."

"What do you mean 'finally'?" The words were burning a hole in her brain. "You mean all the things you told me when I was in your office last month... that wasn't it?"

Erick stared at them with polite interest, even though she knew he was dying to ask. Mel hadn't told him a thing about that night out of respect for Harry's privacy.

"That was all I had to tell you regarding the Harry," Dumbledore replied. "There are plenty of things I haven't said, and I wish to talk about them with you."

"And if I agree to go with Erick on this mission... you'll tell me?" Mel raised a brow.

"I'll tell you whether you help me with this or not, but I believe there's nothing else I can teach you, Mel. All that's left for you is to start putting your knowledge to use; I recommend you to go on this mission."

"What about my animagus lessons?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled. "I'll help you with that, but that'll be it. You've concluded your lessons with the highest marks, dear girl."

She would've been elated hadn't been because of the strange way her uncle was acting.

"Aren't you happy?" Erick nudged her arm gently. "You've worked hard for years, you should be proud!"

"I am proud," Mel replied shortly. "And I'd love to help, but I can't leave my family, it's not safe."

"They'd go to the burrow if you leave."

"What about Harry?"

"He'll go to the burrow too, but I have a few matters to attend with his family first."

"If Mel wants to stay that's alright, I can go on my own —"

"You can't."

Erick looked at her irritated.

"It's not like you can do magic outside school."

"It takes more than magic to survive out there — You don't know how to blend in with the muggles, do you?"

"You can discuss this throughout the day," Dumbledore grabbed a letter from his pocket. "In this, you'll find all about Horace Slughorn's last known whereabouts and a picture so you can identify him. If you do, don't approach, he'll know you're following him. As soon as you find him come back to Privet Drive and write to me."

"This is all just in case we decide to go, right?"

"I'm going," Erick scowled at her.

"We'll talk about this after dinner," She glared back.

Dumbledore stood up and they followed, Emily was at the entrance ready to let him out.

"I'll wait for your response, then," Her uncle stared at her for a moment. "You and Harry..."

"We haven't decided," She was quick to reply. "We need time."

"Very well."

"You're quiet."

"I have a lot to think about."

Her day had been slightly ruined by her great-uncle's visit. Although Lupin had been there for a couple of hours and stayed for dinner. Mel and Erick talked about the mission and she'd promised to tell Harry after the party was over, which was now.

The Slytherin was upstairs taking a shower and Emily was putting Reggie to bed. Mel and Harry were sitting on the grass, watching the stars above them. She'd fallen into contemplative silence, pondering what to do. She could go chase some stranger for Dumbledore's benefit, or she could stay and look after her family.

"This would be much easier if my mum had asked me to stay!" She pouted.

"I reckon she knows that," Harry responded, throwing small rocks over the fence.

"Won't you?"

"Hmm?"

"You won't ask me to stay?"

Harry stared at her.

"No."

He didn't explain his reasons, but he didn't need to. Mel had made up her mind even if she didn't want to admit it. That was exactly why she was so upset, she wanted to look after her family, but her responsibilities were keeping her apart. Three years of hard work had led to this, and although Mel was a big sister now, winning the war was more important than changing diapers.

Her mother was a whole different problem too. Around them she was always cheery, but Mel was sure she'd heard her cry when none of the boys was around to hear.

She believed it was about Sirius, but it could also be about her and Harry, that she was scared for them. Mel didn't have the heart to lie if her mother were to ask about the prophecy. It was, as they had agreed without even having to speak about it, too much weight to put on their loved one's shoulders. The idea of Emily, the closest thing to a mother Harry ever had, finding out there was a big chance one of them would die after having lost Sirius in such a brutal way...

"I don't think I'll be able to look at Dumbledore in the eye if I come back empty-handed..."

"You're one of the best witches I know," Harry shrugged. "You'll be fine, just try not to murder Flint while you're away."

"He's less annoying now," She grinned. "Ever since he left his parents' house, dunno, he's improved. Although I might murder him if he doesn't stop —"

She was going to say 'flirting', but for some reason, she didn't feel ready to talk about that with Harry. She wasn't ready for anything and yet the world was forcing her to keep moving, it was exhausting.

Mel got up and offered her hand to her friend.

"Do you remember when you were just Harry and I was just Mel, and we were the odd kids at school?" She fixed her gaze on her bedroom window. "Wish we could go back to that."

"When I didn't know I was a wizard?"

"Things were easier back then, don't you think?"

"Maybe," He retorted. "But they were never entirely good."

In Harry, Mel found another reason to stay.

They could have the summer to talk about the things they needed to. She would stare at his aged features and compare them to the ones of that young boy she used to call her best friend...

Their bond still had thousands of cracks that had to be fixed, Mel was having a hard time letting him in again and they needed to be okay in order to know if they wanted to keep the lifeline or not. It wasn't that she didn't want to like him, she wanted the comfort he used to provide, the warmth and security of having someone who understood.

He knew it, and he was trying his best to not mess it up, but Mel didn't want to love him again, cutting the lifeline was the best way to assure that... It was easier said than done, though.

Harry was confused. Sometimes it felt like nothing would ever happen, then an overwhelming affection would crush his chest whenever Mel laughed or touched him. He didn't want to put a name to it, he was terrified of saying it, even to himself. All he knew was that the connection was a way to make sure Mel would be safe, and he didn't want to give that up.

"I should go."

"Yeah..."

"Happy birthday," He said. "I have to be honest and tell you that your present was meant to be sent last Christmas, but..."

"I didn't give you a present either, it's okay... I'm a bit angry though, that was a missed opportunity, I could've won."

Harry laughed.

"You'll have a new chance this year, but I doubt you'll be able to beat me — I've already gotten yours..."

"It's July!"

"I know," His smile vanished suddenly, then he added. "Be careful out there, please."

"Erick'll make sure I don't do anything stupid," Mel smiled. "He's so obsessed with protecting me — as if he didn't know I can do it alone just fine!"

"Yeah, but now's different."

"Different how?"

"We need you alive," He told her. "You want to live long enough to become Headmistress, right?"

Mel froze, not knowing what to answer.

"What?" Harry tilted his head.

"I lied," She blurted out. "I never wanted to be Headmistress — I saw you that night, in the mirror... I saw..."

"What?" He asked again, this time softer.

"You kissed me. A real kiss... like the type we used to gawk at as children."

Harry cleared his throat. "Oh."

A tense silence surrounded them. The variations of colour in his eyes were remarkably easy to notice from where she was standing. She was tilting her head up now, perhaps they were too close.

"Be careful."

"You told me that already," Mel whispered, unable to look away. "Anything else you'd like to say?"

"Yes," He paused, his eyes took a quick glance to her lips. "But if I say it you'll get mad."

Harry kissed her, Mel responded by pulling him down.

It was hard to tell whether she was euphoric or scared, perhaps both, or perhaps neither. As soon as it happened Harry jumped away, and she was dropped back into reality.

"I can't do it — We haven't talked about  the lifeline — We won't make the right choice if we let our feelings —"

"You're right! Yes!" Mel said, acting just as agitated. "It's a terrible idea — I like you, but—"

"—it's confusing," He said anxiously. "Do you have feelings for me?"

"Do you have feelings for me?" Mel asked in a high-pitched voice.

"No!" He responded, but his voice trembled with a lack of confidence. "I care about you a lot —"

"— I care for you too —"

"— But just —"

"— as friends!"

They stared at each other with the same frightened expression.

"I'm sorry if I made things uncomfortable," He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I... I don't want to lose you."

"We need to spend some time apart," She nodded, avoiding his eyes. "We can ignore this happened, right?"

"Absolutely," He agreed. "You're spending the summer at the burrow?"

"My mum and my brother will be there, so I kind of have to... is that okay?"

"It's okay," Harry looked around. "We... we should go."

"Did you ever regret falling for my dad?" Mel asked randomly. "I mean, you ever wonder how things would've turned out if you'd stayed as friends?"

Emily stopped folding her clothes.

"Something nagging that head of yours?"

"I think relationships are a waste of time. They all break and you always end up hurting..."

"What makes you think such nonsense?" Emily raised a brow, leaning back on the couch. "Who are you and what did you do to my daughter?"

"You don't think that way?" She asked doubtfully.

"Because I lost my partners that means I have to be bitter?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Mel replied quickly. "But... yeah."

Emily remained silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"Solitude can do weird things to your heart, love. It can pull you towards bad or good places... People that make you feel a little less lonesome, someone who understands you. You should hold onto that for as long as you can, no matter how scary it is. You never know what wonderful things may bring you..."

"Sirius said something similar a year ago," Mel said quietly. "Something about finding my equal, that the earth's full of options and stuff..."

"I won't force you to find a partner if that's not what you want, but you're young and the world is big, you can't turn your back on every opportunity."

"It's not like I have lots of prospects right now..." She huffed.

"You don't need lots, just the right one."

Mel hesitated for a moment, then added:

"I know you used to have a crush on James Potter."

Emily looked up from the laundry again, she raised a brow. "Oh?"

"I know it was a long time ago," She shifted in her place awkwardly. "But do you ever wonder what would've happened if you two..?"

The woman sighed.

"Only once."

"When?"

"When I found out Voldemort was after his son," She folded the last shirt and handed it to Mel. "I asked myself if I had made the right choice by giving him up... When I look at you I know it was the right thing to do. What happened to James and Lily... it was horrible, but it wasn't my fault. I was happy with your father; maybe Matthew wasn't my first love, but when it comes to this, your first love rarely is the one that lasts."

"Mel?" Erick walked into the room. "If we're planning to drive around all day tomorrow, you should sleep," He nodded shortly at both of them and left the room, her mother chuckled.

"You know, Erick reminds me of your father... I know Sirius said he was like his brother, but Regulus made all the wrong choices... Erick's done all this for himself, to be better. Just like Matty."

Mel's gaze lingered on the doorway long after Erick had left.

"Thank you, for letting me go," She sighed, looking back at the woman. "I don't love following Dumbledore's orders but I... I want to make this world a better place."

"Love," Emily cupped her face adoringly. "I know why you're doing this. Just how I knew why you flew that car to save Harry, and why you went to the Ministry... but you're my daughter, and it's my job to worry about you anyway."

Erick and Mel took three changes of clothing and put them in the trunk, Emily gave them muggle money. Mel had a fake driver's license as well as Erick, and they would take turns driving. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but it was expected since it was five in the morning. She hadn't mentioned the kiss to either her mother or Erick, she was determined to keep it that way, much like the whole lifeline stuff and the prophecy.

'Just pile more secrets on top, why don't you,' She thought bitterly as she walked out of the house.

Emily hugged both and let them kiss Reggie goodbye, Mel promised they would see each other soon, and Erick vowed he'd make sure Mel would be safe (she snorted loudly at this). Once inside the car, her friend took a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"This isn't our first adventure, Prince."

"This one's the first we do with permission."

"You're an adult, you don't need anyone's approval."

"You know what I mean," He rolled his eyes.

"Sorry. I get defensive when I'm —"

"I know," He sighed. "I talk too much when I'm worried."

"I know," She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'm ready... We'll be okay."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @wlwmaximoff @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle

[marvelousell]

The Agreement (Part 4.)

Pairing(s): frat boy!fwb!Tom x reader, frat boy!Harrison x reader

Summary: Tom is a typical frat boy, his love for partying, drinks and girls are bigger than his ego. Y/N is a whole different dimension, she keeps her circle small, and even though she knows her best friend Tom is a total douche, she can’t say no to the little deal that was sealed between the two of them.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Hereee it is babes! I’m absolutely in love with Harrison in this chapter and in the next parts also believe me. Buy me a Haz asap y’all🥺. I would reallyy appreciate it if you leave a comment, reblog or send a feedback, means the world to me!❤️

My tag list is open for this series!

Warnings: mentions of smut, swearing, mentions of alcohol

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Masterlist

“Well, well, look what we have here.”

The familiar, sweet voice spoke behind you.

Anna sure knew when to show up.

Please don’t embarrass me.

“I was looking for you everywhere!” She sat next you, smiling widely.

“And you too! But I guess you met each other without my help.”

Without her help?

Oh so that’s the guy she wanted to introduce me to.

At least she finally found someone who is decent and really my type.

You were confused, from where do they know each other? You’re always with her how come you never saw him?

Well most of the time.

“You found us Ann, however she already swept me off my feet, so I guess your job tonight to be the cupid fell in the water.” Harrison laughed along with Anna who rolled her eyes at his statement.

“But I’m thankful that you wanted me to meet such a dreamy girl.” He said, locking his eyes with yours.

Could he be more mesmerizing than this?

You were so lost. Flirting wasn’t something that happened to you on a daily basis, and now you were speechless.

Harrison knew you were bashful, but he found that attractive. He didn’t see or meet much girls that were modest and pleasant as you.

Anna loves to talk, and Harrison loves to listen.

He always listened to Anna’s rambling, how great you are, how your company was like a breath of fresh air, how you loved books and silent nights with your friends more than any giant frat party. She loved you so much. You were someone who was there for her since day one.

She would regularly come with Amelia to Harry’s house, and Harrison would spend most of his time there.

They clicked immediately the day they met. But strictly in a friendly way.

Anna saw how kind-hearted and easygoing Harrison was. She knew she could tell him everything without him judging or spreading it around. And that’s how she got the idea in her head.

“Why not? That would be a great match.” She thought.

She knew about your crush on Tom since you were little kids.

You always tried to impress him back then, and you’re still trying nowadays.

You would always share your lunch and sweets with him, you tried to play football every day just to enjoy his company even though you didn’t like it.

You were always around him, following him like a lost puppy.

Anna was hundred percent sure that you liked him at that moment when you blushed and laughed with her together behind the swings when he gave you a silly peck on the cheek after you gave him a muffin that you baked with your mother the previous day.

However she didn’t like it now.

Anna loved Tom with her whole heart without a doubt.

The three of you were like a dream team, still kind of are.

He was her best friend, but the things he did and still does were something she didn’t approve at all.

That’s why she didn’t want you to fall for his charm or to be his foolish one night adventure.

You deserved much more.

So she was sure that Harrison would be a fantastic boy for you. Someone who would show you the world and shower you with endless love every second.

She also made sure to tell nothing but wonderful things about you when she would come around.

“You’re thanking me? Please, thank you for making her all mushy and jolly. She didn’t blush and smile at someone like this for years!” Anna screeched with happiness.

“ANNA!” You spoke back embarrassed.

“Oh I can’t wait to show this to Harry!” She continued, waving her hands in the air excitedly.

“I’m sorry! I’m ruining your moment here! I’m going to find Amelia and the others. You two enjoy the rest of the evening and feel free to join us whenever!” She stood up, hugging you both, giving you a thumbs up before leaving.

Christ Anna.

“She really cares about you.” Harrison spoke.

“She really does. Remind me to say thanks to her for wanting to set me up with a lovely guy like you.” You flirted back. Finally.

“Good Y/N, just continue like that. You need to show some interest.”

“Thank you gorgeous, the pleasure is all mine, believe me.”

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit to quiet for your liking. I just get to nervous around guys like you. You’re absolutely attractive and have a breathtaking personality.” You stated, looking at his smile that was growing bigger after every word you said.

It wasn’t enough to say that Harrison was enjoying himself. Sure he loved going out with his friends, attending various parties every week with bunch of girls and everything. This however was something he craved for a long time.

A girl that possessed a pretty nature, a laugh that made his stomach turn upside down, and a girl that wanted to talk to him, and enjoy his presence. Not a girl that wanted to jump him straight away and take him to the bedroom.

He loved how shy you got around him, how you played with the edges of your pink pastel dress as the two of you talked, and how your cheeks would turn into a pinkish tone every time he would compliment you.

“For my liking? I prefer not just girls but people in general that are down to earth that don’t scream or fake laugh just to get someone’s attention. Anna was absolutely right when she said that you’re like a breath of fresh air.” Harrison spoke slowly, his voice like a melody.

“Anna..” You laughed, closing your eyes at the thought of her.

“Never asked you how’d you met this lovely company?” You questioned, curios for more.

“Well..Harry and Tom are my best friends since we were in diapers basically.”

Tom? Best friend?

This is going to be interesting.

“I’ve lived near Tom, but me and my mom moved a block away eventually. My mom got remarried, I got a younger sister and all that. I didn’t went to your school that’s why we probably didn’t met from a young age. But me and Tom were still pretty close, and still are. Like brothers if you ask me.”

Oh Harrison if only I’ve met you before.

“Then I met Ann and Mel through Harry. I mean they practically moved to his house so not meeting them would be impossible.” He joked.

“And now I finally met you.” He added, his body coming close to yours.

“And I’m glad I’ve met you too.” You said back, flashing him a smile.

-

“Did you do your work there?” Harry asked, pointing at you and Harrison.

“Didn’t need to actually. He found her himself.” Anna smiled, happy to see his two friends hitting it off.

“How do you mean himself?”

“Don’t know really I just found them all lovey-dovey in the garden. I’m going to ask her later.” She laughed.

“He really needs someone like her.” Harry spoke, happy to see his friend beaming after a long time.

“Absolutely, and so does she.”

“Anna you need to see the boys back there they are fucking hot.” Amelia interrupted the small conversation between the two of them.

“What are you guys looking at?” She was curious what was that interesting.

“WOAH. Did you finally set them up?! WHY didn’t you call me to see it!” She yelled, excited to see where would this go by the end of the night.

“He found her himself, it looks like she caught his eye. I hope he asks her out tonight.” Anna answered.

“He better or I’m setting her up with the brunette back there!” Amelia fired back, making them all laugh.

“Thank God I finally found you guys! The atmosphere inside is hectic can’t wait to freshen up a little in the pool soon.” Tom’s voice grabbed the attention of his friends.

Tom still didn’t see the scene that was happening in front of him.

He was still hot and messy from the make out that him and the blonde were having a minute ago.

“Already found a poor girl for the night?” Anna questioned, although she already knew the answer.

“You know me love, should I find you someone too? My boy Ian is straight fire if you ask me.” He crossed his arms, elbowing Anna only to make her laugh and shake her head.

“When will you settle down Holland? Don’t you feel the need for some love and affection?” Anna asked.

“Why so bitter sweetheart? Try to live a little.”

“If you weren’t my best friend I would break your nose in no time.” She chuckled, punching him playfully.

“Hey wait..Where is Y/N? Didn’t she come with you?” Tom spoke looking around, furrowing his brows.

“She did.”

“So, where is she?”

“She’s having a chitchat with our Romeo for a while now.” Harry added, making Tom now thoroughly confused.

What the fuck is he talking right now?

“What? Who is Romeo?”

“Chill it’s just Harrison. He looks really interested in our little Y/N here.”

Harrison? Y/N? When did this happen? How the fuck did he miss all of this?

Tom’s eyes were now fixed on your and his best friend’s back.

You two were sitting next to each other. Your head falling back from the laughter while Harrison tried his best to end something what he started to tell.

You were truly enjoying his company.

Tom didn’t mind if you had someone, he couldn’t care less honestly. The only important thing was that the guy wasn’t a jerk towards you. It was your choice who you dated, but his best friend?

How will the deal fit in all of this if something happens between the two of you?

He couldn’t do this to his friend, his brother.

Or could he?

“Wait, wait.. Can someone explain how did this occur?” His voice was stony, clearly not as happy as he should be.

“We don’t know either, but it seems like Y/N blew our Haz away.” Anna answered, still looking at them.

“Why? Are you jealous that you can’t have a girl for more than an hour?” She continued to joke, but Tom didn’t find that funny anymore.

“Not in the mood for the jokes Ann. I’m angry because I’m always the last to get informed about things.”

Bullshit.

He was worried because the thought of you breaking the deal made him exasperated.

“Looks like I need to remind you how good I can make you feel Y/N, so that breaking the deal doesn’t even cross your mind.” He spoke inside of his head.

The memories from last night flashed in his head.

The whining, heavy breathing, your face and voice begging for more.

God he needed you more than ever, he couldn’t lose you.

And he would definitely make sure he doesn’t.

His dirty mind and thoughts were stopped by Amelia’s voice and panicking.

“Oh shit, oh they’re coming. Just don’t tease them immediately guys! They’re so cute look!”

You and Harrison could go on and on with the chat, you were so similar. The chemistry was unquestionably there.

“Should we go see our host and others a little bit?” You asked, running your fingers through your hair.

“Already got bored with me?” He joked, pouting at you.

“You know I gotta show you off to everyone sweetie!” You commented jokingly, placing your hand on his knee.

“Wow, I just hope they didn’t watch us like that the whole time.” You stated, looking at your friends that were having a huge grin on their faces.

Except Tom.

Oh he is here as well? What a wonderful surprise.

You didn’t know if you’re heart was thumping that fast because of Harrison’s arm resting on your back or because Tom is there and his presence would make everything super awkward.

“You finally came!” Anna practically yelled, throwing her hands around you to hug you.

“You need to tell me every detail.” She whispered in your ear making you both giggle.

“And so do you cupid.”

Tom and Harrison were next to you, hugging like they haven’t seen each other in a while.

Tom could see how his friend was thrilled to bits.

He was happy for him, I mean how could he not be? He would be a total ass if he wasn’t.

But he also wanted you.

“You enjoying yourself I see?” Tom asked, patting his back.

“She’s lovely mate. I never met such a great person. She is stunning, hilarious and I would love to get to know more of her.” He replied, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you’re feeling this way. She is really amiable and caring.” Tom spoke, glancing at you.

“How did I never met her, I mean until now?” Harrison asked giving Tom a puzzled look.

“Don’t know mate. Probably because she isn’t a regular guest on parties, and when you were hanging out with us she wasn’t there. I really don’t know how that happened, but hey you met her at least.” Tom saw him staring at you. And so was he, but in another way. Full of lust.

He just couldn’t wait to feel you again.

-

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