#my notebook is full of ideas and the next two chapters of four walls are almost good to go but i just have zero energy to do anything

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

someone please magically cure this illness for me so i can have the brainpower to write again

[saltedpeppermintmocha]

how sweet it is (to be loved by you) - todoroki x reader [chapter 2/8]

Summary:

You are the head baker and owner of a struggling bakery. When pro hero Creati comes in for a wedding cake, of course you accept.

As a business owner, you are excited about the boom in profits resulting from the publicity of working a hero wedding.

As a baker, you are ecstatic to work on an extravagant cake - your most ambitious one to date.

As a woman, you are terrified as you begin to grow feelings for the one person you REALLY cant: the groom.

NOTES: NO infidelity, NO cheating, NO divorce!

Chapter One

MATURE : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT // 18+

Four Months Before the Wedding

“Hello.”

His voice is deep and his words soft-spoken. He politely kicks his winter boots against the mat at the front door and takes another step into the bakery. The movement causes flakes of snow to detach from his hair and flutter to the ground around him. It’s almost magical, like a scene from a fairytale. Wow. You can’t help but stare.

The man is tall -more so than you’d thought from the rare interview you’ve seen of him- and impeccably well dressed. His expensive-looking navy coat is long and chic, somehow managing to fit both his smaller waist and powerful shoulders. It’s probably tailored. You idly think of your coat hanging in the back: an item you’ve had for about five years now that definitely looks its age. What wouldn’t you give to be one of these rich people that for some reason seem to be visiting your bakery recently.

That thought brings you back to reality. Right. Pro hero Shouto is in your bakery.

Why is he in your bakery?

It slowly dawns on you. Rich people. The wedding. “Oh, you must be here for the cake.”

“I am.” He nods, looking around the little front area. You feel a little self-conscious, hoping that everything he sees is up to his standards. “Forgive me, were you about to close?”

“No no!” You wave your hands as he turns to look at you. “It’s okay! This actually works better, we can discuss everything without being interrupted.” Walking over to the door, you flip the sign over to ‘closed’ and gesture towards the seating area. “Please take a seat. I’ll go grab my stuff and be right back.”

Turning on your heel, you head for the back room without another look back at the hero. Instead of going straight for your wedding binder and notebooks, you lean against the nearest wall and place your head in your hands.

Oh my god. Shouto Todoroki is the groom.

Somehow, this wedding is an even bigger deal than you thought. Obviously, any hero wedding became an important event, but you had thought (hoped, even) that maybe Creati was marrying a civilian or a lesser-ranked hero. The wedding would still be a big deal, but you were confident in your ability to handle it. Shouto Todoroki, a beloved hero in the top 15, is definitely not what you were expecting. This wedding is bound to be huge in a way that you definitely had not prepared for.

The hero profession is a solitary one. Pro heroes rarely date, and if they do it is a very secretive affair. It is extremely dangerous to date a hero and those brave enough to try become an instant target for villains. This target only gets bigger the higher the hero’s rank is, and most top heroes don’t even try.

Thinking about it, you can’t really think of any of the top 10 heroes other than Creati (apparently) who are in a relationship. Sure, there were rumors about the number six hero Deku and the number twenty-four hero Uravity, and Endeavor must have had someone if he has kids but-

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Todoroki is, well, a Todoroki . He is Endeavor’s son. The terrifying number one hero will probably be at this wedding. The number one hero will probably eat your cake. And if it’s both Todoroki and Yaoyorozu’s wedding, you can bet that a bunch of other big-name heroes will be there as well. Your vision swims as pressure pushes on your shoulders. How can you even begin to deliver a cake up to this caliber? You might be good, but you’re just one person.

You’re going to need to block off more days.

After what is probably a suspiciously long pause, you manage to calm yourself down enough to push off the wall to grab your binder and notebook. You pause before heading out to the front area, taking a deep breath to steel yourself before walking out.

Todoroki has found a small table near the window. He has partially turned away from you, face resting on his palm as he looks out to the snowy street. He has taken off his scarf and coat, both draped carefully over the back of his chair. How does he manage to look so elegant while doing something so normal?

You pinch your thigh. Stop it. You can’t think this way about him. You have to be professional. He is a client. He is a married man .

“Sorry for the wait!” You call out, heading over. He turns to look at you as you sit across from him, placing the binder and notebook on the table. You take this opportunity to introduce yourself properly. Up close, you find him even more handsome than before. Those dual-toned eyes are calm and watchful, and his sharp features have a symmetry to them that would not look out-of-place on a Vogue Japan photoshoot.

“Nice to meet you.” Todoroki gives a polite smile, shaking your hand when offered. It’s quite cold. “I believe Momo has already spoken to you about the general idea.”

“Yup!” You nod, taking the moment to open your notebook. “Unless things have changed, we’re still going for a five-tier cake.” Glancing up, you wait for him to nod before continuing. “What design are we thinking of?”

You look down, ready to write quick notes on whatever design has been chosen. This is the part you’ve been both excited for and dreading the most. Normally, you are extremely excited to get a design and to work to bring that design to life. You live for the expression you see on the client's face at their first look at the finished product. This time though...you’re nervous.

The design that is chosen will either make or break your next few months. If the design is easy and normal, you will be able to complete it on time with confidence. If the design is unusual and complicated, you honestly don’t know what you are going to do. This cake has to be perfect down to the smallest details, and you have to balance your time between the cake and running the store. Maybe you can hire another baker on a contract for help. Hmm.

After a few moments of no response, you look up. “I don’t know.” That normally blank face seems unsure. His mouth pulled into a small frown.

“You...don’t know.” You blink. That’s a bit weird. “Okay...I just thought that you would have a bit more input.” He is the groom, after all. You didn’t think Yaoyorozu was the kind of woman to insist that only she had input in these matters. Wait. Was that rude to say? You decide to push past it for now. “No matter, as long as we can get the full contract done for today I’ll be happy. I’ll need the design elements as soon as possible though if we want them to be completed on time. Some parts will probably need a lot of planning. Do we know the flavour or flavours yet?”

“No.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth. Calm, be calm. “ Okay. I’d like to set up a taste test of the top requested flavours, so that you can get an idea of how the cake will actually taste and make the final decisions. I’ll need to do that as soon as possible.”

“I understand.” He nods, a bit stiffly.

“Do you...have a date in mind?”

He gives you a surprised look, two-toned eyes flickering over you. “...for the wedding?”

You sit up straight. “No!” What the hell? Did he think you were propositioning the groom to his own wedding? “You obviously have a date for the wedding. For the taste test!”

“Oh.” He replies simply, not seeming to understand the absolute absurdity of his own question. “No, I will likely not be involved with that. I only came today as a favour.” A favour?

Todoroki takes note of your confused expression and explains. “They got held up by the villain attack.” Oh, that makes sense. Yaoyorozu must have gone to help the others. The U.A students tend to appear whenever possible to help each other out. You think it’s sweet that they have such a strong bond after graduation. You don’t really talk to anybody you went to school with anymore.

His explanation does give your meeting a bit more context. If Yaoyorozu is ‘in charge’ of the cake, and Todoroki did not expect to even be meeting you, you can’t really get too annoyed at him that he doesn’t have the answers. At least he showed up and didn’t leave you wondering if you’d been stood up by the heroes. In the end, you decide to table the question about the cake tasting date, but underline it in your notebook. You’ll need that, soon.

The rest of the meeting goes smoothly. The two of you go over the contract in as much detail as possible. While it is extremely unorthodox for you to leave blank spaces in your contracts, you are sort of forced to do so in the areas of flavors and design. In the end, the hero couple is paying over double the amount you would normally charge for the cake. You can’t imagine any crazy design or flavour going over that cost. Neither hero seems like the crazy type of client. You’ll be fine. Hopefully. If you’re wrong then...well...you’re kind of screwed. The publicity has to be worth it.

After only about an hour of discussion (you really don’t have too much to go over, with Todoroki knowing nothing about the design or flavours), the meeting is over. You close your notebook, stand up and offer a hand to shake to end the meeting. Todoroki stands, shaking your hand with his cooler one. He assures you that somebody will reach out to you soon about the needed elements. You hope you’re right.

“I am sorry that I kept you after hours.” He says as he gracefully slides on his coat, glancing outside. “I hope you don’t have too far to walk.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry, I actually live upstairs.” Something flickers in his face that you can’t catch.

Then he nods. “I see.” He wraps his scarf around his head, somehow managing to look both cute and attractive. He heads towards the door, the bell chiming as he opens it. “Goodbye then.”

“Goodbye!” You smile and wave. “Be safe out there!”

You watch as he leaves, completely still until you can no longer see the red and white hair out the window. Letting out a deep breath, you sink back down into the chair.

Well, that sure was something.

----

You’re not sure exactly what prompted the suddenly quick response after so long of nothing, but some of the information you need comes the very next day.

It’s early morning. The store has just opened, you can hear the slight bustle of your loyal morning folk as they come to get their breakfast. Your morning worker -a young man named Tanaka who is almost scarily jolly in the morning- welcomes everyone with his juxtaposition of a voice: booming yet somehow soft.

You have been down at the bakery for hours now, getting the first round of bread, pastries, and other necessary items complete before opening. It’s a lot of work, but you can’t complain. At least you still have work. You have just finished a batch of your personal favourite, rosemary goat cheese croissants when your phone rings in your pocket.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket (the thing has been covered in flour before, it’ll be fine), you check the contact name.

[ Contact: C Manager ]

Your eyes widen, and you instantly accept the call. With one careful eye on your ovens, you walk over to a nearby wall and lean against it. “Hello?”

"Good morning.” The soft voice of Yaoyorozu chimes in on the other end. You straighten a bit, surprised to hear the hero directly. “My apologies for Shouto the other day. I understand he wasn’t too much help to you.”

“No no, it’s okay!” You gesture with your hands, realizing afterward that she obviously doesn’t see it. “He was really kind, and we still got some work done.”

“I see.” She hums thoughtfully on the other end of the phone. “Well, he did mention that you were getting stressed about certain elements of the cake. Is that correct?” Oh no. You hope she doesn’t think you’re being rude.

But she doesn’t sound annoyed or frustrated at you. If you had to guess, her tone sounded more amused than anything. You bite your lip before answering. “Ah, well...I don’t want to pressure anyone. I just need to get started on certain things or it won't be done in time.”

“Yes, I understand.” She responds. “I figure I can give you some of the design ideas now if that works?”

Oh, hell yes! “That would be wonderful!” You can’t help but smile. Finally. “Do you want to meet somewhere?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m caught up in this-” She pauses as a loud sound comes through the phone. “ thing at the moment. Will you be amenable to me giving you the details over the phone?”

“Oh, yea! That’s okay.” You push off the wall and rush towards the office area, grabbing the newly named ‘Y&S Wedding’ binder with your flour-covered hands. It’s fine. You anchor the phone between your shoulder and your face and grab a pen with your other hand, opening the notebook to the ‘design’ page. “Okay, what do you got?”

The cake turns out to be pretty normal as far as wedding cakes go, which you are extremely thankful for considering everything. It is a five-tier cake, classic white with cascading pink flowers and green stems/leaves. That is...definitely doable. You can ace this. Thank god. Relief hits you hard in the chest as you write it down.

“Is there anything extra that either party would like to be added?” You ask, your tone dipping into complete professionalism as your mind has a mini-party at the relatively easy design. You doodle a happy face beside your notes.

“No, that is alright,” Yaoyorozu replies. “It was a struggle already to talk him down from some of the crazy cake designs he had in mind to something more...appropriate.” A pause. “Not that any of the ideas were bad per se, but I don’t think the wedding is the place for a giant All Might statue cake.”

Your mind-party screeches to a halt. What?!

“He...wanted an All Might cake?” You ask in disbelief. That doesn’t sound like Todoroki at all. Maybe it was a way to ‘get back’ at Endeavor? There have been plenty of rumors over the years about that relationship, but they team up enough now that most have been pushed to the side.

“Yes, well, he adores the man.” She says it with a fondness that seems almost inappropriate considering your current state.

You think of the calm prince-like man from the day before. Could he really be that big of a fanboy of a hero like All Might? It just doesn’t compute. They were so different. You really can’t picture it. Still, it’s not like you really know Todoroki. Maybe he has some secret obsession or something.

Somehow, you feel like you’ve gained some insider knowledge. The press would pay a good amount for something like this. Not that you ever would go to them, ew. Actually, would they even believe you if you did? It was so absurd.

You realize that you have disappeared into your own thoughts. A big no-no when on the phone with a client. You pull yourself back. “Thank you for the design! I will get to work right away. Do we have any idea when we can do a cake tasting? That is the last big milestone here.”

“I’m sorry.” She responds, sounding truly apologetic. “It’s...difficult between all of our busy schedules. I promise I will work to get something set up.”

Well, honestly that is all you can really ask for. You thank her for the information and her time. The two of you say your goodbyes, and hang up. For a moment you stare down at your notebook in surprise. This is not how you expected things to go. It’s early, and you have a lot to do today. You already can tell you will be partially distracted, your brain trying to figure out the specifics of the design.

You smile. In the end, finally, you have something you can work with.

------

1 Week Later

Ten minutes before closing (of course) , the bell above the door chimes. You can’t see who has walked in, your back to the door as you wipe down a table. You take a brief moment to close your eyes and breathe before turning around.

“Good evening!” Your customer service voice is normally on point -the stuff of legends really- but this time it becomes higher-pitched at the end.

Shouto Todoroki stands in your doorway. Again.

After the last meeting, you truly didn’t expect to see the man again until his wedding (maybe not even then). He didn’t seem to have any input in the cake decisions, nor did he seem to care about not having any input.

“Oh, hello again.” You smile, fighting to keep your voice steady as you shove the cloth in your apron pocket.

“Hello.” His mouth ticks up in a soft smile.

“Were we supposed to have a meeting today?” You ask, pulling your phone out of your pocket to look at the date. No, you don’t think there was a meeting scheduled. You see Todoroki shake his head in your peripheral vision. The hero politely kicks his shoes on the mat and takes a few more steps into the store. Heterochromatic eyes look around for a moment before catching on to something to your right.

“Then what can I do for you today?” You ask politely, following his line of vision to your display case. “Here for a snack?”

Those eyes look straight back at you. “I want to order another cake for the wedding.”

What?! Your heart plummets. Another cake?! This late?! When you’re already having trouble getting the specifics on the first one?!

Todoroki seems to notice your panicked expression, hands going up in a calming gesture. “Not a large cake, but one of those small specialized ones.”

Your panicked thoughts pause. Wait. “Do you mean… a groom's cake?” Please be a groom's cake. You can make a groom's cake.

He nods. “It’s a surprise.” A surprise? For Yaoyorozu?

“Uh, sure. I can do that.” You reply. “Hold on a sec.” Instead of going for your physical notebook in the back, you decide to simply bring up the note app on your phone. It’s not as professional, but it works in a pinch. “Is there a theme?”

“All Might.”

You blink slowly, mouth opening in surprise. All Might?!

The conversation with Yaoyorozu comes to the forefront of your mind. Is he...really just an All Might fanboy? That seems so wrong, somehow. You narrow your eyes at his blank expression, considering him.

“...you must really like him, huh?” You whisper.

Todoroki tilts his head a bit to the side, eyes narrowing in confusion. “He is a very good teacher.”

...is that enough to get an entire cake based off of the man?!

A long moment passes where you both stare at each other, neither seemingly sure of what to say. Eventually, as the professional you have to break the tension. “Well, okay. I can definitely do that. Groom's cakes tend to be relatively small and fun. What elements are you looking for?”

“I will leave that up to you.”

“Uh, are you sure?” That is a lot of power he is just handing you, especially when he seems to care so much about the retired number one hero.

“You are very highly recommended by the Uraraka’s.”  Do the Uraraka’s know everybody?! “I don’t really...have an eye for design either way, and as the wedding gets closer I feel like I may become too busy.”

“That makes sense.” You mumble, writing down on your notebook app. Weddings are normally difficult things to plan, and you can’t imagine the amount of stuff necessary for a large hero one. If he wants you to design the smaller cake, you can do that. Your mind is already pulling together a few ideas. Similar to the large cake, you’ll need to make this one amazing. “What budget are you thinking?”

“Is 50,000¥ enough?”

Startled, you look up. 50,000¥ was a lot for a groom's cake. You want to tell him so but said groom is no longer in your line of vision. Glancing over to your right, you find the hero looking into your display case. He seems to care very little about the amount he just mentioned (ugh, rich people) so you simply say. “Um, yeah...that’s enough.”

You walk closer to the man, wondering why he seems so interested in the unsold pastries. “You are about to close, but there are so many left.” He looks up as you get closer. “How much longer will they last?”

Stopping to stand about a foot away from the man, you also look into the display and frown. “Oh...yeah, they are probably going to be thrown out, sadly.”

“Why?” At his soft voice, you glance over at the hero. Your eyes lock with two-toned ones.

“I try to sell the leftovers at half-off the next day, but they still barely sell.” You shrug. “I try to give as much as possible to the local shelters, but it isn’t always possible.” Looking outside at the hail coming down, you know you won't make it there today.

“Do you always make too much?”

“No.” You sigh, looking back at the sad, unbought pastries. “We used to be much busier, a year or so ago, but that chain bakery opened down the street and took a lot of my customers with it. Sometimes I still find myself baking as if it’s as busy as it was a year ago, just on habit really.”

There’s a long silence. Then, “I’ll buy them.”

Your eyes widen as your head swings towards the hero. “What, all of them?!”

“Yes.” He nods.

“No no no you don’t have to do that.” You find yourself saying, hands waving uselessly in front of you. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything, it’s okay. You don’t have to-”

Todoroki shakes his head. “No, I want to.”

He looks straight at you, eyes telling you that he won’t back down from this. And well, you’re really not sure why you are refusing him. Maybe it’s the worry that he thinks of you like a charity. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The next five or so minutes are spent with you packing up every last dessert and pastry into bags. Todoroki will need to use both arms to carry them, but the man doesn’t seem concerned. You are about to put the last rosemary goat cheese croissant away when he interrupts. “Wait, can you leave that one out?”

“Oh, sure.” You reply, placing it on a napkin as you close the paper bags on the counter with a piece of tape.

Todoroki reaches forward, his hand grabbing the croissant with one hand and bringing it to his mouth. One bite, and small parts of the flaky pastry flutter to the ground. You don’t mind, it makes you happy that the croissant lasts the entire day. Also, his wide-eyed expression is adorable.

He chews a bit more and swallows. “It’s good.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “You don’t have to say that, you know. I won't be offended or anything.” Okay, a bit of a lie. You adore those croissants.

“I’m not lying.” He insists, two-toned eyes staring straight at you. “It’s really good.”

His eyes are a bit more intense than normal. You look away, your cheeks warming a bit at the complimentary words. Shit, no. Married man. Nope. Not going there, even for a second. “Well, thank you.” You even your voice and continue packing the bags, keeping your eyes away from the man.

Once done, you carefully slide the bags across the counter towards him. “Here you go. Do you need help taking them anywhere?” Your professional voice is back.

Todoroki gives you a weird look, taking the bags in his hands. The croissant he was eating is mysteriously gone, although you notice a small crumb on his cheek. You look away. “No, I will be okay.” His deep voice echoes a bit in the small room.

After a brief moment, he walks towards the doorway. “Thank you for coming!” You call out, not moving from behind the counter. It’s safer here. “I’ll get started on the groom's cake right away! If I see you again, I’ll run my ideas by you.”

“I’ll come again.” Todoroki looks back with a small nod. “I hope you have a good night.”

The hero leaves as quickly as he appeared, disappearing out of sight only moments after he exits the bakery. If you had a chair behind you, you would sink down into it. As it is, you rest your hands against the counter in exhaustion.

These heroes were taking a lot out of you. Damn.

-------

2 Weeks Later

You stare up at the imposing building ahead of you, dread pooling in your stomach. The building itself was a hotel, tall and beautiful in architecture. That doesn’t matter too much though, you’re not exactly here for the hotel. No, you are here for the fancy-as-hell restaurant at the top: Eragawa.

Even the elevator to the restaurant is fancy. Luckily you are alone in it, so you are able to stare and judge your reflection in the mirrored walls without anyone seeing you. You frown, using your free hand to try and pat some of the flour off your shirt and organize your hair a bit. It doesn’t work, you already look extremely out of place.

It’s not like you wanted to be here at this fancy restaurant in your work slacks and shirt covered in various ingredients. The day had started normally, with you planning to spend your free time getting caught up on overdue paperwork. However, a text early in the morning ruined that plan.

[ Contact: C Manager ]

C Manager: Creati will meet you at Eragawa today at 7:30 p.m for the taste test.

Truthfully, you were starting to get a bit annoyed. The manager never asked your opinion, or even if you were free at the time they wanted you to be. They would always just make plans without you. You understood that Creati must have a really busy schedule right now, but damn . Still, it’s not like you could refuse. You had been waiting for this for a while now.

You: Okay. Thank you!

So, you had spent the rest of the day busier than ever. In between baking and managerial duties, you had to make a variety of cakes and icings in different flavours. Since you didn’t have any idea of where to start, you picked the most common flavours for her to try. It was... a lot to do on your own, and not for the first time did you wish you had some sort of assistant.

By the time you had everything ready to go, you had just enough time to make it to the restaurant. Knowing how impossible it had been trying to get this cake tasting appointment in the first place, you didn’t want to risk anything by being late. You had no time to shower or even change out of your work clothes. You simply grabbed the container of cakes, threw on your old coat, and ran out the door.

Now, though, you wonder if maybe it would have been better to be a bit late. The elevator door opens on the top floor, revealing a modern-looking restaurant in dark colours. You clutch at the handle of the container and look around. Wow. Nobody here looks like they would be caught dead in anything not a designer brand.

The hostess looks you over with a critical eye as you approach, but smiles and welcomes you nonetheless. “Good evening! Welcome to Eragawa, how can I help you today?”

“Um, hello.” You smile awkwardly back. Even the hostess is dressed nicer than you, damnit. “I’m with the Yaoyorozu group?”

The hostess blinks slowly at you. “Of course. Please wait here for a moment.” She turns to disappear into the back, another host taking up her post. You shuffle to the side of the waiting area and look around. The restaurant just screams ‘posh’ with its white tablecloth and candles and napkins folded into roses. You’d bet those glasses are made from actual crystal too. Damn.

The elevator door opens again as a group of well-dressed men and women walk in. You lean into the wall, trying to make yourself invisible to the other customers. It doesn’t work, and a woman in a fancy dress looks down her nose at you as she passes. The host takes them immediately to their table. Figures.

Eventually, the hostess you were talking to returns. “Please come this way.” You notice her smile is a bit larger this time as she leads you through the dining room. Quite a few patrons give you odd looks as you walk by, clearly not used to someone covered in powder walking through the area.

The hostess leads you past the dining room to a hallway in the back. You have just enough time to wonder if you are being taken out back like some sort of mafia movie before she stops at a door. She turns and opens it, bowing low as she gestures for you to go inside.  

You walk through, eyes wide. Somehow, the private room is even more extravagant than the dining room. It’s dark and modern, like the rest of the restaurant, with giant windows overlooking the city. A beautiful crystal chandelier hangs from the tall ceiling. In the middle, two people sit at a round table. They look up as you enter.

Yaoyorozu’s eyes widen as she takes you in. You offer her a sheepish smile, before glancing at the other person. He looks at you with a carefully blank face, but you know he must be thinking something by the way those heterochromatic eyes flicker up and down over you.

Both of them are dressed beautifully. Yaoyorozu is in a gorgeous maroon dress and Todoroki in a light-blue button-down shirt and dark pants. They look properly dressed for this occasion.

Somehow, you feel even more embarrassed. Your cheeks warm a bit as you take a step into the room. “Um, hello.” You attempt a smile. “Sorry if I’m late, I just closed the bakery. Hello again, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki”

“Were you unable to get someone else to close the shop?” Yaoyorozu asks. If someone else were asking, you’d assume it was some sort of dig. Instead, she honestly just sounds concerned.

“I would if I could.” You reply, placing the cake carrier on the table. “Unfortunately, it’s just me.”

The two of them share a look that you can’t decipher. You just hope that you haven’t somehow embarrassed them. “Anyways,” You begin, trying to lighten the mood. “I come bearing the best gift of all, free cake!” Not much of a reaction there. Maybe a free cake to a rich person isn’t as great. Hm. “I’m actually glad that both of you could make it, this way we know for sure that the cake is up to your standards.”

Yaoyorozu looks at the carrier on the table. “Should we wait until after dinner?”

“Ah, I actually have food at home.” You lie, wringing your hands in your lap. There was no way you are staying here. It is too awkward. “If you like, I could leave it with you and head out? I won’t be able to stay though.”

“I see.” Todoroki replies, sharing another look with Yaoyorozu. “Then, shall we begin?”

The cake tasting goes...weirdly. While you have brought a wide variety of selection, the two come to a decision within the first three cakes. Their final decision doesn’t even come from one of your options but is rather a mix of a few they haven't tried yet. In the end, they decide on a vanilla cake with both a strawberry and matcha layer in the middle. They decide on it quickly, too.

“Do you want to try the samples I have?” You point to your cake options with strawberry and matcha. It’s a smart move. For all they know, you suck at these flavours.

However, Yaoyorozu simply shakes her head. “You are recommended by the Uraraka’s.” Her mouth ticks up as she looks over at Todoroki. “Plus, Shouto brought your desserts to the agency a few weeks ago. They were a resounding hit. I am confident in your abilities to pull this off.”

You turn to Todoroki, eyes wide. “You did?!”

He nods. Your mind blanks for a second at the implications. A bunch of heroes eating, and liking your desserts. That is really cool. Still, there is a very different matter at hand. “B-but those are pastries and desserts, not cakes.” You try to get them to see sense. The cakes are right in front of them, why are they messing about?

“It will be okay.” Yaoyorozu nods. “And, well, to be honest I do have another meeting I need to attend.”

Wait, what?

Didn’t they want to have dinner? Why is she leaving? You blink in confusion as the woman stands up. She looks over to Todoroki first, smiling, before turning to you.

“Good night you two.” She says kindly as she turns, walking out of the room with only the clicking of her heels audible. The door closes softly behind her. You stare at it for a moment, mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

“What just happened?” You turn back to look at Todoroki. The man is also wide-eyed, staring at the door.  “Uh, are you okay?”

That seems to shake him out of it. Heterochromatic eyes shift to you. “Yes.” He nods. “We should also leave.” The hero stands up, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair. It’s the same long navy one you admired the first time you met him.

“Um, okay?” You reply, confused. Oh god, you hope you haven’t done something to somehow ruin their entire night. Dread curls in your stomach as you pack the cakes back up into the carrier

Todoroki leads the way back to the elevator. Yaoyorozu is no longer in sight, probably long gone by now. The staff seems as confused as you feel as you leave, sending odd looks to each other. Your stomach tightens a bit more.

It’s only when you reach the elevator that something clicks in your head. You were dining with two heroes, who both suddenly started acting weird. Really, there is only one explanation you can think of: there’s a villain nearby.

Your heart pounds heavily as you enter the elevator, clutching the carrier tighter in your hands. If there is a villain nearby, why didn’t the heroes evacuate the restaurant? Maybe it’s not safe. Maybe they have to wait for more heroes or a hero with the right quirk?

Despite having lived in Musutafu for most of your life, you’ve never been too close to a villain attack. You have always counted yourself lucky in that way, but maybe your luck is running out. You glance over to Todoroki at your side. The hero doesn’t look any particular way, that blank mask still on his face.

The two of you exit the elevator and head out of the hotel lobby. There is a distinct lack of heroes or police outside, which surprises you. Yaoyorozu must have called for someone, right?

Todoroki leads you across the street to the nearby sidewalk. “What do you need me to do?” You whisper as you finally come to a stop. “Do you want me to call the police?”

“The police?” He looks down at you, tilting his head slightly in confusion. Then his eyes narrow. “Is something wrong?”

Is something... not wrong? You look back up at the hotel, where everything seems completely normal. There is no screaming, no fighting, nothing.  Oh.

As the panic subsides, another layer of embarrassment begins to creep in. Were you really freaking out over nothing??

“I-uh, thought that since we booked it out of there so fast, something had to be wrong.” You look away and try to explain, face warming. “Maybe like a villain or...something.”

“Ah.” He replies. “No, nothing like that.”

“Then...why did we leave?” You risk a glance back up. Todoroki is still looking down at you, expression once again soft.

“You were uncomfortable.” He replies simply.

You can’t even deny it. “So we left?”

“So we left.”

Well, damn. That’s sweet. “But...what about your dinner?”

He pauses, looking around. “Where do you want to go?"

“Uh, I have food-”

“Don't lie.” He interrupts, looking back at you. “You spent your whole day working and baking these cakes. You didn’t even have the time to change before coming here. There is no way you had time to make food.” That’s the most you’ve heard him say at once. Huh. And well, he’s right.

“I could have leftovers?” You attempt, knowing that you’ve been beaten. Your shoulders slump a bit as you consider arguing more. Who are you to be eating with a hero anyways? But...you are tired and hungry. All fight drains from your exhausted bones as you look up at him. You think about potential places as you look around. Honestly, you haven’t been to this part of town much (other than a few fancy dinner nights with your ex, but you don’t want to think about that). Todoroki waits patiently as you think.

“Well...I know one place.” You finally say. “But I’m not really sure if it’s your style.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “I’m sure it's good if you like it.” Oh god. Why does he say those things? You hide your flushed face by walking away. The hero falls into step beside you, seemingly content to let you lead the way.

Walking with Todoroki at night is an ethereal experience. You know it will be a part of your dreams for years to come. Both of you are quiet, taking in the scenery as you walk. It’s cold through your thin jacket, and you shiver a bit at first. It’s a bit weird, but after a few moments, the temperature seems to rise. You put it down to scientific anomalies.

“There it is.” You point out a small stall half-hidden on the street. The two of you make your way over to the small. You keep one eye on the hero, ready to abort at the smallest sign of hesitation from the man. This is definitely not his usual scene.

When you are almost there, the man pauses. You turn, looking up to his face. “Todoroki?” The hero looks surprised, eyes wide and staring at the name of the stall.

“It’s perfect.” He responds, before starting to walk again. His pace is faster than normal, and you have to actually speed up to keep beside him.

As you finally make your way up to the soba stand, you call out. “Hey Haru!”

Haru -a middle-aged man with a bald head- looks up, smiling big when he sees you.  “Hey! I haven’t seen ya sorry face ‘round here in a while. How’ve ya been? Come ‘ere to chat with this old man?” His eyes then catch on Todoroki. “Ah, I see.” His smile ticks up into a smirk.

Your own eyes widen. “No! It’s not what you think, Haru. We’re just here to eat.”

Haru doesn’t look like he believes you but lets it go. “Havin’ the usual then?” You nod. He turns to Todoroki. “And fer you?”

“Do you have cold soba?” The hero asks, taking a seat on the stool next to you.

“Hah! Do I have cold soba?” Haru replies sarcastically. “‘Course I do!”

“Haru makes the best soba on this side of the city.” You say, looking up at Todoroki. The hero looks down at you, and his expression makes you pause. His face is soft and kind, eyes glittering with delight. He smiles.

Your stomach flutters. You push it away and smile back.

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself. 

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that. 

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys. 

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present. 

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!” 

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed. 

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel. 

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing. 

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?” 

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.” 

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance. 

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch. 

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were. 

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.” 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?” 

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars). 

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside. 

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.” 

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking. 

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person. 

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien, 

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!” 

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her? 

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

[hazel-light]

CATCH UP ON CHAPTER ONE HERE

Chapter Two Word Count: ~8,500

Genre: (Wedding) Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, lots of bed sharing and every self indulgent fluffy trope possible.

Warnings: None? Lots of fluff? Occasional cussing? Some suggestive themes, moments, and jokes I guess. No smut or anything!

Disclaimer: I am not Daniel Sharman, and I do not pretend to know how he would act, speak, etc. This is fiction okay, there’s a lot of creative license, and potential to be OOC. Ricky isn't mentioned because I started writing this before we knew he existed, so apologies for that. Also, if you’re DShar himself, please do us both a favor and don’t read this, okay???? Same if you know him 🙈

Title taken from the song Yellow Lights by Harry Hudson which suits this story quite a bit!

A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent me feedback on the first part! I really appreciate it :) Things pick up quite a bit here.... I hope you all enjoy! The third part will be up tomorrow, as promised. <3

It was finally time to fly back to Massachusetts. I had changed my flight so that Daniel and I could be on the same one and seated together.

It’s ridiculously early when I arrive at his apartment to pick him up in our shared Uber, since we have to account for the time difference on the East Coast. He opens the door to his apartment, looking super cozy and ready for travel, one suitcase behind him and a backpack by the door.

“Today’s the day,” I grin at him.

“Oh shit, is it really?” He feigns, rolling his eyes. “Good thing I packed early, then.”

“You’re a professional traveler by this point, I bet you have it down pat.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you? I actually put a bit more thought into this trip than I usually do.... I need to make a good impression, and I’m making a lot of first impressions.”

I can’t keep my face from forming an endeared expression. “That’s really cute.”

He puts his hands up bashfully. “I take my roles very seriously, Lauren.”

I shake my head. “Well, it means a lot to me; not only that you’re doing this, but that you’re taking it seriously.”

He shrugs, softening his playful demeanor. “Even if we weren’t together in their eyes, I would care what your family thinks. They’re important to you, so it’s important to me.”

“Dannnnielllll,” I whine, “Please don't make me cry this early in the day.”

He laughs, picking up his luggage. “At this rate you’re not going to survive the weekend. I haven’t even turned on my boyfriend charm yet.”

God help me then, I think, making my way back to the car.

Getting through LAX is fairly easy, and remarkably Daniel successfully flies under the radar. He offers to let me have the window seat, but I let him take it, figuring the farther out of sight from the aisle he is, the better.

Like all flights, I fall asleep as soon as we hit cruising altitude; Daniel has his headphones in and spends the time working on something in a notebook. In what seems like minutes, I’m being gently shaken awake by a smiling Daniel.

“Lovely girlfriend of mine, it’s time to rise and shine. Our relationship starts,” he pretends to check the time, “now.”

“Oh thank you, handsome boyfriend. I’m ready.”

Daniel laughs as we stand and wait to exit the plane. Once we step off and onto the ramp, Daniel offers me his hand. “Ready?”

I lace my fingers through his and try to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “Ready.”

Getting our luggage from baggage claim is fairly painless, which leads us to looking for Ryan and Katharine, his longtime girlfriend, in the airport. They’re picking us up on their way to the hotel on the Cape, where the wedding reception is going to be held, and also where we’re going to be staying.

We walk through the airport hand in hand, as I check my phone yet again to see if Ryan has texted. Nothing. We stop for a moment, and peripherally I hear a girl’s voice from behind us,

“Um excuse me, are you Daniel Sharman? Can I get a photo?”

I glance at Daniel, whose face has gone blank. I move to let go of his hand instinctively but he tightens his grip as we turn around. I laugh when I realize the voice belongs to Katharine, who’s standing in front of Ryan, who is trying his best not to laugh.

“Not funny, you guys,” I say, biting back a grin. “We haven’t been recognized so far.”

I turn back to Daniel, who’s looking at me slightly confused. “Daniel, please meet Ryan and his girlfriend Katharine.”

“Oh,” he laughs, reaching out to shake their hands. “That was good. It’s nice to meet you both.”

Katharine knocks into Ryan, who’s still grinning. “It was this loser’s idea. He said he couldn't do it because you’d recognize his voice too soon.”

“A fair point,” I add, teasing. “Besides, women tend to be Daniel’s main demographic, so.”

Daniel scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“What?” I laugh, “It’s true.”

“I wanted to see if you’d drop her hand in front of a fan,” Ryan challenges. “You passed the test.”

“That’s a stupid test, Ry. I wouldn’t have been offended if he did, since this is our first public outing as a couple.”

Daniel looks at me like I’ve somehow insulted him. “I would never do that to you, Laur. That’s crazy; I wouldn’t try to hide you.”

“Okay, well, I’m just saying.” I look at Ryan expectantly. “Still trying to figure out why you haven’t hugged me yet.”

“It takes two hands to hug, I think,” he taunts, nodding towards where Daniel and I are still holding hands.

I blush. “Can you not be this annoying? We literally just arrived.” I let go of Daniel’s hand and step toward Ryan. Katharine and Daniel watch amusedly as Ryan and I hug, trying to see who can crush the other the most. “I missed you, dummy.”

“I missed you, too. You can let go now. Really.”

I let go of Ryan and narrow my eyes at him. “You’re a brat.”

“Whatever, let’s go.”

I grab the handle of my suitcase, smiling at Daniel, who smiles softly back at me. I glance at his hand and then back at him, and he chuckles softly as he meets me halfway in my attempt to hold his hand again. I blush and look away, turning my attention back to Ryan and Katharine, who are leading us out of the airport to where they’d parked.

---

The car ride to the hotel on the Cape is filled with small talk, mainly questions for Daniel, who takes them in stride. I watch him and smile as he is able to keep up with Ryan’s antics and provide thoughtful answers. He is anything but flustered, and I feel a sense of pride trickle through me. At some point, Daniel catches me watching up with a smile on my face and he just smiles back, continuing his easy conversation with Ryan and Katharine. I jump in where I’m needed, or when I can provide something interesting, but for the most part I bask in how well things seem to be going.

Once we arrive and park at the hotel, the four of us get our luggage and head inside to check in. Ryan gives our name to the woman at the desk and she looks us up.

“Got it. I see the mother of the bride reserved two king rooms on the wedding family floor, which is 3.” I see Ryan glance at us, but I just don’t look at him, I just squeeze Daniel’s hand.

“That sounds right to me.”

Daniel nods next to me. The woman nods and hands us each two key cards. We thank her and head to the elevator for our floor.

Katharine checks her phone. “Do you guys want to get settled and meet back up for dinner? The hotel restaurant has seating out by the beach.”

I look at Daniel who looks at me before shrugging. “Yeah, that sounds great. You want to meet in like 45 minutes?”

The elevator dings and we exit to our floor. Our room is farther down the hall than Ryan and Katharine’s.

“Sure, we’ll head over to your room then.” Ryan smiles before ducking into his room with Katharine.

Once I hear their door click shut, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Daniel huffs a laugh at me, stopping to unlock our door.

“You alright?”

“Great. How’re you doing with all this?”

“Good; they’re nice— Ryan is literally exactly what I expected.”

I laugh at that and follow Daniel into the room. I look around and admire the quaint decor. The bed takes up most of the room but there’s a closet and a bureau on the opposite wall, and tall windows that don’t open but overlook the beach below and the sea beyond. Opposite the windows is a wall covered in different paintings and signs— very boho beachy.

I sit on the bed and look at Daniel, who’s already unzipping his luggage to hang up his suit.

“This is cute,” I comment.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

I bite my nail and watch as he turns around to face the closet.

“I uh, forgot that we’d be sharing a bed. Just didn’t think of it— sorry.”

Daniel laughs and gives me an incredulous look over his shoulder.

“You thought your aunt would book us two beds even though as far as she knows we’re super in love?”

I blush. “Well, no. I just— I don’t know, I didn’t even think about it is all I meant.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t bother me. I quite appreciate a good cuddle, if I’m honest. Haven’t had one in a while.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Why— do you hate that? Are you one of those women who like their space?”

I snort. “No, no, we can cuddle. You just surprise me, is all.”

“Surprise you, huh?”

Daniel turns around with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. He takes two strides so he’s standing in front of me, and puts his hands on either side of my face. He leans down so we’re eye to eye and I can’t help but glance briefly at his lips, wondering if he’s going to kiss me again.

“You know,” he says softly, “You should really unpack your dress so it doesn’t wrinkle.” He winks and pulls back, kissing my forehead.

I shake my head even though he’s facing away from me now, hopping off the bed to follow his advice.

“You’re trouble, Sharman. Such a tease.”’

“Sorry?” He looks at me innocently, batting his eyelashes dramatically. “Oh, were you expecting a kiss?”

I feel myself blush as I pull my dress out and walk around him to hang it up.

“I wasn’t expecting anything. Like I said, you’re full of surprises.”

He lowers his voice. “So, you don’t want a kiss?”

I turn around to face him, eyes narrowed, thoughts rushing, but before I can retort there’s a knock on the door.

I turn away promptly to answer the door, grateful for the exit. I hear Daniel chuckle behind me as I open the door to reveal Ryan, who clears his throat.

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” He peers past me, presumably at Daniel. “Katharine called the restaurant to make a reservation and they only had a 6:45, so she said we’d take it. I tried to text you but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry,” I apologize. “My phone's still in my bag. We were unpacking.”

“That’s fine. Are you guys good to head to dinner, or...?”

I feel an arm wrap around my waist. “Yeah, we’re good. I grabbed your purse, Laur, and I have my wallet and the room key.”

I can feel Ryan watching me so I lean back against Daniel’s chest and look up at him. “Thank you,” I say sweetly, taking my bag from him before turning back to Ryan. “Let’s go.”

—-

Dinner on the beach is lovely. There’s a subtle warm breeze and the food is delicious. The conversation is easy and I can’t help but feel an unusual sense of peace of bringing two of my favorite men together and having them get along so well.

I’m in a reverie when I feel Daniel’s hand lightly squeeze my thigh, bringing me back to reality. I blink, looking across the table at Ryan and Katharine, and try to ignore Daniel smirking next to me.

“Hmm? Sorry, I dazed out there for a minute.”

Katharine laughs. “Totally fine, I was asking how it’s been dating someone who's in the spotlight.”

“Oh, um.” I pause, taking a sip of water. “It’s been fine, you know, since we’ve been so low key about it. The public doesn’t know about us. I imagine it’d be different then.”

Daniel nods. “I think for the most part, the fans would be welcoming, but there are always going to be people who… aren’t.”

Ryan leans on his hand, looking between the two of us. “Isn’t it weird, though? The thought that there are so many girls thinking about getting with your boyfriend constantly?”

“I—” I look at Daniel, who looks mortified, but also curious at how I’ll respond. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that.”

Ryan makes a noise of indignation. “You watch his movies and shows and stuff, don’t you?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Of course I do.”

“And it isn’t weird watching him make out with people on screen? Doesn’t it make you jealous?”

I open and close my mouth. I can tell behind his hand Daniel’s smirking, and even Katharine’s looking at me curiously.

“Well, of course I don’t love it— but I mean— it’s his job. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

I look at Daniel, who’s looking at me curiously.

“You never said it made you jealous.”

“I mean—” I shrug, at a loss for words.

He looks at me for a moment before looking away, clearing his throat as we’re interrupted by the waiter bringing our check.

Ryan goes to grab it, but Daniel beats him to it.

“I got it. I said I’d owe you a hundred bucks if you came with a real date, so,” Ryan teases.

I cross my arms. “Oh, and you believe me now?”

“After seeing how jealous you got in that conversation? Yeah.”

I scoff and Daniel and Katharine laugh while Ryan rolls his eyes.

“I’m just playing around, Laur.”

Daniel intervenes, sticking his card in the check holder and placing it at the edge of the table.

“I’ve got it, bro. First meeting and all that; but thank you.”

I look at Daniel. “You don’t have to do that, we all have our own jobs.”

Daniel shrugs. “I know, I just want to.” He places his hand on my thigh again, and leans in to kiss my temple. He whispers against my head. “Let me do this, please?”

“Okay,” I sigh. “Well, thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Katharine echoes, smiling.

“My pleasure.”

—-

We’re back in our room, just finished brushing our teeth, when I bring it up again.

“You really didn’t have to pay for dinner you know.”

“I know,” he says. “But I don’t want him giving you money like me coming here was something that had to be bribed, or bought. I came because I wanted to— the details of which Ryan doesn’t need to know.”

I hum in thought.

“Besides, apparently I’m causing you bouts of jealousy, so really it’s the least I can do,” he teases.

I scoff, “Comes with the territory I guess…. along with apparently fighting off swarms of girls who want to jump your bones.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes, folding down the bed covers, “Do people even use that expression anymore?”

“Doesn’t matter, you know what I mean.”

“And yet, you’re the woman in my bed tonight.”

I laugh, folding down the other side of the bed, “How scandalous.”

“Very. Cuddling is serious business, you know.”

Daniel settles into bed, looking at me where I’m still sat on the edge.

“You coming in?”

“Yeah,” I flush, hesitating.

He extends an arm, and I take the invitation, cuddling up against his chest.

“See, this is nice.”

“I never said it wouldn’t be.”

“I know." He pauses, "Try to relax, I promise this weekend is going to go smoothly, if I have any say in it. Not to sound too cocky, but I’m good at my job.”

I laugh at that, before sighing, “I know you are.”

“Good. Sweet dreams, then.”

“Sweet dreams," I echo, snuggling a little bit closer to him.

—-

When I wake up in the morning, my chest is pressed against Daniel’s shirt, and I feel his fingertips lightly tracing up and down my back.

“Morning,” he hums.

“Good morning,” I answer, shifting slightly. “How long have you been awake?”

Daniel makes a noncommittal noise. “Not sure, didn’t want to risk waking you up to check my phone.”

I look up at him as best I can from my position. “You’ve just been staring at the ceiling this whole time?”

“It hasn’t been that long. Plus I’m resting, and enjoying our cuddle.”

I turn away blushing and snuggle back into him. “You are very warm; makes me not want to get up.”

“Our alarm hasn’t gone off yet—” He’s cut off by the alarm on his phone doing just that. “Nevermind.”

I make no effort to move from my cozy position.

“Come on,” He urges, pulling my hair lightly. “We have to get up and brush our teeth. I have a feeling there’s some kissing in our future, so.”

“Oh? Is there someone you have your eye on?” I tease.

“Just my fake girlfriend. I think I’ll probably need to demonstrate to her family how in love I am.”

“Demonstrate, huh? I’ll tell the children to shield their eyes.”

I feel Daniel’s laugh rumble through his chest, and I grin.

“Come on, we have to get ready and we have to make a good impression!”

I groan, rolling off and away from him. “I’m going to complain the whole time.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

I don’t have to turn around to know he’s smirking.

Daniel showers first so I can use the bathroom to style my hair and do my makeup once I’m done with mine.

When I’m done, I find Daniel suited and sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone. I walk up to him, standing in between his legs, and he looks up at me, taking in my appearance.

“You look beautiful.”

I reach my hand up to smooth his collar. “And you look very handsome; it might be a hard sell for anyone to believe you’re here with me,” I joke.

He shakes his head, smiling softly. He reaches up to take my hand, pulling my wrist up to his lips where he leaves a gentle kiss.

“I don’t think anyone will have any trouble believing that, actually.”

My heart stutters in my chest, and I swallow.

“Are you ready to meet everyone?”

“I am. Are you nervous?”

I look at him for a minute and really think about it.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “With you, I’m not nervous.”

He smiles. “Good; let’s get going.”

—

As we exit the hotel, we take a right before descending down the stairs to the beach ceremony hand in hand. The sun feels warm on our skin, but the soft breeze keeps it from feeling overbearing. I can feel some family members’ eyes on me as I smile and wave with my free hand, sure I’ll have plenty of time to talk to them after. We pick our seats and I look up at Daniel, who is already smiling down at me. I smile back as he places our clasped hands in my lap, his thumb gently brushing back and forth over my skin.

“It’s a beautiful day to get married,” he states, looking around.

I hum in agreement, wrapping my free hand around his bicep.

“I always wondered about summer weddings— I’d worry that I’d sweat off all my makeup if I was the bride.”

Daniel huffs a laugh. “Yeah. I assume most grooms are sweating buckets before they even reach the reception.”

My eyes wander down to where he has the first few buttons of his shirt undone to accommodate the heat.

“My eyes are up here.”

My eyes flash back up to his, and he smirks. I shake my head and try not to blush at getting caught. He leans down to kiss my temple.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he murmurs against my hair, squeezing my hand.

I turn to him and raise my eyebrow. “Diving right in are we?”

He shrugs and diverts his attention back to the altar.

“Ryan looks so much older in his tux.”

I look to where Ryan stands next to Nick, Rachel’s soon-to-be husband, as one of the groomsmen.

“Sometimes I forget he’s only 18, but then he’s still a baby to me in some ways.”

Daniel shakes his head. “Just imagine, one day we’ll be sitting at his wedding.”

“I can’t even think about that— though, to be fair, he may beat me to getting married. He and Katharine have been dating since they were 13.”

He lets out a low whistle. “True high school sweethearts. Do you think they’ll stay together through college?”

I sigh, looking over at Katharine a few rows ahead with my Aunt Judith. “I hope so, I think they’re a good fit. She’s already part of the family.”

It’s quiet for a moment before something hits me.

“You said we’ll be sitting at Ryan’s wedding.” I tug on Daniel’s arm. “Plan on sticking around?”

“Well, I—” He opens and closes his mouth a few times, not sure of the right response.

I giggle and lean up to kiss his cheek before pulling back just enough to whisper, “You know, you’re really cute when you blush.”

He turns to me before I can pull away entirely, placing a quick kiss on my lips, leaving me blinking up at him.

He smirks. “Touché.”

———

There’s something to be said for attending a wedding with someone.

I’m not sure if I’m emotional because it’s Rachel, my cousin who I’ve grown up with, or the fact that when something particularly romantic happens, I look at Daniel, who will smile and squeeze my hand in solidarity.

We’re both a little teary eyed by the time the ceremony ends. I reach my free hand up to wipe a stray tear from his face. He laughs, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, I’m feeling it too. Easy to feel a little sappy on a day like today.”

“Mmm. Really sets the mood for the start of our relationship.”

I roll my eyes good-naturedly.

“Speaking of…” I trail off, eyeing a few family members approaching over his shoulder.

“Get ready, because introductions start now.”

—-

The members of my family that are introduced seem to welcome Daniel with no hesitations— and far fewer questions than I anticipated. He handles them all smoothly and I’m thankful we discussed some things beforehand. Eventually, we part ways, excusing ourselves with promises to catch up more later.

We don’t get too far before a little girl runs up to us. She can’t be older than 4 or 5.

“Hi,” she giggles. “I’m Marnie.”

Daniel and I share a smile, and I bend down a bit. “Hi Marnie, I’m Lauren, and this is Daniel.” He waves. “Are you here for the wedding too?”

She nods bashfully. “Nick kissed her! Now he’s a husband.”

Daniel laughs. “He is.”

“How do you know Nick?” I ask.

“He’s my cousin,” she says, kicking some sand with her sandals.

“Ahh, the girl he kissed is my cousin Rachel. Now she’s a wife!” I exclaim.

She looks at me curiously. “Is a wife like a mom?”

Before I can answer, we hear someone call her name, and we look up to see a couple around our age standing on the patio about 10 feet away.

“Is that your mom and dad?” Daniel asks.

“Yeah, I gotta go— see you later!”

She dashes off, and we wave at the couple who wave back, calling out an apology.

“It’s fine— she’s super cute!” I smile.

We watch as they head back toward the hotel, and presumably the reception.

We walk along the stone wall lining the patio, watching from a distance as bridal party photos are taken.

I look at him. “Should we take our own photo to celebrate the occasion, and how nice we look?”

Daniel laughs, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Sure.”

He bends down so we can take a selfie, before shaking his head.

“Wait.” He sits on the wall, and pulls me so I’m sitting on his lap. I try to mask my blush as he looks at the phone screen. “Better. More natural angle.”

We take one selfie smiling and another with silly faces.

“Do you two want me to take a photo for you?” A woman passing by asks.

I hesitate, but Daniel’s already handing over his phone. “That would be great, thanks.”

We stay seated with his arm around my waist. And I turn to lean into him, putting my hand on his chest.

We grin and the woman takes a photo.

“Boooo, boring,” Ryan heckles, walking up behind the woman out of nowhere. “Give us something good.”

I roll my eyes, and feel Daniel chuckle.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking formal photos?” I query.

“I finished.” He shrugs, taking the camera from the woman, who excuses herself. “Now give me something good.”

“Alright Ryan, since you asked so nicely,” Daniel drawls. I feel his hand on my neck tilting my head up. “Give the man what he wants.” He smirks, eyes sparkling, leaning in to kiss me.

I can’t help but grin into the kiss as I hear Ryan quickly change his tune. “Okay gross, this is excessive. I got it, you can stop.”

Eventually we pull away, and I turn to Ryan innocently. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I’m starting to regret pushing the whole plus one agenda.” He frowns, handing Daniel back his phone.

“No you aren’t,” I tease.

“I’m going to go find my girlfriend,” he rebuts, stalking off.

Daniel shakes his head. “He’s funny.” Lowering his voice, he says into my ear, “One kiss down, many to go.”

I shove him playfully and slide off his lap, turning back towards the hotel to hide my blush. “If any of those pictures came out good, send them to me, please.”

“Okay, but wait.” He stands and pulls my elbow gently, and as I turn back to him his lips meet mine.

“What was that for?” I ask as we finally pull away.

“Just making sure we found our rhythm.” He shrugs. “Besides, as your boyfriend, I technically don’t need a reason.”

I bite my lip. “Is that so?”

He looks at me innocently. “It goes both ways, you know, these lips are yours for the day.”

I bark a laugh. “That sounds so weird, but, okay, noted.”

He grins, lacing our fingers together and pulling me back toward the hotel and the reception.

—-

Inside the reception, each table seats 6; we’re seated at one of the family tables with Ryan, Katharine, and my Aunt Judith. Aunt Judith is my late grandmother’s sister. She has a sharp tongue and rarely minces words when she speaks, a trait that suited her long career as a lawyer in the city. She’s one of the family members who I’ve been most nervous for Daniel to meet, as I know she’ll be critical and her eagle eye will be looking for weaknesses between us. I’ve seen her do it to Rachel’s boyfriends over the years, and even to Katharine when she and Ryan started dating.

“So, Daniel…” Aunt Judith begins. “Ryan here tells me you had… concerns, about Lauren telling us about you.”

Here comes the interrogation. I glare at Ryan, who shrugs, before looking at Daniel who appears unusually calm.

“Not concerns, really,” he starts, “We were friends for a long time, as you know, and I think we were both just nervous—“ he looks at me, “and trying to take our time in figuring out the transition into being together romantically.”

I nod, “And it was only like a month before I told Ryan. You guys know I tell you everything.”

Aunt Judith watches as the others laugh knowingly, and Daniel grins at me.

“Are you planning to keep your relationship private from the press?” She pushes.

“Well,” Ryan interjects, “At the airport they were holding hands, even when Katharine approached him pretending to be a fangirl.”

I roll my eyes, “That was so unnecessary, you guys. Daniel and I both like our privacy so I wouldn’t say we’re hiding it, but we aren’t flaunting it all over either.”

“I’m definitely not ashamed or trying to hide Lauren, if that’s what you mean.” Daniel jests lightly.

“I should hope not,” she says, looking at him over her glass, as she takes a sip.

Katherine turns to Daniel, “What is it about Lauren that drew you in?”

Ryan snorts, “Yeah, how’d she escape the friendzone?”

I put a hand over my face, embarrassed, which Aunt Judith seems to interpret to mean something else entirely.

“Please tell me you did nothing scandalous, so help me, Lauren….”

“What,” I look at her, “No, of course not, why would you assume that?”

She shrugs and Daniel intervenes, “It wasn’t something sudden… I always knew she was beautiful, and obviously as we became friends I saw how kind and thoughtful she was. Funny too,” he says smirking at me.

“Hmm,” she says taking a sip from her drink again, but I can tell she’s secretly pleased with his answer.

—-

Once dinner is finished I excuse Daniel and I from the table, so I can introduce him to Rachel, her new husband, Nick, and of course my Auntie Kim.

I feel Daniel’s hand squeeze mine and I turn back to look at him, smiling.

“Getting tired of all these introductions yet?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Such a good sport,” I tease, and he rolls his eyes.

We wait for the last people currently talking to Rachel and Nick to clear, and when Rachel sees me she squeals.

“Lauren!”

I laugh, “Hi Rach, congratulations!”

“Thank you,” she beams, looking over at Nick briefly.

“And welcome to the family, officially, Nick.”

He grins and motions behind me, “Who’s this guy you’re towing around?”

“Right,” I blush. “Rachel, Nick, this is my boyfriend Daniel.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Daniel greets, sticking out his hand to shake theirs. Neither Nick or Rachel do a great job of hiding their surprise.

“No offense, Laur, but when Ryan told me you were bringing a boyfriend I thought he was messing with us.” Nick interjects.

I force a grin on my face, feeling Daniel’s hand comfortingly move to my back.

“I’m all too real, I’m afraid.” Daniel interjects. “Sorry to disappoint.”

I lean back into him, and watch as Rachel smacks Nick on the arm.

“No, no, we’re very glad you’re real Daniel. Just surprised is all. Don’t mind Nick.”

Auntie Kim approaches saving us from the awkward encounter.

“This must be the infamous Daniel, who has won our Lauren’s heart.”

I blush, as she moves to hug him.

He smirks, “Well, she’s won mine as well.”

“You two are so cute. We are so thrilled you could come today, Daniel.”

“I was too, it is really great to meet you all after hearing this one talk about you all nonstop.”

The group laughs.

“We are very much looking forward to getting to know you better, hopefully this will be the first of many visits.”

He smiles, “Definitely.”

—

At some point much later in the evening, I lose Daniel. He steps away to use the restroom and I get pulled into conversation with a family friend. I keep my eyes peeled for him but somehow I don’t seem to see him anywhere.

I’m standing by the bar waiting for a drink when I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist.

“Hi, darling.”

My stomach flutters at the pet name.

“Oh hello, I was wondering where you ran off to.”

His arms tighten around my waist. “I was having a riveting conversation with one of your aunts, actually.”

I turn my head to look at him curiously. “Which one?”

“Aunt Judith,” he smirks, waving the bartender over to order a drink of his own.

“Oh boy,” I laugh. “What did you guys talk about?”

Once he places his order he leans down to whisper in my ear, “She wanted to know if we were using protection, and after that, we went over the unexpected costs of raising children.”

I turn around in his arms, horrified. “No! —She didn’t.”

“Oh yes,” he laughs, grinning. “She did.”

“What did you even say?”

He pretended to think. “I told her, diaper prices are definitely outrageous, and I agree, college costs are inflated beyond belief—” I glare at him. “Oh, and that it was very important to me that we practice safe sex, but, if anything ever did happen, I would be there for you every step of the way.”

“Oh God.” I bury my face into his chest, and he laughs, affectionately stroking my hair. “I’m so sorry, that’s mortifying….”

“I’ve been asked weirder things, just being an actor in LA.”

“Still.” I look up at him. “Your answer was very sweet, though.”

“Well, it’s the truth. I’ll always be there for you— fake pregnancies and all.”

We’re staring at each other now, his fingers still running through my hair, his other hand on my lower back. Time seems to slow down and my eyes flicker to his mouth, his words from earlier echoing in my head. It goes both ways. Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach up to kiss him, because it feels right.

“You’re the best fake boyfriend, you know that?” I murmur against his mouth.

He pulls me closer to him, brushing his nose against mine. “I might need another kiss to convince me.”

The bartender behind us clears his throat. “Excuse me, sir, ma’am? Your drinks?”

We break apart, and as our moment ends I try to quell the butterflies in my tummy.

Daniel smiles politely at the bartender, passing me my drink before taking his glass in one hand and my hand in the other.

We make our way back to our now vacant table. He lets go of my hand to pull his chair closer to mine as we sit down, draping his arm over the back of my chair. I lean into him as we sip our drinks, people-watching the other tables and the crowd on the dance floor. I feel his fingers start drawing shapes on my shoulder, causing me to look up at him.

“Are you having a good time?” he asks.

“I am, largely thanks to you. Are you having a good time?”

“I am; everyone has been really welcoming. It’s nice to meet the people you’ve told me about, and hear the stories everyone has to tell me about you. There have been some good ones, I have to say…”

I roll my eyes, smiling. “I’m sure.”

“The only way it could be better would be if they had baby pictures.”

“Listen, I’ll be the first to say I peaked in preschool. I was much cuter then, I peaked—” Daniel laughs. “I’ll get some and show you. You’ll be so disappointed this is how I’ve turned out.”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean I bet you were cute but, I couldn’t be disappointed.”

I shake my head, blushing. “Don’t be so sure— you haven’t seen them yet.”

“I am sure…. I’m looking at you right now.”

I start to smile despite myself. “Oooooh, that was smooth, Sharman.”

“No, no, no," he protests, smirking, "it’s easy when you tell the truth.”

“Have you always been this cheesy, or is this a boyfriend exclusive privilege I’ve unlocked?”

“You know—” He’s interrupted as the little girl from earlier runs up to us.

“Hi,” she says bashfully.

I smile, “Hi Marnie,”

She turns to Daniel and taps twice on his knee. “Can I sit?”

Daniel looks at me, and then around the room. Marnie’s parents are nowhere in sight.

“Sure, angel. Where are your mom and dad?”

She shrugs before he lifts her into his lap. The three of us smile at each other as Marnie gets shy. She leans up to whisper in Daniel’s ear, cupping both of her tiny hands around his ear. I can’t hear what she’s saying but I watch as Daniel’s eyes twinkle in amusement.

“Not yet,” he answers to whatever she asked, and she giggles before whispering again, and he laughs. “Mhm, I do.”

Marnie pulls back and looks at him with amazement, whispering even more excitedly. This time he pauses before smiling at me, before turning back to her.

“What do you think?” She looks at me quickly before back at him, nodding shyly. He nods along with her, before leaning in and whispering in her head with his hands cupped secretly like hers had been. Marnie is absolutely beaming now. It’s easy to see how smitten she is with him.

Curiosity gets the best of me. “Do I get to know a secret, too?” I ask, teasingly.

She looks unsure before Daniel swoops in playfully. “Nope, these secrets are for me and Marnie only.”

“Darn it.” I sigh dramatically.

The music changes to something Marnie clearly recognizes as her face lights up, as she tugs on Daniel’s sleeve. “Can we dance? Me and you?”

Daniel looks at me. “Will you be okay here?”

“Absolutely, I’ll be watching.”

He puts his drink on the table as I pick mine up to take a sip, watching as her tiny hand fits in his and she drags him out to dance. The two of them are so cute and my heart feels like it’s going to burst.

Ryan slides into Daniel’s seat a minute later.

“You know, if you and Daniel had a daughter, she’d probably look just like Marnie.”

I glance at him, realizing he’s right. Dark brown curls and bright blue eyes, with a toothy smile and a loud laugh.

“Don’t let my ovaries hear you. I’m not having any children until I have two rings on this finger,” I say, waggling my left hand at him.

Ryan laughs and we watch as Daniel is so good with Marnie, letting her swing his arms around and move them to the beat.

“I like him,” Ryan says definitively.

I look at him, surprised. “Wow, I mean I obviously like him too, I just thought you’d be more skeptical.”

“I did too until I saw you guys together. I just…” He looks emotional all of a sudden. “Shit.”

I laugh softly. “It’s okay, Ry, it’s an emotional day.” I rub his shoulder as he pinches his eyes.

I see Daniel glance over, concerned, but I give him a thumbs up. He nods and goes back to spinning Marnie around.

“I just...” I turn back to Ryan as he speaks, giving him my full attention. “I can see that he loves you— really loves you. It’s all I ever wanted for you.”

I feel my heart squish uncomfortably in my chest. I feel guilty that my cousin is so happy for me, so proud and vulnerable over a relationship that’s just for show. I swallow.

“Me too, I— thank you, Ryan. I love you, so much.”

The song changes again into something slow and I watch Marnie shriek, horrified, before running off into the crowd. Daniel looks after her, humored, before looking at me, gesturing with his head that I come join him. Ryan must see it too because he kisses my temple.

“I love you, too. Go get your man; I should find Katharine.”

Like I’m in a trance, I don’t take my eyes off Daniel as I approach. He smiles and reaches his hands out for me, lacing our fingers together.

“May I have this dance?”

“You may, I was getting a little jealous over there.”

He drops one of my hands to wrap it around my waist, and I bring mine around his neck as we begin to sway, staying close together.

He chuckles. “Well, don’t be, I think everyone here knows who I’m going home with.”

“Yeah, you’re stuck with me.”

He smiles softly but doesn’t answer. I feel my eyes flutter shut as he moves closer pressing his lips to mine gently, tenderly. I kiss him back and for a second I swear I feel it— that all-encompassing love Ryan says he sees between us. When we pull apart, he keeps his head dipped down, pressing his cheek to mine for the remainder of the song. I close my eyes and nuzzle into him, letting myself pretend this is real, just for another moment.

Eventually I break our silence.

“Hey, what did Marnie ask you?”

“Hmm?” He murmurs, the sound vibrating against my cheek.

“During your super secret whisper time.”

“Oh,” he laughs breathily. “She wanted to know if we were married.”

“Ahhh,” I chuckle. “I see. What else did she want to know?”

He pauses as the song starts to fade out and our swaying slows down. “I don’t know if I can tell you that. Some secrets need to stay secret, after all.”

While it was clearly meant to be a joke, he says it a bit too seriously, so I drop it and smile tightly as we pull apart.

“Okay.”

He tugs my hand playfully. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

I make a face at him. “Well, I guess I’ll never know.”

He laughs. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

—-

A little while later, we’re watching Rachel and Nick leave for their honeymoon as the wedding party begins to disperse.

“I suppose we should say our goodbyes,” I say, tearing my eyes away as their car drives off.

I hug my Auntie Kim goodbye and tell her I’ll see her at Christmas. She fawns over Daniel, telling him to watch over me, and how happy she is to have gotten to meet him. It makes me smile to see how well he gets on with her. It’s hardest to say goodbye to Ryan. I hug him fiercely, and he returns the hug just as vigorously.

“I wish I could take you back with me.”

“I know.”

“We need to FaceTime more.”

“We will.”

When I step back, Ryan and Daniel go to shake hands, and I see Aunt Judith sitting at the bar by herself. I excuse myself as they chat and take the seat next to her.

“Aunt Judith, I’m afraid I leave again tomorrow.”

She turns toward me, swirling the scotch in her glass. She disregards what I’ve said and instead looks past me into the crowd.

“Where’s that man of yours?”

“He’s saying goodbye to Ryan at the moment.”

She hums.

“What?” I ask.

“He’s a looker.”

I chuckle. “So I’ve been told.”

“I think he could be husband material though. Not as dense as men usually are.”

I suppress a smile. “Huh, I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” I give her a kiss on the cheek goodbye, walking over to rejoin Daniel who seems to be finishing a serious chat with Ryan as I approach. As I join his side, Ryan shakes his hand one last time before walking away. Daniel glances at me, placing a hand on my back, looking back towards Aunt Judith at the bar.

“Should I go say goodbye to her?”

“I think you’re alright.”

Aunt Judith waves at us, and Daniel waves back.

”Was everything okay with Ryan?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah; just talking.” He shifts, interlacing our hands. “Ready to go back to our room?”

I nod and we head towards the elevators, hands swinging between us. While we wait, I subconsciously start swaying to the soft music playing from the hallway speakers. Daniel glances at me smirking, and I look up at him giggling, “What?”

“Nothing. You want to spin, like Marnie?” He teases, lifting our joined hands. I spin twice before bumping into his chest, giggling more. “Ooops.”

He shakes his head at me as the elevator doors open. He wraps both his arms around me, walking me backward into the elevator and I laugh into his tie. I turn around so we’re both facing the doors as he reaches around me to press the button for our floor. The mirrored doors slide closed and I meet his eyes in the reflection. We’re both grinning.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” he taunts, and I stick my tongue out in the reflection. His arms tighten around me and I press backwards into his chest.

—-

Back at the room, we start to get ready for bed. We share the bathroom to brush our teeth and do our nighttime routines, playfully brushing and bumping into each other. I drag my feet, trying to make the evening last as long as possible, trying to stretch out this daydream I’m living in before we have to go home tomorrow.

I get into bed first, lying on my back and watching as Daniel pads across the room to his side of the bed. He shuts off the overhead light as he passes, leaving only the soft blue moonlight from the window covering us.

He climbs into bed next to me but stays propped up on his elbow. I look at him and he begins tracing my face with his other hand. I crinkle my nose at him, and laugh softly.

“What’re you doing?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

He gestures behind me to a decorative sign on the wall.

I turn my head to look at it. “I can’t read that without my contacts.”

His fingers trace over my lips, and I hold my breath at the intimate gesture.

His voice drops even softer. “It says always kiss me goodnight. So I’m waiting.”

I look back at him, expecting him to crack a joke, but he doesn’t; his eyes are sincere. I run the arm closest to him up behind his neck, catching my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He takes the hint, letting my touch guide him as he leans down and kisses me.

The kiss is sleepy, soft, lips tenderly pressed together, moving slowly against each other. It ends with a few gentle kisses that drift from my mouth to my cheek, up to my forehead. His gaze is already fixed on me when my eyes flutter back open.

I start to think about how final that kiss felt, how this is the end of our weekend of pretend; how it doesn’t make any sense that we’re kissing when no one’s here to see us, but maybe we’re both lonely and already missing the comfort, the closeness of this façade. I run my hand up from the nape of his neck to scratch gently at his scalp and his eyes flutter shut, finally breaking our eye contact.

“That feels nice,” he whispers. Wordlessly, we shift so his head is on my chest, his arm around my waist, my nails still soothingly sifting through his hair, quietly lulling him to sleep.

---

tagged: @rogershoe @heyrowena @yunsh-17

[duchesschameleon]

what if - chapter 1

summary: a long lost letter leads to an adventure in Italy for three people who find love and healing along the way. a letters to juliet au

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 1871 a/n: the first romcom au! and this is also a birthday present for the amazing and masterful tali (@winterscaptain) have a wonderful, wonderful day dear! thanks to @qvid-pro-qvo and @writefasttalkevenfaster for the beta

You take a deep breath and turn your face towards the sky, letting the warmth from the sun soak into your skin. It’s hard to believe you’re actually in Verona, you’d talked about it so much and for so long.

It’s hard to believe you’re here alone.

You’d talked about this trip with your partner often, making plans for a “pre-wedding honeymoon” and talking about all the food you’d eat, wine you’d drink, the sites you’d see together. All of the plans you’d made were together and now it’s just you.

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the present, and look around. Dwelling on the past does you no good, so you search for signs to orient yourself and set out to explore Verona.

--

The bells are tolling, pulling your attention from your notebook. You look around you and see the courtyard clearing out as visiting hours for Juliet’s Balcony ends. There are some teary-eyed women walking past you and you raise an eyebrow, looking around for what could cause them to be so emotional. As the crowd thins out, you see a woman picking pieces of paper from the wall and putting them into a basket. Your eyes scan the wall and see a bunch of pieces of paper folded into the cracks of the wall beneath Juliet’s balcony. Love letters, your mind supplies and it clicks into place.

Once the woman has all the letters in her basket, she walks out of the courtyard and down the road. You follow her, your curiosity getting the better of you. Some things never change, you hear a familiar voice whisper in the back of your mind. You smile bittersweetly and continue following the woman with the basket. She leads you to a restaurant in a nearby piazza and you steel your nerves before walking inside.

“Hello?” you call out, looking at a table with four women seated around it pulling letters from the basket. “I, uh, I’m just wondering why you took those letters from the wall?”

The woman you’d followed stands up and approaches you. “Are you the translator I asked for -”

“Oh no! Just, visiting. And curious,” you explain.

“Ah, so you’re a writer?” she asks and you frown, silently asking how she knew. “Your notebook, and the pen. So, a writer?” You nod. “Then join us. We are the secretaries of Juliet. We take the letters the heartbroken leave at Juliet’s balcony and we respond to the ones we can,” she explains. She introduces herself as Isabella and the other three women - Francesca, Maria, and Donatella - as well as which letters they respond to. You’re blown away by the whole process, the whole system they have to respond to these letters and give lovers advice or in some cases, closure. Isabella invites you to sit with them and read the letters, to learn about the secretaries and if you feel like it, respond to a letter.

You settle into their rhythm quickly, laughing with the women and occasionally throwing in your two cents for a reply. You’re comfortable with them and enjoy spending time with them when you aren’t walking around the city. When the bells chime at five, you know you’ll be meeting Isabella in the courtyard to grab the days’ letters and bring them to the restaurant.

It’s your fourth day in Verona when you find it, a letter hidden behind a loose rock. It’s dated from the 1960s and written in blocky lettering that can only belong to a man.

“I didn’t go to her Juliet, I didn’t go to my Carolyn. Her eyes were so full of trust, I promised I’d meet her and we would run away together. But I didn’t go. I left her under our tree and now I’m in Verona. I return to the States in the morning and I’m so afraid. Please, Juliet, tell me what I should do. My heart is breaking and I have no one else to turn to. Love, Dave,” you read aloud. There’s a hush in the room as everyone takes in this letter that’s been hiding and waiting for years. 

“I have to reply,” you declare.

“Then write,” Isabella says, passing you paper and a pen. You focus on the letter and work different versions of a reply for hours. It takes time, but you get there. A reply that feels worthy of this long a wait and a letter of this magnitude. You hope that Dave still lives in DC, where he said he was going back then. You hope he gets your letter and it brings him some peace.                                       

--

“Excuse me, is one of you Juliet?” a strange voice asks. Isabella stands up and responds to the man standing in the doorway. You can only see his silhouette, the evening sun blocking out his features, but you can tell he’s tall and the accent is American, something familiar after almost two weeks in Italy.

“We are the secretaries of Juliet,” Isabella explains, “how can we help you?”

“I’m looking for the person who wrote this letter to Dave Rossi.”

“I did,” you say, raising from your chair. “Did he get-”

“Did you think for a moment before writing and sending that letter? Did you think that since he’d written that letter and left it here he’s lived a life? A great life by the way, and now he’s uprooted everything on a whim and come to Italy to search for someone who’s also lived a life since he last saw her,” the man rants.

“Wait, Dave’s here? In Italy?” you ask, unable to hide your excitement.

“Yes he is, when he should be back home in DC but he’s here following the advice from your letter against everyone’s better judgement!”

“Where is he? I’d love to meet him,” you say walking towards the door.

“What? No! You can’t meet him, I’m convincing him to go home, he’s lived a life, he can’t be doing this,”  he says indignantly. “Besides, I don’t even know your name.”

You stand before the man and introduce yourself, holding out a hand for him to shake. You can see him now that the sun isn’t blocking him out. He has brown hair, tamed with gel you think, and he’s thin but sturdy. He’s attractive you notice, but his face is arranged into a frown, definitely disapproving and based on the lines on his face, he doesn’t smile very often. He breaks your train of thought when he takes your hand, “Aaron Hotchner. I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I wish I wasn’t here,” he says bluntly.

Your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Well, I’m sorry it's such a burden for you to be in Italy,” you scoff. “Now that we’ve been introduced, can I meet Dave? I’m a little shocked that my letter reached him so quickly.”

Aaron turns away and heads down the stairs in lieu of a reply. It takes you a second to recover from your shock before you’re following him. He’s walking out of the restaurant and heading on a familiar route, going back to Juliet’s balcony. You follow, a few steps behind him, and when he turns into the courtyard you see the man who must be Dave Rossi sitting on a bench. Aaron leans down to talk to him and you hesitate before approaching.

“Dave Rossi?” you ask. He nods and you introduce yourself, explaining that you wrote the letter to him. His eyes light up and he immediately turns towards you, leaving Aaron out of your conversation.

“Your letter, I can’t put into words how much it means. That even after all this time, you think Carolyn is out there and I can find her,” Dave says, grabbing your hands.

“Of course. I couldn’t let your letter go unanswered, no matter how much time had passed.”

“You could have. Easily. It’s been years. Everyone involved has lived their lives and left that summer in the past. Left each other in the past. It’s the logical thing to do,” Aaron interrupts.

You turn to him and say dryly, “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize true love had an expiration date.”

He scoffs at you before addressing Dave, “We should get back to the hotel and get some rest. It’s been a long day. And then we can talk about getting back home because this whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous to you, Aaron. Not to me. And you’re the one who insisted on tagging along.”

“Someone has to look out for you Dave.”

You smile at their banter and take a step back, moving to return to the secretaries. Dave calls out your name when you’re almost out of the courtyard and you turn. “Aaron’s making me turn in tonight, but how about we grab lunch tomorrow? Talk some more?” You nod in response and Dave gives you their hotel name and you promise to meet them there. There’s a hopefulness blooming in your chest as you walk back towards the restaurant, a levity that’d been missing for some time and you feel a smile tug at your lips. Adventures in Italy, just like you’d promised.

Lunch the next day includes a lot of the same bickering. Dave wants to follow the advice from your letter, to go look for Carolyn where he first met her and Aaron is staunchly against the idea. When Dave gets up from the table for a moment, Aaron turns to you, brown eyes sharp.

“He can’t do this. You have to stop convincing him that this is a good idea,” Aaron spits out.

“And why can’t he do this? Don’t you want him to be happy?” you shoot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Who’s to say he isn’t happy already? That he hasn’t already found his love and lived out his life?”

“But is that person his true love? Did you even read the original letter, he loves Carolyn! Still does after all this time I’d say, given that he’s here in Italy to find her!”

“Don’t you understand? Dave found love in DC. He had a wife, Hayden. They had a daughter together and now he has a grandson. He doesn’t need this and he certainly doesn’t need you meddling in his affairs,” Aaron hisses as Dave walks back to the table. You try to relax your features, to look less like you want to murder Aaron, but one look at you and Dave knows. He sighs and folds his hands together on the table.

“You know, I was hoping the two of you would start getting along Aaron,” he says, facing the other man, “especially since I’ve decided that I want to ask our friend to join us on this adventure. That letter made this whole thing possible, I think it’s only right, wouldn’t you agree?” he asks, looking pointedly at Aaron.

Aaron sighs and rubs his face with one hand. You cock an eyebrow at him, waiting patiently for his response. He slowly turns back to you and meets your eyes. “Yes, it’s only right you join us,” he grits out.

You smile and wink at Dave. “Well then, sounds like an adventure.”

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner message me to be added!

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Fourteen: Forget)

← Chapter Thirteen

His homecoming wasn’t eventful, nor was it welcomed by the others of Trost. They came back in the night, a tenth of what they left with, and yet people were still up to throw things out the windows at the Scouts as they proceeded to their base. I wasn’t awake for that part, and Jonas thought it was best to not wake me. He told me the next morning that he’d locked eyes with Levi and he almost shrunk away from the window. Jonas thought the rage he saw was directed at his presence, and he was probably half right, but the other was just towards the world in general. 

He didn’t come into the cafe the next morning like he usually did. No. I was sure the Scouts would stay out of Trost for a while and their own safety. It never made sense to me though. The people of Trost would rejoice that the famine was over but in the same breath blame all hundred-some Scouts for not being able to protect millions of people. I held my tongue, giving the everlasting fake smile. There was no reason to fight anymore. They were home and most were safe. Levi was safe and in one piece and I would probably see him tonight. 

Five months after they left. 

Flowers were already growing out of the ground, and there was no need to wear a jacket anymore. Sometimes, I would go out and sit in the meadow facing the Scouts HQ, just like Levi and I had before. I would allow myself to sit and think clearly. Sometimes, I would sneak to the Scout HQ and feed the horses that were left behind for various injuries, evading the one Scout they left for the same reason. I’m sure the young boy knew I was there, but he seemed to not mind. I took feeding the horses off his daily to-do list. I wasn’t happy by any means, but after getting Jonas back, it made it easier to be alone with my thoughts. 

“You don’t need to stay tonight, Jonas,” I told him, putting the chairs up so he could sweep the floor. He gave me an annoyed look, but nodded, understanding why. 

“Just don’t forget about me even if he’s back,” it was a low whisper so he could try to hide the begging nature of it. I knew better than to let Jonas go this time. 

“Don’t worry. How could I forget about your ugly face?" His mouth went wide and I laughed. Before I could dodge, a wet rag flew at my head, narrowly missing me. 

That night, I sat on my couch reading some random book, waiting for a knock at the door. My heart was beating the whole time, and I couldn’t focus on the words I was trying to read. It had been so long since I’ve seen his face. Since I felt his touch. I wish I had some drawing to be able to look at his face instead of imagining him through his cursive or button-ups. Maybe I’d ask him to get one. There were random men who sat in the Trost city square and drew people for money. Maybe I would get him one of myself too, knowing that the small stitches on his cape wouldn’t last long. My mind was swirling with ideas, trying to keep it occupied. When the clock on the wall hit three in the morning, I was losing hope. In my hands now was the journal I’d faithfully written in for five months. It was the first thing I’d give to him, showing that I was still devoted despite the distance. Even if it was hard for him to read it, he told me to do it, and I did. Every single night I did. I wondered if he’d done something similar, but he probably wouldn’t want to share with me, nor recall the days he had outside of the walls. 

At eight in the morning, Jonas had let himself in after yelling up from the very full cafe. He saw me sleeping on the couch, the journal still in my arms, no indication that Levi had been there. When he woke me up, I could tell there was pity in his eyes. I shied away from it, going to get dressed to work. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He’d just gotten back and it was hard to get into Trost without ridicule. He’d come eventually. I already felt more at ease knowing that he was alive anyway. 

The next night, he didn’t come either. Then the next. Then the next. It turned into a week. Then another week. Every day, I would wake up and give him excuses. I would smile at Jonas and ask him how he slept. I would stare at his table in the cafe, now occupied by a different customer. Once the time kept ticking on, I knew that there wasn’t anything holding him back from coming. There wasn’t anything holding back from sending some letter or note with Erwin’s private service either. The only thing holding him back was himself, but I didn't want to come to that reality. How could someone who'd left me the way he did, lingering touches on my doorstep, not want to come back?

That’s how I ended up at the Scout HQ stables again. Their numbers had dwindled again, and by Levi’s past letters I knew when mandatory lunch service was. Again, I felt alone as the wind blew through my hair, yet this time I was staring Levi’s horse in the eyes. The horse that almost bit my head off. I could see she was injured, and I reached out to pet her nose, giving an apple I’d brought from the cafe. She seemed to be thankful for the offering and let me into her stable without a problem. I slipped the journal into a cubby with some riding supplies, hoping he’d see it sometime. Before leaving on Jonas’s horse, I glanced up at the windows of the abandoned castle, the sun reflecting in them enough to blind my eyes.

“Ma’am, what are you doing near the horses?” I looked down at the cadet who was left behind. He knew my face by now, but he seemed not afraid to confront me anymore. I raised one hand to him, the wind picking up around me, blowing my skirt up. 

“I’m just leaving. Don’t mind me.” He held his hand up, beaconing me not to leave before I could answer whatever questions he had. I didn’t hear what he was yelling at me as I rode back towards Trost. Hopefully, he would report that someone was near the stables and Levi would find my notebook. If anything, I wanted him to read that. If he saw how sad I was without him there, then maybe he would come back quicker. 

“It’s been how long?” Jonas asked as I returned his horse later that night. He taught me how to ride it a month ago, seeing how I could only use public transportation to get to Mitras, which took money and hours. While I was still unsettled getting on anyone’s horse, Jonas’s was nice to me and I fed it extra apples for good measure. I was doing that right now as he brushed her out. 

“Almost three weeks since they’ve come back.” He nodded and continued to brush, not pushing the obvious response. Jonas had gotten much better at that. He’d let me think when I needed to, and then only when I was getting beside myself he would jump in. There wasn’t any need to do that right now, and my mood had gotten more control over the past few weeks that he didn't need to do any intervention work recently. 

“It’s almost May Day. There are enough supplies to celebrate this year, so Trost is having a little festival to make up for Spring.” I pet the horse on her nose before hopping up on the stable’s door to sit. 

“Are you asking me to go drink with your friends since no one did it for the Equinox and now there’s an excuse?” He huffed once in laugher, trying to feign his innocence. 

“No, I was just going to ask you if you were free next week for no reason. Drinking? How dare we? We’re getting too old for that sort of stuff.” I smiled lightly down at him as he put away the horse’s brush to turn to face me. 

“Sure, I’ll go. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out.” A big smile broke out on his face when I agreed, and it seemed to carry all the way into next week. He would never stop reminding me that on Saturday, we would go to the festival to grab drinks and take them outside to the meadow near the walls. At one point, I had to bar him from talking for a few hours so I could get work done. When the day finally came and I closed the shop, he was bouncing off the walls watching all the people walk to the town square. 

“You know, usually we’re taking Elias and June to these types of things,” I reminded him and he just shrugged. June was probably working and Elias would be with his school friends running around. We’d probably see him on our way out of town. 

“When they turn eighteen, I’ll gladly take them for their first drunk meadow excursion. It’s a right of passage.” You rolled your eyes at him, remembering his first time puking at the base of a tree in the meadow. A right of passage, sure. 

Jonas’s friends were a rowdy bunch. They were that way in high school as well and never changed how many years out we were now. While you weren’t very much involved with them unless forced by Jonas, you knew the four of them well enough to be comfortable to drink with them. Two of them, Jonas’s roommates, brought girlfriends or girls they were trying to entertain with. Again, I didn’t know them all that well, but I’d be sure to ask Jonas as we walked behind the rest. 

It was refreshing to be out like this, as we walked past the Garrison to be let into Wall Rose. The atmosphere was up, some of the boys having already downed a few drinks, and everyone seemed happier than before. The news of millions of refugees dying didn’t affect them, so why did they have to feel sad about it? In moments like this, it made me think of my own existence and how selfish it was to do these sorts of things. We were exploiting the safety of Wall Rose to go and drink, not thinking at all about titans or a food shortage anymore. I wanted to apologize to the refugees whom I served previously, but they were undoubtedly all gone. 

“Hey,” Jonas nudged me, probably seeing my glazed-over expression, “Live in the moment?” He suggested as the wind picked up around us. The grass blew in the breeze, and we turned to walk against the wall. The meadow near the wall was only a few minutes walk, and near a village of farmers. One time, during a game of truth or dare, Jonas was dared to go pick a farmer's pumpkin, which ended up with him being chased a good half-mile from where we were original. The only person who waited for him to get back that night was me and we both got scolded for how late we had returned. Ben was also very suspicious of how dirty Jonas's pants had become and later he guilted me into telling him everything that happened, minus the underage drinking.

“I’ll try,” I told him, pushing away the thoughts I had before. Selfish. The refugees weren't able to separate their life from the certain death they were facing by the titans. They weren't able to go off and celebrate like we were. Imagine if Eren Jaeger could see me now. I could see the anger lighting up in his eyes knowing what we were doing. I looked out into the wild expanse of grass, knowing right where the Scout HQ would lie over the hills. What would Levi be doing right now? It was around dinner time for them if the breakdown of his schedule was still accurate. Would he approve of the activities I was about to indulge in? Probably not. 

“Eva,” Jonas said again, snapping me out of my thoughts once more. His expression was now concerned, but there were shouts as we reached the destination, those already buzzed excited to get even drunker. Laughter rippled through the air and the wind carried it further along the wall, echoing. It was a weird sound for me to hear, and I realized then how long it had been since I’d even left my sphere of influence. I’d been to the capital a few times for supplies, and I’d visited the Scout HQ twice, but those were all by myself. I haven’t done anything with other people for a long, long time. I used that fact to try to convince myself that I deserved this break as I took a sip of the cheap wine that was brought. 

They all talked and talked about their lives, whatever drama was going on around in their shared friend groups, and how many people were getting “panicked married” as Hulia, one of the potential girlfriends put it. I agreed with them, nodding my head and inputting some opinions here and there, but I was never engaged in the conversation enough to start my own. I would just sip and sip, not minding how much Raphel was filling my cup with. 

The more I drank, the more it made me think about Levi. Why hadn’t he come and visited me yet? Did he not like me anymore? Had I done something wrong? Had something happened on the expedition? Did he find someone else? All of these were running through my head at hundreds of miles per hour, that when Jonas nudged me to answer a question Hulia asked, I had to make her repeat it. 

“When do you think you’ll get married, Eva?” She asked with no ill-intent, and there was a dreamy look of romance in her eyes with this question. I wasn’t the first one to answer the question, but I was also the only girl here that wasn’t with her boyfriend or whatever they were to each other. I wondered what the other two had said. Probably something cute and romantic. They’d get married in Trost, maybe move to Wall Sina, and start a happy little family away from the titans and away from conflict. There had to be something in there about flowers and picking out a dress too. Maybe I wished I listened to them so I could fake an answer and model it after theirs. If I was thinking realistically, my chances of getting married now were slim to none. At least, that was what I had gotten from Levi. Actually, we never talked about those things, and it became clearer and clearer why. First, he didn’t think he was going to come back from this expedition. Secondly, how were you supposed to dream about marriage when you don’t know what the next day is going to bring? 

So I lied to them and Jonas knew. The look in his eyes told me he knew what I was truly thinking.

“Sometime later in life. Not right now, but when I can settle down and hand to the cafe over to someone for a bit. I have no dress or inheritance from my mother, so that part will be quite difficult.” Hulia was digging me further into a grave, not feeling my discontent or seeing Jonas's stare.

“Oh, Eva!” She clasped her hands together, “I think you’d look beautiful in a white dress! You can have Ben walk you down too and you can have those blue flowers that you always love to have in your cafe. It will be one of those small intimate marriage ceremonies, you know? When I get married, I have so much family I don’t know where I could fit them all!” I gave her a look, but she was too drunk to realize the weight of her words. Was she bragging about how big her family was to me? I had half a mind to tell her off, and of course, the wine was fueling me. How many glasses did I down while looking into the fading horizon?

The others were now running around in the field, playing some sort of game like the kids their wine-filled brains told them they were. I used to be like that when I was drunk. I’d play tag or truth or date or some type of game that children play in school. Arguably, that was before I swore off drinking after getting so drunk I couldn't stop throwing up the next day. Now here I was, thinking randomly about the end of the world while staring off into the setting sun. Jonas wasn’t with them either, and I knew my attitude made him barely drink. He just sat next to me, leaning back on his hands, trying to find the words to say. 

“Do you think the world will end because of the titans or because of the humans?” He sighed and let out a ‘what the fuck’, before entertaining me. He knew I was drunk.

“Humans.” I shook my head, disagreeing with him. 

“I think it’ll be because of titans. Want to know why?” He picked at the grass but indulged me. 

“Why?”

“Because they’re already trying to ruin my life.” That made him pause, take the wine glass out of my hands, and down the rest of it for himself in one gulp. He was right, I didn’t need any more of that, or my true feelings were really going to come out. He probably still wasn't emotionally ready to hear me drunkenly babble about Levi when he could barely stand it sober. 

“What do you want to do about it?” I knew he was asking about the titan problem, but I remembered a conversation we had earlier. It had now been another month. Six. The same amount of time I’d waited for him last time, but the thing was last time he came to me right away. He loved me then, holding me at night on the couch. What was so different now? 

“I don’t want to do anything because I want him to come to me on his own, but I’m afraid if I don’t do anything, he won’t come.” He moved to sit up completely, trying to see the expression on my face. 

“And if he doesn’t come?” I could hear the faintest hint of hope in his voice, and it made me laugh sadistically. 

“I don’t know. I’ll spiral into madness again. Something like that.” He groaned and leaned back fully on the grass, hands behind his head. That was what I meant by not being able to handle it. 

“Do you want to know my opinion now that you’re drunk?” I scoffed. 

“I’m not drunk, but sure. I haven’t got much left to be sad about, give me more.” I went to take another sip, but the glass was emptied and so were the rest of the bottles we’d brought. This just left me to stare at whatever game the couples were playing. 

“I think he’s an asshole and doesn’t deserve the patience and kindness you’re giving him.” It sounded a lot calmer than I thought it would come out. I knew that already, though. I knew what Jonas thought of Levi, and that sentence was an extremely abridged version. I would always hear him mumble profanities and insults here and there about him whenever he was brought up, and I heard some of his famous opinions from Ben too. However, some of his opinions did get to me, mostly about the wait. Why was I waiting for so long? I thought about that too, late at night. What motivated me to stay with Levi even though he’s been away from me for at least a year in total. The time we’ve been together has been so small, and by now, I’m usually making breakfast every morning for the man I’m seeing. That’s what had happened before.

“You thought that about Kristian, too, and he was your friend.” Jonas froze next to me, having not heard that name exit my mouth in years. He thought it was an unspoken rule I’d given him to never mention Kristian. It was probably because I was drunk that I brought his name up, and this situation felt eerily similar to our past best friend.

“Well, Kristian wasn’t in the Scouts when you were with him. Same complaint, different circumstance.” The sun finally made its descent below the horizon, and the purples that spread throughout the sky masked the tears falling from my eyes. I hadn’t thought about Kristian for a while either, but something about this moment reminded me of him. One because, again, I'd picked someone over Jonas who didn't agree, and, two, because of what Jonas had said back then that he'd said before. He just thought that, now, it was taboo to bring in Kristian. 

“When you asked me if the pain was really worth the love, it made me think about Kristian.”

“Oh,” Jonas nodded, easily remembering how Kristian and I had left things, and how his death made it impossible to make things any better. Regardless of his death, Kristian wouldn't have been forgiven.

“With him, it wasn’t. I was always in pain near the end. He was too domineering, too chaotic; he was everything I was running away from. He was the temptation to turn back into what I once was, and it always excited me to teeter on that line with him. Thrilling maybe, but toxic. He crossed that line, and I stayed where I was. The pain back then wasn’t worth the two or three laughs Kristian would give me throughout the day.” There was a silence, both of us not knowing what to say to that. Kristian was gone, and he had been gone for years now. It felt wrong to speak on his name like that, but he deserved every bad thing that came to him. We both knew that too. 

“Kri-”

“I don’t feel that with Levi, Jonas. Right now, most of the time, I don’t feel the regret I felt back then when I was stuck with Kristian. But then I think, maybe I don’t feel it now, but down the road, I’ll feel it again. That scares me, because I really, really like being with Levi. When I’m with him I’m happy, but when I’m without him I can barely function. It’s codependency in a way. I was codependent on Kristian, and look where that got me. I don't want to be codependent on Levi, and I don't think I am right now, but it could be that way. I also just think I feel so awful now because, for five months, Levi was out fighting titans with no way of me knowing if he was dead or alive. It's not codependency but worries. Logical.” 

“So, you’re saying that you don’t feel like Levi is like Kristian, but you’re afraid that it might turn into that if things keep going the way they are?” I picked at the grass, not caring that tears were slowly falling down my face, making permanent trails. Actually, it had been a few good weeks since I'd cried about something. It felt like a good release now, and because I was far gone on wine, I didn't feel the depth of my tears. It was like I was just crying to cry, and not because all of the feelings I had when I was with Kristian were coming back. Not because I was scared it would turn out that way. 

“They were both Scouts.” He hummed, putting one of his hands on top of mine to stop my nervous picking of the grass. He was concerned, and you were glad the coming darkness hid your tears. If he saw them, he would take you back immediately. He would pull you up, makeup up some lie to the others, and sit me down on the couch after we got back, not holding me anymore, but just sitting to my right, a hand over mine. 

“This is very not me to say, but have you told Levi about this?” 

“What do you mean? About what?” He bit his lip, decided whether to say something or not to me. He always bit his lip when he was holding back something for my mental benefit, but I wanted him to say it. I needed him to say it. Something to snap me back to reality. 

“Does he know that your greatest fear is abandonment?” I pulled my knees to my chest, not liking out that sentence made me feel emotional. I’d like to say it was the wine that made me start crying even more, but I knew that wasn’t true. Jonas had broken some flood gate inside of me, finding the root of the problem was having. I was afraid of being abandoned. That was the real reason I’d work at the cafe hours and hours on end. If Mr. Flynn saw how I was a good worker, he would forget about my previous bad behavior or bad grade and he wouldn’t throw me out on the street again. If I just gave into Kristian’s physical wants and did what he said, then he wouldn’t leave me like before. He’d stay then. But now, I couldn’t think of something that I did or was doing to Levi. Was I making him face his feelings too early? Did the fact that I was weak and not a Scout deter him from coming to see me? I would do anything to fix it. To make him come back. Jonas just sat there with one hand on my back for what felt like forever. The laughter in the background took on a new cynical tone as I sat there in juxtaposition to their fun. I was thankful, too, that the sun was finally down, so in their drunken haze, they had no idea what was going on to the right of them.

The next day, I rode back to the Scout HQ, and seeing that the notebook I’d left two weeks ago was still there, I took it back with me. I had no idea why I felt like this, but I just needed to take it. It was like I had given him a three-week opening to my heart, and since he didn't take it, I'd take it back. If he wasn't moved to come back after reading it, if he even read it, then he didn't get to anymore. I really didn’t know what to do when I slammed it on my desk, along with the letters he wrote me previously scattered on the surface. I’d read them over and over again, trying to rationalize why he wouldn’t come back even when he wrote words as sweet as those. It had to have been the refugee expedition. Something had to have happened then for him to not want to see me, perhaps even ever again.

For the first time, I was angry at him.

He couldn’t even bless me with two minutes or a piece of paper to display his feelings towards me. He was hiding again, but this time there was no injury to hold him away from me. Jonas said he looked fine, and in one piece, and for the longest time I was glad. That was enough for me to get by; waiting for him. Waiting. Waiting. Why was I always waiting for him? In a burst of anger, I picked up the book and threw it across the room, hitting the blackboard with battle formations on it. The blackboard that Levi used when he was here. Everything that he left was still there, but now I knew the papers must not have been important if he didn’t come back for them. I shoved them back in the drawer, one by one, not caring if I bent them. What use would they have anyway? Next were the letters. I was going to keep them, I wasn’t that mad to ruin something this important to me, but I didn’t want to see them anymore. They would go in the drawer along with his papers. Lastly, I picked up the notebook that I threw on the floor. Five months of pain, and he didn’t have the decency to read it? This one, I let my fingers run along the cover, remembering how I wrote in this night after night. I could feel the pain come from the leather it was bound in. I remembered the moments I would just hold it, reading over my won words, and crying again. I flipped open the pages, skimming the words I wrote again for one last paintime. 

The last page didn’t have my handwriting on it. The very last page of the journal, the only one left blank, was now covered in that familiar cursive scrawl. I lifted a hand to cover my mouth, not knowing what feeling I had inside. He had read it… but even so, he didn’t come back. How long had it been since he’d picked up this notebook till now? 

 Evlynn M Flynn, 

I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you. For the ways I’ve made you feel inside. Reading this journal made me realize how much I hurt you. I’m sorry for everything. For giving you false hope and hypnotizing feelings. It was never my intention to make you feel like this adding my presence in your life. Find someone who gives you true happiness, because it will never be me. 

Levi 

 What was this? He'd read it. Yet, I wasn't happy. I was the opposite of happy. I stared down at it, reading it over and over. The tears started to make the ink run on the page and I reached down to rip it out, crumbling it in my hands. Is this what I wanted? Some note? Some proof that he cared? And wasn’t I thinking the same things? His lack of presence caused me pain. His not being there hurt me emotionally and physically. I had written that in the notebook. We had read the same notebook, the same journal entries, so why did he interpret it so differently? Him leaving was going to be the best solution? Did he not see how I was lost without him there? 

I was angry. 

So much so that in the dead of the night, right after dinner and right after I'd gained the courage, I hitched up Jonas’s horse without him knowing. When the Garrison members stopped to ask where I was going, I just glared down at them and rode past the gates into Wall Rose. I knew that there would be cadets everywhere on the ground until my past visits. They would see me riding up, some might even stop and question me, but I had one motive. I was done waiting. What person tries to leave someone by leaving a short note? Is this how cowardly Humanity’s Strongest was? 

I rode on the HQ grounds, not breaking the horse's stride. The cadets turned to look, not ever seeing my face before. They probably turned to each other, asking about my presence, but I was past them too fast to notice any conversation. When I jumped off the horse, leaving someone else to take care of it, the same cadet I’d encountered before called out to me. He had to be a groundskeeper or something to always be chasing me off. Either way, I started up the stairs that I’d only walked up once, him behind me yelling. He never caught up, and when I turned the corner to the officer’s wing, he sounded even more frantic. If it was after dinner, the officers were sure to be in some form of meeting, and I wasn’t going to let them continue. Whatever it was, they had weeks to talk about it. This was a more pressing matter. 

“Please! Ma’am! The officers are-!” I shoved open Erwin’s door with ease, hearing it slam against the interior wall. They all turned their heads to look at me, all sitting around a table, a map in the middle displaying figures of titans and horses. Some I recognized and others I had no clue who they were, but I wasn’t looking at them. I stared down Levi whose eyes were as wide as he would let them. Had he forgotten he’d told me his schedule or was he surprised that the sad, depressed me had displayed this much effort to see him?

“Commander! I’m so sorry I let her get in here! I can take her away if-” Erwin held his hand up and was inspecting the look on my face. He knew there was no stopping me at this point, my breathing growing heavy as I looked back up at him, waiting for whatever orders he’d give me. Did he know why I was here? 

“Squad Leader Hange, can you take Miss. Flynn to your office, please? The meeting won’t go on for more than ten minutes.” Hange stood, pushing her glasses up to their original place, before walking over to me with a smile. She put one hand on my shoulder before speaking to me.

“Come on,” she said in a hushed tone, pulling me down the hallway silently after dismissing the cadet. There was tension there, but I couldn’t tell why. Did she know why you’d suddenly appeared? 

Hange’s office was different from Levi and Erwin's. Glassware, chemicals, and books were thrown everywhere with no organization. There were drawings of titan structures hanging all over the walls too, barely leaving the white brick exposed. The biggest difference was the fact that there were candles and oil lamps everywhere, illuminating her workspace and the room. It felt warm but did nothing to calm my anger.

“You know, I told him not to do it.” It didn’t make me feel any better, even if that was her intention. It made me think of how many other people he’d talked to about this besides myself. She walked out after that, closing the door behind her and leaving me to stand in the middle of her office, looking at the books sprawled out on the center table. None of them really made any sense to me, filled with anatomy or certain titan sciences, but it still was a welcomed distraction from the conversation to be had five minutes in the future. I flipped through her hypothesis about titans and sunlight, a few things about their internal body, and other more complicated diagrams. I never knew Hange was this scientifically inclined, all I knew was that she was the designated doctor for the Scouts since the government thought it trivial to send them a real one. Come to think of it, there was nothing in this office that even hinted at medical care, meaning Hange probably just picked it up for necessity. 

Levi never told me much about the people in the Scout Regimen, probably for isolation purposes. I’ve only talked to Hange three times, and Erwin only once when he personally came to visit the café. It was interesting to see them in their natural habitat here, and I had to agree that the look Erwin first gave me when I stormed into their meeting was scary. He was the Commander though, it was his job to demand and control. Levi had called Hange a Squad Leader once, and I wasn’t able to ask him what that meant, but it was probably close to his rank as she was also in the officer’s meeting and had an office like this. Notably smaller than Levi’s it was still an office. Standing here now, I wished I’d known more about the place I stood and maybe about titans. 

“What are you doing here at this hour?” It was harsh and I was paying too much attention to Hange’s books to notice the door had opened and Levi came in. Still, I didn’t react to his words and just kept staring down at the book. Truthfully, I didn’t think I’d get to this point, and everything that I had rehearsed on the way here had left my head and had been replaced with slight happiness at finally seeing him again. It had been so long. There he was, standing unscathed, his eyes looking down at me. How badly did I want to run over there and throw my arms around him like the hug we shared when he left?

“Are you not going to talk to me? Isn’t that why you interrupted our meeting?” I wondered if he was happy to see me at all, but it didn’t seem like it. His voice was hallow and distant. There was no emotion in his eyes at all as I looked over my shoulder at him. He just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking right at me. When I, again, didn’t answer, he sighed and closed his eyes, eyebrows knitting together like he was the one allowed to be frustrated. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, I’ll just leave. I have a personal meeting with Erwin.” He turned to open the door and that’s when my whole body turned to face him. It was a tactic, after all, just to get me to finally respond. He probably didn’t have anything to do other than paperwork, Erwin knowingly dismissing him. I held out the crumpled piece of paper out in front of my body and he took one look down at it, knowing exactly what it was. I had no idea how he thought he wouldn’t have to confront me about this personally, but he did seem a bit… annoyed? 

“I’m glad you read the journal, but I was not happy to find this in the back.” He sighed, turning away from the door and back to me.

“You need to forget. Forget about the Scouts. About the HQ. Everything. Forget about me.” The paper dropped from my hands, and I lost the composure I was holding in before. 

“You read through that whole journal and that’s what your solution was? To leave?!” His eyes shifted to the door, knowing someone outside was probably listening, so he kept his voice down. 

“Being with me hurts you, and it will continue to hurt you the more I have to be gone. You told me once that you’d be fine if I died, but after reading your words, I know that won’t be the case. You need to forget me now so I can’t hurt you more in the future.” I gripped my hands into fists, not believing what I was hearing. I could take it in written form, but I had thought up until now it was a mistake. 

“You know I don’t care about that!”

“But I do.” His voice was calm this whole time, showing no emotion. It was like he’d reverted before me. All the work and effort I’d put in to make him comfortable to share his feelings around me was crumbling. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling when he was saying these hollow words to me. 

“What happened? What happened between when you left for this expedition till now for you to think like that?” 

“Watching millions of people die in front of you makes you think about who you can and can’t protect. If I can’t protect them when they’re right in front of me, how am I supposed to be able to protect you?” I huffed in anger, looking at the ceiling as tears were threatening to fall. I was not about to cry in front of him. Not when he was giving me no emotion. He didn’t deserve mine. There was no regret or remorse in his voice either when speaking about the refugees. This was not the same man who had confided in me on the couch about how opposed he was to this mission. 

“You don’t need to protect me. I’m in Trost, I’m surrounded by other people, and you’ve taught me how to defend myself. Most of the time I’m with Jonas anyways. There’s nothing to be-” Levi seemed to catch something in my sentence and ride with it. The worst thing possible. 

“Go be with him.” That made me pause and blink. This couldn’t be real. There was no way he would have said that before. 

“Who are you?!” I yelled, feeling the frustration build and build. 

“I read the journal. Over and over. And every time I got to the point Jonas came back, you were happier. Over and over, I read about another man making you happy.” My mouth was wide open when he said that. Still, it was emotionless. What did he really want? It couldn’t have been that. It would have never been that. He'd vocalized his distaste for Jonas over and over again and now he was just yielding to him? This was not Levi.

“Jonas is my friend. You know that. You make me happy, Levi! So why are you taking that away from me?!” He shook his head, pushing himself off the wall. 

“He can give you what I can’t. You want a family, kids, whatever, I can never give you that. How can I think of my future when I know I’m not going to have one?” I put one hand on my head, finally getting a headache from everything he was saying. He wanted to let me go because he didn’t want to hurt me? Because he couldn’t give me what I wanted? Yet, I’ve told him so many times that all I want is him. He's agreed, too. He's told me what he feels for me. How deep he feels for me. And now he was going to throw that all away so easily? Levi was never someone to do something like this. He would never let me go this easily. 

“You’re not my Levi. Whoever is talking right now, you aren’t him. Levi would never say something like that!” 

“You’ve only known me for a total of four months, how do you know who Levi is?” I looked up at him fiercely, feeling that as an insult towards me. How did I not know who he was? 

“You’re not the Levi who fell asleep in my arms? The one who confided in me about his fears? About his past in the Underground? The one who kissed me every night with unyielding passion? That wasn’t you? Was I housing a stranger?” He scoffed this once. Just once, he gave me what he was feeling. He scoffed at me. He insulted me. And now, after I told him that, he couldn’t even look at me to deliver the final, heartbreaking line. The line that made me stop speaking and stare at the ground. The line that haunted me as I laid in bed that night, not being able to sleep. 

“The emotional codependency you have for me is stifling, Evlynn.”

That made me shake in anger, in sadness, I had no clue. It was the fact that he’d echoed my biggest insecurity out loud. Was I codependent on Levi for my happiness? I’d thought about it over and over, trying to get myself out of the five-month slump, but now, he just confirmed it. He confirmed that he hated it. I was stifling him. Everything he said before felt fake. It was an excuse to make me feel better about him leaving me, like it was even about me this whole time. He had written that note to hide his true feelings apparently, but how true were they? How could he go from holding me, loving me, to just... not feeling anything?

“T-then why are you… wh-why are you with me?” He still couldn’t look at my hunched over figure. 

“I only realized when I read your journal how dependent you are on me. It’s stifling. I don’t like it. I can’t deal with it when I have more important things to do.” It was like every word he said was a hammer, hitting me down lower and lower to the ground. I had to grip Hange’s table to stand, and even then it sent books flying to the floor. My heart was burning and so were my eyes. How could he be so cruel and brutal with me now? Was this the Captain Levi that everyone had talked about? The man you were convinced to be needy and kind was just now showing his true form.

“I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me.” I could see the way he froze. The way he still couldn’t look at me even when I was ready to lock eyes with him for the last time. I was staring right at him, the tears still yet to fall. I couldn’t show him emotion, it would be burdensome, wouldn’t it? Still, he didn’t look at me. It was stomach-wrenching the silence in the room as he thought over his answer.

“I've never told you I loved you.”

No, that was the line that haunted me. That was the one that I’d think about forever. Yet, that was the one that forced me out of the room. I just stood up, balancing myself before I walked right out the door. Right past his body, the one who still couldn’t look at me and show me his true emotions. I would never get to see it again. I stopped, right before closing the door, and looking right at Hange who was standing against the back wall, probably in wait. Had she known? That’s why she told me that when I’d entered her office. He had told her everything. He’d told her that he didn’t love me and I was too burdensome for him. How many people had he told before telling me? Coward. This realization gave me a false calm as I was falling apart inside. I needed to be strong in front of him. I couldn't show him how much he'd just hurt me.

“I love you, Levi. And if you deem that as codependency, then I don’t think you’ll ever know what love is.” Hange didn’t look at me after that, she looked right at Levi. I saw the look in her eyes too. Anger. At least I had one person here who seemed to support me. I walked past her, down the stairs, and out the door quickly, grabbing the horse that someone had hitched up for me. The cadets had all gone to their rooms, and the field was empty. This allowed me to walk out of the Scout HQ grounds, knowing that he would be looking at me from a window. I didn’t turn around though. I didn’t look back to see if he was there. I just rode back to Trost, holding in the tears I had till I was sitting in Jonas’s stable, feeding his horse an apple for everything she’d seen while I took her from her sleep. I just cried and cried, hiding my sobs in the back of my hand. Trost wouldn't get to hear my wailing for him. For that asshole. For that spineless, cowardly, annoying, handsome, kind - no. The only person who got to heard my sob was me and Jonas's horse. 

“What did he do?” It was an angry voice behind me, but I didn’t look back at him. I didn’t want Jonas to see me crying over Levi again and again like he had warned me about. I didn’t want Jonas to know he was right. So, I just stood there and cried, and only allowed Jonas to see my face when he came to hug me to his chest in comfort. We stood there for what seemed like forever, and he didn't speak for the longest time. I wanted him too. I wanted him to confirm how awful Levi was so it was easy for me to start to forget. But who was I kidding, how was I going to forget him? In an out of my life like a flash, but one so bright that I'd still see him when I closed my eyes every night to sleep. I would never forget Levi. 

“Shh, I’m here, Eva. I won’t leave you.”

xx oopsiesssss 

Chapter Fifteen →

Chapter Masterlist

[miceandmonsters]

Male Orc x Female Character

FWB to Friends to Lovers; nerd/jock; multi-chapter

You need to have actually had some old times for ‘old time’s sake’ to mean something, Ruban; 1.6k

Part 1

It was exactly four doorways, three hallways, and one frustratingly slow elevator ride between Nicole Williams and her crappy, crappy car in student parking. She knew the path well as she often left her advisor meetings to go straight to her car for… venting. Really it was the only spot on campus she could scream in frustration without having campus security called on her. Again.

As she watched her advisor give a personal lecture that completely missed the thesis of her project while belittling it anyway, the errant thought crossed her mind that she was paying for the privilege of being misunderstood and criticized. That was what broke her. 

She shot up to her feet, pulling her backpack over a shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Johnson. I just remembered that I have another meeting in ten minutes over in Windgate.” It was the furthest building that she could recall through the growing rage. “I’ll take your thoughts into account and email about setting up another meeting. Thankssomuch.”

Luckily, she made it out of the cramped, coffee-scented office without saying anything rude… well, ruder. She booked it around a corner and then collapsed against a wall, pinching her brow. Around her, doors slammed open and the hallway began to fill up. Deep breaths, she reminded herself, counting to ten before beginning again. At least this was the last appointment for her day. This nonsense from her advisor could wait till tomorrow. Plans of yoga pants and ice cream and trashy television immediately popped up, lifting her spirits somewhat. And then-- 

“Hey, Nikki.”

What fresh hell is this, she reactively wondered. 

Nicole turned around to find Ruban Stone, one of the star players on the school’s orc rugby team, standing just behind her with a notebook tucked under his elbow and a winning grin on his face. It was a large hallway, but he seemed to take up more than his fair share anyway. 

Checking surreptitiously around her to see if there was some other Nicole he actually meant to speak to, she frowned slightly and then replied, “Hey…” 

“Ruban Stone,” he said, resting a hand on his chest. “I don’t know if you--”

“Yeah, I remember.” 

“Oh. Good. Cool.” He nodded a few times, a rather pregnant pause following his introduction. “How’s the semester going for you?”

“...Fine?”

“Cool. That’s good.” Another pause, and her wonderings just got louder. Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped closer, asking in a lower tone, “Um, could I talk to you?”

Her frown twisted into something like confusion. What in the world could someone like Ruban Stone want with her? “Aren’t we talking now?”

“No, I mean.” He pointed to a classroom door then glanced around the hall. Right, probably didn’t want to be seen talking to little old her by any of his groupies. Honestly, she was surprised he knew her name.

She sighed but pulled the door open and stepped into the empty lecture hall. The lights were off but enough sunlight came through the windows to keep the room from being truly dark. As he followed, Nicole noticed his t-shirt was at least a size too small, the navy fabric pulling tight across his rather prodigious musculature. Normally, she might admire the view, but right now it just served to annoy her. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Ruban sucked in a breath. “You took College Algebra, right?”

“No, I tested out of it before I started college.”

His hopeful expression fell. “Right. Okay, how about this--do you ever do tutoring?”

Oh, this conversation made much more sense now. “I have in the past, but not this semester. There wasn’t time in my schedule for it.”

He nodded slowly, pressing his tusks into his upper lip nervously. “Would you… consider making an exception for me?” That winning grin spread across his face again. He must have thought it was charming. In other circumstances, it might have been a little.

Her eyebrows pulled together as she squinted at him--was he serious right now? “There’s a tutoring center on campus. They probably have someone whose whole job it is to tutor algebra.”

His grin grew brighter still, and he rolled the notebook between his hands. “I know, I just… I thought that you might give me a discount for…” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “For old times’ sake.”

“What old times?” she shot back before she could stop the words.

“We went to high school together,” he said as if she needed reminding.

“Yeah, and so did two hundred other students on this campus.”

He struggled for a moment to come up with some sort of counter argument, but eventually conceded. That stupid charming smile finally dropping away from his face. “Fine. Look. I know we’re not friends--”

“We’ve never spoken more than five words to each other.”

“Yeah. But I have a test next week in algebra. And if I don’t pull at least a B on it, I won’t have a high enough GPA to stay on the team. So Coach told me to find a tutor.”

Her eyebrow arched. “And I was the first name that jumped to your mind?” she asked, sarcasm dripping off every syllable.

“Yeah, kinda. I remember graduation. You needed a wheelbarrow to cart all your medals around.”

“I didn’t need a wheelbarrow.”

“No, you’re right. You needed a forklift.”

She rolled her eyes. “So what? You thought because I’m smart, I would do pro-bono tutoring for you? Do you have any idea how busy this semester is for me? I’m graduating in May.”

He frowned. “We’ve only been here three years.”

“I’m graduating early.”

Now he rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

She scoffed and shook her head. Today had already been far too long to deal with this shit. “Whatever, Ruban. Solve this yourself,” she snapped and turned for the door.

“Shit--wait.” Unfortunately, he was faster than she, getting to the door and blocking her way with a large hand slammed against the frame.

She glared up at him. “Move.”

“I’m sorry, alright? That was a dick move, I’m sorry. I just--I’m desperate here.”

“No, really?” she shot back, still pissed despite the apology.

“Yes. And I’m not asking for free tutoring, I promise I’m not. I figured we could trade.”

That made her pause. “Trade what?”

“You have something that I want, and… I bet I have something that you want,” he said, his voice pitching slightly lower and gaining an unmistakable gravel. It made her stomach clench in the best and most annoying way. But the idea came just far enough out of left field that she didn’t have a quippy come back.  

“Excuse me?” she replied, but she somehow couldn’t quite get the power behind the words that they probably should have possessed. Instead, it came out just above a whisper.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he held her gaze. “I bet you’re a busy woman, Nikki, too busy to really… take care of yourself.” His eyes, a warm amber brown, drifted from hers down to her lips then back up. “I could help with that. Throwing a ball and tackling guys to the ground aren’t the only things my body’s good at.”

Her mouth had gone very dry all of a sudden. “Uh…” Words, what were words other than mmmm yes? Should she be insulted by this? She honestly couldn’t quite decide because he was unfortunately very correct in his assumptions.

Ruban stepped closer, backing her up against the wall next to the door and boxing her in with his arms as her mind filled with exclamation points. He was quite a bit larger than her, all hard-packed muscle under deep green skin. He wasn’t actually touching her anywhere, but everything felt very palpable as he just stared at her. The air between them hummed with an electric current.

“If you’re not interested, just say ‘no’ and we can pretend this never happened,” he said in that same velvety tone.

But she really really didn’t want to say no. She had to look away from his face so she could catch her breath enough to respond. “I… um…”

“I remember the way you used to look at me back in high school. I bet I could make more than a few fantasies of yours come true.”

His voice was dark and full of so many promises. Combined with unhelpful inner voices reminding her precisely how long it’d been since she’d been with anyone else, she was having trouble coming up with a single reason to refuse. What was the harm, really?

“I’ll tutor you,” she finally said, looking somewhere past his elbow and blushing furiously.

His finger under her chin made her look up at him. “Thanks, Nikki,” he said, still low but more sincere than cloying now. He dipped his head, kissing her softly, reverently. By the gods, his lips were wonderfully full. The slight brush of his tusk against her cheek sent a thrill straight down to her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open a moment after he pulled back, and he was grinning down at her. “Little something in advance. Tomorrow night work for you?”

She nodded, pressing her lips together to stop the all too pleasant tingling. “Yep,” she squeaked.

“Cool. See you then.” He nodded once more and then left the classroom, leaving her blinking and feeling her still warm cheeks.

“What the fuck?” she whispered with no one but the empty desks to hear her.

Masterlist | Part Two

[mako-bones]

Year Walk (A Zelpha Story)

This is Chapter Three! Posted on AO3, but I'm also posting here as well!

Chapter Two: Since We Were Kids

Word Count: 1320

----

There were few occasions that Mipha could recall stepping past the azure bridge of Zora's Domain, where smooth, cold stone became soft and prickly, soft grass.

It was a rare occasion, even rarer than rare. Mipha made a face as she looked up at the sky, dark rain clouds still lingering from the last rain, and then down at the ground, where the earth was muddy and bleak. This couldn't be how it used to be.

Squish. Squish. Squish.

"Is there a problem, Princess?" Zelda finally stopped and turned back, tilting her head as she noticed Mipha startle and uncomfortably move faster to catch up.

"Perfectly fine!"

"Wonderful! Are you excited to travel? It will take us a few hours to make it down the mountain, where the carriage is." Zelda changed the topic to dampen the silence.

"Quite, actually. It's not often that us Zora travel out past our homes." Mipha glanced down. And when we do, it's only natural to move by water.

That thought stayed firm in her mind--Zelda had made the long trek uphill after all! It was only fair, respectful and considerate that Mipha accompanied her back down.

Still, Mipha couldn't help but step slightly awkwardly to avoid the dampened grass, and dark mud puddles scattered across the path. Like a strange dance, one that Mipha hadn't ever practiced before.

"How long did you say it would take? I'm just curious, is all."

"Oh, well," Zelda tapped her chin thoughtfully. "It took us at least a day to get up here. Lots of leftover rain from the season made it difficult to maneuver slides and rocks. But now that we know the way, and with your expertise of your home, I'd say it shortens our hike to only about four more hours."

Oh, lovely. Well, there could be worse circumstances. Ignoring the awful texture (or trying to), Mipha kept her spear far from dragging in the dirt, slow and precise spins until the first time they decided to stop to rest.

Mipha recognized it by the water. All the bridges may have looked the same, but the geography around it always spoke a different story. "Oren Bridge."

Zelda waved a silent command to the other Hylian guards, and they slowly sat down with a small sigh along the riverbank and mountain walls. "It's a nice place to catch our breath. Feel free to do what you must. The fish in these parts are quite fresh, right?" She was talking to Mipha.

That didn't sound too bad--Not a bad idea at all!

Looking between Zelda and the river, Mipha set her Trident down against the bank and stepped back--With a gust of strength and precision, she leaped into the river with a splash, almost sighing as the cool water flushed her scales and tiny fish scurried away.

She hoped not too much time had passed, swimming through the shallow river to chase fat fish; One for her, but there was enough for everyone.

With a Staminoka in her teeth, Mipha peeked out of the water just barely. The soldiers were chatting to themselves, a tight circle of men and women. Zelda was sitting farther away; Legs crossed and furiously scribbled something without pause.

"Princess!" Mipha called, but Zelda's head did not move. She licked the tip of the quill, and continued.

"Excuse me!" Mipha turned to the knights, waving her hand a little. "Do you all eat fish? I'd be happy to catch some for you!"

Some nodded excitedly, some shook their heads with a scrunched expression. To each their own! Mipha glanced once more at Zelda, and with a small smile she flipped over in the water.

In only a few minutes, fish were piled up on the bank for the knights to cook. No bite marks, no stress.

And Zelda had finally moved. She sighed, pulling her hair back and leaning against the rock wall. Her eyes settled on Mipha, carrying the catch to the knights and their waiting fire. The tip of the quill tapped gently against Zelda's chin.

She glanced down at her notebook, and back at Mipha, eyebrows furrowing.

"Perhaps..." She muttered, and then scratched out some key words. "No, no..."

"Are you hungry, too?" Mipha's voice was suddenly much closer, and her shadow stretched over Zelda. Drops of water wet the dog-eared pages.

Zelda slammed her book close, hands overlapping the other to protect the leather bound journal. "W-What? Oh! Yes! I'll assist you in preparing lunch."

"No need." Mipha replied, and outstretched a plate full of fish and greens. Diced mushrooms laid underneath a golden browned filleted fish, and fried herbs sprinkled around the bowl.

"One of your soldiers brought an entire bag full of cooking supplies! From your castle and mine alike. Here, take it! There's plenty for everyone."

Gently setting the bowl to Zelda's lap, Mipha took a breath of relief, before sitting across from Zelda, mindful of the wildflowers growing around them. A few silent and still moments passed before Mipha finally glanced over again, and her eyes widened at the same time as Zelda’s, staring straight at the Zora Princess with unnerving focus.

Zelda stabbed her fork into her plate and cleared her throat. “I’m terribly sorry, Mipha. I was lost in my mind.”

“What were you thinking about-?”

“Mushrooms-” Zelda replied quickly. “While we were walking, I noticed how this mountain grows a plethora of Stamella mushrooms. I wish I had the time to forage for them, but we really must be on. Time is of the essence.”

“Really?” Mipha turned to the soldiers, still not even halfway done with their meal. Their boots were kicked off and their weapons in a pile against a dead log. “For a few minutes, I believe...That’s more than enough time to grab one or two mushrooms, right?”

With lowered eyebrows, Zelda looked between her soldiers, and then the beaten path sheltered by arching pine trees and the occasional Summerwing butterfly. She pursed her lips, hand moving through her hair.

Mipha tilted her head, thinking about looking for a spare rainbow where there were leftover puddles and clouds, and searching for them with company. Her eyes widened as Zelda frowned even more.

“No.” Zelda stood up, and marched over to her soldiers, her stance causing them to straighten up and ready their gear hastily. “Come on, now- Hurry up. We have to be at the bottom of the mountain before it gets past four o’clock.”

Smoothing out her outfit, Zelda tugged at hre gloves and flexed her fingers, before turning to lead the way herself. She passed Mipha a glance, nearly unreadable it seemed. “I’m sorry,” She said, picking up pace again. “Maybe next time.”

“Of course,” Mipha nodded. She knew how important responsibilities were, and how quickly time flew when no one paid attention. But as they passed by the little path full of vibrant mushrooms, soon waving them goodbye from the other side of the river, Mipha pursed her lips.

The coachman, dressed in a deep blue coat and white trousers, opened the door for Zelda to step in.

“Your Highness…”

He raised an eyebrow, subtly glancing around the Princess.

He could have sworn he was told there would be at least one more guest travelling with the--

“Present!”

Mipha sprung from the lake nearby, arms full of her spear and mushrooms. Zelda’s eyes widened to the size of boulders, especially as the soaked plants were generously handed to her by the Zora Princess.

“Ah, there we are.” the Coachman nodded, unsurprised in the least. He flicked off a droplet of water on his sleeve. “Your Highness.”

Mipha smiled as she nodded and followed Zelda inside the lavish carriage. Once everyone was inside, the driver climbed up to his seat, fastening his coat and hat. “If everything is on schedule…” He squinted up towards the sun, and nodded to himself.

“To the kingdom we go.”

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter III: Aemulatio, Rivalry

Previous Chapter (II: Antiquum Fabulum)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, comedy

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“if it’s anybody who knows what you’re thinking... it’s me.”

two weeks of pure torture. 

and even after that, there was no way of telling how long you were going to be stuck in the same building, same wing, same office area, with lucifer; with the other half of two areses. 

of all tracks and professions to choose, he just had to choose neurology. the ones who birthed you were one a cardiologist and the other a psychiatrist. 

so why the hell did i choose neurology? 

had i chosen any other track, i wouldn’t be stuck here, in the same room as him, needing to breathe the same air as him, listening to the same words, and treating him like my partner in kindergarten.

“hmm, let’s see what i have in my schedule today...” doctor choi gets off the leather seat and looks through his file. lucifer was standing near the corner of the office, eyes scanning the plaques and framed certificates on the wall while the pen in your pocket rolls around your fingerpads. 

“i’ll be making rounds today from ten to twelve, and two to four... and since you can get off at six, your last two hours in the evening could be well spent familiarising yourself with the research department,” the glasses on his nose slips a little and he pushes it back up before looking at you. “and doctor kim, of course.”

lucifer gives a kind chuckle, and the sound of it makes your skin crawl with displeasure. “do you have any tips for us to get on doctor kim’s good side?”

us? yeah, right.

“if it’s anybody who needs tips, it’s me,” doctor choi scratches his forehead and picks up his file. “anyway, there’s still about an hour left before i start doing my rounds. till then, you can go back to your office and settle in. second day of work usually calls for more admin cleaning.”

the consistent staring and typing on your keyboard starts you drag you away from the thought of lucifer being in his office right next to yours, and the soft, classical music that was orchestrating itself in the air momentarily takes you back to med school.

back then, the nights you spent burying your nose in textbooks, files and notes were both torturous and fulfilling, and with how efficient the music was in calming your nerves, you remember thinking about all the times you lost your temper at lucifer. 

maybe if you listened to classical music since the start, you wouldn’t have such a fiery hatred for him. 

but then again, classical music didn’t really do much for your patience the entire time you were away. otherwise, you wouldn’t have packed up and moved into your own apartment after you came back from med school in the united kingdom. 

neither of your parents were fond of the idea, but thanks to your father being a psychiatrist, he was able to convince your mother into letting you stay alone. honestly, you moving away was simply to reduce the friction you knew you would have with her. your father was just the one with a higher emotional quotient to read that off you without needing you to say it explicitly. 

the alarm in your phone goes off, telling you that it was five minutes to ten, and a little ‘swoosh’ emits from your computer. 

from: kim ryuk hoon 

to: y/n, lee hyunjae, choi young joon

subject: research department data collection

to the newcomers, 

the research department welcomes you with opened arms. we hope you have been settling in well and the staff here has been kind to you. 

before you embark on your journey to becoming a full-fledged in-practise doctor, the research department would like to invite you to take up a task most will find arduous. i imagine that it’s not for the both of you. 

doctor choi will verify and validate this email first. if this invitation acquires his approval, then i will see the both of you this friday before you clock out.

i’ve already checked doctor choi’s hospital round timings, and he does not have anything scheduled after 5 on friday. there’s absolutely no reason for him to decline/disapprove this invitation.

have a great day, and i look forward to doctor choi’s approval. 

regards,

doctor kim

a smile naturally spreads on your face, but a sharp knock peels it off your lips like masking tape. the door of your office swings open and lucifer sticks his head in with an innocent grin baring his teeth at you. 

“did you zone out from being the little bitch you are or are you waiting for another invitation to be a doctor?”

annoyance rushes through you like race cars, and you grab a pen from the pencil holder by your computer, hurling it so hard that it sent a loud ‘tong’ sound through the glass of your office. lucifer ducks a little and winces at the harsh ring, looking behind him and out into the rest of the office to see if anybody heard.

you slam the laptop screen shut and turn off the office computer, eyes never once leaving his awfully arrogant mischief. slipping a tiny notebook into your coat, you push the chair back under the desk and walk towards the door where he pulls away, giving you just enough space to shove your way past him. 

his ribs run against your shoulder, and the mere contact makes you want to step on him and ruin his unrealistically shiny, polished dress shoes. 

fortunately, he doesn’t say one word to you the entire time the both of you tailed doctor choi on his rounds. he introduced the two of you to some of his not-so-critical patients and says they may be transferred to be taken care by either of you. 

the interactions with some of them were so heartwarming, despite half of the patients looking at lucifer like they just saw an angel. 

but there was still that overwhelming admiration and respect for those who chose to dedicate their lives to saving others. it was just unfortunate that you hated one of those people. 

every second spent with lucifer in your sights felt eternally long, but the week flashed by and it was like life was reminding you that time waits for no man. 

doctor choi had no choice but to give into doctor kim’s invitation for lucifer and you to take up that data analysis assignment. by friday, it had been four days since you felt like you were thrown back to your life prior to med school. 

back then, you spent every conscious second studying with only one goal in mind: to out do lee hyunjae. 

despite the difference in setting and environment where there were no longer grades or teacher appraisals to feed your pride and ego over his, now you were starting to feel the destructive force of motivation pushing you to earn the commends of the senior doctors and colleagues around you. 

after that, your new goal would to get a promotion before lucifer does. but sticking to reality was one of the best traits a doctor could have, so you were careful not to get too ahead of yourself. 

“here are the document sheets,” doctor kim hands you each identical files, but yours was black and his was blue. “and some of the information you need will be emailed you by tonight. so spend the weekend studying the material and you can use whatever time you have next week and even after your welcome party to finish this.”

“it’s not urgent?” you raise a brow, looking at the top sheet in the folder. 

“it’s not, but we do value quality data and findings.”

“wait, are you saying that the documents are exactly the same but we could be submitting different sets of data?” lucifer queries, and confusion starts to seep through your neurons. 

“correct,” doctor kim runs his wrinkly fingers on his chin where a little stubble grew since the last time you saw him. “the data that the both of you submit might be different. in fact, it may look completely different but as equally as valuable.”

oh, this is going to be fun.

“the last section of the documents includes data pointers from the oncology sector. it’s not very long and it’s highly likely you’re not going to find anything from that department--”

“why?”

doctor kim hesitates for a moment upon your question, and lucifer looks at him, waiting for a response as well. 

“oh, well,” doctor kim clears his throat and waves the two of you in. a frown forms on your forehead, but lucifer leaning in urges you to follow. doctor kim’s bony hand cups his mouth from the side and looks around before whispering, “the oncology department head is crazy. she doesn’t like doctors who don’t belong there to even be on that floor.”

“ah,” lucifer sighs exasperatedly. “and which wing is the oncology department in? just so i can know where to avoid it.”

there we go, the selfishness hopped right out at ‘i’.

“if the neuro department’s in the north wing, and we are in the east wing, then...”

“it’s the other way round, doctor,” you quickly point out when he stops for a moment to remember where the oncology department was. “research department’s in the north.”

“oh!” he lifts a finger in the air, as if he didn’t hear you. the way his eyes lit up like a child brings a little smile to your lips, and his finger starts to wriggle when the neurons in his head click. “oncology is in the west, which makes it opposite the building that neuro is in-- yes, thank you for correcting me.”

call it childish, but that little display of gratitude seeps into you like a praise, and you could almost feel lucifer’s disgust when he realises you were busking in it. 

“yes, so avoid the west wing as far as possible. doctor choi will force me into retirement if doctor shin realises his mentees are strutting around in her department looking for answers to a worksheet...”

the desire to outdo lee hyunjae crawls back into your gut like the ghost crawling out from the television in ring. you didn’t even need to look at lucifer standing right next to you to know he was thinking and feeling the exact same thing. 

in this realm, zeus created two areses and decided putting them in the same hospital -- the same building, same room, -- was a good idea. 

“alright, i got it,” lucifer lifts the file as a sign of acknowledgement. 

“very well!” doctor kim beams brightly at the both of you, heels turning to return to his desk. “if there are any questions you have for me, don’t hesitate to drop me and email or come to look for me. of course, don’t let doctor choi know. he might just start filling up my retirement sheets for me.”

a gentle laugh runs through your throat and lucifer looks at doctor kim like that was his father. the both of you bow slightly before turning around, heading for the lift so that you could return to your office. 

ignoring lucifer standing right behind you was so easy, especially when you haven’t seen him for four years. but knowing that the both of you had the exact same goal in mind? 

that was difficult to swallow. 

you ran the thought through your head, the memory of spending nearly six full years fighting with the same person, both mentally and physically, sparking your eagerness to win. the only reason why you didn’t spend ten full years fighting with him was because you were no longer in the same institution. 

“i know what you’re thinking of,” a deep breath gets sucked into your lungs as he turns his head enough for you to see his cheek. “so just know that four years didn’t do much to curb whatever threat you see in me.”

lucifer scoffs and turns back to face the doors of the lift, the glazed over metal allowing you to lock eyes with him through the reflection.

“i know. i already knew the moment he said that the data sets might be different.”

then he looks away and up at the display panel inside the lift with the floor number on it. 

“if it’s anybody who knows what you’re thinking...” he turns around and lightly taps your chest with the file he was holding, the gesture making you want to take it and whack him across the face. 

“it’s me. the other half to our two areses.”

your arm finds his shoulder to push him back away from you, and you wipe your palm on your coat with exaggeration. 

“so rest assured, y/n. you’re not the only one who’s not going down without a fight.”

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

Chapter IV: Vetiti Fructus In

[floralguccistyles]

oh my goodness guys, this is the last chapter of wildflower before the epilogue. I will gush over all the feels in the epilogue, so please enjoy this chapter until then.

wildflower :: chapter five

...and kisses you

My eyes were crusted with sleep, even though I had probably gotten only an hour.

My apartment still held enough stuff for me to sustain a healthy-ish habitation for about three days. Eventually, I would have to go back to Lily’s apartment and get some work clothes and my makeup products. For now, however, I just cuddled deeper into my blanket and stared at the window. 

I knew my phone would have a thousand and one text messages and missed calls from Lily. I knew the responsible thing to do would be to let her know I was okay and safe and that everything was going to be fine, but the truth was...I didn’t know if everything was going to be fine. Seeing Kent had shaken something in me, but what was even worse were the feelings of betrayal and stupidity.

I’m just someone who has been in love with you for over ten years.

That meant every school dance, every family movie night, every trip to Matilda’s doughnut shop, he had been hiding his feelings. And I felt betrayed. Not because I had suspected he would end up with Lily. But because I felt...dumb. I felt oblivious for not knowing, especially when my sisters seemed to. I felt betrayed because it was like everyone was in on it except for me.

And I felt betrayed because maybe if I had known earlier…

I groaned, rolling over to stare at my ceiling. I didn’t want to focus on the what ifs. The damage was done. I had a crush on Niall, he may or may not still be in love with me, and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.

Eventually I pulled together enough willpower to pick up my phone. As expected, I had thirteen text messages and six missed calls from Lily. She seemed to have told Violet as well, because even my younger sister had texted me with a hesitant, you okay? But the one thing that made me sit up in my bed was the voicemail notification from Niall.

“Hey Rose. Lily’s freaking out. She doesn’t know where you went. We’re trying to give you space, obviously, but could you just confirm where you are? Violet thinks you’re at your flat, which is fine. Just let someone know, yeah? I’m...we’re worried. I get it if you never wanna speak to me again. I just...I’m sorry, Rose.”

I replayed it back. And then a third time.

And then I grabbed my purse and dug around in it until I found what I was looking for, crumpled at the bottom and sprinkled with what might have been biscuit crumbs. My hands shook when I held it, but I took a deep breath.

“Premier Health Services Center, how can I help you?”

~

I had only been to a therapy office once.

It was shortly after we had moved from America to Ireland. I was a little too young to know what was going on, but my parents had wanted us to see a therapist just once to make sure we were adjusting well. From what I remembered, he was a very nice man who smiled a lot. I’m sure four-year-old Rose talked his ear off and he reported back to my parents with full confidence that I was adjusting just fine.

Somehow, I didn’t think this appointment would go the same.

The office itself was nice. It was decorated with muted shades of navy blue and white furniture. I imagined this relaxed some people, but all I could think of was that this place needed some color. My knee bounced up and down and I stared at the clock. My appointment was scheduled to start in two minutes, and I suddenly wished I had scheduled an early morning appointment so I would be too tired to try and escape.

Doctor Hildegunn’s door opened and an older man stepped out of the office, holding a tissue in his right hand. I assumed he wasn’t Doctor Hildegunn, considering I had seen a picture of the therapist and she was a tiny Swedish woman. I found her walking behind him, giving him a gentle smile.

“Have a good day, Devon,” she said to the man, her voice soothing and soft. I wondered if that’s why people liked her so much. “Rose Fairbrough?” Her eyes cut across the space to me, and she smiled again.

I nodded, ceasing my knee-bouncing and standing up. I took hesitant steps into her office, which thankfully had more color than the lobby of Premier Health Services Center. Her chair was green velvet, like one of those couches straight out of the 1970’s, and I found myself relaxing a bit. Books littered her wall behind her, ranging from psychology books to what looked like William Shakespeare.

The couch she gestured for me to take a seat on was the same green velvet of her chair. I gingerly moved the throw pillow so I could sit, returning my leg to it’s knee-bouncing. “Um, my sister recommended you. She’s a student at Dublin University.”

She nodded. “Violet. She’s one of my clients. She told me she was going to ask for my card for you.”

“Right. And,” I gestured to her office, “here I am.”

“And what do you want to discuss today?”

I raised a brow. When I had made the appointment, I had specified that it was because of a sexual harassment that I thought I needed to work through. At my quizzical look, she grinned.

“This appointment is about you, Rose. We can jump right into the sexual harassment, or you can talk to me about your family. This is about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about my family,” I said, shaking my head. “I just...I want to get over this whole thing. I ran into...my harasser, I guess...two days ago. I just froze.”

“Do you feel comfortable sharing the details of the harassment?”

“It’s not severe or anything. I think that’s why I was so hesitant to make an appointment in the first place. I know people have been through worse, and I didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal.”

“If it’s affecting you and your daily life, it’s a big deal, Rose,” she said softly.

And it was affecting my daily life. It had been affecting my life for the last year. So I told Doctor Hildegunn about Kent’s proposal, about not feeling safe at my job and the shitty response from Human Resources, and I told her about seeing him outside of the antique store. I told her that I was afraid to sleep alone, so I hadn’t slept in my apartment for a year.

But then I started talking about other things.

I spoke about how I was sad to give up my apartment, and about how I felt about Lily and Violet going behind my back to try and get me to a therapy appointment, and about how I pushed away the people I loved and who loved me.

I didn’t dare mention what had happened with Niall. I didn’t think my heart could take it at the moment.

Doctor Hildegunn listened as I spoke so much my mouth went dry. She retrieved a water bottle from a fridge she had hidden behind the little desk in her office and I took three big gulps as I waited for her to say something.

When she did, it wasn’t what I had been expecting her to say. “Do you genuinely think therapy is going to work for you?”

“W-what?” I stuttered out.

“You said you were hesitant about therapy because you still wanted to feel normal. Do you feel abnormal sitting here in a therapy setting?” 

“Yes,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I know therapy will help, but I just feel wrong sitting here. Maybe it’s the guilt. I mean, the girl at Niall’s school—”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about being affected by what happened to you, Rose. You know that, right? Your feelings are valid.”

I didn’t say anything, just picked at a thread on my sweater.

“At Dublin University, there’s a sexual assault survivor’s group. They meet every Monday at 5:30 PM. I think, if you’re open to that, going to it could be very beneficial. Sexual assault or harassment is a big deal, even if you don’t want to believe it is. There are people in there who feel the same as you. That someone has it worse, so they shouldn’t complain. But this group will allow you to complain, Rose. They won’t judge you. They’ll understand. I’d like to see you once every two weeks, but if you aren’t comfortable with that, we can work something out.” She set aside the little notebook she had been writing in. “Going to therapy and attending these group meetings...they don’t differentiate between what you call ‘Normal Rose’ and the Rose you are now, here getting help. They’re just going to help you transition into a new normal.”

A new normal. The idea of a new normal scared her. She was so used to bottling up how she felt for the sake of others. She was used to staying in the receptionist job because it was secure and safe. 

And she was used to how things were with Niall.

“Here’s the information for the group,” Doctor Hildegunn said, handing me a bright yellow sheet of paper. “Try it out, see if you like it. And if you’d like, we can schedule an appointment here in two weeks time.”

I left the office with a therapy appointment in two weeks and the bright yellow sheet of paper tucked underneath my arm. I put it in my car’s glove box for safekeeping, knowing that the time and place of the meeting was seared into my brain. 

My phone beeped with a text. I was expecting it to be Lily, since I had blearily texted her yesterday morning before I had made an appointment with Doctor Hildegunn that I was safe, but to my surprise, it was my younger sister’s name that popped up.

How’d it go? Doctor H is really cool.

On a whim, I pressed the green phone button next to her contact.

“Rose? You good?”

“I have a favor.”

“Yeah, I’m good too. Got a ninety-seven percent on that biology test I was stressing about. Thanks for asking.”

“Do you want to go apartment hunting with me today?”

It was silent on her end. “Flat shopping? You...you aren’t gonna live with Lily anymore?”

No, I decided. No, I wasn’t. “No. I need to get my own place. And maybe giving up the apartment I have now is a good thing. I need someplace fresh. So, will you go with me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Lily?”

She tried hard to mask it, but I heard the hopeful lilt to her voice. I never called her out of the blue to hang out with her, and I definitely didn’t include her in big life decisions. It was always Lily I ran to. And while Lily was still my rock and would be until the end of my days, when I heard Violet sound so hopeful, I knew I had made the right choice.

“Nope. I’ll pick you up in twenty. We’ll get some coffee.”

“Okay,” she said, and I heard the barely contained excitement. Then, a pause. “But I bought the coffee last time so you’re buying today.”

“Deal.”

~

The second I stepped into Lily’s apartment, I was enveloped in her arms. 

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, pulling me in close. She backed up and put her hands on my shoulders, then did a double take when she saw Violet behind me. “Vi?”

Violet waved. “Hey, Lil. We’re starving. Do you have those take-out menus in that kitchen drawer still?”

Lily gestured in the direction of the kitchen with a confused look on her face, like she was still trying to piece together why Violet was at her apartment and why we had come there together. Violet went off in the direction of the kitchen, rummaging around in the drawer as Lily pulled me over to her couch.

“Are you feeling alright? Why is Vi here? Not that I’m complaining, but it was kinda the last thing I expected.”

“She was helping me go looking for apartments.”

Lily’s brows furrowed. “You went apartment shopping? But....but Rose, you know you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

I did know that. And I loved Lily for it. “I know. But I’ve got to get out and start living my own life again. I think getting a completely new place might help. Also, I went and saw Violet’s therapist today.”

“Oh yeah, how was Doctor H?” Violet asked, coming back into the living room with the menu for a Vietnamese restaurant in her hands. “We all good with pho for dinner?”

I told them about the appointment. “She also suggested I go to this support group. She thinks I might like it better than therapy. I’m going to try going once every two weeks to meet with her, but I...I don’t know if therapy is right for me. I know you guys want me to go, but I’m just gonna try this group. Can you live with that?”

To my surprise, it was Violet who clapped my shoulder in an encouraging gesture. “Yes, Rose, we can live with that. We just want to make sure you’re talking to someone. You don’t really talk to us about this kinda stuff, and I know it’s shitty for you to keep it all in.”

“Woah,” I said, unable to stop myself from lightening the mood, “someone’s getting philosophical.”

She grabbed one of the throw pillows and hit me across the face with it.

“Now the next order of business,” Violet added, looking towards me, “what are you gonna do about Niall?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? What was I going to do about Niall? “Lily you’re...you’re sure you don’t love him?”

“I never did love him, Rose. And I can assure you he never loved me. Nothing past how best friends love each other. If I did like him in that way, I can assure you it would have been squashed by the amount of times he talks about you when I’m with him.”

“He talks about me with you?”

Violet rolled her eyes. “How have you not noticed? The man doesn’t shut up about you.”

“I never noticed. Maybe I just didn’t want to notice, because the idea of liking Niall like that was off limits to me. I thought he was going to end up with Lily.”

“Well, do you think you could like him?” Lily asked.

I did think I could. I think there was always a small part of me that had, buried somewhere under the surface. It was why I always felt lighter around him, like the weight of the world transferred from my shoulders when he walked into a room. “I don’t know if I love him as much as he loves me. Not yet. And I don’t want to hurt him.”

“He’ll understand that, Rose. He sprung it on you. You just need to talk to him.”

But did he even want to talk to me? I hadn’t outright denied him, because he had left before I could process his confession, but I had hurt him. I had so carelessly uttered the words that unknowingly hit their target; he wasn’t my boyfriend. 

Lily’s phone buzzed from the coffee table, and we all stared at it. It was her ringtone for Niall, so there was no question about who it was that was calling her. She reached for it, answering it and bringing the phone up to her ear. It was so silent between the three of us that I was sure I could hear the trees shaking in the wind outside.

“Hey, Ni,” Lily said, looking towards me. “Yeah, she’s here. She spent the night at her apartment the past two nights.” She paused, listening to his response. “I’ll ask her.” Pulling the phone away from her ear, she put her hand over the speaker so she could whisper to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

I held my hand out for the phone. Violet leaned in to try and hear what Niall would say, but Lily slapped her arm and gestured for me to go into the other room. As I padded across the hardwood, I listened to Niall breathing on the other line. “Hey.”

“Thank Christ you’re alright. No matter how mad you are at me, please don’t ever leave without a word like that again, okay? You had Lily and I worried sick.”

I smiled a little at his worrying. “Alright, Mom, I’ll check in next time.”

He laughed, and the sound sent a trill of longing through me. The chuckles tapered off, though, leaving us in silence again. “And are you? Mad at me, I mean?”

“Niall, why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I pushed. I should have respected your boundaries. I was just so...fucking disgusted about what that asshole had done to you. I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have.” I heard movement on the other end, and I could imagine him running his hand through his hair. “And then I sprung what I did on you—”

“Can I come over?” I interrupted.

“You...you wanna come over?”

“Yeah. I just think we should probably have this conversation in person.”

He took in a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay. You can come over.” It was impossible to miss the nerves in his voice.I could envision him standing in his living room, destroying the perfect hairstyle he’d constructed himself because he kept nervously tugging at it. “I’ll see you in a few, then.”

“See you in a few.”

I hung up the call and handed Lily’s phone back to her. Looking between her and Violet, they were both looking at me with questions in their eyes. They wanted to know what the hell was going on with Niall and I. But if I were being honest, I wasn’t really sure what was going to happen either. 

“Well...are you going to change? Because you look rough,” Violet said after a few quiet moments. Lily reached out to slap her arm again, but I oddly found myself grinning.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.” I started walking to my room only to hear Violet shout something about me needing to look sexy, which resulted in a cut off grunt when Lily hit her with a pillow. 

Dressed in a white cropped top and red flared jeans (that made my butt look amazing, if I said so myself), I walked back out into the living room and let my sisters approve of the outfit. Lily was quick to toss my keys at me, promising that she’d drive Violet wherever she needed to go so I didn’t have to rush home. 

As the two of them sat on the couch and argued over whether or not I should wear a sweater, I was filled with affection for the both of them. I knew things wouldn’t change overnight, but seeing us hang out like this made my heart warm. “Hey,” I said softly, interrupting their bickering. “I just wanted to say thanks. For worrying about me. I...I know I might not show it much, but I love you guys.”

“Gross. Who are you and what have you done with Rose?” But Violet was smiling as she said it, rolling her eyes when Lily stood up and immediately hugged me. “Well now I just feel like a bitch if I don’t join in the group hug.”

Hugging Violet was a new experience. Of course, as her sister of twenty years, I’d hugged her before. But this felt different in a way I couldn’t explain. When we all pulled away, I flicked her in the forehead and laughed at her protest. 

“Now go and get your man! Your butt looks great in those jeans, by the way!”

I wasn’t really sure which sister had yelled it out to me, as I was already halfway out the door by the time it reached my ears. I hopped down the steps in front of Lily’s apartment, slid into my car, and drove the road to Niall’s place. As I loomed closer, my heart started pounding wildly in my chest. 

I knew there were consequences. What if I told him I wasn’t quite at love yet with him, and he rejected me because he’d spent too many years waiting? What if he realized, like I had, that I pushed people away and he decided it wasn’t worth it? 

My car slowed when I passed by his apartment, but my heartbeat didn’t. He was already waiting outside, standing on his porch in jeans and a light purple shirt that looked amazing on him, just as every piece of clothing he owned did. He was watching me with those incredible blue eyes, filled with wariness. 

“Hi,” I said breathlessly when I got out of my car and walked to meet him.

“Hi.” He frowned at my arms. “Christ, you cold? C’mon, I don’t want you to freeze.”

“I’m fine,” I said, but he wasn’t listening. He was fidgeting to try and get me inside, to prolong the inevitable. He led me to his couch and made sure I was comfortable before setting a little coffee cup in front of me. I swallowed, my breath catching in my throat when I saw the words written on the side.

I’m sorry, Rose.

“I am sorry. I know I probably ruined everything. I hurt you by demanding you go and see the therapist, and I handled the whole thing in such a rotten way. I’m just—”

I didn’t let him finish, leaning forward and throwing my arms around him. I pulled him close, impossibly close, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted him to sink into my skin and melt into my bones. “It’s not your fault, Niall. I don’t want you thinking that.”

His arms were slow to wrap around me, but when they did, his entire body relaxed in a sigh. And despite my worries, I knew that we were going to be okay. If we ended up something more, I would be ecstatic, but if we didn’t, I knew we would survive. We’d push through, just like we had with everything else. Because Niall Horan was not something I was willing to lose.

Still holding him in my arms, I pulled my face away from where it had tucked under his chin and briefly pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I can get over these feelings, Rose, I swear, but you’ve got to give me time.”

“What if I don’t want you to get over them?”

He drew me away from him, eyes wide as he stared at me to see if there was any hint of joking on my face. I didn’t know if he was satisfied with what he found, but I continued on.

“I like you, Niall. I���m not going to lie and say I’ve liked you as long as you have me, but I need you to know that it’s not one-sided. When you said you...you loved me...I was caught off guard, but I was never angry with you. I was angry with myself because I didn’t want to hurt you. And I did, even though it was the one thing I wanted to avoid more than anything. You always feel things so much, and I think that’s always scared me. I’m terrified because you love me, and I just don’t know if I’m there yet. These feelings for you are new and I’ve barely had time to adjust to them myself, and I don’t want to hurt you by not loving you as much as you love me. But I can, Niall. I can love you that much, I promise. You just have to let me try. You can’t give up on me. If you don’t want to, if this is too much work, I understand.”

He was silent for a moment. His eyes were on mine, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The color had always been beautiful to me, but now there was something else there. An emotion I realized was pure happiness. And then, feather light, his hand raised and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“But...you do have feelings for me?” I mutely nodded and was completely unprepared for the smile that grew on his face. “I’ve been waiting ten years to hear that you love me, Rose. I can wait a little longer.”

My nose wrinkled. “Don’t call me Rose. It feels weird. It’s Rosebud or nothing else.”

His laugh was loud and clear, the kind that I realized I had only heard around me. It was his Rose-laugh. “I can live with that.” Some of the mirth left his eyes, but he was still smiling at me. “Can I...can I kiss you?”

I grinned. “You don’t have to ask, Niall.”

“Yes, I do.”

I brought my hand up to his face and smoothed my hand over his cheek. “I know you do. And I really, really like you for it. Now shut up and kiss me, Horan.”

“If I’m not allowed to call you Rose, you are absolutely not allowed to call me Horan.” Before I could protest, his hands were on my cheeks and his lips were on mine.

I don’t think I ever thought about what kind of kisser Niall would be. Even in my little short fantasy at the antique store, I hadn’t really imagined what it would be like kissing Niall. I had just imagined that it would happen. However, as his lips slanted over mine, I was happy I hadn’t imagined it.

Nothing I could have thought up would ever hold up.

His hands were on either side of my face, his thumb running back and forth across my cheek. They moved to my neck, tipping my chin up and giving him better access to my mouth. His lips were smooth and soft, moving against mine lightly. But I didn’t want lightly. I wanted him to kiss me like he meant it. 

I moved my own hands to his hair, pulling him closer and leaning up on my knees on the couch. He let out a breathless laugh against my lips, his arms moving to wrap around my waist. My mouth pressed incessantly against his, never drawing too far away from him before he pulled me back. He ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, and the feel of it made me sigh out, so incredibly happy that I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“Did I mention,” he asked between nips and bites and licks, “that your arse looks great in those pants?”

“That’s what Violet said.” I continued kissing him, unwilling to stop. “And that was kind of the point.”

“It’s not really fair.”

I shrugged, pulling away long enough to press a kiss to his throat. He groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. “That was also kind of the point.”

“I mean, you’re killing me.”

“And you’re not getting it.” Another quick bite to his lower lip. A moment where his hands slid lower on my hips. “The point.”

He grinned sweetly, pulling away from my mouth. “You kill me no matter what you do, Rosebud.”

“How about when I accept the job offer? Do I kill you then?”

“You’re accepting it?” He laughed, wrapping his arms fully around my waist before standing from the couch. A rather unsexy squeal left my lips and I clamored against him, trying to hang on to his shoulders as my feet suddenly left the ground. “I’m happy for you, Rosebud. And yes, even then, you kill me.”

“I will legitimately kill you if you don’t put me down.”

“No can do, sorry. I just got you in my arms, I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Even though his words were incredibly cheesy, I couldn’t help but smile. “Dork.” 

The look on his face, the lightness in his eyes. I caused all of those things. I was the reason for them. The knowledge of this sent a thrill up my spine, and had me smiling softly at him, unable to resist reaching out and touching his chin, pulling him towards me for another mind numbing kiss. “Thank you for loving me, Niall.”

“It’s the easiest thing in the world, Rosebud. You know what won’t be easy though? Giving Violet her five hundred bucks.”

My eyes went wide. “You knew about the bet?!”

“Your family is very bad at keeping secrets. I reckon it worked out though, yeah?”

I stared at him, focusing on the happiness I felt. “Yeah, it worked out.”

He silenced my thoughts with another kiss.

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | Studying Together [Request]

A/N: I made this a college AU I hope this is okay for you love!

Seokjin:

"Alexa play my Lofi playlist," Jin heard you call out as he walked into your dorm room, he was carrying drinks in one hand and a bag in the other. He was late for your study session together and he felt awful so he stopped by to get food and drinks to make it up to you.

"You're late," You called out once you heard the floorboards creaking to let you know he was there, he sighed holding up the food and drinks as a peace sign and you smiled at him,

"You're lucky I'm so forgiving." You joked getting up from the table to take the coffee he was holding out for you, you sipped on it despite his warning about it being hot.

"I organised everything," You said as you pointed at the table in your kitchen, it was covered in pieces of paper, folders and flashcards all ready for you both to read from and quiz each other on. He should have been used to this after dating you for the last two years of your college lives but it was still surprising to him to see you have so many notes on one subject.

"It's one history exam-" He stopped talking once he saw the glare he was getting from you, he slipped out of his jacket and went to hang it up. You'd been in the same class together which was how you met and started dating for so long and you were going to pass this class if it was the last thing you ever did.

"I'm going to start on the tudor times and then move on from there, pick whatever you want." He stared at you as you lifted up a giant folder and began flicking through it until you got to the section that you needed. It was going to be a long day and night but as long as you were there to study with him he didn't mind at all.

Yoongi:

You thought that the final exam you and Yoongi would be something practical but instead, you were both taking a written exam while submitting a project together.

"This is stupid, why did it have to be a written exam." He groaned next to you, you were sitting in the library together huddled over a couple of textbooks wondering what could possibly be covered on a written exam instead of something you could physically create and show your talent.

"I know Yoongi, but once it's done it's done and it only counts as 20% to the final." You tried to reassure him but he was far too nervous about all of this for it to be blown off so simple as it not being too much credit.

"Look, I'll help you study and then when you pass you can buy me dinner to thank me." He chuckled as you laid your hand on his thigh as a sign of support. You believed he could pass this if he just put his mind to it. He was sure he couldn't do this but he was willing to give it a try if you were going to be this supportive of him, he'd always expressed his disgust for exams like this which was why he liked the music course so much. It was more projects than handwritten work - except for lyrics.

"I won't let you fail." You teased him kissing his cheek as you got up from the table, you were going to be there for a while so you were going to go on the hunt for food and drink to keep you both stable until you could convince Yoongi to go and get a decent meal with you.

Hoseok:

"Hobi I can't." You were sweating and panting against the cold mirror, your dance exam was coming up in less than four days and you still hadn't nailed the dance move you were struggling the most with. It was a lift - much like the one in the infamous movie everyone loved so much. Hoseok had to lift you into the air by your waist before bringing you back down into his arms.

"We can't replace the move," He told you as he restarted the song for what felt like the thousand times that day, you weren't going to be able to pass this final exam without it and you both knew that.

"Can I just have two minutes?" He watched as you slid down the mirror and sat on the floor, you felt defeated. You'd spent weeks trying to do the move, going around to different places to practice it. You could do the lift in the water, a kids ball pit and even in a field of grass but doing it somewhere like here, somewhere you could get hurt was bugging you out.

"Do you trust me?" He questioned wiping sweat from his head on the back of his hand, you knew he was getting frustrated with you since you were just as equally frustrated with yourself.

"With my life but-"

"Is it the nerves?" You nodded, the thought about doing it in front of everyone was the part throwing you off - that and the thought of smashing your face against the hard dance floor.

"So imagine they're not there when we do it and trust me enough to know I won't let you fall." He breathed wanting you to trust him as you did in your relationship.

"From the top." You whispered getting up from the floor and getting ready to nail the dance.

Namjoon:

Namjoon was giving you a hard stare as you stuttered over your words for the seventh time since you started talking, you groaned laying your head down on the desk in front of you.

"You can't look at me like that, it makes me anxious." You snapped at him, you were both getting annoyed with the upcoming exam. While Namjoon had his speech planned and ready you were still struggling to get through talking it through with him nevermind getting it up in front of a class full of students and presenting it.

"Why are speaking exams a thing? They're stupid." You grumbled looking at the flashcards, around the edges were small words of encouragement from Namjoon but they weren't helping you.

"I might fail it on purpose-"

"No, come on. How many times have I told you that you can do this?" You sighed as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist trying to comfort you in any way that he could but it wasn't helping you.

"Maybe I'm just not meant to pass this speaking exam." He sighed at how you were trying to discourage yourself from it but he wasn't going to let you give up so easily.

"You can normally do this in front of me, why is it hard tonight?" You sighed looking over at his friends who were all sitting on the other sofa, he'd brought them along to try and help you more.

"So just pretend they're not here, look at me and no one else. We'll do the same in the exam." He promised you kissing you on the cheek and returning to where he had been sitting before, he wasn't going to let you give up on yourself so easily.

Jimin

It was Jimin's idea to have a study date at the library but it looked like he'd decided to stand you up, you began sliding your textbook back into your bag when the door burst open and he walked into the room carrying textbooks, notebooks and what looked like coffee on top of everything he was carrying.

"Where have you been?" You giggled taking the coffees from him and placing them onto the desk beside you, he held up some new psychology textbooks and smiled.

"I waited outside all night for these, they're going to help us on the exam and then the stationary shop next door was having a sale on highlights and I know these are your favourite." He said sliding a packet of highlighters in front of you, you had a superstition that if you used these highlighters whenever you were studying you were sure to pass. He knew that since you freaked out the last time one ran out on you and you called him at 3 in the morning crying about no shops being open, so drove to your dorm room to make sure you went to sleep instead of cramming for a practice exam.

"Jimin you didn't have-"

"Yes I did, I also got your study drink and some new post-it notes for us because I know how much you love post-it notes." He kissed your lips softly and sat you down in front of him so he could show you properly everything he bought.

Taehyung:

Taehyung was quizzing you on the colour wheel while you sat on the sofa trying to quiz him on all the famous painters that were bound to be on the final Art History exam. You'd both met on your first day of the art class became best friends until it eventually led to years of you dating and now it was the final year. You were still together and as strong as ever as you tried to cram for final exams together and keep each other from going insane.

"Next chapter is your favourite." You laughed flicking over to the next page of the art history textbook and smiling as you saw all of your favourite paintings. He came over and dropped onto the floor beside you, reciting his plan to take you to Amsterdam and visit the Van Gough museum that was there. It had been his plan to take you to every art museum in the world but Amsterdam was the realistic goal for now. You were both planning on going as a way of celebrating for when you passed the final exams together.

"I think we've got it down." He mumbled flicking over the page, you had everything down. You both had a huge passion for the course and knew everything there was to know about it, the final exam was going to be simple but the final project was painting a huge portrait of yourself in any art style you had learnt over the last few years. Now all that was left was making sure you had the style down before you went into the exam.

Jungkook:

You stared at your boyfriend who was sitting carelessly in your dorm bedroom, you were trying to study from a book while he sat throwing a ball to the wall and back into his hand.

"You could at least act like you're studying to make me feel better." You grumbled taking a highlighter from your pencil case and highlighting yet another fact your brain seemed to be neglecting to take in.

"It's not my fault I soak up everything we learn like a sponge." You glared at him from your bed and went back to the criminology book you were trying to remember but nothing seemed to be staying inside of your head.

"You need to take a break." He whispered watching as you stressed about not being able to get anything to stay in your head.

"I can't. Not all of us can get away without studying Jungkook." You snapped, you didn't want to snap at him but you were stressed out about everything and the smallest thing seemed to make you snap lately.

"I'm serious," He closed the book and put it on your desk, he got onto the bed behind you and began rubbing your shoulders.

"Staring at the same page and expecting different results each time isn't going to work. You need to just take a minute, okay?" You nodded closing your eyes as he continued rubbing your shoulders to try and help you unwind. He chuckled as you let out a small moan about how nice it felt.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @snowy-meowl​ @snowy-meowl​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @innersooya​ @taestannie​ 

[marsbutterfly]

The Scientist’s Gamble - Part 1

Summary:  "Attention! Commander Erwin has sent me here today with an announcement! In exactly one month an expedition will take place outside the walls!", Moblit pauses for a second, paying close attention to the reactions in front of him. "The goal of this mission will be..."

Note:  I would like to thank my amazing wife for editing this fic for me, I know it wasn't easy and I love her very much. She has been nothing but supportive from the very beginning and her help is extremely appreciated as I try to find own my writing style in a whole different language. She's amazing and I'm very lucky to have her in my life!

Next Chapter

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

"Wait... So we're going outside the walls to capture a titan so that Squad Leader Hanji can experiment on it?" someone asks from the back of the room.

"Well... Yes, but it's for the good of humanity," Moblit says while he holds the bridge of his nose. The expression on his face tells you that he did not agree with this, but he is willing to give it a go so long as life inside the walls could take its next step towards the truth. "The Commander has given his OK, so this operation will be moving forward. Now, how she managed to convince him to agree to this is beyond me..." His voice disappears as he walks out of the room, all the while scribbling on his clipboard.

As soon as his silhouette is out of sight, the room starts to fill with murmurs.

"That's such a waste of resources!"

"We should be out there killing titans, not this!"

From your spot in the corner of the room, you begin to write in your journal everything you might need to prepare for the expedition, such as a new training schedule and what arrangements would need to be done.

"Y/N?" says a disembodied voice, startling you a bit and pulling you away from your to-do list. "Y/N? Are you in there?"

You look up to see Eren waving his hand in front of your face, almost failing to catch your attention.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you say, not looking at him, and not really sorry. "What were you saying?"

He laughs. "You really are hopeless. Would you like to come train with us?" He gestures at the Cadet group as they walk out the door.

"Oh, not today," you say, "I need to head back to my room to collect some of my notes and deliver them to my Squad Leader. I wouldn't want our next expedition to be delayed, you know!" Although you try your best to remain serious, the enthusiasm in your voice is undeniable.

He rolls his eyes and allows his lips to curl into a smirk, "We'll catch up with you later then!" he says while walking towards the door and just like that, you're alone in the classroom. Packing your things, you make your way out. You read the notes in your hands as you walk, making sure you only need to make one quick stop before heading toward the lab.

Once in your room, you look underneath every book, paper, and pile of clothes. You try your best to find your notes on titan deterioration, but quickly realize they are nowhere to be found.

Did you not bring them back after the last expedition? No, you remember seeing them just a couple of days ago. Could they be with old reports? No, you just checked. Did someone take them? At that moment, you realize that just may be what happened. After what happened with Annie Leonhardt, you didn't know who you could trust, and as a result, you've been being extremely careful not to misplace your paperwork.

Yet somehow your most important piece of work is missing. Slowly but surely, panic sets in. "What will I tell Squad Leader Hanji? I don't want to disappoint her," you mutter, taking a deep breath. Panicking won't help right now, so you do your best to pull yourself together, and gather all the other papers you need before making your way towards the lab.

You knock on the lab door rather loudly a couple of times.

"Come in!" Your heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice calling from the inside of the room. You open the door slowly, remembering past instances of her dropping glass beakers when startled. Luckily Hanji is just sitting at her desk, writing reports. Likely about the most recent past expedition, probably where she got the idea of capturing yet another titan to serve as her experiment. At least that would give Eren a little bit of a break. He really needs it.

"Squad Leader Hanji, I brought you all the data I've collected about titans from previous expeditions. The most common sizes, our studies on abnormal..." Your hearts speeds up as you notice her looking at you, but you can't bring yourself to face her as you speak again. "I can't seem to find the papers about their deterioration. All the details we've collected seem to be lost. I'm so sorry, and I'll keep looking for it. If I can't find it until tonight, I'll write you a new report from memory, I swear." You can feel her eyes on you, and it gets a little harder to breathe. Your lungs try their best to keep up with the speed of your rambling.

"Well, Y/N," Hanji says, getting closer as she walks towards you. Tears of frustration well in your eyes, and you expect the worst. You worked so hard to become her assistant, to earn this. The thought of it all going wrong would be enough to break you. You're vaguely aware of her rifling through papers on her desk.

"It's alright, dear! I have them right here. You must have forgotten them here last night. I reminded you to grab them but you seemed to be in quite a hurry." Hanji could sense the uneasiness coming from her assistant, her face softening as she pulls you into a hug, and it's desperately what you need at that moment. You breathe a sigh of relief now that you know you didn't mess this up. At least not this time.

You let your mind wander to last night. You had spent hours copying the indiscernible scribble-scratch of Hanji's field notes. You think of how you called her over to translate a particularly messy section, and you think of the way she gently touched your arm before her hand slid along your skin as she reached for the pen. The hairs on your body instantly rose, and combined with the chills going down your spine, you couldn't help the embarrassment that flooded through you. Before she could've said anything, you got up and ran, wishing her a hasty goodnight on your way out.

Your cheeks burn. No wonder you misplaced your papers.

But realization hit you; Hanji has her arms around you in a warm and comforting embrace. She's holding you, cradling you. The heat in your cheeks spread across your entire face, a dark shade of red replacing your usual skin tone. One of the reasons you wanted to be her assistant in the first place was to spend time with her. Your crush on Hanji isn't something new and has never been a secret. Everyone seems to know about it... except Hanji herself.

"Are you all right? Your heart is beating so fast," Hanji says, breaking the silence between you two. She pokes two fingers against your neck to feel the pulse, but you swat her hand away. You quickly pull away while looking in the other direction, hoping she doesn't notice your embarrassment.

"I'm fine, Squad Leader! Do you need my help with anything today?" you say, gathering enough strength to sound like you aren't melting before her eyes.

"Not for now. Over the course of the next few weeks, I'll be mostly filling out paperwork and preparing the lab to receive our new visitor," she beams, and the stars in her paired eyes with the excitement in her voice is more than enough to bring a smile to your face.

Hanji grabs your shoulders. "All I need is for you to study our past discoveries, but mostly prepare yourself for all the new ones we're about to make!" She begins to gently shake you, rocking you back and forth in her excitement. "Make sure to practice your 3D maneuvers as well, I wouldn't want to lose my favorite assistant!"

You feel your blush deepen, and wonder how she doesn't notice.

"Of course, Squad Leader," you say.

.

During the next four weeks, you spend your days mostly with your friends in the hopes some of their strongest skills rub off on you.

Mikasa teaches you how she handles her blade. You try your best to learn from her, but handling swords isn't your strong suit. But still, there is a noticeable improvement in your form. Thanks to her, your blades can firmly and precisely cut through a titan's nape without any problem.

Eren and Jean argue over who would help you with 3DM air movements until they finally agree that it would be best for both of them to assist you. This plan lasts less than a week until finally after you break up two fistfights and countless arguments, the two of them come to the conclusion that being around each other is worse than a death sentence. You start to practice on your own, but they manage to teach you a few new tricks, like being able to do a backflip before slicing the titan's neck, that way you would be able to move quickly and proceed to another titan in a matter of seconds.

Armin sits with you every day during lunch and dinner, keeping your knowledge on Titans sharp. He shuffles through bundles of cards as well as notebooks full of information. He quizzes you every day and corrects you when you're wrong. He's the most helpful of them all.

Reiner and Bertholdt do their best to train you in hand-to-hand combat. You won't need it, and Annie was better than they are, but they must have sparred with her enough for some of her moves to rub off, and you figure there's no harm in being overly prepared.

Krista teaches you what she knows about how to care for wounds with ingredients you can find in the forest. She shows you how to wrap an injury and how to do it quickly. Nothing new, but she is very good at helping others. Ymir shows up halfway through Krista's splinting demonstration, and you're pretty sure she only stays there so she can play the part of swooning, Injured Scout. Every so often she would let out a long sigh and moan about her fake injuries. "I'm so hurt Krista, please take care of me," she says. "If I survive this injury, please marry me Krista." You don't ask Ymir for help with anything, you know all she really puts effort into is charming Krista.

Sasha and Connie... well, they're certainly a good distraction when you need a break. Sasha tells you her hunting stories, and when she notices you're interested, her stories become much more dramatically performed. She recruits Connie to help her put on a play, and he plays every character in her stories: Sasha herself, the injured animal, even the sound of the wind as it rushes past the trees. They are exceptionally good at making you laugh.

The night before the expedition departs, while you're in your room packing your bags and triple-checking your list making sure everything you might need is in it. Everything seems to be in order. Flare guns, medical supplies, a toothbrush and comb. A sudden knock on your door pulls you away from your thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Y/N, can I come in?" says a familiar voice, and your heart skips. You nearly give yourself whiplash as you turn your head.

"Yes!" you call out, and the door creaks open. Your eyes meet Hanji's, and a familiar feeling overtakes you.

"I haven't seen you in so long. I miss you," she has a gentle smile on her face, and you feel your cheeks reddening as usual. Why must your body do this to you every time she's around? You signal for her to come inside, and Hanji closes the door behind her.

Hanji sits on your bed while reaching for your hand. She takes it and pulls you closer, excitement in her eyes. As soon as you readjust next to her, you impulsively wrap your arms around her shoulders. It takes Hanji by surprise, but she is quick to return the embrace. If only you had the courage to tell her how you feel before you leave tomorrow... but you can't risk clouding her mind with such thoughts. She needs to have a clear head tomorrow, and you need to be there for her no matter what. She may not know how you feel, but you need to remember her like this, just in case. You touch the rough fabric of her jacket, inhale the scent of her hair, feel the cold and hardness of her glasses press against your cheek. You just hold her, needing to feel her like it's the last thing you'd ever do on this Earth.

You wish you could stay forever in her arms, but you manage to pull yourself away after a few seconds. Hanji gives you a soft look. "What was that about?" she asks.

Your face feels so hot you're surprised you don't burst into flames. That familiar feeling takes over your body while your brain processes everything that just happened.

"I missed you too," is all you can say. "So, did you want to tell me something, Hanji?"

Her slight smile disappears. She takes a deep breath, as if the air in her lungs is about to be stolen, "I'm just a little nervous about tomorrow. I thought you might be able to help me calm down, but it seems like I didn't even need to ask," she says, smiling. "Do you feel ready?"

"Yes, I've been practicing to make sure I will not be killed tomorrow!", you say, forming fists with your hands and positioning them on your hips. You're proud of everything you've accomplished with your friends' help during these past few weeks. Hanji starts laughing, and you beam with pride. You hope this is what she needed.

When her laughter subsides, Hanji lets out a contented sigh. "I honestly don't know what I would do without you around," she says.

Your eyes widen, and you get embarrassed again. You can't help but look away. Her soft hand touches your shoulder, "I should get going now. I need to look over some details before we leave in the morning." She squeezes your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

You nod. "Of course, Squad Leader."

.

"Our mission, the expedition to capture a Titan, will now commence! Give up your hearts for humanity!" Commander Erwin's voice echoes clearly throughout the scouts as the gate opens fully. While screaming, he signals with his arms and the horses sprint outside the wall in formation. The gate closes behind them with a heavy thunk.

The sky is a beautiful shade of blue, with very few clouds. The cold breeze against your skin brings chills everywhere it touches. There are goosebumps all over your body, but the excitement rushing through your veins is enough to keep you warm for now. You've been preparing yourself for this for the past month and you feel like for once, luck is on your side.

Right next to you rides Hanji. Her laugh rings out louder than dozens of thundering hooves and yelling Scouts. The Commander had asked you to stay by her side at all times, mostly to keep her from getting herself killed, and judging by the twinkle in his eye, you could tell that your affections were noticed even at the highest level of the Scouting Regiment.

As the formation rides out, Hanji takes a moment to meet your eyes, and you smile at her. Today is going to be a win for humanity, you think to yourself.

You could not be more wrong.

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees 10: Asking and Answers

So this chapter is interesting in that I wrote a lot of words, but not a ton of it is any sort of particular forward motion. Largely this is just me establishing setting, which I have sorely needed to do for my own self, and sort of giving my characters a breath before the next bad thing I have planned for them (which is just as fun as it is contrived and overdramatic). So if you wanna skip to Sasha’s first “eep” I would not fault you for it, since it is a rather long chapter and the first stretch of it is just a lot of detail work with hardly any action.

CW: slavery, aftermath of torture, referenced noncon, multiple whumpees, referenced alcoholic tendencies, referenced religious... stuff.

Tag List:@bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave  @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @constellationwhump @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101 @adventuresofacreesty @arlennil @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @lumpofwhump @thatsthewhump @pinkdiamondprince

Masterlist

First order of business: what in the fresh hell was actually happening in this house?

Well, okay, the first first order of business was tipping the locksmith and offering a can of soda before sending them back on their way, but then the first order of business was finding out what the fresh hell was actually happening in this house!

Galo had, admittedly, left it more or less unexplored. He’d gotten down all the weird art of his aunt’s with the help of Nyla and Evan, which meant he hadn’t scoured the place thoroughly, and he had settled into rather regular haunts. He passed through most of the main floor, some of the second (and he begrudgingly accepted that his mission would send him into his dead aunt’s bedroom), but that still left an expansive attic, the majority of the second floor, the rest of the main floor, the entire basement, and most of the grounds. Because Galo was agitated as all hell and his monkey hindbrain said that threats came from outside, he started with the grounds.

He’d run around them, of course, wandered through the gardens and hedges and whatnot, but the fact of the matter was that his aunt’s estate was massive. And since he was on “The Great Easter Egg Hunt: Saw Edition” for horrible things hidden in amongst the grass, it took a while. 

The smell of new mulch was thick in the air, pleasant and fresh. Galo also took the time to admire Lilah’s extraordinary work, wishing he was being this meticulous and thoughtful for more pleasant reasons. 

He never encountered Lilah, Evan, or Greyson, though he would occasionally glimpse them off a ways. He was fairly certain they were avoiding him, or at the least were cognizant of his presence and deliberately giving him space, and he honestly didn’t mind. He really wasn’t in a place, mentally, to deal with hysterics or panicking slaves. Which sounded awful, but there it was.

He managed to finish the grounds right as the sun was setting, and checked out the secondary garage more thoroughly than just passing through warranted. So far, nothing suspect was to be found. Given Auntie Bethany’s obsession with keeping up appearances, that wasn’t terribly surprising. She liked to host garden parties and had no reason to enter the secondary garage, herself, so it tracked that the estate gardens were pristine and not-evil and the garage was left to Lilah’s devices. 

The next day, after working out in a vain attempt to make himself stable enough to explore the house properly, he showered off and set to work. He started with the den.

It was blue, with a greyish-blue, dark, thin carpet, light slate walls and dark blue furniture. Galo opened the cabinets near the tv (and his aunt had so many tvs), but found only a vcr, dvd player, some unlabeled cords that he had no idea what they were for, some remotes, some old recordings labeled with name tags (shows Galo vaguely recognized, but couldn’t tell you anything about). Normal things. Not-evil things. Things that gave Galo no reason to believe this was a horrible, awful room that the slaves hated.

So he turned face and headed towards the other cabinets, the ones in the back of the room, behind a well-worn but clearly expensive armchair. Galo needed to know, but he also didn’t want to, and therefore was, quite literally, dragging his feet. Which was why he tripped, stumbling a bit. He turned back, brow furrowed, and his brain helpfully supplied that this was pretty much the exact spot where Evan had knelt, waiting for his punishment.

There was a D ring in the carpet. Dull; painted? But it blended with the carpet well, really only visible if you knew it was there. Galo sat on his haunches and hooked a finger through it, gave an experimental tug. No give at all whatsoever. 

He took a deep breath. He had a bad feeling about this. He straightened, turned back to the cabinets, and flung them open simultaneously.

First he took note of the chains. Hard not to, they glinted--metallic and grey, and there was so goddamn many of them. Handcuffs, padded leather cuffs chained together, collars and muzzles, all of them with lengths of chain that could, presumably, be used to attach them to each other, or to, say, D rings on the floor. Ahahaha god.

Distantly, as Galo pulled a muzzle from the cabinet and examined it, Galo wondered why he even bothered to still be horrified by his aunt’s actions. Sure, she was family, and Galo wanted to believe that his family wasn’t like… this. But Auntie Bethany had proven herself horrible in life and he shouldn’t keep being surprised by how horrible she was, now after her death.

The lower cabinets had a couple of canes, the kind that clearly weren’t for walking assistance, an honest to god whip, a fucking knife, and a metal rod that Galo couldn’t really discern the purpose of. Probably something awful and horrifying. He shut the cabinets firmly, rested his forehead against the cool plywood, and tried to take a deep breath.

He pulled out his notebook and drew a very large circle, in red marker, around “The Den is a bad place.” He then flipped a couple of pages and started up a running list of observations

There isn’t really anything of note in the gardens or garden garage. 

The Den has muzzles, collars, cuffs, and chains, plus a D ring in the floor

He wasn’t sure what he was ultimately going to do with this list, but simply making it made him feel a little better. Even if it was a list of horrible things he found in the mansion, it was still nice to have.

But okay. How to be sensible about this? He shouldn’t start removing things from cabinets, especially horrifying tools of torture, until he had somewhere to put them all, and something to do with them. He would need a plan, which meant he would need to complete his list of horrible things. And also probably rent a dumpster. So he removed his person from the cabinets in the den, glanced again at the half-hidden D ring in the floor, and then moved the furniture around a little. He found seven more D rings throughout the room, now that he was looking for them, subtle and easily blending in. One more on the floor, a little beyond the first ring, four in the walls, two in the ceiling, all clustered around the same relative spot, more or less. It further convinced Galo that yes, indeed, this was exactly where Evan had been kneeling.

Okay. Top down? Top down. Galo’s specific curiosity about the den now satisfied, he could just do a thorough, room-by-room sweep of the mansion, and so he made his way to the attic. The door to the attic stairs was in a guest bedroom, one that was meant for “children” in the way that it was cutesy and kitch, but had clearly been designed by someone who hadn’t really ever interacted with an actual human child. Galo had slept in one of those twin beds when he was very little, and remembered a distinct discomfort for the firmness of the mattresses and the scratchy quality of the overly-colorful block-pattern blankets. Should he go ahead and search this room now, since he was in it? No, stick to the plan, start with the attic. 

He climbed the steps, flicked on the lights, and then promptly blanked.

How did one human being even own this much stuff?? The attic was massive, a snaking maze of shelves and clothes racks with plastic covers and boxes stacked and arranged. There was a clear path through, dusty but meticulous, and, in a display of wealth so obscene it turned Galo’s head, the ceiling was finished. Who finished the ceiling of their attic?! Attic ceilings were supposed to have dangerously exposed nails and shitty insulation fully visible. Galo was far from a religious man, but even he knew that an attic ceiling was meant to be left unfinished like the good lord intended.

He might have been balking at the ceiling to cover for the fact that he had… no idea where to start, with all this junk. The attic spanned nearly the entire width and breadth of the mansion, and it was full. Absolutely full. Galo turned off the light, went back down the stairs, and shut the attic door. He would devote an entire day to going through all of that shit. Hell, he’d make a weekend out of it. But today was not that day. Kitchy kid room it was.

He explored many different guest rooms, opening drawers and closets and chests and vanities and whatever the hell else, poking his head out onto their balconies, but found them empty of anything troubling. Again, this tracked. Auntie Bethany likely wouldn’t let her non-Guest guests or family members know what she did behind the scenes. 

He found another sunroom on the second floor, the south-facing wall made entirely out of glass and a number of gridded skylights making up the southern half of the ceiling. There was a marble statue standing in the center of a tile fountain, here, and Galo held his pressed palms up in front of his mouth, squinting. He would’ve remembered this. He would’ve remembered the warm yellow walls and the aquatic mosaic flooring, he would’ve remembered the sprawling cluster of plants, he would’ve remembered the wall of glass, and definitely would’ve remembered the statue, with its detailed pubic hair and unrealistically buxom bosom. Had he just never been allowed in here? Had he simply failed to explore this far? Or was this an addition that had happened in Galo’s adulthood, when his primary method of surviving family gatherings had switched from “explore the castle away from the people” to “get drunker than them, faster”?

Who knew. What he needed to do was poke around in here and make sure it wasn’t another horrifying abomination. And check and see if the plantlife here was real, or plastic. He touched their leaves, the soil, and found, with surprise, that they were all alive. Huh.

Something… there was some gear in his head that started turning at that, some impression of a thought that was still too close to his brain’s horizon for him to make out just yet. He took out his pen and notebook and simply notated the second sunroom, which he crossed out and relabeled “plant room.” He flipped the page over and drew the general outline of the house, and then made some squares. He labeled each guest room and the plant room, and while he was no cartographer, it’d serve as a rudimentary map until he had a better idea of where everything was here.

There was only one cupboard, and it had fertilizer, a small watering can, a water spritzer, disposable gloves, and PH strips, which were more confusing than alarming if Galo was being entirely honest with himself. He hadn’t seen those things since freshman year of highschool in his mandated biology course. Actually, wait, there was also a folded up piece of paper, which Galo took out. He recognized Nyla’s careful script immediately, and read over her detailed list of the plants in the room, how much sunlight each needed and whether it was indirect or direct, and the watering schedule drawn out in a little grid calendar.

He couldn’t help but admire how meticulous she was. How put together. He had no doubt in his mind that she really was the one who’d run the whole household, when his aunt was alive. Hell, she still was--it wasn’t like Galo knew a ton of shit.

The second floor seemed primarily devoted to guest rooms, with an occasional cabinet or boudoir attached to said bedrooms. There was a large drawing room more or less in the “middle” of the mansion, a number of skylights directly over a sunken sitting area and a couple of tvs, plus places that art had clearly been stationed at before being removed for the crimes of being a bunch of fucking eyesores. A few pieces still remained, though, two different tapestries and a couple of abstracts. Plus a bunch of little tables, which were honestly charming and mercifully empty of tools of torture. Lots of little forks and platters though.

The master bedroom was not something Galo wanted to scour. His dead aunt had slept in there. (His dead aunt had hurt people, every night, in there). He made himself turn the door handle.

“Master Galo,” Nyla greeted, setting down a tiny, antique-looking watering can on the windowsill between a succulent and a corkscrew-curling plant Galo didn’t know the name of.

“Hey, Nyla,” Galo returned, extending his hand for her to cup lightly and kiss as she fluidly sank to one knee, then just as gracefully rose. “Don’t mind me, I’m just poking around a bit.”

“Yes Master,” she said with a charming little bow, her clasped hands dipping into the folds of her apron, “If I may assist at all, sir, please call upon me.”

“Will do, thanks.” He felt a surge of fondness for her. He knew she was just doing what she’d been trained to do, but he liked her smile when it wasn’t obviously-forced, and he liked her put-togetherness, and he liked, well, her.

He was very conscious of her presence, though, as he “snooped” around his own home. So he let her finish with the plants while he was in the en suite bathroom, opening the cupboards under the sink and checking the interior of the shower. Everything was meticulously clean, which he was grateful for (he could not handle it if he caught sight of his dead aunt’s body hair or some such thing). It was also perfectly normal, even if he found the little rugs along the side of the bath and looping around the base of the toilet to be ostentatious.

Nyla was still in the room, so Galo moved onto the closet door. He expected a walk-in with fifty billion changes of clothes (and really, had Galo ever seen the woman wear the same outfit twice?). He did not expect something that looked like it was intended to be a linens closet, stuffed full of canes. Canes, and, Galo noticed belatedly, knives, long strips of cloth and rope, plain eye masks far too crude to be used for her own sleep needs, and--god, was that lube?

The cane Evan had brought, that night he’d begged for punishment, stood front and center, clearly the most recently moved.

“Master?” Nyla’s voice cut through Galo’s shocked immobility, making him jump a little and tear his eyes away, “Is there anything from the tool closet you require, specifically?”

Galo shut the door harder than he should have, his own strength getting away from him and a tight smile on his face. The fact that he’d even opened that door was freaking her out, and the sudden loud noise did not help at all. For once, blessedly, Galo thought fast. “Actually, I was looking for her clothes closet? Which door is that behind?”

There were five doors in the master bedroom, one to the hallway, one to the bathroom, one to a fucking “tool” closet, so that left two guesses. Nyla visibly relaxed at Galo’s words, her smile losing it’s pinched edge (Galo was getting better, better at telling when her smile was tight or neutral or something approximating genuine happiness). Galo unwound a little, too, at seeing her return to the Nyla-equivalent of blank. 

“Of course, sir, this one,” Nyla said, leading Galo to a different door, and the exhorbitant display he’d anticipated. There was a fucking… boot bench in the center of it, with tall mirrors in the center of the three walls that didn’t hold a door, separating closets. No, wait, this whole thing was the closet, the little… shelf… hanging rack things were--

Okay Galo didn’t have all the fancy names for ridiculous rich people things, but the point was, there were so many clothes, so many shoes, a goddamn chandelier, and it was all fucking color coordinated.

“You, uh, you set up the…” Galo gestured vaguely in front of him, “rainbow effect?”

“I did, Master Galo,” Nyla said promptly, and Galo nodded. Figured. “Greyson does the laundry, and has kept it meticulously organized since, Master Galo.”

Galo made a mental note to add Greyson being the laundry dude to his list of things he knew about the slaves. “Thanks, Nyla, I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

He saw her give a cute little bow in the mirror, and she ghosted off while he stepped further into the space. The boyish instinct in him wanted to reach up and smack the chandelier, just because he was tall enough, and he could. So, like, hey, he did. It tinkled and swayed, light dancing around the space, and he snickered incredulously. He sat down on the boot bench, chandelier swinging above him, and pressed his face into his palm, elbow to his thigh, and just laughed, absurdly. 

It was too early in the day for hysterics, though, so Galo forced a deep, slow breath, then another, then a third for good measure. He took out his notebook, added Greyson’s laundry duties, and then wrote a bulletpoint on his aunt’s linen closet from hell. The worst part, the part that made him feel incredibly scummy, was that he was kind of tempted to keep the lube, whenever he managed to clear out all of the rest of that shit. It was useful, and Galo wasn’t in the habit of throwing away things that could be used. At the same time, though, why in the fuck and shit and hell was Galo entertaining the idea of using his evil aunt’s lube? Disgusting. But he’d feel bad if he threw it away. But also that was his aunt and she was evil.

Fuck, Galo thought as he ran his hands over his face, taking yet another deep breath. Fuuuuuuuck. Was there an off switch for his brain? He’d like it if there was an off switch for his brain.

Alcohol, aforementioned brain suggested helpfully. Later, he told it. For now: distractions. He stood and began pulling open drawers, lifting clothing in search for hidden horrors like a hyper-controlling parent looking for naughty magazines or diary entries. He found nothing but cloth, more cloth, more cloth, and silk.

Hey, remember how you didn’t give me alcohol? Galo’s brain told him spitefully, I’m going to make you think about your wrinkly aunt in lingerie, now.

Galo shoved the silk back in the drawer and shut it hard, mentally batting at his mind with a cartoon broom. Disgusting. Negative one hundred out of ten. Something he literally never, ever wanted to think about. He bopped the chandelier once more, in a spurt of whimsy, on his way out.

The fifth door led to his aunt’s personal boudoir, which made Galo sigh. He was definitely gonna find atrocities here. And he did! More rope, candles that Galo knew the exact purpose for (he might not have all the kinks, but he possessed some, and was aware of others), more restraints, and more canes. Good lord and he’d thought she had an extensive cane collection back when he didn’t know shit. Even the balcony had a cane on it! He gathered them up with intention to take them to the “tool closet,” where they could all collectively wait for the arrival of the dumpster, and spun too fast and tripped over the fireplace tool set, sending it over and its contents clattering. He sighed, setting down the torture shit on a nearby chair. Why did Auntie Bethany even have a fireplace tool set? All her fireplaces were gas fires, it wasn’t like she had anything to stoke. 

Probably decorative. It was shaped to look like an antler, each spoke housing a different tool, which also had intricate carvings/detailing on the handles and along the metal rods.

Galo shoved the canes and shit into the “tool closet” and sighed, pressing his forehead against it. Fuckin… He wasn’t even done with the second floor. But, he hoped, the master bedroom would be the worst of it, he hoped, he hoped. Since that was where the slaves “attended” her, and where she spent the majority of her time in this massive fucking house.

He found a supply closet full of actual supplies, cleaning chemicals and rubber gloves and dust masks and scrub brushes. It was so completely, entirely normal (if heavily stocked) that Galo felt a ridiculous amount of relief. He nudged some stuff around, but ultimately left it alone.

The old craft room, which was slowly turning into Galo’s computer room, was already scoured, so he passed it by. He moved into the music room--sound proofed, which made Galo’s stomach churn anxiously--with its piano and sound system and lounge chairs and folded up electric keyboard tucked behind a fancily carved record player. There were a couple of wind instruments in the cabinets, a violin or viola or whatever it was (Galo didn’t know instruments super well, hardly enough to distinguish on sight), and--yay--more restraints! A close examination revealed D rings in the floor, walls, and ceiling, like in the den, and Galo sighed as he took out his notebook.

There was some sort of… dressing room? Galo couldn’t discern the intent of it, until he found nursing blankets (which he knew were nursing blankets because they had lovely little cherub-like depictions of babies on them) in an otherwise empty cabinet. No devices of torture, so yay, big fucking mirrors for a room that people would allegedly feed babies in, less of a “yay” and more of a Giant Singular Question Mark.

He wasn’t gonna think too hard on it. He’d made that promise to himself the first night--or was it the second?--and he intended to keep it. Just accept things, and let them move on. If he didn’t let water under the bridge, he was going to drown. 

There was a well-stocked office not far from Galo’s room, and he added that to a list of miscellaneous notes. He didn’t know if he’d need an office, all things considered, but if he needed a designated space to work on things and focus, this would be a good place to do that. A thorough examination revealed only office supplies, though some of the paperclips had been bent out of shape and there were a lot of those little clips, like what you put on manilla envelopes or stacks of looseleaf.

The library was a two-story thing, the upper floor boasting a large square hole in the middle that allowed a clear view to the main floor, one wall broken up by floor to ceiling windows between the bookshelves (or maybe the bookshelves were the ones between the windows? Eh). An ornate spiral staircase connected the two, and he smiled at it fondly, remembering being utterly enamored with it when he was a kid. Honestly, he was still pretty enamored with it as an adult. He stroked his fingers over the railing, wondering if he could spruce the place up a bit. Add fairy lights to the railing or something. Add more than just his aunt’s pristine, chic, expensive art that took up minimal space, like her home was a museum or some shit. Clutter it up, fill the space, make the damn mansion feel lived in.

Later. He wrote that onto his list of things to do, but lines and lines below keeping his demeanor calm, cheerful, and approachable, and finding therapists with experience with traumatized slaves. 

Ugh speaking of he should really get on that. But first, the library. He half expected that if he grabbed the right book, or moved the correct artistically expensive bookend, a secret passage would open up. He’d housed the same belief since he’d been flopping around this place as a kid. He just had different ideas on what he might find behind the entrance. But the library was just a library, well-lit with lots of books on his aunt’s particular interests. He found a couple volumes on methods of torture used throughout history, and a couple of psychology books that he did not trust At All, and he moved those to a lower-level bookshelf where he could find them all later. The psychology books he debated on--he liked psychology, and was also the kind of person to read what was effectively a textbook for fun. And these were officially published, sourced, and researched. So it wasn’t like they were… bad… and Galo didn’t want to throw out useful things.

But he also wouldn’t be able to get a mental image of his aunt, reading over them, thinking up dastardly fucking bullshit as she read them. So if Galo wanted to read a textbook, he’d just buy one for himself.

He took lunch in the library, Greyson bringing it in and leaving it on one of the small tables. Galo picked at it as he picked through the books, and Greyson was quiet enough that Galo didn’t even notice him come in, grab the plate, and leave when he was done. 

The library was not far from the foyer, so Galo beelined to the front door, spun on his heel, and took a deep breath. One floor down. Two to go. And the attic, but again, that shit was for another time. The foyer was a large, open space, sparsely decorated, mostly just an ostentatious display of wealth and wasted space and the giant fucking chandelier. 

Immediately adjacent was the solar, which was full of tacky and ugly as sin furniture, but no terrible horrible secrets. Next to the solar was the parlor, which had nicer furniture and looked incredibly bare, which made Galo think that there had been a LOT of god awful art in here before the purge. Still no instruments of torture though. The living room was observed closely, but again there was nothing more than superfluous fire pokers for a gas lit fire, uncomfortable tiny furniture, and a wall hanging Galo kept waffling back and forth on about keeping.

After the dining room, Galo entered the sunroom and felt his mood lift. He really enjoyed the sunroom. He peered into nooks and crannies, but he spent enough time here that he wasn’t anticipating anything. A distant shriek made him look out the window.

Evan had lifted Lilah up in his arms, holding her about the waist as she visibly struggled. Galo frowned, alert, and was drawing himself up to his full height, about to bolt out there, when Evan set Lilah down, and draped himself over her. Galo could not hear them from here, nor could he make out the shape of Evan’s words, but Galo would bet his right arm that Evan was proclaiming a sudden increase in gravity. The posture was unmistakable. Galo smiled as Lilah wriggled out from under him, and Evan dramatically threw his arm up over his forehead and fell to the ground. Galo snorted when Lilah stared at him a moment before kicking him.

Galo watched, heart full of something nameless, as Evan wrestled Lilah back into his hold after chasing her halfway to the hedges, and he sank, body unexpectedly heavy, into a lounge chair. He watched Sasha enter the scene, carrying something Galo couldn’t see from that angle and prompting Evan to swing Lilah around like some long-suffering cat, dramatically talking with his hands, which were full of his friend.

Galo felt like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding for a long, long time. Since that first night when Greyson had knelt on his bedroom floor.

He got himself a drink of water and got back to his search, feeling… better. There was a room just next to the pool, with a little rinsing area and changing areas, plus pool supplies. He remembered this from when he was younger, and made a note to go swimming again soon. He had been up to his elbows hooking up his game systems in the entertainment center, so he did a quick perusal just to mentally mark it off. There was a room with gorgeous stain glass windows and old candles and religious iconography that Galo was pretty sure was some sort of personal chapel, which was gorgeous and had stale fucking comunion wafers and, haha, a bottle of wine. He still had to force himself not to drink it, but it wasn’t as alluring as it might have been. 

There was a room filled, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, with butterfly pinboards. It was smaller than a room-room, like a walk-in closet but without a clothes rack, and entirely, completely bare of anything except the pinboards. No furniture, no windows, nothing. Galo shut the door, mind blank, and felt the terror-giddy urge to write “set on fire” in his notebook. He did not. 

Another drawing room, a study, the salon, the billiards room, and Galo’s search of the main floor ended in the kitchen. Auntie Bethany seemed to have her haunts, and kept most of her instruments of torture there. Galo just sorta poked his head into the kitchen to see if Sasha was back yet (she wasn’t) and left it at that, knowing his aunt wouldn’t set foot in the kitchen unless she felt it absolutely necessary. The pantry, which was large as hell, was also somewhere Galo had been, and wasn’t worried about. 

The door to the basement had a series of locks on it, all on the side of the main floor. Galo remembered distinctly how Auntie Bethany had “put her staff away” during gatherings, and imagined each one of these locks being fastened. How had she gotten away with it? With treating them so terribly for so long? Why hadn’t anyone noticed? Why hadn’t Galo?

Descending the stairs was an experience. The basement was fucking vaulted. There was, there was, some sort of fucking ballroom or some shit, Galo couldn’t even describe the space, at the bottom of the stairs. It’d be cool as hell if it wasn’t fucking overwhelming. Actually, even still, it was cool as hell. Whatever architect had designed this place, they’d had the time of their life. 

The wine cellar was massive.

Galo made himself walk away.

There were two series of apartments, with bedrooms, a sitting area, a mini kitchen, and a bathroom to each, which took up most of the basement. Concerningly, none of them seemed used. The kitchenettes were certainly something for long-term guests to use, make coffee or some shit before heading upstairs for the day, but the drawers and closets were empty, showing no signs of the slaves living there. 

There was a massive bathtub/pool that Galo found, multiple showerheads rigged throughout the ceiling and a basin the size of two people laid out. Well, not Galo-sized people, but like, Lilah or Nyla sized people. Nothing outwardly horrifying to be found, but Galo was a little boggled to find a tub this size when there was already a pool outside. There was another bedroom, just hanging out on its own, also empty. There was the utility room, where Galo encountered Greyson.

“Master Galo,” Greyson greeted, and Galo tried to make his brain switch tracks while he was bending low to kiss his hand.

“Hey, Greyson. You doin’ laundry?”

“Yes Master; do you have need of me, sir?”

“No, no you’re good. I’m just poking around.”

Greyson nodded, and went back to switching the wet load into the dryer when Galo turned. Galo made note of a couple more D rings here, plus two dog cages and a pet carrier. Auntie Bethany had never had a dog. Certainly never one of this size. He added it to his list of awful shit to get rid of, his mind jumping. Who? Who had been locked in these? Nyla? Sasha? Greyson? Lilah? Evan? All of them? It was too easy, too easy to picture any one of them behind those metal squares, far too easy to imagine them forced into a cramped, cold, humiliating space.

Oh hey, the rat poison, just like Nyla had said. 

Greyson made no particular note of Galo, after his back had turned, and left somewhere after Galo finding the first D ring. It was just him, alone in the utility room, the sound of the washer and dryer keeping him company. Leaving, he took a deep breath. There were two doors left unopened. It was fucking barbaric, having all this space and all these rooms, and making the slaves pack in like this. They were probably separated by gender, too, one of these belonging to the men, the other to the women, because Galo had a hard time imagining his “good god-fearing” aunt running a risk of canoodling. 

He opened the one to the right, aware that he was most definitely entering a space that wasn’t his. But at the same time, he told himself, he needed to know what was happening, make sure they weren’t adhering to some atrocious routine simply because Auntie Bethany had ordered it and Galo hadn’t ordered it to stop.

This space, at least, looked lived in. Which was good, but also made Galo frown, because there was only one, large bed. He hadn’t thought his aunt, terrified of any implication of homosexuality as she was, would’ve encouraged her slaves to share sleeping space. Galo glanced at the dressertop, finding combs and hair ties and floral antiperspirant, so he guessed this was the women’s room. He poked his head into the en suite bathroom, finding only a standing shower and a relatively cramped space, not half as meticulously, tv-ready clean as every other bathroom in the house. Something made Galo relax at that, too, at seeing soap residue in the little indent next to the sink, at seeing the dust bunny behind the toilet. It was still a clean space, just, lived in. The marks of people’s presence were upon it.

Now Galo sounded fancy and old timey. He pulled open the top dresser drawer, and his brow furrowed. These clothes were Greyson’s, crisply folded and put away so that each section of the drawer was dedicated to a different type of clothing. Galo shut the drawer slowly, the idea that maybe he’d gotten it wrong, that this was the men’s room, flitting by once, but only once. He had a bad feeling about what was more likely. He opened the second drawer, and saw Nyla’s clothes, a drawer down was Sasha’s, Evan’s, Lilah’s, and the sixth drawer, the one at the very bottom, held more collars than Galo had ever seen gathered in one place. And men’s lingerie, which was equally horrifying for a different set of reasons. He shut the drawer quietly, sitting on his haunches, and took a deep breath.

He stood slowly, breathing slower, and pressed his palms together before running them over his face, up into his hair, down the back of his skull and lacing his fingers together behind his neck. He stared up at the ceiling, just allowing himself to process this information. He wasn’t particularly struck; he’d established that his aunt was terrible and he really shouldn’t expect otherwise, but he was surprised to know that they were all kept in the same fucking room as each other. And with only one bed, that was the really strange part.

“Eep!”

Galo turned, attempting not to look guilty for sticking his nose where it had no business being, and tried to smile at Sasha. Her dark hair was loose, flowing down to nearly her waist now that it was freed from her high ponytail. Her hands were wringing anxiously up in front of her chest, wide blue eyes on Galo, and he didn’t move fast enough to prevent her from dropping to her knees, forehead to the floor. He winced a little, approaching her. 

“Hey, Sasha,” he said, squatting down again and extending a hand to her. She glanced up, took the hand, and kissed it. Gently, Galo curled his fingers around her hand, holding it loosely and stroking her thumb softly with his own. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sasha glanced up at him, nodded as she glanced away, and Galo reached out his other hand, giving her shoulder a squeeze before bracing underneath her bicep and helping her to her feet. He left his hands where they were, once they were standing, contemplating her. It was hard to befriend, or, well, gain the trust of someone he couldn’t have conversations with. Not that any of them really talked, but with Sasha it felt like there was an added barrier. An extra obstacle.  

“Is everything alright, Sasha?” Galo asked, remembering the most recent instance of Sasha being terrified and close to him. She nodded, and he smiled. “Good.”

He glanced back at the large bed, at the dresser that housed clothes for all of them. “Sasha, do you all sleep here?”

An anxious glance at his face and another, more hesitant nod. Galo’s lips pressed thin. 

“Okay, well, we can fix that. There are those dorms on the other side of the basement, those would work, or we could choose individual rooms from--”

Galo was cut off by Sasha squeezing his hand urgently between both of her own, looking up at him with her wide eyes.

“No--!” she gasped, quiet but no less desperate for it, and Galo felt a spike of panic on his own end; what had he done wrong? “Pl--” she seemed to choke on the words, and Galo shushed at her, making as soothing of noises as he could as he pet at her shoulder. 

“Easy, Sasha, shhh shsh, easy honey, what’s wrong--” No that was a stupid question, she couldn't answer. She whimpered while Galo was trying to find a yes or no question that could discern what set her off, then the strength in her grip shot up.

“Please,” she gasped, and Galo just wanted to hug her, pet her hair and face and tell her it was gonna be okay. “M-” she choked off again, taking a series of deep and panicky breaths, “Master, don’t m-make--” Sasha cut off with a whine, lifting a hand to cover her mouth as she curled in on herself. 

Galo’s brain finally kicked back on and he blurted out, “Typing! Here, just type it out.” He pulled up the notes app on his phone and handed it to her, praying she wouldn't drop it with her trembling hands. Not that he was worried about it getting damaged--it was a good model and he had a solid phone case--just that he knew that if she dropped it she'd spiral entirely out of control, since she was already teetering on the brink. 

She didn’t, thankfully, though she did fumble it a little when she handed it back to him, letting go too soon. He caught it, easy peasy, no troubles here, see? Please Master don’t make us separate was written with no ending punctuation, though Galo was pretty sure she was thinking in exclamation points. Aw, shit, okay, Galo read over it twice, then reached out and squeezed her shoulder again, trying to think.

The bed was large, very large, but to fit five people they’d need to pack in. It hardly seemed fair. But the idea of separating distressed Sasha, and given how tight-knit they seemed, would likely distress the others, too. If Galo suggested bunkbeds at this point, there would be no guarantee that if they agreed it would be because they liked the idea, or because the “alternative” was Galo forcing them apart. Still, it was just too much, to force them all to share a single room, with its single bed and single dresser, when they were all living in a literal mansion. But Galo couldn’t let his own feelings of injustice and his own wants preside over their wants and needs, and Sasha was telling him that she wanted to perma-sleepover with her friends.

Actually. This could be a really useful opportunity. Galo would feel bad for… “manipulating” Sasha, was really the only way to say it, but it’d get the idea across, hopefully? It was a gamble. But Galo really, really wanted to make headway with these poor people, so…

“Okay, Sasha, thank you. I like it when you ask me for things,” he said, gesturing a little with his phone, “that’s very good, and since you asked, you get what you asked for, see? No separating.”

Sasha’s eyes were jerking about, looking at Galo’s hand, his phone, the hand on her shoulder, his face, the room, back to Galo. He tried to patiently let her process his words, nervous on how she’d take them, if this would help encourage her to ask for things in the future or if this would be another thing that Galo would need to help her unlearn, this time with him as the culprit. Swallowing hard, Sasha raised a hand and pointed a finger at her own chest. Me?

“Yeah, you honey. And the others. I like it when all of you ask me for things that you want. Like when I took Greyson to the cemetery, yeah?”

Sasha nodded, visibly calming down, and kept nodding, lips moving silently over unspoken words. She seemed to catch herself, glanced up at Galo, and offered a shaky, unconvincing smile. Galo smiled back, surprised. He really hoped that meant it worked, that Sasha, and the others when news spread to them, would feel less anxious about asking for things they wanted or needed, moving forward.

It had the side effect of making Galo feel like a really, really weird sugar daddy, but he wasn’t going to examine that particular thought anytime soon, no sir, right into the repression hole with that concept. Galo gave Sasha’s shoulder a final squeeze and released her entirely, stepping back.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you were doing, here. Getting a hair tie?” Galo guessed, and Sasha nodded, smile gone and nerves rising once again. Galo gave her a wide berth as he passed her and left the room, giving her a little wave goodbye and a “Alright, have a good one.”

Ugh, shit, and, he knew Sasha was the kind of person who did better and felt less anxious when she had something to do. He meant to give her extra tasks, just as soon as he could think of some, but now would it feel like he was trying to keep her on her toes, or demanding “payment” for letting them all stay together? Fuck, everything was walking on eggshells, and he knew he couldn’t rush them, couldn’t push them without serious consequences, but damn if he couldn’t fucking wait for when they weren’t so… well, petrified and broken.

He turned the handle of the final door in the basement and came to a halt in the doorframe of the dungeon.

--

Sasha woke up before her family, just like every day before that one, and slipped out of the family bed, shivering in the early morning air. Her bra, when she put it on, was uncomfortably loose, and she wondered if Nyla could maybe… just put another one on the grocery list and buy one for her. Master Galo didn’t seem to check over anything that Nyla bought (he didn’t seem to check over anything), and also wouldn’t have any idea how recently Sasha had gotten this one even if he did, so she might not get scolded for wearing out the elastic so quickly. She tugged on her dress, settled her apron on, and combed her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail, then picked up her shoes and sat on the steps to the main floor to lace them up. The rest of the family sat on the bed, but Sasha didn’t like to risk waking any of them up.

After thoroughly washing her hands, she prepared Master Galo’s breakfast juice. Was it juice? Sasha was never sure what to call it. She didn’t really know what else it would be, but it also didn’t really seem like a juice. It wasn’t a slushy, though, and was it a ‘drink’ if it was technically food?

Sasha reliably saw their Master once a day, almost like clockwork, except there was a whole half-hour range when he might show up, and she was invariably nervous that whole half hour until he finally arrived, smiling at her and thanking her for his… thing. He showed up early, that morning, right on the upper limit of that half hour, and the way he clasped her shoulder was now familiar and not particularly alarming. It helped that he did it every morning, and it was always on her right shoulder, and it never hurt. He was still big and his hand was still very warm and very strong, but especially on the heels of what had happened to Nyla yesterday, Sasha wasn’t frightened by his touch. 

Bread was next, and Sasha contemplated what she should make for breakfast for her family and herself that morning. Now that it was her job to make sure they all ate every day (and what an incredible responsibility to have!), she was experimenting a little more with what she made, branching out. That morning, she decided on blueberry muffins, making two trays of six so that when Evan and Lilah finished theirs, they wouldn���t need to split a muffin between them. Sasha also soft-boiled an egg for each of them, peeling the tricky shells off with practiced efficiency.

“Morning Sasha,” Lilah greeted as she entered the kitchen, Evan right on her heels and yawning loudly. Sasha smiled and bent down so Lilah could press a kiss to her cheek, then gave her an egg to keep her busy until the muffins were done. Same for Evan, who ate the whole thing in a single bite. While it was the best way to keep the yolk from spilling out, Sasha had to wonder if it was tricky to eat like that, what with his mouth being so full and all.

Sasha asked Nyla about the bra when she was up, and Nyla jotted it down on her neat little notebook with a small nod, voicing Sasha’s thoughts on how Master Galo didn’t really check the grocery purchases, and probably wouldn’t care if Sasha got a new bra. Nyla was so smart.

When the muffins were gone and the bread was sitting on the cooling rack, the family departed to do their tasks, moving slower and easier with their workloads reduced and their Master out of the house. Greyson stayed noticeably close to Nyla, and Sasha didn’t doubt why. News that Lady--no, not Lady, Master Galo had told them to stop calling the Guests Lords and Ladies--Barbra had nearly stolen Nyla had shaken them all badly, left them clinging to each other, Nyla in the middle, in bed that whole night. Master Galo had kept anything terrible from happening, though, and if he was right back to his routine, then they could go back to theirs. 

It was nice, too, that Master Galo’s routine didn’t involve checking over their work as frequently as Mistress Bethany had, or maybe his standards were perhaps just possibly a tiny bit less exacting than hers had been. Conceivably. 

He seemed to like what Sasha made for food, at least. She’d only been wrong once, so far, trying out breaded pepperjack cheeseballs that Nyla couldn’t eat because they were too spicy, and Master Galo had sent back with one single bite taken out of one single ball. She’d spent that evening terrified, pacing listlessly about the kitchen and pantry, wondering when the punishment would come, but it hadn’t. She’d made other food that he had liked, which had probably been her saving grace. But also, he just, didn’t punish her for the mistake. Which she was grateful for! And she would never take for granted! She wouldn’t get complacent just because he’d shown her mercy, no sir!

Stuffed bell peppers sounded fun, and she’d asked for all the ingredients last time Nyla got groceries. 

She got all the prep work done, doing everything except actually cooking the peppers, and stuck them in the fridge. She decided a roast might be nice for dinner, so she rubbed the salt and herbs into it and settled it into the crockpot with onions layered overtop. She set the crockpot on low, knowing it would ever so slowly cook over the course of the day and be fall-apart tender by the time dinner made its way around.

Sasha went to the cupboard just above the kitchen phone (and she never understood why there was a phone in the kitchen; even when cooking had been Greyson’s job no one but Nyla or Mistress ever answered it) and pulled out the small tablet. Sasha was given internet access and allowed to peruse for the sake of finding recipes, which worked out, because she genuinely loved watching food videos. She could, and did, spend hours watching people mix together ingredients in aesthetically pleasing ways (she had the materials, she could do it like they did, if she felt like washing a lot of dishes). She enjoyed watching the time lapses of the food actually cooking, and she liked watching the specific action of people cutting into their creations with such intense precision, perfect triangles skewered on perfect forks.

She set a timer, checking that the tablet was still on its lowest volume, and let herself lose a little time until she needed to put the bell peppers in to cook. 

It was kind of lonely, in the kitchen, but Sasha didn’t usually mind. She liked being secluded, most of the time, and she got to make all kinds of fancy, interesting things. Her family would pass through from time to time (more often now, with Master Galo), and she was out from underfoot. She’d been at this for long enough, she wouldn’t know what to do, if she were reassigned to another area of the estate. 

She saw a video for fluffy cheesecake with strawberries and decided she wanted to make that for dinner that night.

After Greyson brought lunch to Master Galo, Sasha got food out to her family, first Evan and Lilah, who were both outside, then Greyson, then Nyla, who was… perturbed.

“He seems to be looking for something,” she said, the two of them in an unused boudoir that had, as Nyla reported, already been checked. “I don’t know what it is he’s looking for, but he certainly seems to be looking for something.”

“M-maybe he just wants a nicer b-bedroom?” The one he had wasn’t really the best in all the mansion. 

Nyla seemed to shake it off, and smiled at Sasha. “Maybe. We’ll know when we know.”

It was a mantra that they’d clung to, with Mistress Bethany and her games, but it had hardly been a reassurance, then. More like a final thread to grasp. Hearing Nyla say it now, it was almost like… almost like a “we’ll worry about that later,” even though they’d absolutely worry about it now, too.

Things were different, with Master Galo, Sasha mused as she started planning potential meals for the upcoming week and composing a grocery list for Nyla. She pulled out an apple, after, and sliced it, carving the peels off in such a way that they looked like little red rabbits. It was cute, if a little time consuming, even for her practiced hands, and when she was done she rinsed her hands and then stared at the plate, towel in her palms. What to do with them now? Evan and Lilah were pretty guaranteed to always be interested in food, and Master Galo had said to feed people a minimum of three times a day.

She had waffled for days, now, on whether or not to bring people food outside of mealtimes, or if she was supposed to wait for them to approach her. Today, she mustered up the courage to pick the plate and… leave the kitchen with it.

She felt like a rabbit, herself, out in the open air just waiting for a hawk to catch sight of her. Just waiting for something sharp to carve into her, reshape her how it wanted her to look. She tried to remind herself that it was fine, it was fine, it was fine. Master Galo told her to leave the kitchen to bring people food, and even though it wasn’t a meal this still counted. Besides, he never really saw her anyway, and it was a big house, what were the chances of them bumping into each other?

Sasha would try to be quick, even so. She felt marginally better once she was out of the door, out into the sunlight which warmed her. The weather was gorgeous, that day, and Sasha hardly ever got outside...

Evan and Lilah were roughhousing, Sasha could see them at a distance, and part of her was happy to see them having fun, but another part of her was anxious to see them slacking off. What if Master Galo saw them? And what if Master Galo saw her, with them, and got mad at all three of them? But Master Galo was looking for something inside the house, and he’d already been out in the garden the evening before, so it was fine, it was fine. 

Evan caught sight of her before she tried to call out, and grinned wide, hoisting Lilah up into the air with both arms around her waist, setting off another peal of laughter. “Avast! Intruder! A second stowaway beholden to mine eyes!” 

Sasha giggled, shoulders hunching up.

“Nay nay f-fair sea ca-captain. It is only your h-h-humble scullery maid.”

“Aarrrrg,” Evan called, swooping Lilah down so she dangled close to the ground, wiggling only a little because she didn’t actually want to be dropped. “If ye were truly of my crew you would know me for a pirate! No fair captains here, lassie!”

“Oh,” Sasha said, taking a moment to switch gears while Evan pretended to chomp at Lilah’s face. “Then m-mayhaps this rowdy p-pirate can be bribed?”

“Death! Death to the pirate king!” Lilah pretended to shout, because none of them were actually stupid enough to be loud. “I shall have him mounted to the bow as my new figurehead!”

“Arrg, big talk for such a wee lass!” Evan kissed her temple and set her down. “But maychance I shall let the shrimpy go uneaten, at the lovely dame’s behest.”

Sasha giggled again, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Evan while Lilah “awww”ed at the apple rabbits. A hand on her elbow brought her attention to Lilah, red rabbit pinched between her fingers. “Are you good to be out of the kitchen?”

“I… don’t know,” Sasha said honestly, nerves kicking back up. “N-nervous.”

Evan nodded, chewing on the apple slice in his hand, and hooked his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. He tongued the mouthful into one cheek and said, “You could say you’re giving us a late lunch, if Master gets bothered. We’ll back you up.”

Lilah nodded, and Sasha felt her nerves uncurl. It was hours after they’d actually eaten, but not so late to warrant scrutiny for the excuse. 

“Though, if I’m c-caught out here, you t-two definitely would b-be.”

“Point,” Evan and Lilah chorused. They moved further into the hedges, sitting down on a little stone bench together and Sasha told them about how she planned to start doing more food carvings, since she had all this time on her hands, and she liked the extravagance and challenge they presented. The sun was really hot, actually, and Sasha wondered if maybe she’d already started to burn. She didn’t want to leave, though.

But she did, when Lilah playfully gave her hair a tug and her worn elastic finally bit it. She sighed, taking that as her cue to head inside, and set the plate down in the kitchen before moving down the stairs. 

Master Galo was there.

Sasha couldn’t help the “Eep!” that escaped her, only a decade of practice keeping her from recoiling, from shrinking back, her now-trembling legs barely saved from backing away. Master Galo turned, face indiscernible before he gave a smile to Sasha. He filled their bedroom, loomed inside it with the light casting his face in a shadow, massive, like he was waiting--

Her knees gave out, body instinctively curling so her forehead was to the floor, hands wringing and clutched close to her chest. She couldn’t even breathe as he approached her. 

“Hey, Sasha,” he said, his voice taking that easy, careless tone he always seemed to take when he played his games with them. Not like his morning greetings or thanks for his green juice, something sinisterly akin to comforting, to soothing. She glanced up, and found his hand outstretched. Graceless, she took the hand, and pressed a shaking kiss to it while she prayed he would forgive her the oversight of not doing that when she saw him. She knew he preferred that to kneeling--she was so stupid! And she must have fucked up, because this time Master Galo didn’t retract his hand like he normally did, instead he curled his fingers around her hand, holding it loosely and stroking her thumb with his hand that could crush the fragile bones of her own at any moment. 

“‘M sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sasha glanced up at him, terrorized; how was she supposed to respond to that!? What did he want? Did he want anything in particular, or was this just some script for manners that he included in the game? She nod nod nodded as she glanced away, and in her peripheral she saw him reach out his other hand, but it only landed on her shoulder. That at least was familiar. Comforting. But then, with a squeeze, he shifted his hand underneath her arm and brought her to her feet. She’d been graceless the first time he lifted her, and she was graceless again this time, too, weeks to adjust and prepare herself and still she couldn’t keep her weight off him, made him take some of her disgusting weight in his own hands in order to position her how he wanted and she knew that wasn’t forgivable. She braced for it, shivering minutely as his hands lingered where they were. She could barely breathe, standing there under his scrutiny, feeling his eyes on her as another one of his slow, thoughtful silences dragged on.

“Is everything alright, Sasha?” Images of Barbara came unbidden, of terrible things that had happened just the day before. But nothing had happened that day, so she nodded. “Good.”

It occurred to her, belatedly, as he took another (far briefer) pause to think, that perhaps he had been asking if she was behaving herself, or if she had any reason to be out of the kitchen at this time of day. Really, where did she get off even thinking that he might be voicing concern for anyone’s well-being? Stupid! (Unprecedented; her own thoughts alarmed her). 

“Sasha, do you all sleep here?”

She dared a glance at his face, not understanding. Why… why..? But hers was not to understand, hers was to obey, and her Master had asked her a question. She nodded, but it was the wrong answer. Master Galo’s lips pressed thin. 

“Okay, well, we can fix that. There are those dorms on the other side of the basement, those would work, or we could choose individual rooms from--”

Sasha felt panic flood her, her anxiety lancing her with sudden, violent intensity, enough for her to cry out a choked “No--!” He looked to her, surprised, (and in truth, she was surprised by her own actions, or at least would be later, at her defiance, at her arrogance) “Pl--” don’t stutter, don’t stutter, she couldn’t stutter, it’d make it worse, Master Galo was being forgiving still, she hadn’t fucked up the game he was playing he was shushing her and touching her but she needed to not stutter. Maybe, maybe if she could ask without stuttering, maybe then he’d, maybe they wouldn’t have to-- 

“Easy, Sasha, shhh shsh, easy honey, what’s wrong?” She choked down a high whine, a small whimper escaping her anyway (sloppy, the rest of her family would’ve stayed quiet, she was supposed to be quiet). 

She needed to get herself together. She was the one he was playing his game with, now, she needed to… to win. She squeezed his hand with panicked desperation, maybe if she could prove she wanted it enough, he’d find it entertaining. “Please,” she gasped, “M-” She cut herself off, feeling the stutter before it could bubble out of her, breathing hard like that had ever once made the stutter go away before. “Master, don’t m-make--” No! No, no, she covered her mouth with tears stinging her eyes, curling in on herself (ugly, poor posture, no-good rotten girl). She wanted to beg on the floor, curl down on her knees and huddle in on herself without it being bad but he was still touching her so she couldn’t!

“Typing! Here, just type it out.” He pulled out his phone and tapped on it before handing it to her, and she took it with shaky hands. Now she couldn’t curl down on her knees because she was holding his property, his possession, and she didn’t let herself even think about the possibility of dropping it because if she thought about it she would make herself sick. Right now, she needed to focus on begging, on keeping her family together in the one space that had been some small degree of safe, that had been in some miniscule way theirs. 

Please Master don’t make us separate, she wrote, and when she handed it back she fumbled it. She gasped, one tear slipping out, but she wiped at it while Master Galo read what she’d written and she thought maybe he didn’t even notice. When his hand approached her she flinched, but he just touched her shoulder again, and maybe it was just because nothing bad had happened to her while he was touching her there, so far, but it almost soothed her.

Master Galo had another one of his long thoughtful pauses, staring at the phone screen and moving his thumb slowly, lightly over her shoulder, skimming the edge of her apron strap. She stood, shoving down the tears, shoving down the trembling, shoving down her need to curl into a ball at his feet and beg him to just kick her and get it over with, as she waited on his response. Please, Master Galo, please don’t make us separate she willed, like if she just thought hard enough maybe he’d feel it.

“Okay, Sasha, thank you,” he said at long last, “I like it when you ask me for things, that’s very good, and since you asked, you get what you asked for, see? No separating.”

Sasha’s eyes blew wide, looking at Master Galo’s hand, at the phone in it, then the hand on her shoulder, his face, the room, back to her Master. He, he liked? He liked it, when, when they--or, when she? When, asking would, he liked it when they asked for things? She didn’t understand. She’d ask her family later, what they thought, what the game was, if he was lying, if they should ask--or if she should ask? Swallowing hard, Sasha raised a hand and pointed a finger at her own chest. Did Master Galo want her, Sasha, to be the one to ask, like a responsibility, like it was her responsibility to feed everyone?

“Yeah, you honey.” God oh no oh no Nyla was the one who was good at talking why did Sasha have to be the one--she couldn’t even talk right and-- “And the others. I like it when all of you ask me for things that you want. Like when I took Greyson to the cemetery, yeah?”

Oh. Oh! Oh!!! Sasha nodded, feeling herself calm down. Like Greyson and the indulgence. Like how Master Galo had made Evan beg to be punished before he would--oh, oh it made sense! It made sense now! Master Galo, it must be some sort of power display or something, it was the act of being asked that he liked! Like, maybe like just the reminder that he had the ability to tell them yes or no because he owned them and--and she should be paying attention to him, right now, in front of her. She risked another glance up at her owner’s face, and maybe it was just because she felt like she finally understood one of the rules to a game but she gave him a shaky, if genuine smile. Master Galo smiled back, and it almost felt like Sasha was in on something. First to know. The one who would share with the rest of the family, what she had learned.

Master Galo released her with a step back, and Sasha drew in a tremulous breath. “Didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you were doing, here. Getting a hair tie?” Sasha nodded, remembering that just now, herself. Master Galo passed her by with a “Alright, have a good one,” and Sasha took two hesitant steps toward the dresser, out of the line of sight of the doorway, before collapsing onto the carpet. She… didn’t even feel particularly scared. Just, just, so much, so intensely, and it had drained her of all her strength. She just needed a moment, please, just a moment, to collect herself, to refind her strength and composure.

She didn’t let herself stay down long, just enough for the worst of the shakes to pass through her in ebbing waves, cycling out of her, before she rose, grabbed a hair tie, got herself presentable again, and left.

Master Galo was in the Punishment Room.

Sasha knew better than to recoil, but even so, on her quietest feet, she ran. Through the basement, up the stairs, to the kitchen, and she was cornered, she couldn’t leave, but, she was hiding, “hiding,” he could find her he could come find her any moment but this was where she was supposed to be she was good she was good she wasn’t being bad she didn’t want to be bad there wasn’t any reason to put her in the Punishment Room god please god not the Punishment Room even Evan hadn’t been in the Punishment Room in so long and Mistress hadn’t put her in it in so so long and Master Galo didn’t need to use it please please not the Punishment Room why was he there what was he doing why please no please not--

“--sha? Sasha?”

“Nyla!” Sasha gasped, clinging to her the moment her eyes registered that she was there.

“What’s wrong? Sasha, what happened?”

“I--he--” Sasha choked, curling into Nyla, face pressed into her shoulder, clutching at her apron skirt, desperate, needing, and Nyla’s arms came up around her back, holding onto her (safe, safe, Nyla was safe Nyla would protect her Nyla would make everything better). She tried to speak, her mouth not working, and it took her three, four attempts before she finally managed to get it across that their Master was in the Punishment Room. Nyla soothed her, soft shushes with her hand in Sasha’s hair.

“He’s been searching the house,” Nyla said in hushed tones, “He’s looking for something, that’s all, he isn’t,” Nyla seemed to falter, but pressed on, “Master Galo isn’t going to hurt us. Not, not there, at least. He’s just searching for something, that’s all, it’s alright Sasha, pull yourself together it’s alright, sh sh.”

Sasha nodded, trying to tamp it down. Master Galo had searched the garden the day before, he’d been through the house that day, Nyla had discussed it with her earlier! Master Galo was looking for something, and, and that had to be it, right? He was just checking all the rooms. Slowly, far too slowly, Sasha wound down.

Nyla pulled back enough to cup Sasha’s cheek in her palm, and searched her eyes. “Maybe… do you suppose he’s surveying the household; he didn’t go through room-by-room when he arrived, perhaps he’s just doing it a little late?” Nyla suggested. “Or possibly inspecting our work?”

And Sasha had just been thinking, earlier, on how lucky they all were that he didn’t seem to do that. She couldn’t help but feel that she’d jinxed it.

“M-maybe?”

Nyla took a deep breath and Sasha caressed her cheek in return, their foreheads pressing together.

“Just focus on your job, for now. I’ll speak up if something happens.”

Sasha felt herself soothe down a little more. Nyla would handle it. She nodded, trying to seem more confident than she was (her nerves were shot), and Nyla drank a glass of water before leaving.

Sasha remembered belatedly that she needed to tell Nyla that Master Galo wanted them to ask him for things, but this way she just ended up telling everyone at once, once their Master had eaten and they were gathered together in the kitchen for dinner.

“So he likes grovelling,” Evan mused, not sounding as bitter as he might have. Maybe despondent? But not angry, and Sasha’s brows knit to see him so… reduced. But maybe this news would cycle through and he’d feel better.

“It explains why I didn’t have to pay for the indulgence,” Greyson mentioned quietly. “Why he rewarded me for it.” Oh right, Greyson had gotten an easy day, hadn’t he?

“And why Evan was given prolonged threats with a comparatively mild punishment,” Nyla mused, “And it also might actually explain why we weren’t allowed to eat that first week. He was waiting for us to ask, and Lilah’s stumbling indicated that we would pass out first.”

Lilah huffed and stabbed her potato. “Mistress only liked begging when we were hurting,” she groused, voicing frustration that Sasha, personally, wasn’t even brave enough to feel. “And we sure weren’t supposed to ask for anything.”

Nyla could, because Nyla knew when to ask, and how to ask, and how to ask for only so much at one time, so it didn’t come off greedy, but balanced it with not asking too frequently, to avoid pestering Mistress. But now Master wanted to be pestered.

“Arrogant,” Evan whispered, barely a breath, not bold like he was normally (like he was supposed to be (no, that was a bad thing to think)). 

“We c-can grovel,” Sasha said, kinda hopefully, “I don’t m-mind grovelling.”

“It’ll take a bit to get used to,” Nyla said, setting her fork down on her empty plate and patting down her apron, “but I think ultimately this is going to be a better situation for us. And, by some stroke of fortune, it doesn’t seem that we’ve left the adjustment period yet.”

“He might not like that he had to spell it out for us though,” Lilah said, and oh, Sasha hadn’t even thought of that. He kept waiting for them to figure it out and they hadn’t. That was… probably not good.

“We’ll…” Nyla huffed through her nose. “Everyone just keep minding their manners, and let me know if his temper seems shorter or if you notice anything peculiar, or any changes, really.”

“He seemed different during tonight’s meal,” Greyson mentioned, and the family turned to him. “Not in any discernible way, but,” Greyson shrugged, a small barely-there movement that Sasha knew as well as her own skin, “different. Stiff, maybe.”

Nyla took a deep breath, the family looking to her, waiting for her verdict. “That probably means he’s a little irritated, but still not inclined to hurt us. It might also be from not finding--or finding, possibly--whatever it was he was looking for during the day. Don’t step on his toes.”

The sensation of mild alarm left the room, and Sasha… honestly felt good. Wrung out from her encounter with their Master, but they knew he liked begging, he liked being asked for things, that was--hopeful. That was a good thing, important to know, and, well, he seemed inclined to grant the things they asked for. Probably just to encourage them to keep doing it. But his motivations still meant he would do it!

It had been many years since Sasha had received any formal training, but, she vaguely remembered a unit on how to ask for things attractively. She shut down that line of thinking, because her stutter meant she would never be able to, but… as she cleaned up the kitchen, it made for a nice idle fantasy.

Next

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 81.6

Round Two: New players join.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Reawakening Part 6

           “You’re all alone.”            Squee sits doubled over on the couch, his forehead pressed into his knees and his arms wrapped around his head. He digs his fingers into his scalp as tears quietly drip down his cheeks.

           “You have nobody left,” Squishy Pete says, his unnaturally wide smile somehow even wider. “Why keep fighting? See, if you join us, you’ll never feel lonely. You’ll never have to worry about anything. You could do whatever you want. Even kill. And you’ll never die. Why keep fighting?”

           Nugget meows, catching Squee’s attention. He turns his head as the cat nudges him and he lowers his arms.

           “Vengeance,” he says.

           “What?” Pete questions.

           “Vengeance,” Squee says again, standing up and glaring down at the stress toy. “If all my friends are gone, like you say, then it’s because of you. And that’s even more reason to keep fighting. For revenge.”

           He draws his knife and Pete’s smile wavers.  

           “Uh b-but you can’t possibly fight us forever,” he points out.

           “Then I’ll die fighting,” Squee growls, pointing his blade at the toy. “All so you can lose.”            Pete stammers fearfully as Squee starts to swing, but gets interrupted by a sudden voice.

           “That’s my boy.”

           The kitchen closet suddenly blows open and random objects clatter onto the floor. Squee watches, bewildered, as something climbs out of the pile.

           “I can’t believe they just shoved me into the closet,” it grumbles.

           Squee’s knife slips from his hand as his eyes well up with fresh tears, but this time not from sadness.

           “Sh…Shmee…?” he croaks.

           The teddy bear looks at him, smiling warmly. “Hello, Squee.”    

           “You’re back,” he breathes.

           “You’re back!?” Pete squeals fearfully.

           Shmee’s smile drops into a furious glare as he faces the squishy toy. “That’s right, you rodent.”

           “B-but it’s not possible!”

           Shmee hobbles across the floor and hops up onto the coffee table. His body is in worse shape than ever before, water-stained and his seams coming apart. But he still looks intimidating as he towers over Squishy Pete.

           “You have some nerve, encroaching on my territory like this,” he snarls, “talking like you own the place. You need to learn some respect.”    

           “You…you don’t scare me!” Pete barks, “I have the power of the Nightmare on my side. I don’t sense the Daydream backing you! You’re all alone!”

           “I don’t need those bureaucrats,” Shmee growls as a shadow starts to grow around him. “I never have.”

           The teddy bear goes lifeless as a light brown aura rises out of it. It towers over Pete, grinning with a mouthful of fangs and narrowed white eyes. Pete can barely squeak in fear as Shmee picks him up with his large claw. He opens his mouth and bites down on the stress toy’s neck, ripping off its head. Shadowy black tendrils spill from the body and Shmee sucks it all up like spaghetti. When there’s nothing left, he drops the lifeless toy onto the floor.        

           “Wow,” Squee croaks. Shmee looks at him and grins brightly. Squee cracks a smile back.

           “Squee!”

           The moment is ruined as the front door slams open and Zim, Dib, Gaz, Tak, and Pepito burst in. They stop when they see Squee on the couch and the shadowy Shmee hovering over him.

           “It’s the nightmare!” Dib exclaims.

           “Relax,” Shmee scolds, “it’s just me.”

           “Shmee?” Pepito questions, “wow, so that’s your real form.”

           “What are you guys doing here?” Squee asks as he stands up.

           “We’re here to help,” Zim states.

           “Help?” he questions and glares at Pepito accusingly. “You told them?”

           “I had to,” Pepito insists, “Squee, you don’t have to handle this alone.”            “I don’t want you guys getting involved,” Squee argues, “it’s too dangerous.”

           “Squee,” Zim says sternly, “remember when Pepito’s dad attacked the city to try and get him to be the Antichrist? We all helped fight him off. And we helped Gaz when she was being harassed by that weird gamer cult. And you all helped me when I left for Irk. And we help Dib with all of his new, weekly obsessions.”

           “Hey,” Dib snaps.

           “The point being, we’re a team,” Zim states, “we help each other, no matter the danger.”

           Squee stares at him, speechless as his eyes well up.

           “They’re right, Squee,” Shmee says, “you’ve never been alone and you don’t have to face this like you are.”

           “Right,” he croaks, wipes his eyes, and smiles. “Thanks, guys.”

           The others smile back and they all squeeze together into a big, group hug.

           “So,” Squee says as they split up. “What now?”      

           “Uh, well, Johnny’s fighting that Zoli girl,” Dib says.

           “What?” he exclaims, “we gotta help him!”

           “Agreed,” Shmee nods, “but I can’t travel around in my true form and this old body of mine isn’t stable anymore.”            Squee turns to him. “So…what are you saying?”            He smiles. “I’m gonna need you to make me a new body.”            Squee blinks with surprise. “Uh…well, I haven’t written in a while…but I guess that’s a good place to start.”

           “Hang on,” Shmee says, “there’s someone else you need to help to. But uh you might wanna put on some gloves first.”            He quickly explains the situation and Squee gasps. After putting on a pair of gloves, he goes into Johnny’s room, where an old rabbit corpse is still nailed to the wall. He carefully takes it down, the remains threatening to turn to dust in his hands, and carries it back to the living room.

           “What the hell is that?” Gaz gags.

           “Nailbunny,” Squee replies as he rests the body on the coffee table. Then he sits on the couch and grabs a notebook and his favourite fountain pen.

           “Alright. Let’s see if I can still do this.”

           Meanwhile, the fight between Johnny and Zoli is still in full swing. He charges her, swinging his knives. Nightmare tendrils spread from her back to try and block the attack, but he cuts through them with ease. Before he can reach her though, she leaps back.

           “Why you running?” he snarls. Zoli can only growl in response.

           Johnny gets ready to charge again but stops when four figures suddenly drop down next to Zoli. Jimmy, Krik, Dillon, and Edgar stand next to her, staring at Johnny with surprise and horror.

           “About time,” Zoli snaps, “wait. Where’s Tess?”

           The zombies are too petrified by Johnny’s glare to answer.

           “Hey!” she barks.

           “Whu-huh-what?” Jimmy stammers as they look at her.

           “Where’s Tess?”

           “Oh, she uh she betrayed us,” he replies plainly, still somewhat distracted by Johnny’s eyes.

           “Dammit,” Zoli spits, “I knew it was a bad idea to bring her back. Whatever, we’ll deal with her later. Right now, we have to destroy him.” She glares at Johnny. “Don’t hold back. Show no mercy.”

           “Uh, r-right,” Jimmy grunts and the Nightmare tendrils burst from all five of them. Johnny snarls and grips his knives. But before anyone can move, four more figures drop from the rooftops, this time next to Johnny.

           The Night Terrors stand next to him, glaring at Zoli and her zombies.

           “Hey, Nny,” Eff says, “you look…different.”

           “So do you,” Johnny replies, examining their nightmarish changes.

           “You didn’t defeat them?” Zoli barks at the zombies, gesturing to the Night Terrors.

           “W-we tried,” Jimmy whimpers, “but-but they…they’re stronger than we thought.”

           “Unbelievable,” she growls and looks up as Tess slips off Reverend Meat’s back to sit on the ground. “And you! You will be punished for this betrayal.”

           Tess gulps and trembles.  

           “Leave her out of this, Zoli,” Reverend Meat snaps, “this is between us now.”

           “Fine,” Zoli snarls, “we’ll destroy you all at once then.”

           “Alright, now this is a party,” D-boy grins.

           “Just stay out of my way,” Johnny grunts.

           “That should be our line,” Sickness retorts.

           The Nightmare appendages lunge from Zoli and her zombies. Johnny and the Night Terrors charge them head-on. The mass of fangs and tentacles cut and slash them, but together, the five of them tear through.

           The Night Terrors clash against the zombies. Reverend Meat shatters Jimmy’s torso; Sickness slices Edgar in half; the Doughboys rip off Krik and Dillon’s heads. And through the shower of severing limbs, Johnny swings at Zoli.

           She draws a pair of machetes from her coat and barely manages to block his knives. The blades clang against each other and they both swing again.

           They swing and swing and swing and cut into each other, slicing their faces, arms, and chests. Johnny’s blood mixes with Zoli’s as they splatter the road.

           Suddenly, Johnny throws down his blades and catches Zoli’s arms. She’s briefly caught by surprise before he smashes his head into hers. He lets go of her arms as she flies back and skids down the road.

           “M-m’lady,” Jimmy croaks as his body regenerates before Reverend Meat crushes it again.            

           Zoli lies on the ground, coughing up blood. Johnny stands over her, panting as blood drips from his various injuries.

           “This ends now,” he growls.

           Zoli flinches back as he steps forward, then scowls.

          “No!” she shrieks. A humungous mass of tendrils burst from her chest and crash into Johnny. The same thing happens with the zombies, knocking back the Night Terrors. They all roll down the road and look up in shock as the appendages mold together, forming a giant cloud of writhing fangs and tendrils that looms over them, nearly blocking out the sun.

           The appendages strike and Johnny and the Night Terrors brace themselves.

           But nothing happens.

           They look up to see a person standing in front of them. They’re holding their hand forward, emitting a light blue force field from their hand. The Nightmare smashes against it but the shield doesn’t give.

           “Who the-?” Eff questions.

           A second person drops down next to the first. The force field is lowered and the Nightmare is absorbed into their mouth, like they’re sucking up spaghetti. After a couple seconds, the entire mass is gone, leaving Zoli and the zombies lying on the ground, and the person sighs with content.

           “Wh-what?” Zoli gasps, out of breath.

           “Who are you?” Johnny asks.

           The two people turn towards him and his eyes widen with surprise. They don’t look familiar, really, but they have a very familiar feeling.

           They’re both tall, slender men. One of them has short, brown hair. He’s wearing simple brown pants and a matching t-shirt with a brown trench coat. There’s a long scar cutting diagonally down the middle of his face and he has a single bucktooth.

           The other one has short, blue hair. He’s wearing blue jeans with a white shirt that has a cartoon nail in the middle. Both of his eyes have matching scars in the shape of ‘X’s and he has two buckteeth, like a rabbit.

           Johnny stares at the blue haired man, too stunned to say anything. The man smiles at him but before he can say anything, Zoli shouts angrily.

           “You!” she snaps as she stands up. “Who are you?”            The brunette clears his throat. “I’m surprised you don’t know me. Although, I guess we never were officially introduced.”

           He nods at the blue haired man. “After you.”

           He bows his head with respect. “I am Nailbunny. I block out evil.”

           “And I am Shmee,” the other smirks, “I absorb evil.”

[kxhlzn]

i | THE BIRDWATCHER.

SYNOPSIS: You spend some time brewing over big news, and Ben has a favor to ask.

GENRE: Coming-Of-Age, Drama, Angst, Romance, Slow Burn.

PAIRINGS: Stanley Uris/Reader, confusing Richie/Reader, Unrequited!Beverly/Reader, Bev/Ben, Pining!Eddie/Richie.

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Profanity, semi-nudity, gay pining. Bullying, homophobia, etc in future chapters!

SONG RECS: 'She' by Dodie.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I made a post about my choice to rewrite this series, so here's the first chapter! The Losers' Club are all fifteen here, but this is still set in 1989. Pennywise doesn't exist. Reader is bisexual, or at least interested in guys and gals (& maybe non-binary pals! Whatever floats your boat!) Also if this all over the place don't come at me pls. Slightly edited and idk if it is even good so— 🤪✌🏻

There's been quite a few changes :)

MAY 1989.

DEAR LOSERS' CLUB,

No, that wasn't personal enough. You wanted each of them to know what they meant to you. Each of them.

DEAREST BEVERLY,

Why must your thoughts always drift to her first? Why can't she be third or fifth?

TO RICHIE,

You huff dramatically and crumple the notebook paper, attempting to toss it into the waste bin a few feet away.

A detached sigh tumbles from the wide desk across from you, and your history teacher slowly retracts his novel from in front of him to reveal an unamused expression.

He rolls his tongue against his cheek, and waits. When he is met with silence, he shifts in his seat. "... Aren't you, uh... Against wasting trees or whatever?"

You blink. "Yeah, obviously."

"Yeah, obviously!" Mr. Ellis laughs bitterly, and rolls his eyes. "Well, can you waste them a bit quieter?"

Before you can respond, he puts up a finger like he's suddenly been enlightened. "Or, better yet— Leave."

You tap your fingertips against your thighs, and kick your feet up onto your desk. "You know, if I didn't know better, Mr. Ellis, I'd think you didn't like me or something."

He stares at you blankly. "And where on Earth did you come up with that idea?"

You shrug, "No clue. Mr. Ellis, can I confide in your honest feedback on something?"

"I imagine you will anyway—"

"—So, listen... I'm going on a personal journey when summer break is over and I'm afraid I won't ever see you again," You explain, curving your brows inward. Your teacher uses his index finger to trace a single tear gliding down his cheek. "And, um, I don't— I don't know how to.. How do I tell the only true friends I've ever had?"

He pretends to think it over long and hard. "Let me see..."

"I don't care," He finishes, picking up his novel where he left off.

You scowl, and drop your forehead against the surface of your desk, the echo reverberating throughout the empty classroom, save for two people.

Mr. Ellis unwraps a cookie and takes a large bite, and glances at you intermediately between pages. He sighs again. "Will you leave if I tell you what to do?"

"Faster than when the lunch bell rings," You chirp, grinning brightly and leaning forward eagerly on your desk.

He rolls his eyes and puts his feet up on his desk, and pressing his back into his chair. "Go have some fun. Get high. Jump off roofs and ding-dong ditch. Just go be a kid, and tell them when the time is right. Okay?"

   A light breeze rushes through the windows propped open with history textbooks, rustling the papers stacked on Mr. Ellis's large desk. Outside, the faint echo of laughter and summer jitters resounds within the four walls surrounding you.

You nod firmly, and skip to an open window.

Tossing him a grin, you give some finger guns. You crawl up onto the large sill, and before you hop out, Mr. Ellis calls your name.

He has the softest expression you've ever seen on him. "Listen— It's been a pleasure having you. Even if you were the loudest, most persistent, and possibly the worst student I've ever had. Just, uh— Be honest with your friends, okay? Don't wait 'til the last minute. They'll never forgive you if you do."

You give him a two-finger salute before hopping out the window.

You found out you were moving away from Derry in early April, due to an accident involving your grandfather's motorcycle obsession, but there was never really a good time to tell the people you've been slumming it with since you were eleven. The first time you tried, Richard Tozier pushed you off a cliff (a story for another time), and the second time, Ben burned himself on Beverly's flat iron (also a long story). The third time, the words fell dead on your lips when Stanley Uris told you you were the closest thing to a best friend he had.

You swear he was on the verge of tears.

So, you postponed. Now, it's late May, and you haven't said a word to them.

You know you have to tell them— You know this, you do, but the timing is never right. At least, that's what you keep telling yourself— Because somehow the words "you're a coward" are far too intimidating to admit.

Especially to yourself.

Heat swells across your cheeks, the massive, and rowdy, kitchen bustling with voices and feet. Your apron hugs your waist and you peer over your shoulder at Beverly, whose red hair is vibrant against the pale walls. Her blue eyes glance up to meet yours, and they are gentle. Bristling, you face Stanley on your right, who is speaking softly with an elderly woman on the other side of the counter.

The soup kitchen is a bit vacant in terms of people to serve, as it's the first few minutes before the dinner crowd pools in at seven. This time is the most peaceful— Pots and pans full of nutritional foods are filling up quick, and you're all anxious to help anybody who walks in the doors.

In Derry, there isn't much funding for volunteer work, so you do what you can— The local church offered up lodging for the soup kitchen, so you're all pretty thankful for the church leaders.

You study Stanley silently, his eyes focused and mild as he speaks with the woman. He's grown quite a bit since last summer, and he let his hair grow out a bit, so now it's a wild mess of curls. You like that he's eased up on the product, so he's all-natural. In order to catch what the woman is saying, he leans forward, in all his 5'8" glory.

He glances at you and places a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Louanne. I'll see what I can do."

She smiles. "Bless you, Stephen."

You snort while she waddles off, and Stanley leans on the counter with his attention locked on you. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"She seems sweet," You say, "How you liking volunteering, Stephen?"

He tries to prevent himself from laughing. "Stop! That's so mean, she's sick."

"What ever do you mean?" You quip, leaning on the counter next to him. Stan rubs your hair into a frizzy mess and stands tall.

"Uris, I need you over here on dishes," Willow, your team leader, shouts from across the kitchen. You can only briefly catch her curvy figure before she disappears behind the doorway.

"Nah, Willow, I got it! Stan's good with the old ladies. Real player, this one," You respond, poking Stan's stomach, "Maybe you'll get lucky."

"That's gross! Go away."

You laugh maniacally.

The dinner rush is heavy once seven hits, but it fades out at about 7:45. People are ecstatic that's it stew night because they are allowed to take a styrofoam bowl on the go. A few stragglers are permitted to camp the night out in the main hall, as the homeless aren't taken to kindly in Derry. Mayor claims it's 'bad' for traffic and tourism, but you know that Derry is the last place anyone would want to tour in. You're pretty sure it's been wiped off the maps, but that's a conspiracy theory for another time, one that Richie had so kindly coined.

Most of the kids who volunteer at the soup kitchen in the church are hoping to capture some hours for the college applications, but you volunteered because you felt like it was the right thing to do; It was simply convenient that it looked good on apps.

There's light shuffling and clanging as volunteers work to clear up the church for Sunday mass. You balance a tray of plates and glasses pressed against your chest with one arm, while you wipe down a table. There's a hand on your shoulder that suddenly startles you, causing you to drop the tray on instinct.

Glass shatters everywhere, then silence.

"Fuck!" You whisper violently, and you drop to your knees, frantically trying to pick up as many shards as possible before Willow comes screaming.

Beverly is beside you, as is Stanley, and all three of your try to clean the mess.

"God, I'm so sorry," Beverly says, "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Uh, no, no, it's okay," You reply quickly, looking up at her. She smiles softly.

You flush and revert your attention back to the problem at hand. Your cheeks burn a bit, so you try to ignore it— But it leads to carelessness, and you give yourself a clean cut across your forefinger.

Hissing, you retract your hand and examine the damage. The minute you notice red, you become uneasy. Beverly and Stanley both take a sharp inhale.

"Oh, God— Uh, Stan, you got this? I'm gonna go get her cleaned up," Beverly says.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Thanks. C'mon, let's go," Beverly tells you, but you shake your head.

"I'm fine! S'just a cut. I can slap a bandaid on it later," You reassure her, but she's not having it.

"Now," She warns, gripping your arm softly.

Bottom line, Beverly Marsh can make you do anything she wants you to.

You kick your legs out in a steady beat, seated on a counter, while Bev digs around the first aid kit in the storage room. Her back is facing you, so you have a chance to study the freckles up the top of her spine and into her hairline.

You hold your right hand with your wrist, squeezing harder each time your wound throbs.

"Got it," Bev whispers, and she turns quickly. Positioning herself between your knees, she takes a hold of your finger and wipes it briefly with a wet cotton ball. Next, she uses a clean one to wipe disinfectant across the slit. "How bad does it hurt?"

You lie. "Not much."

Her blue eyes look at you with amusement. "Please."

"Okaaay. A bit more than 'not much'."

"Hm," Beverly applies a bit of cream on your cut. "What kind of bandaid do you want?"

She holds up plain, princess, and car bandaids.

"What the fuck are those? Gender-specific bandages?"

She says your name sternly.

You sigh. "Princess, please."

Beverly smiles and opens the package.

The room is quiet for all except the rustling of the paper, and you pop your mouth awkwardly.

"Hey," Bev says slowly, "Um, listen... You do realize that Stan—"

The door is cracked open and the curly head of Stanley peeks through. "Hey... The cut isn't bad, is it?"

You and Bev glance at each other, and Bev shakes her head.

"No, not at all. Just finishing up," She replies, sticking the pink bandaid on your wound. You hop down and wiggle your finger at Stanley with a grin.

"Good as new!"

He smiles softly. "Glad you're okay. I cleaned up all the glass, so don't worry about it."

"Okay! Thanks, Stan," You say, hooking your arm around his neck. He prickles a bit but relaxes immediately.

Beverly unties her apron and lays it on her forearm while she walks on your free side. "M' still upset Ben couldn't make it."

"Me too," You agree, "He was really looking forward to it."

"He can always go without us," Stan adds.

"It's not the same, though!" You say.

Stan shrugs.

It's humid outside the church, but that's to be expected during the summer. The sky is a deep cloudy sapphire, with the buzz of bugs filling the air. The older volunteers disappear into their cars while you, Stanley, and Beverly talk amongst yourselves. Bulbs above the entrance are the only source of light within a few yards.

Beverly puts her weight on her left foot, the gravel beneath her crackling while she recites a story Bill told her about local legends.

Just as she reaches the climax, the church doors creak open and Willow appears. She keeps her back to you while she locks the entrance, and once she turns, she eyes the three of you.

"Y'all need a ride?"

All of you glance at each other, and Stanley checks his watch.

"We'd love one!" You chirp, giving him a light shove.

"If it's alright with you, of course," Bev adds.

"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't!" Willow says sharply, but without venom. "Hop in."

Somehow, you end up squeezed in the middle, with Stanley and Beverly on each of your sides. You scowl, eyeing the passenger seat with a purse in it.

Stan's clearly uncomfortable, his shoulders curved inward while he anxiously taps his kneecaps. He seems to be looking everywhere but at you and Bev.

"Everything okay?" You whisper.

He shrugs. "Yeah, just, uh— My mom isn't big on me getting home so late from the kitchen; She wants me to quit."

"That's fucked," You say.

"Hey!" Willow barks, glaring at you through the rearview mirror. "I may your super cool team leader, but I still don't appreciate you using a dirty mouth in my car."

You snicker, and she bursts into laughter.

Beverly pokes your shoulder. "Hey, um— Would... Would it be cool if I stayed with you tonight? My dad, he, um... He went out drinking when I woke up, so—"

"Of course," You interrupt. "Stay however long you need."

"Thanks..." Bev says quietly, and she leans against the window of the car.

Willow pulls up into your driveway within five minutes, and Bev steps out. You make an effort to give Stan a brief hug before you go, and he gives you a little wave as Willow leaves.

You and Bev remain quiet when you sneak into the house through the front door, in fear you might wake your mother. When you enter the living room and see the woman's knocked out cold with the television on, you wave Beverly upstairs. She obliges.

You creep up to your mother and crouch next to her head. She's got a bit of drool pooling on the cushion, and you crinkle your nose.

Retrieving a pillow from a loveseat, you tuck it gently beneath her head and pull a blanket over her. Giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, you leave a glass of water and ibuprofen on the coffee table.

"Does she always do that?" Is the first thing Bev says when you reach your bedroom. You're a bit taken aback, but you regroup swiftly.

"Yeah. She gets these really bad migraines," You explain, leaving your bag on the floor and kicking off your sneakers. "And, um, they can sometimes turn into seizures, so we try to let her sleep as comfortably as possible."

"Oh," Bev says, "Can I borrow some pajamas?"

"Yeah!" You reply, "Just grab something from the closet or my drawers."

"'Kay," She snags a blank tank while you pick out a yellow nightgown. You're facing the mirror when Beverly pulls off her t-shirt, and you nearly choke. You can't seem to take your eyes off her back, even when you know you've been staring for too long. "Is your little brother asleep?"

You drop your attention to the floor and quickly pull off your shirt. "Yeah, should be. I'll kill the little shithead if he's not."

Bev smiles. "He's a good kid; If he's awake, he's probably reading. He likes to read, right?"

"Yup," You pop the 'p', "He's into numbers and all that. I'll never understand it."

"He probably thinks the same thing about your art, you know."

You hum and pull the nightgown over your head. "Everybody thinks that way about art, Bev. If you're not dedicated to a nine to five office job, then you're somehow a deadbeat, leaching off the productive middle class."

Bev laughs gently, and it's airy and elegant and perfect. "You're always opinionated, you know that?"

When you toss her a quizzical look, she elaborates and walks over to face you. "Not in a negative way; It's like... It's like you must have all these thoughts swimming around in that pretty head of yours."

Pretty?

Beverly continues. "I mean, you're just so... I don't know? Most people don't care about anything, let alone the world or society. You're bound to make a difference."

You blink at her, your fairy lights hanging loosely from your window and spreading a gold light. Her ocean eyes are iridescent. She's iridescent. Her pink lips curve into a smile, and she glances at the floor.

"What?" She whispers.

You sputter. "N-Nothing. Just, um— Thanks. Thank you, really. I— I just, nobody's taken me that seriously before," You explain, tucking a thick strand of hair behind your ear. "I've always just been Loudmouth."

Bev's face melts into one of sympathy and curiosity, her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks. Gingerly, she places a hand on your shoulder, one that shoots electricity throughout your skin. Her grip tightens. "Listen. Quiet people don't do shit, okay? People who keep their opinions to themselves don't make history."

You shrug a shoulder and give her a lopsided smile. "I can't even make a difference in backwater Derry. How the hell am I supposed to change the world?"

Outside, rain begins to patter restlessly against your windowsill, keeping the stars awake. Inside, Beverly looks at you like she just might think you're a goddess.

"You've already changed mine."

Your entire life, people have told you how the world has to be: Simple, honest, and conservative. They've told you who to be, who to love, what to do. It's always been "you'll meet someone who makes you feel like the world is glowing", followed by, "don't rush, you'll find him soon". What if you don't want to find him? What if you want to find her?

What if you already have?

Beverly Marsh is incomparably the prettiest girl you've ever seen when she's jumping from the cliff into the lake below.

Scratch that, she's incomparably the prettiest girl you've ever seen, and she makes your universe glow.

She's a flash of red, shimmering, shining, iridescent; A ruby tossed into the sky like a plain penny into a wishing well.

   She's radiant, tomboyish, and beautiful.

Beverly, in all her elegance, has learned to tame your chaotic hair, your wild eyes, and the crooked pair of overalls that swallowed your thighs. Her, that gentle smile, rendered you speechless daily. You, notoriously nicknamed Loudmouth or Mouth, were silent for her.

You've already changed mine.

"Hey, Mouth! The hell are you gawking at?"

Richie Tozier waves a hand in front of you and you crank your eyes up to his squinting face. His freckles surround the massive pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, and his black hair nearly blinds him.

You throw up a palm to block the sun, but his giant head is doing most of the work. "Your mother over there in her Sunday best."

If he swung his body around any quicker, his head might have popped off like a Barbie doll. He gazes off into the woods across the quarry, his lips upturned in an unattractive flytrap.

Beverly slips her cream-colored gown off her pale shoulders, drawing all eyes to her. The sun beats down on her chopped red locks, accenting the constellation of freckles along her nose, and warming your flesh under its rays.

Catching the way they all gaze at her, as starstruck as yourself, it hits you like a freight train— you weren't looking at her like you should have been.

Under the intensity of her icy blue gaze, you feel so small; so homely. Your chest aches, but that girl doesn't give you time to grieve. She is in the air in a split second, high like an angel, falling towards the murky waters below.

  The boys crowd around the cliff's edge, mouths gaping, eyes bright. It strikes you from the heavens, like a harsh cacophony: These aren't your boys anymore.

  You had slipped out of the world briefly, and before long, you are alone at the edge.

Sandy curls appear in front of your face, tilting to reveal the kind eyes of Stanley Uris. His mouth forms a firm line. He seems to be at war with himself as he stares out into the blue sky, dotted with white clouds.

  He stays silent for a moment, searching for the right words. "I want to go last," He finally breathes, seemingly triumphed in his verbiage, "I don't want them to see me cross my fingers behind my back before I go."

  The vulnerability he expresses warms your heart, and you grin up at him, having gained your confidence back. You are grateful he didn't pry into your dilemma. You didn't expect otherwise, but it was still nice. Stanley is a boy of few words, but the word 'shy' doesn't fit right, as it implies bashfulness or a sweet innocence.

   Rather, he prefers the quality of speech over quantity, believing that the chattiest voices aren't always the loudest. A respectable notion, sure, but you tend to believe it in theory rather than in practice.

   Stanley's thin frame makes no unnecessary movements, but rather awaits yours. One of his hands cuffs the other in front of his hips. The cool breeze had only an inch to squeeze between within the crevice of your shoulders.

You pull your yellow scrunchie from your hair, and wrap it around your wrist, as Stanley speaks, "Promise not to tell?"

“Pinky promise,” You insist, holding up the smallest finger on your right hand. When his wraps around yours, you toss him a childlike grin. “I never break them.”

   You're gone, cascading down towards the green waters, each wave crystallizing in your descent.

     "I know."

Stanley crosses his fingers behind his back and steps off the cliff's rocky edge.

Stan’s dive is a flash of gold: Like a bird, graceful in its dip, his curls like its wings.

  You find yourself wanting to ask him what it's like to fly.

The water is cool, luckily fizzling the heat out of your cheeks when Beverly appears beside you, grinning softly at—

Bill.

You swallow thickly and turn your head to Richie and Eddie arguing about something pointless. Richie's skin is set ablaze every time Eddie points a finger at him or moves closer.

Across from you, Ben's eyes are set on your face, and you nearly jump when yours land on them. He sputters silently and glances over to the boulders near the trees.

You tilt your head in question, "Ben, what is it?" It's too late now, but you realize you weren't very subtle. At all.

He facepalms. "Can we, uh...?"

Nodding in understanding, you doggy paddle through the lake and onto the shore. Ben is quickly beside you.

The boy leads you over to the boulders and sits on a large one. His hands are glued to his knees, and you can tell he's anxious.

You lean your elbows on your thighs and wait.

"U-U-Um— Can I..? Would you..?" He shakes his head suddenly and regroups. "I need— I need help with something..."

"...Okay..?" You gesture for him to elaborate.

"Can you help me write love notes to Beverly?" He spits out softly, and you choke on your own spit.

You stand up abruptly, like you sat on a pin, and cross your arms. Your brows curl inward in confusion, embarrassment, and anxiety. "W-What? Sorry, I don't— Why?"

"Because... You are a girl, you know? You know a lot more personal stuff about her, I think, right?" He asks, rubbing his clammy palms together.

"Uh," You run your fingers up your arm, "I guess? I don't think... That would be... She doesn't..."

He gives you an awkward crooked smile. "I mean, it's okay 'cause you're a girl. I wanted to ask Bill or someone else but since they're guys it might be different..."

"H-How so?"

"Well— You know. They might secretly like her or something," Ben says, staring at the dirt by his feet.

You swallow, and glance out to the water; To where she is. Beverly meets your eyes and smiles gently. Your stomach does a flip.

"Can I— Can I think about it?" You inquire softly, and Ben nods swiftly.

"Yes! Yes, of course. That's okay," He sounds a bit sad.

You reach out and rub his shoulder. "You're an amazing person, Ben, you know that? She'd love anything you wrote to her."

You smile crookedly, the corner of your mouth twitching.

Ben nods slowly and shakes his arms a bit to free himself of nerves. "You're right— I should just be more confident..."

He's obviously trying to convince himself more than you.

"Bev—" He shouts suddenly, and she looks over with a grin. One of her hands runs through her hair, and you can feel her eyes burning holes in your face just seconds before she focuses on him. "You look beautiful today!"

Beverly Marsh smiles ever so gently, her cheeks blossoming in a shade of scarlet. The freckles lining the bridge of her nose accent the brightness of her eyes, and you swallow thickly.

She really does.

Tapping a pen against a thick sheet of paper, you push your tongue against your cheek and read over the words again.

PROS:

♡ helping ben!

♡ practicing writing!

♡ practicing stationary!

♡ getting ben and bev together!

♡ making bev feel good!

♡ getting over the butterflies?

You scowl. The hell does that mean? You glance at the clock, which reads 8:37. You consider the pros to writing anonymous love letters to Beverly, which seems to be a lot— And the selfish part of you tells you that it would be beneficial to you— How so? You're not quite sure, as admitting to yourself that it even took nearly an hour.

Within your friend group, you've always been relatively open— Keeping up with honesty, kindness, and always wearing your heart on your sleeve. Stanley said it was naive to do so, but you feel that in a world that is so blatantly harsh and negative, being real with those around you is a heap of good. So why is it suddenly so difficult to be honest with yourself?

You concentrate your thoughts of Beverly, so that you might understand, or in the least identify, what exactly your true intentions with her are. Immediately, your stomach curls, and you feel your insides turn to mush. These sensations are familiar— You've had countless encounters with them.

You picture her in your head, memorize the features of her that always seem to stick when she's around. Her red hair, her freckles, those eyes... And her lips. The curve of them when she grins, or laughs— And briefly, ever so, you imagine what'd they'd be like pressed against yours—

"Hey," Your mom says, your door now swung open, and you scream, tipping out of your desk chair. You land flat against your back and groan.

Your heart beats painfully in your ribcage.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Come do the dishes," She tells you, and you nod profusely.

You inhale through your nostrils and run your fingers through your hair, sighing. Once she's gone, you push your head into the crook of your elbow.

Tears unravel into your arm.

Why did it have to be Beverly Marsh?

[ 🌱 ] taglist (from original write):

@hannarudick @cedricisnotonfire @russian-romanova @pacifythepanda @queen1054 @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @delicrieux (you get to be on here cuz.. i said so).

[knamjooned]

Magicae Foresta (6)

pairing: (forest)dragon!namjoon x (unpracticed)witch!reader

genre: magic/supernatural au, shifter au, fluff, angst, smut, soulmate au

chapter words: 2,394

chapter warnings: none

chapter rating: G

STORY SUMMARY: The magical world your grandmother told you about had always been real to you. Once she passed away, you find yourself honoring her memory by searching for the one magical creature she could never find.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Namjoon gathers the courage to talk to you and you get to ride on the back of a dragon.

SIX

Even though he had no official training, Namjoon had helped deliver several little ones in the forest over the last two centuries. With Taehyung’s help, the three cubs were magical checked over and cleaned up. Namjoon put a hand on the unicorn’s shoulder and took a step back as the new parents bonded with their children. 

“We should leave them be,” Taehyung whispered, turning and walking toward the door. Namjoon followed him through the door and down the stairs, knowing and feeling you at the bottom. He swallowed, gripping the railing as he moved. When he reached the bottom, Namjoon reluctantly let go of the railing and stepped onto the grass. Jungkook and Minji were laughing while your face was bright red. 

“Three little cubs have been born!” Taehyung cried, throwing his arms in the air dramatically. He flicked each hand and wildflowers began to grow in the small clearing, a full spectrum of colors. Namjoon grinned as he stayed back from the four of you, who had started yelling and cheering, at the edge of the flowers. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against a tree trunk. 

He heard and smelled a few creatures coming to see what the noise was about. A few fairies, a family of deer, and a bear with one cub observed from the edge of the clearing. Taehyung seemed to sense them as well, as he turned to look near Namjoon and waved to them. Jungkook and Minji agreed to go tell Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin the good news, while Taehyung took it upon himself to tell the other creatures in the forest the good news.

Namjoon found himself staring at you from his spot as you sat on the grass and pulled out a notebook and pen, glancing thoughtfully at the tree house. Did you feel the connection? Were you letting him go to you, or where you completely oblivious? You were focused intently on your notebook, scribbling slowly, then quickly, then slowly again, looking up at the tree house on and off. Swallowing, Namjoon made a decision. He could at least speak to you like a normal, friendly person.

He unfolded his arms and stuck his hands in his pocket as he tried to casually stroll toward you. When he was halfway there, you lifted your head and locked eyes with him. Namjoon felt like he’d been sucker-punched, all the breath leaving his lungs. Being distracted, his foot hit a stick, making him trip and fling his arms around to get his balance once again. The centuries old dragon flushed, mortified, as his eyes caught yours again, biting your lip to hold back a laugh.

Instead of strolling now, Namjoon just walked quickly and sat down in front of you, mirroring your pose. You put your pen down, a shy smile on your lips, and placed your things to the side. Namjoon licked his lips.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon.”

“Yes, the forest dragon shifter. It’s nice to finally meet you, Namjoon.” You held out a hand, and Namjoon took it, shaking it gently in greeting. His eyes stayed on your hands, his large one fitting nicely around yours. He didn’t want to let go, not when your skin was so soft and your natural scent became heavier and heavier the longer you held on to his hand. “My grandmother wrote a little about you.”

“Miss Silvia,” Namjoon murmured, pulling his hand back reluctantly. “I didn’t interact with her directly.” He felt guilty, knowing it was entirely his choice to stay hidden when she was visiting his area. What did you think of him, knowing that?

“I read that. She gave you the choice to appear to her, and you chose to stay hidden. Tata respected you greatly, and held no negative feelings toward you.”

“Really?” Namjoon raised his eyebrows, surprised. You nodded and tapped the book beside you.

“It’s written here.”

“I never meant any disrespect.” He let out a sigh of relief. There was a long pause, a moment of silence where something hung between the two of you. It was obvious what it was, but neither of you were racing to speak it into existence. You looked at your hands, and then glanced at his face. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you - you were so beautiful, not only physically, but he felt the good magic coming off of you in waves. Could he be biased because of his connection?

“I accept.”

“What?” Namjoon pulled himself out of his thoughts, unsure he had heard you correctly. You smiled widely at him and reached out, putting a hand on his knee. A current of warmth spread from your hand all over his body. Namjoon’s heart quickened.

“It seems the Great One has decided we complement one another enough to be mates. I may not have experience with this idea, but I’ve asked around. And, I accept.”

When Namjoon had tripped as he made his way, you figured there was more than just a dragon who preferred to hide in the trees. He had flushed, looked incredibly embarrassed, and decided it was better to just get in front of you than to look cool. As you shook his hand with your introductions, his touch filled you with energy up your and straight into your heart. It beat wildly, and you felt excitement and joy. You were proud of yourself for staying calm as he took his hand away.

You felt his eyes on you, so you couldn’t outright stare at him without seeming weird, so you took his features in with glances as the moments passed by. Full, pink lips, amber eyes filled with wisdom, and he had deep dimples on each side of his lips when he smiled. You felt only comfort and happiness when you were near him. Why would you reject this man, someone your grandmother had respected more than most others?

“I accept.”

Now the first step had been taken, you found yourself looking up in the air, studying the sky, as Namjoon strips to shift into the forest dragon. 

“Did you know Taehyung can shift without taking off his clothes?”

“Taehyung can do a lot of mysterious things, he’s much older than me,” Namjoon murmured. 

You saw Namjoon’s shadow on the ground grew on he shifted into his natural form. You found yourself looking up in awe, mouth open. His dragon form was forest green, with shiny scales and two s-curved horns on his head. His wings laid against his back, and he stood on all four limbs. In that position, he was easily fifteen feet tall. You stepped forward, reaching your arm out in front of you, palm facing him. 

Namjoon seemed to freeze, waiting for you to decide what was going to happen. His large, amber eyes watching you carefully as you closed the distance between you and one of his front limbs. You laid your palm on his scales, eyes trailing up and down, taking in the beauty. You feel some kind of pressing into your thoughts, and you looked up at Namjoon’s huge dragon head.

“I hope you are not afraid,” Namjoon said, his voice in your mind. You smiled and stepped back, testing to see if you could speak to one another when you were not touching.

“No, never. You’re so … beautiful,” you replied in your mind. You stepped to where his head was over you, gesturing for him to bring his face closer. For a moment, Namjoon seemed to hesitate, but then he did as you requested. You placed a palm on his nose, between his nostrils. You felt his warm breath gently caress your skin. 

“Uh, thank you. That.. that feels good,” he admitted shyly. A deep rumbling came from his huge chest. “I.. think you just made me purr. I didn’t know dragon’s could purr. Get up behind my horns, there should be enough room to straddle my neck so I can carry you.”

“I’m going to fly on a dragon?” you gasped in your mind. Namjoon laughed in your mind, and lowered his head enough for you to climb on. You didn’t hesitate, scrambling onto him and getting comfortable.

When he landed in his clearing, beside his cabin, he let you climb down and then shifted as quickly as possible. You looked dazed, hair flying every which way. Namjoon had done his best to stay low in the skies and keep a safe pace with you riding him, but he still worried he could have hurt you. You sat on the cabin steps, dropping your pack beside you, and ran a hand through your hair as Namjoon flushed and got dressed from the clothes in his pack. 

“This is your cabin?” you asked, eyes resting on his newly clothed form walking to the stairs. He took one step, then stopped, looking down to where you were sitting. He looked you over, and you let him, but there was nothing but innocent curiosity in your eyes.

“Yes. Why?” It wasn’t much, but he considered it cozy and comfortable, with a fairytale charm. You scanned the edge of the clearing, then looked up at Namjoon, who held onto the railing anxiously.

“I was here before. There was an invisible wall around it. Is it still there?” You stood and started walking toward where the wall had been before. Instead of being stopped, you walked right past the exact spot. Namjoon watched you, turning and leaning against the railing with an amused smile, relaxing his hold. You frowned and walked back toward the cabin. You went right to the stairs without being stopped.

“It’s still there, but it’s attuned to who I considered friendly. You may enter and exit whenever you please.” 

“Can you teach me how to do that?” You stepped next to him on the stairs, your excitement becoming contagious. He had never really taught anyone his personal knowledge of magic, but he would of course teach you.

“It’s nature magic, using the natural wind and making a solid but clear wall. It seems like something you could learn easily.” Namjoon grinned and gestured toward the door. He was nervous to show you his personal space, but excited to see how you felt about it all. “Come in, let me show you around. If you still want to stay, it’ll be your home as well as mine.”

“From what others of the shifter circle told me, you rarely share what you consider yours,” you said, taking a step in front of him into the living room. Namjoon’s heart fluttered as your mouth fell slightly open, your eyes moving in all directions to take it in. You stood silently for a long time. 

“So… what do you think?”

He looked around his living area, hoping nothing too weird was noticeable. The first thing you saw when you walked in was a large living room that looked like the size of the whole outside of the cabin. There was a square inlay in the middle of the room, with a fire pit in the center. A magical fire was always crackling there. On the upper square, there were a few couches and side tables, along with a large TV on the far wall. Three different openings led down a hallway to different parts of the home, like the kitchen, his bedroom and bathroom, and his treasure room.

“Is it just me, or is it bigger inside?”

“Ah, part of dragon magic,” Namjoon murmured, unsure how to take the stars that appeared in your eyes as you turned to him. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t, not to him. “It is bigger inside. I… dragon’s like to collect, it’s part of who we are. I need space to put my things, I suppose.”

“Collect? Like what?” While you spoke, you wandered around the room, gently touching the items with your hand, running your fingers over them as you passed. Namjoon stared as you respectfully studied his living area. He waited for you to continue, but you just glanced back at him for a moment, then went on exploring. You were very curious, which he found highly attractive, but also respectful, which went a long way for him.

“Well,” he started, pulling himself out of his thoughts. Namjoon caught up with you and walked beside you, leading you toward the third opening. “A lot of things,but my passion is cultural pieces from the different creatures of the forest. I trade whatever is needed in exchange for these items.”

“Interesting,” you murmured, stopping at a closed door. You looked over your shoulder as Namjoon stepped close, reaching around you to turn the doorknob. He felt your body heat only inches from his own, and wondered if it made your head spin as much as it did his. Namjoon hesitated for a moment.

“I also have small weapons, books, figurines, and coins. It’s a little cluttered… I haven’t organized it in a while,” he added.

“No judgement, promise,” you assured him with a grin. His nervousness lowered as he opened the door. Namjoon waited for you to pass him, then entered behind you. “Wow! This is fantastic!”

Namjoon flushed with pride as you stood just inside the door and scanned the room. There were book shelves covered in what he had said: books and figurines. Weapons were hung on the wall, from small or large, and a large glass case displayed coins from different eras and places. One whole wall was displaying the different items Namjoon had been given from the forest dwellers, hanging on a wall or setting on a shelf. There were some boxes scattered that held more books, figurines, coins, and other things he hadn’t found a spot to set them.

He watched you make a beeline to the forest dweller collections. Namjoon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a soft smile on his face, as you read the small display cards for each piece. There were tribal masks, painted canvases, sculptures made with different mediums, and even items made from the things that can be found in the forest. 

“Thoughts?” he asked. Your personal view on his collections was very important to him, he realized. You turned around and chuckled.

“I told you, this is fantastic. I love this.”