#plus the chapters are so much quicker

[minimutty]

starting up a normal playthru of fe7 hector mode. After awakening the GBA game's simplicity with no skills and UI are somewhat nice. It gets my mind off real life, and I get to see lucius again

[ellraiser]

gotta catch 'em all!!!

[gu6chan]

My hot Drakengard take of the day is that after playing it for like 110 hours and counting im very much convinced that ppl who still complain about the gameplay being a "slog" just aren't playing the game correctly. you can hate me for this but you will not change my mind

[bloodiedrogue]

THE ROGUE TAX (2)

SUMMARY: Fed up with paying Astarion to pick all the locks, you force yourself to learn the hard way.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 2,635

WARNINGS: Short nightmare sequence, too much sexual tension, slight mentions of a handkink, inappropriate lock pick teaching.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm posting these super early but day two of the Haunted Hoedown! This time the prompt is "finders keepers!" I honestly had so much fun with this one, so hopefully all the new Astarion fans that've followed me in the last day enjoy? Love you guys. :))))

Also I was originally going to make all of these challenge fics separate but I've since decided to make it more of a connected fic so... that's a thing now? I'll link the last chapter below!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“I wasn’t aware you were so proficient at lock picking.” 

You smirk at Astarion’s false praise, busying your hands against the lock’s mechanism. You’ve only been at it for five or six, maybe seven tops but you can already tell it’ll be a while. The lock itself is tough; covered in a layer of thick rust. Plus, being that it’s a chest and not a door, it’s a bit more advanced than you’re used to.

“Yes, well, not all of us are vampires that can woo their way through a padlock.” 

In response, Astarion laughs, throwing his head back so dramatically that from the corner of your eye, it looks as if he’s lost his head for a moment. “You do realize who you’re talking to, correct?”

You hum out a response and push the short hook further in, feeling the pressure of a loose pin hit the end. When that happens, you grin to yourself and slide closer to the chest, biting your bottom lip in excitement. 

Over the last few weeks, you and the rest of the group had come upon some interesting findings. A cave inside a well, a few hidden cellars around the surrounding the goblin camp, a hidden chest or two. At first, it was exciting, getting to experience the joys of a good treasure hunt but quickly such feelings fell once you discovered how difficult it was to break into said things without the help of Astarion and his seemingly magic hands.

“I know you’re excited to prove yourself, darling, but why don’t you let me finish things off, hm? It’ll go a lot quicker.” 

You shake your head and continue your ministrations, carefully pushing the hook further in, feeling that alleviated pressure of another pin. “I’m tired of relying on you and your bloody rogue tax.” 

After agreeing that Astarion would just pick every lock your party found for a price, it was evident he was more than willing to take more than he was owed. Saying things like I did all the work or you wouldn’t be here if not for me, it was obvious he was exploiting you. Using his roguish charms to earn himself a bigger cut despite doing next to nothing else. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. Another minor annoyance to add to his long list of negative personality traits, and lately you were determined to combat it. To learn the trade for yourself so that every piece of treasure found could remain solely yours. 

“I’m sure everyone is but that’s the price you pay for a professional.” 

You roll your eyes and continue to fiddle, feeling his gaze glued to the positioning of your hands —how your fingers tighten and twist around the metal instrument. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit nervous —having his eyes on you. Across your palms, you can feel the slick of sweat collecting with each new movement, while behind you, you can practically feel Astarion’s judgement throughout, silently picking apart all of your mistakes. 

“You’re doing—“

You shush him angrily before he can continue, knowing he’s trying to break your concentration. Knowing that he thinks that if he can prove to be enough of a distraction you’ll end up slipping up and giving in. 

“I was just going to tell you about the wonderful job you’re doing.” His tone is laced with sarcasm. Drenched in a thick layer of impatience that has you groaning under your breath. 

“Isn’t there someone else you can bother?”

“No.”

You know there is. In the other room of the abandoned building you currently find yourselves in, at least four other people are rooting through the rubble. Most likely they’re stationed in their usual areas. Gale’s probably next to the stack of bookshelves with Karlach, telling her all about his collection back at the camp while Wyll and Shadowheart are searching through the cellar in hopes of more wine. 

“You sure?”

For a moment you debate telling him to go keep watch with Lae’zel just so that he’ll shut up but the thought dissipates once you feel him flop onto the floor beside you with a groan. 

“Everyone else is so dull,” he complains. His line of slight flickers between your face and hands, watching the way they remain almost too still as he speaks. “They’re all do this do that, and for what?”

You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, unsure of what he means.

“They’re all living for other people, darling. Other causes. Everything they do serves a higher purpose and for that reason alone, they’re boring.”

Despite your previous determination your hands release themselves from the padlock before you find yourself readjusting —moving to plop down next to him. “You think everyone’s boring because they’re selfless?”

“Predictable,” he corrects, pointing a loose finger in your direction. “All of them talk too much about a future that may not even come considering we’re infected and have little idea on how to remedy the situation.” 

You’re not sure where this rant is coming from but you welcome it considering it’s been weeks since you’ve had a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around mapping or looting or combat. Weeks since you’ve taken a moment to learn about the people you find yourself in constant contact with. 

“Some people just don’t like looking back.” 

There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes when you respond as if he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Or really, maybe an answer at all. All at once his face seems to rise in thought, taking a moment to absorb the words before he hums in response, pursing his lips. “Yes, well, I suppose some people don’t have a past worth running from.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

The tadpole behind your eye wriggles for his attention before you can even think to suppress it. Working to pull him in as you stare at one another, narrowing your eyes at the sudden cerebral contact. At first, he’s reluctant. You can feel the pushing sensation suggesting that you stop. That you should stick to the confines of your own mind rather than pestering him, but quicker than you can move away to agree, it’s as if you’re sucked back in again. Pulled by the very thread of your own brain matter to see flashes of a life you assume to be his.

The first thing you see is candlelight. A flickering of warm hues that dance across wooden interiors. It’s almost dizzying the way the light shifts across your vision, forcing you to close your eyes. Next to you, you can hear Astarion breathing heavily. Deep inhales followed by even deeper exhales that you swiftly use as a metronome to carry your focus. To aid your tadpole’s connection. 

Swallowing hard, you listen to the beats of his breath, feeling them take over your chest as the vision in front of you grows to reveal bits of cobblestone. In the background, you can hear the faint sounds of scuttling feet. The dripping of water. A hungry growl followed by an even hungrier gnaw of flesh that squelches on your tongue. 

You can taste the iron —feel the fur and bones of an unknown animal brush against your lips and gums. All of it swirls around your mouth like a tornado of overstimulating sensations, forcing the vision to pass as you reach for your throat, coughing up nothing but your own spit despite how real it feels. 

It’s apparent then what Astarion means. That some people aren’t always blessed with the privilege of running away. That people like him don’t have the means of calling upon allies to aid them through the awful shit that is reality. 

Even with such little context, you can sense through his tadpole that he’s alone in this life. Alone before the Illithid —alone now. And more than likely, he’ll be alone after it’s all over, in death or otherwise. 

Rubbing your throat —trying your best to get rid of the tainted feeling of skin and bone from your mouth, you feel empathy rather than sympathy. An understanding of his words as you look toward him, noticing the far-off look in his eye before he blinks and travels back.

“I only showed you that to save the explanation,” he says, and whether or not it’s true you merely just nod, welcoming the silence. The tranquil hush of two people attempting to navigate the other. 

It doesn’t last long. In between, there are a few moments of background noise. The sound of echoing footsteps and muffled voices. You know it’s the others looting just as you should be, but neither of you moves to join until Astarion eventually clears his throat, signalling change. 

“Anyway, they’re all in their own worlds, coasting on the wings of optimism.” He flicks his hand around the air while rolling his eyes. “It’s disgusting and partly why I choose your company above theirs.” 

Letting yourself fall back into your usual, somewhat antagonistic rhythm, you give him a curious look. “Partly, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips, the edge of his lip twitching into that usual grin of his. “The other part is the potential of your blood, darling.”

“Ah yes. And here I was assuming you were just following me around so that you could steal my treasure.”

Both of your eyes move back to the unbroken padlock. It’s the only thing in this room that seems to be worth either of your time and Astarion knows it. It’s why he’s been so keen on your failure. 

“You know, I could help you if you like. Show you a thing or two so that the next time this happens you don’t have to rely on me.”

It’s tempting, even if you know that you’ll be taxed to all hell. Whatever spoils you find will ultimately be cut in half and, more than likely, he’ll sweeten the deal for himself by claiming first pick. 

“What’s the price?”

He shoots you a look of offence, clutching his chest. “My dear, I’d never dare put a price on the education of thievery.”

You hold back a grin, pressing your lips together, watching the way he quickly springs into action, motioning for you to hand him your tools. When you do he begins to explain the process, showcasing all the tips and tricks against the air with careful precision. Which would be helpful if you weren’t so focused on his hands rather than his words. On the way they curl around the handles of your tools, tightening with every gesture performed. 

Astarion’s got nicer hands than most. Long and thin and surprisingly well-manicured for someone who spends most of his time in the forest or drinking the blood of unsuspecting animals. And guiltily enough staring at them so intently just reminds you of that night he drained your neck. 

You can still feel the pressure of his fingers against your head. The way they roughly cupped you like a goblet of wine. Despite the fear in that moment, you’re now able to look back at that memory almost fondly. A moment of potential weakness for you somehow became a moment of trust for him and as a result, here you were now, acting almost friendly amid a terrible situation. 

It makes you grin, prompting Astarion to stop his explanation and narrow his eyes. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Hm?”

There’s a knowing glance that befalls his face then. A transition of clarity that has his mouth opening and closing before he hands you your tools. “Might be best if we take a more hands on approach.” 

You look at him confused, letting the hooks in your hand lazily rest in your palm as you watch him hop to his knees and begin to guide you. 

“I want you to do exactly what you were doing before, alright? Use the hook to push the pins.” 

Despite your continued confusion, you follow his position by kneeling in front of the chest and popping the hook into the hole, digging around the darkened space until you feel the shift of that first pin. 

“Got it?” You spare him a glance and a nod, watching him crawl towards you, positioning his chest firmly against your back before reaching out to hold your wrists. “Now, take that other hook of yours and situate it at the base of the barrel.”

Doing exactly that, you feel his fingers slowly slip over yours, navigating you through the trials of getting that second pin to shift as the barrel turns in your grasp. At first, it’s difficult. Mostly because all you can focus on is the breath that hits the side of your face. The heat of the air that travels down your spine in nervous waves you’re almost certain he can feel. But then you’re reminded that you’ve been here before; stuck within his heated grasp. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” 

You’re practically holding your breath as you find that third pin, feeling Astarion’s hand shift you in the right direction before you lose it at the last second. Ever so gently, his chest shifts upwards against your back so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better look. A newfound weight that makes you close your eyes and release a bit of air from your nose, realizing how intimate this is. 

Somehow it feels even more personal than letting him feed off of you. Perhaps because the bloodsucking was for his own benefit, knowing Astarion, moments like that where he’s able to take rather than give mean next to nothing to him. They’re just moments of manipulation. A series of tactical steps he takes to get whatever he wants whereas this is different. This is for you. 

You’re not sure how to describe it other than an offering of trust. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation for letting him consume. Maybe it’s nothing more than a game to make you squirm beneath his grasp. Either or, it’s an experience you know you’ll be thinking of for days to come, attempting to decipher its intent.

“Once you feel that final pin I want you to ease it in gently, alright? Be delicate.” 

You offer him no response as you listen to his words. If you did, you’re certain he’d make some offhand comment that would only further the lewdness of it all, grinning like the mischievous prick he is. 

“After that, you should feel a little shift and —voilà!” 

The chest clicks open. Your breath releases in a long, much-needed stream but Astarion makes no effort to move from your frame. Instead, he continues to cling to your hands, angling his chin so that when you eventually look at him you’re practically touching noses. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s that easy?”

Slowly but surely he slips from your frame with a nod, his hands sliding across the expanse of your sleeves, coating your skin in a wave of goosebumps as he moves to stand. “Yes, but keep it hush, hush. Wouldn’t want the others to find out, would we?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping across your lips as you then turn towards your reward, gripping both edges of the lid before pushing it up. Inside there are only a few items. A few spell scrolls and some fabric but it’s enough to get you excited regardless, realizing that it’s yours.

“Not bad for your first go.” Peeking over your shoulder, Astarion watches as you sift through everything carefully, unrolling each scroll to read the details before looking back up and raising a brow. 

“You sure there’s no tax?” you ask, but all he does is laugh and shake his head. 

“Finders keepers, darling. As I promised.” 

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Lonely Hearts Club

Mr. Wayne never brought his partner home. You saw no swingers' parties, orgies, or even a single panty on the floor to hint at the wealth of lovers he supposedly had. In a way, you were disappointed, because you found nothing more entertaining than soaking up the drama that billionaire playboys could offer.

Alas, Mr. Wayne was boring. 

He went to work, played with his kids, attended charity balls and galas, and was a good, boring single father and philanthropist. The only interesting part about him was his troubled relationship with Selina Kyle (and some messy drama with Damian’s mother that Alfred refused to delve deeper into), who had been slowly creeping back into Bruce’s arms. When Alfred told you, you were a little surprised since it seemed he, and the children, were affected by the breakup. 

It was a little past two in the morning when you ventured to the kitchen for a glass of water, and the entire house was relatively quiet. There was the pitter-patter of rain against the windows and the shuffling on your feet, but, distantly, you could hear a conversation between Mr. Wayne and a woman. 

You tried to mind your own business, but, as you poured ice into your glass, you heard Mr. Wayne say, “Selina, please.”

“No, Bruce, we can’t keep doing this,” Selina’s voice was clear, almost stern. 

They must have been in the side hall by how loud their voices were. You paused, partially due to fear of being caught in an awkward position but mainly because of your curiosity. There was a witty back and forth before Bruce demanded her to go loudly before the door slammed shut. It went silent, and then you heard Mr. Wayne make his way toward the kitchen.

Panicking, you hurried to fill your glass with water so you could get out of there lest he think you were listening in. Just as it was filled and you started to leave, Mr. Wayne entered the kitchen. He seemed surprised to see you, and you were so scared by the sight of him that you dropped the glass—sending it to shattered pieces. 

“Mr. Wayne,” You gasped, kneeling to clean up the mess. “Sorry, about the cup.”

He shook his head, rushing over to urge you to stand up. “No, don’t use your hands. You’ll cut yourself. Give me a moment, I’ll find the broom.”

Now that you were looking at him, there was a flush on his cheeks—Wait, you thought, could he have been embarrassed? You never knew he could have such a feeling. He also seemed disheveled and smelled a bit like perfume mixed with cigarette smoke. 

“Here it is,” Mr. Wayne said after opening nearly every closet and cupboard in the kitchen. “Move, I’ll do it.”

You sidestepped, eyes flickering between Mr. Wayne and the broken glass on the floor. By the way, he swept, it was clear he was rich. That man looked like he had never held a broom in his life, and, with how much Alfred did for him, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t. 

“No,” You said, hand going to the broom handle. “Let me do it. It’ll be quicker.”

“Are you saying I can’t sweep,” Bruce spat. 

You looked up at him, tired and agitated all of a sudden. “Yes!”

Bruce let go of the handle and huffed, moving across the kitchen to find a glass. He then turned to the cabinet under the island to pluck out a bottle of scotch. He watched you momentarily before rounding the island while holding his hand out expectantly. 

“I’ll do it,” He said plainly. 

You laughed. “Mr. Wayne, I’m nearly done. Plus, we already established that you can’t sweep.”

“Can’t sweep,” Bruce mumbled under his breath. “Ridiculous.”

“Don’t be so upset,” You remarked. “It’s hardly your fault for being born with a silver spoon.”

“I’m not upset!” He said, raising his voice enough to scare you a little. There was a little silence before he sheepishly apologized. “It’s been a stressful night,” was the excuse he gave you. You wanted to be angry at him for raising his voice, but you quickly got over it. 

After throwing away the glass, you looked at him before moving to sleep. You stopped halfway to return to the island where Mr. Wayne stood. 

“Get me a cup?” You asked. 

Bruce stared at you before doing as you asked. When the glass hit the table, he quickly grabbed the bottle to fill it. You were never one for alcohol, but you were always one to rise to the occasion. 

“What happened?” You asked. 

“Relationship troubles,” He said plainly. 

“I used to say the same thing,” You said. “It’s never just relationship troubles, Bruce.”

The two of you stared at one another for what felt like forever until he let out a long, tired sigh and said, “I don’t know. I thought I loved her, and I thought she loved me—but…I think we want different things. I want her to be a part of my family, but she’s afraid of risking her independence.”

“You can’t fault her for that,” You said, not sure of what else you could say. 

“No, I can’t. No matter how much I want to hate her for it to make myself feel better, I know it’s still her choice.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he threw back the entire glass before reaching for the bottle to pour another. He cleared his throat, before asking, “What happened with you and, uh, whatever his name was?”

“Ah, yes, him,” You said, looking down at the glass and swirling the scotch around inside it. “I thought he was great. He was kind, loving—”

“He was a man,” Bruce said, cocking an eyebrow. 

You chuckled. “Believe me, I know, but I was in love with him, Bruce. I wanted to marry him, ya know?”

“Too bad he fired you,” He said. 

That stung a bit, and Bruce must have seen it on your face because all of a sudden was mumbling an apology. Sucking in a breath, you pulled the bottle toward you to pour yourself more scotch. 

“How’d you know that,” You asked, trying to hold back tears and act like your usual humorous self. “I don’t remember mentioning I was fired in my interview.”

“You didn’t mention much in your interview at all, but you honestly didn’t expect me to look?” He scoffed. Yeah, you should have guessed that he would do some sort of background check since he was a crazed control freak. Sniffling, you tried to keep your gaze on the bottle to keep from crying as you thought about your ex. You hated the man, but part of you missed loving him and, in turn, being loved. “I’m sorry to have upset you,” Bruce said, reaching out to awkwardly rub circles on your back. 

“No, no. I don’t mean to cry,” You said, laughing lightly at yourself. “I shouldn’t be crying in front of my boss, anyway.”

“I don’t mind,” Bruce mumbled. 

“I found out the other day that he’s getting married, too,” You mumbled, voice cracking. “Kind of makes me wonder why not me?”

Bruce was quiet, and you took that all the emotion made him uncomfortable. Quickly, you began to suck your feelings back in. You already felt foolish enough, especially when you felt your nose start running. When you began to excuse what you had said, Bruce quickly stopped you from doing such a thing. 

“Every time Selina and I would break up,” He started, “I used to wonder what I had done wrong, and I don’t think I ever realized that it wasn’t just me until tonight. It was just us.” 

“Maybe,” You said quietly. “I hope you find your person one day, Mr. Wayne. You’re a good man.”

He looked down at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “Thank you…and I hope you find your person, too.”

Silently, you agreed with the sentiment. You hoped to one day find that person and prayed that he wouldn’t be your employer this time. 

[gothamhappiness]

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Back home (Part X)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

This is the last chapter I planned for this series. Let me know if you need more (and with some ideas as well, please!) <3

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of an abusive mother, sexual activities, comfort/fluff

You were just supposed to have a conversation with Bruce and then go back to your flat and have some rest.

It was what you told yourself. Yes you wanted to fix things with the man, but you weren’t too sure you were ready to be back at the manor. Plus, the time at your mother’s had been harsh on you and you felt like you needed some alone time.

However when you saw Bruce waiting for you in the middle of the station of Gotham, you forgot about it. Once you arrived in front of him, you let your suitcase fall on the floor and you reached for him. He tightly hugged you, and you both felt your body and mind relax and quiet down.

You were both back home.

“Hey” you whispered

“Hey” he greeted you back as he tightened his embrace

After a little while, you both let go of each other. You knew paparazzi were currently taking photos of the two of you in a corner of the station, but you really couldn’t care any less. You reached for Bruce’s collar and forced him down so you could kiss him. His hands found your waist as he brought you closer again.

“It’s gonna be a nice picture in tomorrow’s newspaper” he commented

“Hoping they will leave us alone in the restaurant though” you whispered and he nodded

“Don’t worry about that” he reassuringly replied “Hungry, love?”

“Starving” you hummed

Bruce grabbed your suitcase and you exited the station. The black limo was waiting for you, Alfred in front of it. He quickly smiled at you.

“Good evening, Mrs. It’s a delight to see you again” Alfred greeted you

“Thanks Alfred, I’m happy to see you as well. I missed our tea time.” you said and Alfred nodded as he opened the car door for you. You entered the limo as Bruce settled beside you. “Hope everyone behaved in my absence” you added to which Alfred huffed

“How could they when their matriarch isn’t around?” Alfred hummed and you chuckled 

“Sorry I’ve left you alone with all those little beasts then” you joked as Alfred started the engine and drove you all to your destination.

The rest of the journey went by in a comfortable silence.

You thanked Alfred for the ride before Bruce and you entered the restaurant. You settled in a small VIP room, which was romantically decorated.

“So I guess we need to talk then?” you started and Bruce nodded. 

He wasn’t fond of speaking about his feelings but he was definitively eager to have you back in his life. He could do better for you. He would tell you he loved you everyday. He would reassure you when you needed to. Anything to keep you around. Life was so joyless without your smile and laughter. Life was so stern without your presence. The family was so much more dysfunctional when you weren’t around to put the pieces back together.

You were needed.

You had warned Bruce you might come back to your flat tonight, even if things were better between the two of you. So of course you weren’t supposed to messily kiss him in the middle of a corridor of his manor. You weren’t supposed to lock his bedroom door as he started to undress you with pure desire and need for you. You weren’t supposed to play with each other under the shower. You weren’t supposed to come over his tongue for what felt like a hundredth time. You weren’t supposed to lie down on his bed - your shared bed - and smile up at him as he leaned down to hungrily kiss you. You weren’t supposed to fall asleep under his tender watch.

However it felt right. You were safe, you were finally able to rest. You even knew you would soon talk to Bruce about the mess your family was. You were certain he would be there to help you deal with the situation.

You were going to be alright again.

You weren’t supposed to wake up that late the next morning, still all cuddled up into Bruce’s embrace. For once, the man was still sleeping. He seemed a lot more rested and relaxed. You gently kissed his collarbone before trying to get up, but some strong arms were quick to bring you back onto the bed. You had no way to escape, not that you really wanted to. The air was so cold outside of the sheets, anyways.

“Five more minutes” a grumpy voice murmured to you as Bruce hugged you tightly against his chest.

You let out a little giggle which made him smile. He snuggled into your hair and neck.

“It’s usually my line” you teased

“Hmm” 

“It’s very late. I’m pretty sure you missed like ten meetings already” you continued to gently annoy him

“Don’t care”

You enjoyed the answer a little more than you wanted to admit it. You gently kissed every inch of his face, neck and chest. He finally opened his eyes, stretched and settled back. You moved to straddle him before laying down on his chest. He hugged you again. He quickly looked up at the time. He did miss quite a few meetings and Duke and Steph were supposed to report on their last night patrol. But all of this could wait.

“I’m surprised you aren’t jumping out of the bed already?” you said as you brushed your nose against his

“Realised how much I hated myself for not having given in all those mornings you wanted me to stay in bed a little longer with you. Let’s say it’s payback”

“Sounds good to me” you purred as you felt his greedy hands stroking your body with love and intimacy

“Are we good?” he softly asked to which you nodded “So, are we back together?” he asked again, just to be completely sure

“I didn’t think I’d say that the first time I met you, but yeah I’m your girlfriend” you kissed the corner of his lips

You stayed silent for a little while, enjoying the soft presence of another before you resumed talking.

“We haven’t spoken about one last subject last night though”

“Which one, love?” Bruce stroked your back

“What about me being a civilian and you having to look after me?” you asked

“Me and the kids can teach you some fighting techniques. And I think you should completely move in here. That way, you’d be safe” Bruce told you “And I’d be happy to know that whenever I’ll come back from patrol, you’ll be home” he admitted

“I should’ve seen this one coming but I didn’t” you said “I… You know I’m a wild cat. I need to think about it” you said

“Of course. No pressure, never.” he hummed before stealing you a kiss or two

The kiss was getting heated again when a soft knock at the door startled you

“Lunch is ready and I believe everyone is waiting for the two of you” Alfred informed you

“Coming!” you both replied before laughing

You quickly grabbed a dress as Bruce put on the first suit he found as well. 

“Hope you’re ready for everyone hugging you” he warned you before entering the dining room. 

And indeed, all the kids got up to greet you with great affection.

Even if they didn’t all need a mother, they needed the common sense you were bringing into the family.

In four words: you have been missed.

--

Taglist for all my work <3

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Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

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Taglist for this series <3

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[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 4.2)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: banter, bad pick-up lines

words: 3.6k

Summary: After Penny allowed you to open the bar for the few navy pilots, you hang with your group at the pool table since you weren't actually working and you challenge Hangman to a game of pool...

a/n: I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it. It's probably one of my favorites. All the pick-up lines used in this chapter are courtesy of the instagram page of jimmyandnath. Check them out, they're really funny.

Link to my masterlist

“Who’s ready for the first round?”, you called out and everybody basically ran towards the counter. By now, you were used to those kinds of rushes, they didn’t scare you anymore. You collected their credit cards and opened the tabs before you placed a few bottles of beer on the counter and opened them in a row. Then you filled the glasses with the beer from the tap and handed out a few tumblers with Whiskey, Bourbon or Jack Daniels. Everybody spread out across the bar, someone put some money in the jukebox and filled the room with music. Counting yourself, there were 13 people in the bar but they managed to make it sound like thrice the amount.

Since you weren’t actually working tonight, you grabbed a beer and walked over to the pool table where your typical group of people had settled for now. It was nice to get the chance to sit down with them for a change. Normally you were working and didn’t have time for a real chat, only some small talk or, in Hangman’s case, a little back and forth of jokes and banter.

“Hey Y/N, up for a round of pool? We’re playing two against two”, Fanboy asked you. You found Hangman and Coyote on the other side of the table, revealing who your opponents were going to be. You always wanted to play against Hangman and this was your chance. “Sure”, you simply said and hopped off the bar stool at the wall. Bob handed you his cue as he walked past you and took your seat.

“I always see you play every time you’re in here. Let’s see how good you really are”, you challenged Hangman when you stepped up to the table. “Oh, I am good, I’m very good”, Hangman assured you.

You put the end of the cue down on the floor and it slipped from your hand. “Whoops”, you said in surprise and picked it back up. When you stood straight again, you caught Hangman and Coyote exchanging a look like it would be the easiest thing in the world to beat you at this game.

“How we’re gonna do this, Fanboy?”, you asked and tried again to lean on your cue. “Uhm, okay, we’re playing team against team, meaning every time it’s our turn we take turns playing the ball”, he explained to you and didn’t look so excited about forming a team with you anymore.

“And do we play with the fully colored ones or do we play all and just see who’s quicker?”, you asked and had trouble holding down your giggle. Even to your own ears you sounded stupid. “That is determined by the break”, he answered. “Who’s taking a break?”, you asked bluntly. “I mean when we shoot the first shot, we’ll see which we sink first and we play the rest of that color”, he explained and almost looked pained.

“Okay, then let’s go”, you said enthusiastically. Hangman had a wide smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to start playing and wipe the floor with you.

“Wanna make it interesting? How about a little bet?”, Payback stepped forward. You looked at Hangman and he looked at you, challenging you with his eyes. “I don’t think we need to put a bet on it”, Fanboy chimed in, sounding nervous. “Alright. What do you suggest?”, you asked but looked at Hangman.

“When I win, you have to serve me every drink with a bow and a ‘here’s your drink, my master’ for a week”, Hangman suggested, his look dead on you. The fact that he used when and not if didn’t go unnoticed by you. You let your tongue run along the inside of your bottom lip as you contemplated.

“Okay. And if I win you have to work a shift at the Hard Deck, call me boss all night and literally do anything I tell you to. You’ll be pretty much my bitch”, you countered his bet.

You saw how his jaw stiffened, his teeth grinding and you had to bite down on the inside corners of your mouth to keep them from curling upwards.

He extended his hand and you took it. “The bet is on”, he almost grunted. His grip tightened around your hand. “Nervous?”, he asked, not letting go just yet. “Only about the many glasses you’re gonna drop during your shift”, you threw back at him with an equally low voice.

Coyote and Fanboy stood off to the side, exchanging looks and already regretting being your team mates.

“Alright, let’s do this”, you said, walked back to where you were first sitting, pushed your cue into Bob’s hands and took a sip of your beer. You used the hairband you had on your wrist to tie your hair back up into a ponytail. Meanwhile, Coyote set up the balls in the triangle on the other side of the table and after doing so, placed the plastic triangle on the little table behind him.

You took your cue back from Bob’s hands and walked back to the table. “Who’s starting us off?”, you asked in the round, looking at Fanboy, Coyote and then Hangman, who was smiling, confident of victory. “Ladies first”, he said and placed the cue ball on the marked spot on the table.

“I can take the first shot”, Fanboy came a step closer, whispering, looking as concerned as can be. “I got this, don’t worry”, you whispered back and winked at him.

“Gentlemen”, you announced with a loud voice, focusing everybody’s attention on you and you took the two steps to stand directly in front of the cue ball. “We’re playing 8-ball on a 9-foot-regulation table. I will start us off with the break”, you said, bent forward, aligned your cue with the cue ball and took the first shot.

You watched as the balls spread out on the table, a solid and a striped one disappeared in the pockets. “Table is open”, you announced and walked around the table to where the cue ball had landed and aimed your next shot. “Solids, number 2, right side pocket”, you announced your shot and after a second of aiming, you sank your next ball.

“Fanboy, you’re up”, you told him and looked up from the table. You found everybody looking at you with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Your face lit up with a confident smile.

“Wait, what?”, Fanboy called out and said what everybody was thinking. “What the hell just happened?”, Payback asked. “I played a lot of pool in my twenties”, you simply said and shrugged your shoulders.

“Why did you act like you haven’t seen a pool table from up close before?”, Coyote asked. “And miss out on the stupid looks on your faces? No way!”, you told him and shot a big smile at Hangman, who was suspiciously silent.

“Come on, Fanboy”, you called him again, nodding at the table to take his shot. He walked to where the cue ball had landed and started to aim at the number 5. “Take the 7, over the head rail”, you advised him and motioned the way the cue ball had to travel with your finger in the air. He breathed out loudly, indicating that that wasn’t an easy shot for him. “You got this”, you patted his back.

Fanboy took a beat to think about the shot. “Number 7, left side pocket”, he announced, aligned his cue and took the shot over the head rail like you had told him. The ball came a bit slow but he managed to sink it. “Yes!”, he called out and you high-fived.

It was your turn again. You grabbed the chalk and gently wiped it over the tip of your cue, holding the eye contact with Hangman, a sugary sweet smile on your face. You blew the dust off the cue tip, still looking at him. Only after that, you took a look at the table and decided on your next shot.

“Number 1, bottom right corner, over the long rail”, you announced the shot and executed it perfectly which earned you a few Ohs and Ahs from your little audience.

Fanboy was up again and despite his best efforts, he didn’t manage to sink the ball and now it was, finally, Hangman’s turn. “Okay, let’s get this over with”, he said, rolled his shoulders back and bent his neck to either side as he stepped towards the table.

“12, upper left”, he said and quickly sank the ball. You took a sip from your beer, not getting nervous. His cockiness will ultimately be his downfall, you could only hope that the time has come tonight. You did everything in your power to make that happen.

Hangman went on to immediately align his cue with the cue ball again. “Hey, it’s Coyote’s turn”, Rooster called out Hangman’s little cheat. Jake presented Rooster with a death-glare before he rose up again and took a step back. You and Fanboy exchanged a little smirk as Hangman seemed a bit nervous.

Coyote, sadly, couldn’t handle the pressure and missed his shot. “Come on, man”, Hangman called out in frustration. “Oh, is it me again?”, you asked with playful innocence and walked towards the table. You heard Rooster chuckling behind you.

The cue ball had landed on the opposite side of the table and you had to walk around to where Hangman was standing. “Excuse me”, you said and looked up at him from under your lashes. If you weren’t mistaking, you heard him growling at you before he reluctantly took a step to the side.

You scanned the table. For the solids, the numbers 4, 5 and 6 were left before you had to sink the 8-ball and would, ultimately, win the game and the bet with Hangman. But with how your balls were set on the table at the moment, every shot was tricky.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you went through the possible shots in your head, visualizing them. “Okay, number 6, left side pocket”, you announced and bent forward to place the cue on the edge of the table. “How?”, Phoenix asked confused as the cue ball was nowhere near placed for that shot to be possible in her eyes. You extended your arm and let the cue shoot forward, hitting the cue ball, which bounced off the opposite long rail from where you were standing, hitting the short rail and coming straight for the number 6, not only sinking the ball but also stopping in a perfect place for Fanboy’s next shot.

“Like this”, you said to her and stood up straight again. You turned to look at Hangman and said, “Geometry, baby!”, and shot him a sly grin. When playing pool, your cockiness could match his and you weren’t the slightest way sorry about that because you knew you were good at it. Hella good!

Fanboy sank the number 5 with ease and now only the number 4 was left. But it was an impossible shot and everybody saw it. And if you weren’t sure already, you only needed to take a look at Hangman’s face which lit up like a child’s face on Christmas morning.

“Okay, we all see it, I’m gonna say it. There’s no way I’ll sink that ball, but here goes”, you said. Since you knew it was about to be Hangman’s turn, you at least tried to place the cue ball as shitty as possible. He still had a lot of balls on the table though, so it wasn’t impossible to hit something.

“Oh, is it my turn again?”, he asked cheerful and came up to the table after taking a sip of his drink. “13, upper left”, he announced and sank it. “10, right side pocket”; Coyote stepped up and sank his ball too. Now they had finally found their flow and sank ball after ball. Your hopes of beating Hangman at something died little by little with every ball he and Coyote sank.

Hangman was about to sink his last ball before the 8-ball. “It was nice wiping the floor with you two”, he said with a slimy voice and bent forward to take his second to last shot.

He indeed sank the last ball but he also sank the cue ball and therefore immediately forfeited his turn to you.

Everybody gasped including you. The expression on Hangman’s face was a picture for the gods. “Oh my!”, you called out and hopped off your chair with big eyes. Fanboy still had to sink the number 4. It was a hard shot but not impossible. Like a real fighter pilot, he withstood the pressure and sank the ball.

Now, only the 8-ball was left on the table. They only thing you had to do was sink it and you could call sweet victory our own. You emptied your bottle of beer and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You stepped forward towards the table and stood next to Fanboy. Everybody’s eyes were glued to the table while you studied the placement of the ball and whispered to your team partner about the ways to sink it, all while swiping the chalk over the tip of your queue.

“Okay, how about you shoot the cue ball here, not too hard, have it hit the second diamond. Then it should go into the bottom right”, Fanboy suggested as he walked halfway around the table and placed his finger on the spot where he suggested for you to aim.

“Stop helping her”, Hangman called out, looking increasingly more nervous. “They’re on the same team, Bagman”, Phoenix said before she took a sip of her beer.

“Everybody shut up”, you said in a loud voice and bent over to take your shot. You aligned your cue and took a deep breath, focusing on the spot where Fanboy still had his finger placed.

You took another deep breath and when you exhaled, you pushed your cue forward and took your shot. It got really silent as everybody watched the white ball hit the spot at Fanboy’s finger than rolling back into your direction, hitting the 8-ball just enough to have it roll towards bottom right pocket. It moved slowly but consistently and your grip on your cue got tighter as you watched it for every long second until it finally fell into the pocket.

Hangman looked at the pocket in disbelief with big eyes and let his head hang in defeat.

“AHHHH!”, you screamed out in surprise that it actually worked just like the people around you. You threw the cue onto the table and ran towards Fanboy, who was coming at you equally excited and threw yourself into his arms. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we won”, you told him with big eyes as you pulled back at an arms-length. “It was all you, Y/N. That was amazing”, Fanboy congratulated you.

You felt hands on your shoulders that were squeezing and shaking you. When you looked over your shoulder you found Rooster looking like a kid on Christmas morning. He was just so happy that Hangman just got it handed to him. “That was awesome”, he congratulated you. “Thanks”, you said with a bright smile that you just couldn’t wipe off your face.

Your eyes fell on Hangman who was coming towards you. He extended his hand. “Congrats! I didn’t think you’re gonna make that shot”, he said as he shook your hand. “Are you gonna be a sore loser?”, you asked. “I don’t know, I haven’t lost until now so we’ll see”, he said and the cocky tone in his voice was back. That didn’t last long. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Well, then I’ll make sure you don’t forget this moment so you get a LOT of practice”, you said and it sounded like a promise.

“Let’s raise our drinks to Y/N, the defeater of Bagman”, Phoenix called out and everybody raised their bottles and glasses to toast to you. Even Jake managed to grab his beer and give you a little toast while you smiled in the round and bathed in your victory.

A little later, everybody was sitting in little groups at the tables, the jukebox was playing in the background. You were sitting together with Fanboy, Payback, Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Hangman and Coyote after handing out more drinks and somehow you had arrived on the topic of stupid pick-up lines.

“Are you my pinky toe? ‘Cause I bang you on the table seven times a day”, Fanboy said and some of the guys nodded, other’s laughed, you and Phoenix rolled your eyes.

“Is that a phone in your back pocket? ‘Cause that ass is calling me”, Coyote said. “I like that. That would work on me ‘cause my ass is great”, you said and clinked the neck of your bottle against Coyote’s. You must really be a bit drunk to just say stuff like that to everybody.

“Okay, I got one. Are you a shark? ‘Cause I’ve got some swimmers for you to swallow”, it was Paybacks turn to be gross. “Come on”, you called out, pulled a face but laughed anyway.

“My dick is so polite, it stands up so you can sit down”, Bob suddenly spoke up. The table got quiet and everybody looked at him with big eyes, seriously surprised that those words had just come out of his mouth. “Ma man”, Coyote leaned forward and patted Bob’s shoulder. The whole table erupted in laughter “Dude, you’re making me blush”, you said and in return made him blush. “That’s a good one, I gotta write that down”, Fanboy said and jokingly pulled over a napkin like he was actually taking notes. “Yeah? Let me know how that works out for ya”, Rooster commented with a chuckle and took a swig of his drink.

“Are you a washing machine? Because I have a load for you”, Hangman said and everybody groaned. “Hangman, don’t make me ring that bell. You know the rules”, you warned him and pointed at the sign hanging in the middle of the bar circle. “What did I do?”, he asked surprised. “You’re bordering on disrespecting women”, you told him. “Your whole existence is a disrespect to women”, Phoenix chimed in. “I just said what everybody else said. Why is it gross when I say it?”, he asked honestly offended. “Because everything sounds gross when you say it”, Phoenix lectured him. “Whatever”, he said and threw some empty peanut shells at her which made her laugh.

“Why is it always about banging and swallowing your stuff? What happened to ‘Hello, my name is…Can I buy you a drink?’ or ‘You look beautiful, I would like to get to know you’”, you asked into the round, honestly irritated. Phoenix nodded agreeingly while she took a sip from her drink. “Those phrases have been worn out, they don’t work anymore”, Payback waved it off. “Works when you haven’t heard it that much”, you mumbled at the rim of your beer bottle before you took a sip. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hangman looking over at you.

“You have to be clever, creative or those chicks won’t give you any attention”, Fanboy chimed in and pulled everybody’s attention on him. “And you wanna tell me that a cheesy pick-up line talking about your jizz will earn you more numbers than an honest ‘Hello, how are you’?”, Phoenix asked and shook her head. “Works on the right girls. I like ‘em freaky”, Fanboy answered her and wiggled his eyebrows.

“No wonder, you never get laid”, Rooster commented and made everybody laugh.

“You guys need a new round?”, you asked to change the topic. “I think we’re good for the night”, Rooster said and finished his beer. “We’ve got an early call tomorrow”, he added and got up from his chair.

“Hey, everybody! Pack it up”, Phoenix shouted and earned a few groans. It was already past 10 PM.

Not only did everybody collect their things, ready to go, but to your surprise, they all brought their bottles and glasses to the bar, placing them on the counter.

“Wow, thanks guys. Why don’t you do this every time?”, you jokingly asked as you closed the tabs and started handing back all the credit cards.

“Do you know how you get home? You shouldn’t drive”, Rooster asked as you handed him his card. “A bunch of you shouldn’t drive home anymore”, you countered. “We all Uber home and get our cars tomorrow”, he replied. “Oh okay, sounds reasonable”, you nodded and collected the glasses off the bar. “You should come with us, we get an Uber pool anyways”, Phoenix leaned on the counter, resting her head in her hands.

“I still have to clean up, you don’t have to wait for me”, you shook your head and smiled at her begging face. “Just come in earlier tomorrow”, Fanboy suggested. “It hurts my heart leaving you here”, Phoenix added and it made you chuckle.

“Alright, just let me put all the glasses in the baskets and wipe down the counter real quick”, you yielded your protest. “Yay”, Phoenix said and came around the bar. “I’m helping you. Come on, guys”, she waved over her colleagues.

“I’ll get us the Uber”, Payback said and got out his phone. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Coyote and Hangman leaving through the front door.

With the help of the others, it only took you a few minutes to clean up most of the bar before the Uber arrived. The six of you got in the van and got dropped off one by one at your houses and apartments. You were the last one in the car and it was 11 PM when you finally walked through your front door.

Next chapter: Part 5.1

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 23- Girl Dad | ‘Ours’

“Dada sleepy” Teddy whined pulling on Trent’s arm with a pouty face as they sat in the summer sun on the grass outside. They had originally been running about with a football but it had declined into them just laying there. Teddy complaining incessantly that she was tired. 

“Aw baby bear I’m sorry but can you stay awake for me? It’s not time for a nap yet.” He cooed gently. Her bottom lip immediately began to quiver. “Come here, Ted. I gotcha. We can go lay in your room for a little alright but we have to stay awake. Do you know why? I bet you’ll be soooo happy” He asked Teddy, pulling her into his arms. He ran his hand lovingly up and down her back.

“Nos dada.” She mumbled nuzzling her face into him. He stood up still holding her tight.

“Yeah you do, Ted. Mummy is coming home today. Aren’t you so excited to see her?” He picked her head up off him, pressing his nose to hers, one of her cheeks resting against his palm. “I know you are. We’ve missed mummy, huh?” He cooed, giving her a kiss. 

“Miss mama, dada.” She whined again with pooling puppy dog eyes, her lips curling into a sad pout. She looked adorably sleepy. He brushed his hand over her curls as they made their way inside before they laid on the floor upstairs with a few toys. Teddy tiredly answering Trent’s persistent questions in hopes he could keep her awake. 

“Who is that!?! Who just came home, Teddy girl?” Trent asked in a gentle voice scooping up Teddy off her tummy on the floor of her nursery playmat. He heard the alarm from your front door go off as you opened it coming home from the airport. He plopped her on her own two feet to run down the hall and helped her down the stairs, her hand in his. “C’mon, hurry! I think that’s mummy. Let’s go see.” He laughed teasing her, pushing her to move quicker but Teddy faltered a little beginning to get too eager to see you so he just picked her up and threw her over his shoulder as he jogged down the stairs, her giggles trailing behind them. Teddy let out a rambunctious ‘Mama!!’ Without even being able to see you properly, she could just tell. “Alright alright.” Trent laughed as Teddy desperately tried to wiggle and break away from him to get to you. “I’m old news now that mummy’s home, huh?” He joked, placing her on the floor.

“Hi! Hi! Hi! My sweet girl! Come here. Mwah! '' You cooed as Teddy ran as fast as she could to you before you planted a fat kiss on her picking her up. She wiggled squirming in your arms excitedly kicking her legs. “Come here!” You squished her tighter to you. “Didn’t you miss meee.” You sang as you peppered her with more kisses as her tiny giggles filled the entry way into your house. “You’re never old news, T. Missed you both so much” You kissed him, moving Teddy to your hip. 

“Flight was fine? I told you I’d come get you. I didn’t want you to take an Uber home alone.” He looked at you genuinely concerned. You laughed, kissing him once more with reassurance.

“T… It was all fine. It would’ve been silly plus what would you have done for lunch time if you were busy picking up mummy!” You cooed, turning your attention off him and to your little girl. She greedily grabbed for more of you, a physically impossible feat as her face was already squished into you entirely. 

“Fairs. We did have a good lunchtime didn’t we, baby bear? Tell mama what we had.” He cooed rubbing his big hand over her little curls. She pulled away from you and flicked her eyes back and forth between you two trying to listen to you both but impatiently waiting to talk.

“Pah ta.” She giggled pulling at your shirt excited to tell you that Trent had made her pasta. 

“Mmm! Was it yummy?” You asked and she nodded. “Did you save any for me or did you eat it all?” You asked her with a cheeky smile fairly sure the answer would be no. 

“Nah, someone was hungry.” Trent answered for her, wiping her plump pout. Her lips pulled into a mischievous grin. 

“My hungry girl.” You nommed on her tummy as she squealed. “I’m assuming they were the correct shape this time?” You laughed making fun of Trent’s struggles dealing with Teddy’s growing pickiness. 

“They were, thank you for telling me there was a big difference. God forbid we have airplane shaped pasta over dog shaped. Gets whatever she wants though, doesn't she?” He rolled his eyes at you before giving you a kiss to his cheek, switching his focus to Teddy. “Tell mama where we ate as well. Go on.” He cooed, moving to rub his thumb over her cheek.

“ ‘Side mama!” Teddy yelled. You laughed at her volume blinking your eyes adjusting to being back in the presence of a two year old. “Mama!” She yelled once more restlessly.

“Wow… you’re just so excited mummy is home now. You were so sleepy a little bit ago. You were complaining you wanted to lay down with me. Now you’re here yelling about. What’s all that about?” Trent teased Teddy about her dramatic shift in energy. Moments before you came home she was begging for them to move upstairs to her room because she was sleepy, slowly migrating to both of them laying on the floor but as Trent had told her, it wasn’t near enough her nap time just yet then so he was trying to withstand his new found battle of having to fight against his very own pooling puppy dog eyes looking right back at him. You called it karma. 

“Mama, mama, mama!” She screamed loving the attention she was getting from both of you.  Overjoyed that you were finally back home.  

“Yes? Hello, pretty girl. I missed you and daddy so much.”  You cooed, paying her mind. She was so excited to talk to you but you felt like your eyes were going to close. You kissed her chubby cheeks lazily telling her just how much you missed her hoping it would settle some of the energy coursing through her.  You moved to the couch and crashed. You were exhausted from your night out last night and your early flight. Travel in general always ran you a little ragged. You cuddled up on top of Trent after he set Teddy up to lay on the carpet in front of the tv with some toys for a while until she got bored and noticed you were together without her. 

“Mama! Mama, miss Teddy?” She asked moving to attempt to pull herself up clumsily and awkwardly on to the couch. Apparently telling her for a half hour you definitely had missed her was not enough. There was definitely a better way to get on to the couch but she managed eventually regardless. You let her do it on her own despite her silly approach. Her attempt number two was much more successful than her first. She was eager to know if you missed her and adamant to get the same attention you were currently giving to Trent. 

“Yeah, cutie girl. I missed you the most. Do you know who else I missed just as much?” You cooed with a sleepy smile. She shook her head ‘no’ very sure you couldn’t miss anyone nearly as much as you missed her.  “I really missed daddy though too.”  You clung to Trent paying attention to her but not wanting to get off him.  “Mummy’s tired baby and wants a cuddle with dada.” You cooed letting her know you weren’t exactly in the mood to run about the house right now with her unfortunately.

“Mama nap?” Teddy cooed and gave you an inquisitive look tilting her head. She thankfully understood you were exhausted. Frankly, the feeling was radiating off you. It was palpable.

“Yeah, Ted. Good idea. Let’s go cuddle in bed. We can let mummy sleep and you and me can watch something.” Trent made the executive decision for the three of you. It sounded perfect and just what you wanted.

“Dada help!” She yelped at Trent grabbing your arm signaling for him to ‘help’ carry you and so he did, entirely without any of her help. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist draping your arms over his shoulder lazily and dropping your face into his neck while he carried you upstairs. Teddy hanging onto the fabric of his shorts following closely. 

“I love you.” You said laying down in your very missed bed kissing his warm skin. “I’m yours, T.  Always yours.” You whispered hushly just to him, cuddling further into him in your bed. Your face stayed buried in his neck. All you wanted to do was be around him, smell him, feel him after your few days apart.   

“Love you so much, beautiful.” Trent whispered to you but not as quiet as you evidently because Teddy was quick to perk up hearing his words. 

“Mama booful.” Teddy cooed with a smile agreeing with Trent, looking back at him with real certainty.  

“Yeah. I think so. Don’t you?” Trent laughed at her little intrusion. She nodded at him. Your eyes remained shut letting them converse too tired to participate yourself. 

“My mama!” She grabbed for you, hugging your side, nuzzling into you. You hummed. You let her just wiggle her way in between you and Trent which in fairness was a small space so it took her a minute. Trent had tried to shift you and pull her in more comfortably but at the moment you just couldn’t get close enough to them both. Trent let you fall asleep for a little, Teddy slow to follow but nevertheless getting the nap she had wanted, all of you just taking the day to relax. A very calm one that ended up with you cuddling up back in your bed once again when night came around.

“Nobody could ever understand what this feels like.” You whispered to Trent as the quiet dark night filled the room. You laid on top of Trent. Your hand behind his head dragging your fingers over his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. “What you mean to me. You’re fucking air to me.” You continued nuzzling into him. He caressed the back of your head just the same as he kissed your cheek. 

“I couldn’t be without you. Baby… you are the only thing I need for the rest of my life, yeah?” He whispered back to you gently, keeping his hands on you, rubbing over your soft skin, unable to detach. He pulled your face from his neck and held your face above his for a moment. His eyes gazed up into yours. His eyes narrowed a little and a smirk pulled across his face. He pulled you down to him more, his lips crashing into yours in the most gentle terrifyingly perfect way. When he kissed you, You could feel your heart slow. Everything felt like it sloshed into a dream. How much you needed Trent was petrifying, you couldn’t imagine never not being exactly right where you were at this very moment. Somehow an incredibly mortal person felt completely transcendent. He was sweet and heavenly and all yours. 

“You think there is anything I don’t know about you, T?” You asked him with a childish giggle pulling away. He kind of thought the kiss was going to lead to something maybe a little bit more adult but he was happy to entertain the juvenile question if it meant seeing you smile the way you were at him. 

“Mmmm” He hummed thinking for a minute.  “I’d give you like an 88%.” He told you earnestly. Your brow furrowed, not exactly happy with your score. “Well I don’t even know all 100% of me... You know what fine, baby. I think maybe I’ll give you a 96% if we were to pretend I knew all 100%.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Any more questions?” He asked you cheekily. You hummed thinking for a moment. 

“Okay… erm, am I the best kisser in the world?” You asked him. You tilted your head with a cute smile. You hoped the answer was yes and if not that he’d lie. He nodded his head, keeping his lips shut trying to bite back a smile. He bit his bottom lip tight as he scanned your face. 

“Silly question. The answer is obvious. I’m not answering that.” He cooed and you looked at him curiously. Wondering if you weren’t his obvious answer. You couldn’t control your face dropping a little. Trent couldn’t miss it. “Baby… hey.” He let out a breathy laugh picking up your chin in his hand knowing you well enough that you wanted an answer. “You… you are the only kiss I ever want, could ever want to remember, you are it. Best in the world” He cooed, pressing his lips to yours with a hum. 

“Okay, fine… good answer.” You giggled, okay with his answer. “New question, what do you like about me, physically?” You shot him another question.

“Wow… Where do I even begin?” Trent rubbed his hands over his face trying to think.  He laughed a little trying to narrow it down in his head. “Erm… You know what and this isn’t one thing over another because I love all of you but I am going to go with that smile. That does it for me every time. You just have a glow about you, baby. You are so beautiful. When you smile or laugh I feel like my heart falters a little. Your eyes squint a little in the cutest way, you just light up.” He cooed. You pouted at him with a shake of the head. “Nah, take the compliment. It’s all true. You’re gorgeous. Anything else or can we get to bed now?” He asked once more, making sure there wasn’t anything else you needed to know before you ended your day. 

“Yeah, you were really cheeky about the photos I posted on holiday but you didn’t tell me which was your favorite. So which one did you like the most?” You probed once more, inquiring about his reaction to your holiday instagrams. He shook his head pulling you further into him. 

“Goodnighttt.” He sang, kissing your forehead. 

���Wait one more! One more!” You giggled, trying to move in his arms to look at his face more. “How much do you love me?”  You asked. Trent just rolled his eyes with one more kiss ignoring your question. You knew his answer.

 

“T…” You groaned through a yawn. The morning light came flooding into your bedroom. All you wanted to do was somehow close your eyes tighter to block out the brightness. You tried your best and sleepily nuzzled into Trent. His hands were all over you. Under your shorts, pushing up your top, rubbing your arms, just everywhere. 

“Mmhmmm baby.” He hummed in response.  “Too many days apart and way too many clothes on you right now.” He whispered. An uncontrollable smirk pulled on your lips, your hand dropping in between you both sliding into his boxers as if it was magnetically drawn there. “See this is why I’m marrying you. You just get me.” He cooed with a smug laugh happy with where your hands were going.

“You’re marrying me because I’ll touch you in the morning when you won’t stop bothering me when I’m trying to sleep?” You teased him trying to not let out a little giggle. 

“No baby but I’m marrying you because I know you well enough that I know you want my hands here.” He said as he cheekily dragged his hands to your ass kneading it. “I know that I’ve been up for a half hour and all I’ve been thinking about is how happy I am you’re home and how nice it’d be to welcome you home, pretty girl.” He let out a breathy laugh

“Welcome me home, hmm?” You asked him with real inquiry. You weren’t opposed to having a little fun with him this morning. 

“Yeah anymore comments, complaints?” He rolled you over to be on top of you now. His hands pulling up your tiny tank top,  your boobs swiftly on full display for him. You shyly shook your head ‘no.’

“We’ll tell me because I wouldn’t want to do anything you don’t like…” He whispered, dropping his head beginning to place kisses along your jaw as he kept dragging out starting something. His hands just ghosting over your body now. 

“T…” you whined. “Okay, stop. Please, I know why you’re marrying me. Come on.” You desperately begged him to do more. To touch you, to kiss you, something!

“Please what, baby?” He mocked your desperation cheekily with another question. He took it too far. You huffed and had had enough. If he didn’t want you, you didn’t want him. You tried to move out from underneath him. “Nah, nah, nah, I’m sorry.” He buried his face in your neck talking between gross wet kisses. “C’mere, baby.” He let out a hearty laugh pinning you underneath him pressing all his weight on top of you. 

“No! No, no! Uh uh. I’m done with your games, T. You’re on your own now this morning! Let me out! Your loss!”  You quipped at him with a faux scowl on your face. 

“Oh don’t be like that, beautiful.” He cooed with a laugh as you moved him off you. You got out of the bed and you knew exactly what you were doing. You walked towards the en-suite of your bedroom. You peeled your clothes off purposefully slow and seductively. “Nah, c’mon now. Don’t be mean about it.” He groaned with a cheeky grin. You turned on the shower and Trent’s eyes lit up. He was quick to follow you. You walked onto the cold marble floor and under the warm water. You weren’t going to tell him no, in fact, this is exactly what you wanted when you initially stood up so when you saw him peel his t-shirt off over his head you decided to fuel the situation and hum at the delicious sight. 

“You look so good right now.” You cooed with a cheeky smile. You stuck your hand out to pull him into the shower once he was fully undressed.

“I think we look good right now.”  He took your hand and pulled you into him. Your wet body coming against his dry one before he pushed you back into the tiled wall. 

“Yeah? You think? I wanna see.” You giggled moving around him. His brows furrowed for a moment wondering what you meant and where you were trying to go until you hopped out of the shower with a skip running to the sink counter to get your phone. You placed it up right facing the shower and pulled up your camera. 

“Oh yeah, baby?” He asked you with a glowing smile pulling his lips up. You turned and nodded. You hit record and scampered back into the shower and draped your arms over his shoulders. He slipped his arms around your waist and dropped his hands to lay over the curve of your ass. Being in Trent’s arms sent any wall you could’ve ever had crumbling down. Your submissiveness with Trent came to the forefront immediately as you closed the space in between your lips. His hands slid around you and worked up to your tits. He pulled away from your kiss to your disappointment momentarily until he worked his lips down your neck and their way to one of your nipples, taking it in his mouth pinching the other with his fingers. 

“Fuck, T.” You moaned as his free hand lifted one of your legs by your thigh to wrap around his waist. His hands on you felt like fire, shivers racing down your spine with the water from the shower head. His hands dropped in between you two and glided their way through your folds. 

“Gonna be a good girl for me now?” He spoke into your neck between kisses when he slipped two of his fingers into you. You let out in a gasp. “You gonna let me take care of you this morning now” Trent said while his fingers worked slow and then up to a blistering pace. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach forming minute after minute. You shut your eyes tight, your pussy pulsating around his fingers. Before you could even tell Trent you felt it all snap and release, a sensation of pleasure washing over you embarrassingly quick.

“Oh my god” you muttered. You felt like you could barely speak. Your one hand dropped between your bodies and wrapped around his hardening length. The other pulling the back of his neck towards you to start kissing him passionately and messily. He pulled away for a moment and picked up your other thigh from under your ass holding you up pushing your back against the wall a little more. “T, don’t drop me.” You moaned with a giggle, ghosting your lips over his. You pumped his length a few times before he lined up his cock at your entrance, teasing you with the tip.  

“Nah, let me take care of you, alright? I got you, baby.” He groaned, feeling his cock slid into you slowly. Your eyes fluttered closed from the stretch. “Fuck, needed this since last night. Feel so good f’me, baby.” He moaned as you tightened your legs around his waist more. He rolled his hips into you and his cock pushed deeper, hitting a spot only he knew. When he found the perfect rhythm you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening again. He sucked and nibbled onto your sensitive neck, the heat coursing through your body in contrast to the cold tiles pressing into your back. 

“T…” you whined as he reached in between you and rubbed your clit in harsh tight circles but fell into messy motions when Trent began to have a hard time focusing. You felt so good. You could barely speak from how good he felt. Your stomach tightened and your walls fluttered as you came, squirting a little.

“Good girl. So fucking good. Turn around f’me. Want you to see how good you look when I fuck from behind.” He spoke into your neck as your pussy continued to throb. He pulled out gently placing your feet on the ground and turning you around. He held you ass cheeks apart as you bent over to see himself slide inside. “So fucking wet.” He groaned as your eyes rolled back into your head. The thickness of his cock stretching you out all over again. Your moans echoed off the shower walls as he fucked you for ages. You were in heaven.  He adjusted his hips thrusting into you a bit harder. You gasped and clenched tighter around his cock. “Cum f’me, baby. I wanna make you cum f’me. Fuck.” He cursed. He dragged his cock out slowly before pushing back right back in. All you could hear was the water of the shower cascading over you and the slaps of your wet skin colliding. It made your pussy that much wetter. Your orgasm drew quickly. The muscles in your stomach tensed but your tightness cause Trent’s thrusts to begin to get fairly sloppy in the best type of way. He gripped your hips and dug his fingers into your wet skin.  

“Baby, please. Please, I’m gonna cum. T.” You whined as your cheek pressed into the cold tiles in front of you. You might have been drooling but you were in such a haze you had no idea. He gathered your wet hair off your back and dragged your head back pulling it by it. He gripped your jawline with his other hand and forced you to turn to look back at him. You were for him to use and you never felt better because he treated you like you weren’t like all he cared about was you. How you felt, making sure you knew he was doing it because he loved you. That’s what made him feel good… okay, and probably a few other things happening right now but your pleasure was fueling him. Your wetness ran down your inner thighs with the water and covered his entire length as he moved seamlessly in and out of you. Swiftly a third orgasm crashed over you. You let out a pornographic moan with your release. 

“I love you. Oh my god, fuck! You’re so deep.” You cried as you felt every inch of him push deeper. You had completely forgotten about the phone capturing your trembling frame and every moan you made. He reached that spot so deep you both loved and you shuttered letting out another sinful noise.

“Shhh, baby. It’s early, gotta be quiet f’me.” He mocked you. It was unfair to tell you that considering how he was fucking you right now so you ignored him untill he continued to drill into that spot causing pleasure to ripple through you. You just about screamed, making an absolute mess around his cock. “There it is, baby. Such a good girl. That’s the spot, huh? You love this.” He whispered into your ear before letting your body drop back into the bent position for him to fuck you harder with more pace. “Look so beautiful like this. I can’t wait to watch this back.” He let out a breathy laugh before your pussy clenched tighter, imaging the video you were making causing him to let out a groan. “You’re mine forever, baby. Do you know that? None of those fucking lads in your instagram comments, could ever fuck you like this. Tell me you know your mine.” He grunted as you threw your ass back on his length while he slapped your ass. 

“I’m yours, T. Only yours… oh my god.” You both felt your highs wash over you instantaneously. He moaned your name as he filled your puddy with his cum. Your heart was fucking pounding, you thought you might’ve blacked out momentarily but Trent was quick to secure you in his arms, pressing your back into his chest, of course not to miss the opportunity to turn you around to face directly at your phones camera as he kneaded your tits in his hands. You didn’t care. You felt so euphoric you just dropped your head back onto his shoulder. 

“You’re so sexy baby.” Trent cooed watching you two on your phone’s front screen. You hummed and he finished your actual shower for you, turning off the water and wrapping you in a towel before carrying you into your bed for a cuddle.  

“Can we go get Ted?” You asked him as you snuggled up on top of your blankets after, freshly clean and freshly fucked out of your mind. 

“Don’t want to be with just me?” He asked with a faux pout pretending to be hurt by your comments.  

“I do, of course I do but I miss being all together. It feels like it’s been ages.” You returned the theatrical pout back to him.  

“Alright, gimme a good kiss first.” He asked pushing his pursed lips out towards you the childish way Teddy often did.  

“They’re not all good?” You asked, feigning offense. His pursed lips cracked into a smile. He just grabbed you cheeks with one hand pushing your lips forcefully out to kiss him ignoring your question. He captured your lips in a sweet kiss and despite your exhaustion, the adrenaline running through you was high and so was your lust for him. You pushed for more. You melted into him and he pulled your body more into his. Your lips unable to part as you began to grind your body on him.  

“Should we go get her?” Trent asked, breaking the kiss with an annoyingly cheeky smile. 

“Hold on. I just need…” you didn’t finish your sentence, you just straddled over top of him and pulled him into another sensual kiss. Your morning alone with Trent did not stop there. 

It was a few weeks later and the start of a new week. It was going to be a busy one. Trent had a work commitment, you had to go to the courthouse to sign your marriage license in the UK and then… the largest event of this summer break, and potentially your life, you were flying to New York for your wedding. Trent was stood in your kitchen when you came up behind him after you got ready for your day. You slipped your hands down into the band of his sweats and softly guided them on his skin from his hips inwards over his abs. He hummed loving the feeling of your hands on him. 

“You’re a tease but I like you.” Trent laughed as goosebumps raised on his skin, turning his head awkwardly back towards you to try to see more of you.  For some reason hearing that he ‘liked’ you felt so intimate. 

“You like me?” You cooed with a giggle. It felt different instead of an I love you.  You batted your eyelashes up at him with a warm feeling filling your chest as you kept your hands on his warm skin.  

“I really like you. In fact, I love you.” He told you with certainty. He craned his neck a little further back to you and kissed your forehead. You leaned into his lips with a hum.

“Lub mama, dada!” Teddy giggled in her high chair forever keen on being involved in any interaction you and Trent were having without her. Begging for attention. You shook your head. 

“You lub me too, Teddy girl?” You giggled moving over to her. You wiped the side of her mouth with your thumb. “Do you want to go see daddy be a celebrity today?” You asked her with cheek, Trent rolling his eyes. Trent had an Adidas commitment later in the day. It was in Liverpool for a launch of a boot he was coming out with for the brand. It was a big event and he wanted you to go. If he wanted you to go to something like this, you’d usually go. You knew he got a little nervous and having you there made him feel better. It was old hat for him to do the events but supporting him would never be something either of you would take for granite. You’d always go to support him but fan heavy events were a lot for you and you were interested to see how Teddy would handle them.

“Lebrity dada.” Teddy tried to coo. She tilted her head trying to figure out what you were telling her about her dad. 

“Yeah, daddy is so famous. Did you know everyone in Liverpool loves your daddy?” You laughed a little more. Trent rolled his eyes once more before leaving the room. You weren’t sure where he was going but you assumed he’d be back.

“Don’t listen to mummy, baby bear. Daddy is just yours but can you come with me today? I need my Ted anddd.” Trent spoke as he came over behind you wrapping his arms around you and swaying your body side to side with one arm laid over your chest. His other hand dropped down by his side holding a little box. “I got you dada’s new boots, want to see?”

“T… her first boots are gonna be yours? That is so sweet. Teddy girl, want to be like dada?” You cooed with a pout opening the tiny shoe box for her pulling out the Adidas boot collaboration Trent had done with them. The little pair of Predators melted your heart. 

“Yeah, what do you think, Ted? You think people will like them? Can match me today.” Trent spoke to Teddy with a really proud glint in his eyes. She nodded grabbing the boot from his hand. 

“Reddy to go?” You asked, picking up your purse and Teddy’s bag. You looked at Trent. He smiled at you and stood up from the couch in your living room he was sitting on with Teddy. She was in a little adidas fit, a pink t-shirt and red shorts with her new boots, her little hair pulled back into a slicked back bun. She looked perfectly cute.

“Yeah, all good to go, aren’t we, baby bear?” He asked Teddy. She sleepily nodded before cuddling back into his chest bawling his shirt in her tiny hand. She had just woken up from her nap and was going to stay stuck to him until you inevitably had to peel her off. “I don’t think it’ll be a lot of people, you know?” He cooed as you got into the car.

“Okay… don’t lie.” You laughed looking at him with a smug smile. This was an event in Liverpool with Trent Alexander-Arnold for Football boots, of course, there would be a lot of people there. When you arrived Tyler was also there so you tucked off to the side with him while Trent did all the things he had to do. You bounced Teddy on your hip as you watched fans flock and surround Trent. It felt bizarre like he was being pulled away from you. It was a strange juxtaposition of pride and fear. You understood the hype. He was amazing but simultaneously you wanted to be like ‘okay, let’s go. You’re mine.’ In your tunneling vision watching him, he turned back to find you with his eyes as he was shuffled into a space away from fans for interviews, shooting a wink your way. Butterflies filled your stomach. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that the man swarmed by fans was the father of the little girl in your arms but more so that you were going to be his wife by the end of this week.

“Don’t think it'll be a lot of people.” You teased Trent with what he said before you went to the event giving him a cheeky smile. There were thousands of people there today to meet him, hell, just to even see him. You draped your arms around him, pressing your forehead to his. “Proud of you, dada.” You kissed his lips with a smile feeling Teddy slip herself in between you and his legs.

“C’mere baby. You proud of me, huh?” Trent cooed, bending down to pick up Teddy. She didn’t answer him with anything concrete, just a squeal of sorts and an excited hug, wrapping her arms around his neck with real force. “Like mama, yeah?” Trent laughed asking her. She nodded. “The whole time you were away the other week, Ted would look at me all the time like this and say ‘like mama’ and cling to me, face in my neck, arms wrapped around me in any way possible… all day.” He looked back at you. 

“Stop.” You rolled your eyes at him. Unfortunately you definitely did believe it and to be fair, it was fairly accurate, You wrapped your arms around him just the way she did. Teddy was incredibly ‘like mama.’ 

“I’m serious, she said it!” Trent yelped trying to get you to believe him. He needed to make sure you knew he wasn’t lying, that he was right, naturally. 

“Like mama, huh?” You giggled, rubbing your thumb over Teddy’s plump cheek. You kissed her in the same place following your thumb. “Whether or not I believe you… it’s very cute.” You cooed with a smile flashing your eyes back to Trent sliding your hands now around his waist. 

“You’re cute.” He whispered, kissing your lips. Taking his one free hand and pulling you close into him and Teddy.  

You were fairly excited as you put on your lip gloss inspecting your full look one last time before you left the house before legally you became Mrs. Alexander-Arnold at least on paper. You wore a tiny lace mini dress with gold buttons. You ran your hands over it pressing it flat against your body and then bent over to adjust your Bottega heels. 

“Ready, baby?” Trent asked, coming behind you holding Teddy in one arm, the other ghosting your waist as their figures filled the mirror. You turned around to face them with a smile. 

“Come here.” You grunted, picking up Teddy from his arms. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world! Did you know that?” You pressed your nose to her cheeks. She let out a soft giggle. “You are! Say yes I am mummy.” You cooed, kissing her cheek. She just babbled out a ‘yeah am.” Trent reached around and tickled her stomach only drawing out more laughs. “Good girl! Want to have the same surname as mummy or no?” You asked Teddy. You’re not sure she understood the question because she shook her head ‘no’ which you tried to not take personally.

“Yeah, we want mama to be an Alexander Arnold too. C’mon, let’s go my beautiful girls.” Trent cooed, moving his hand to the small of your back to guide you. “You look beautiful. Officially mine, yeah?” He whispered in your ear as you kept your focus on Teddy. You turned back to him though hearing his compliment and question. 

“Always was just signing a piece of paper, T.” You giggled trying to downplay what you were doing. If you thought about it too much you were sure you would get anxious. The closer and closer you got to having to walk down the aisle the more and more nervous you were becoming. . 

“Wow, way to make such an exciting thing sound absolutely dead. Sheesh, baby.” Trent laughed as you began to get in the car. 

“Sorry sorry. No, of course, it’s exciting.” You placed your hand on his thigh as he started to drive out of your neighborhood. “What do I get being an Alexander-Arnold in Liverpool after this?” You asked with a slight laugh.

“What do you get?!?!” He yelped, whipping his head to look at you. “You get me? What are you on about?” Trent asked as he impatiently waited with his eyes wide. 

“Yeah but like do I now not get traffic tickets, do I not have to pay for things?” You teased him with a smug smirk and a giggle. He rolled his eyes. 

“None of that is happening…” He lied to you. It happened to him all the time. You raised your eyebrows waiting for the truth. “Okay, it has in the past.” He got out fairly disgruntled having to admit the truth. “If you’re with me though you never have to worry about a thing and you know that.” He squeezed your hand resting on his thigh. 

“I know that. Thank you for taking care of me, baby.” You twisted your hand in his and brought them both back to your lips. You kissed the back of his hand a couple times. 

“Signed and sealed on that after this. No turning back.” He laughed, turning to you a little at a traffic light before your destination. 

“I’m okay with that.” You laced your fingers with his a little tighter. “George is coming, right? Like we’re actually doing this? You want to do this?” You asked Trent as your anxiety began to wash over you again. 

“Yes, baby.” He laughed a little more. “We’re doing this… I’m marrying you and you need to get on board because we’re here and you’ve got about 5 minutes to change your mind.” Trent rambled on as he parked the car. You shook your head at his dramatics. “Nah,  nevermind, you don’t get to decide anymore. If you strung me along this long. I’m just carrying you in. C’mon Ted,  help me get mummy inside.” Trent teased about dragging you in. Teddy’s face lit up when he turned to her. He opened his door and came around to get her out of her car seat.  “Can you believe that? Mummy wants something more than sharing a surname with me and you. Ridiculous. Trying to change her mind about marrying me.” He mumbled just to Teddy carrying her around to you. 

“I’d never in a million years change my mind. Isn’t dada so silly, Ted?” You cooed, fixing the cute dress she was in. Trent shook his head disapproving of you saying he’s silly. Teddy let out a ‘dada’ squeal grabbing around his neck smushing herself to him. Not ever being close enough to Trent, a feeling you knew all too well. Trent couldn’t hold his offended face hearing and seeing her reach out to him. His lips pulled into a sweet smile before he kissed her cheek.  You went inside the building and you did just what Trent said, signed and sealed your government approved marriage certificate. 

“Say congrats mummy and daddy.” George cooed holding Teddy as the four of you left the offices. Teddy got out something along the lines or ‘Graps mama dada.’ “It was a good go. Next time.” George laughed kissing her cheek. “Congrats mate. What a fucking whirlwind. You met on a street corner… like bro you know how mad that is that you just married her? You married her!” George emphasized giving Trent a hug with his free arms then gripping his shoulder shaking him back and forth. You had stepped away quickly to pop to the bathroom before you all left.  You and Trent had agreed that you wanted George to come and be your witness for the marriage for a number of reasons but mostly because you didn’t want to have to pick between siblings or parents and you didn’t want to invite 10 people to this either. You were sighing a piece of paper. It wasn’t all that exciting. 

“Yeah, mate… that was the plan.” Trent laughed, removing George’s hand from him. You came back and took Teddy from George. 

“Home?” You asked Trent leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“Home, baby.” He confirmed kissing your temple. 

“Thank you, George. I don’t think the city recognizes a two year old as a witness so we appreciate it, really.” You cooed with a smile smoothing Teddy’s dress for her as she kicked her legs back and forth admiring her little gold sandals. 

“Love you both.” George gave you a hug. “I’m really happy you met. It’s been wild but this has been really amazing, honest. As much shit as we give you two, it’s really nice.” He admitted a bit softer of a sentiment than he probably cared to admit.

“Weird right?” You giggled looking at Trent. You sat out at a table on your patio in the back garden under fairy lights later that night. You held his hand across the table thinking how insane this all was. Just like George had expressed to Trent, you met on a street corner… that was nuts.

“Were you expecting some big change after we came home?” He asked you with a smirk brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“No.” You shyly looked away although maybe you did think that. “I don’t know, like legally you can’t leave me. It’s crazy.”  You cooed with a cheeky smile. It felt bizarre that in one fell swoop you had left the house and returned with a husband. 

“Baby... I wasn’t planning on leaving. Get that through your pretty little head, please.” Trent knocked on your head with his fist gently. You rolled your eyes. “What do you think of being my wife so far?” He asked you with a childish grin. 

“It’s only been a few hours or so but no complaints so far. I think I’ll keep you around.” You cheekily responded with giggle. He stood up and moved over to come sit next to you. He picked you up and sat down pulling you back down to sit in his lap.

“No complaints? Wow so I’m a great husband then, yeah?” He laughed in the most beautiful way. You slipped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder tucking your face into his neck.

“The best husband, the best daddy, the best footballer, my best boy in the whole world, baby.”  You whispered to him into his warm skin. He brushed some of your hair that had fallen behind your ear.

“I love you more than anything in the entire world.” He kissed your forehead. “Can’t believe I got so lucky to have a girl like you become my wife. I’ve loved every second we’ve had together and I can’t wait to have the rest of our lives together. I want everyday with you and our Teddy girl.” He cooed. You picked your head up and held his face in your hands. You kissed his perfect pout. 

“She doesn’t stop talking now and she doesn’t even know how to talk.” You overheard Marcel ranting to Trent about Teddy in your kitchen as you came downstairs from putting her down for her nap.   

“She does know how to!” You interrupted them to correct his incorrect statement. 

“I mean… Y/N be real here. She is just making sounds at this point and yet she looks at me like I’m dumb for not understanding her. All day I’m like what are you saying to meee.” He groaned. Trent shook his head just listening to Marcel babble on, most likely just ignoring him. 

“That’s how I feel with you all.��� You joked teasing them for their very thick accents. 

“That’s very rude.” Trent furrowed his brow. “She is deffo a yapper though. Ted just likes to talk, I’m down, I think it’s cute.” He continued on clarifying.  

“I wonder where she gets it from?” You asked sarcastically. You raised your eyebrows with a cheeky smile. Trent caught it but chose to ignore your comment. “But stop…She’s perfect in every way.” You snapped, turning to Marcel. 

“I never said she wasn’t perfect!” He held up his hands in innocence. Looking at you moving towards Trent in shock he was being accused of saying Teddy was anything but. 

“She is perfect. Perfection personified.” Trent joined in piling on as if Marcel had said something completely offensive. He, in fact, did not. 

“I miss when I was your perfect girl.” You whispered, slipping your hands around Trent’s waist, leaning your head onto his shoulder from behind. 

“You are my perfect girl. She only is because you made her, yeah?” Trent whispered, turning his head to you kissing your cheek. “Love you baby.” He spoke at a more normal volume. Marcel rolled his eyes.

 

A thunderstorm crashed down. Big bolts of lightening lit up the sky, the rain seemed to be never ending, the sounds of thunder boomed and Teddy was terrified. One particularly loud noise and gust of wind pushing the trees to rustle against the house had her running up off the carpet of your living room to Trent immediately in tears. 

“Dada!!!” She yelled as her tears spilled over. She moved around the coffee table and scrambled to grab him. She jumped on his leg immediately trying to crawl up. He helped, picking her up. Trent held her tight to his chest as he tried to calm her down. He kissed her hair keeping his lips to her, shushing her as he rubbed her back.

“It’s only wawa, I promise. C’mere baby.” Trent cooed gently after a while of holding her and minimal calmness coming over her. He got up with her and walked to the big glass doors that looked out to your back garden. He sat on the floor and plopped her on his lap. Another thunderous noise rang through the house and she clung to him again crying. “Ted...” he tried not to laugh. “Look, baby.” He pointed to the splashing puddles on the patio stone outside the glass door “It’s just wawa. You’re okay.” He cooed. They sat there for a while embraced. Teddy squeezing him a little tighter every time she heard the thunder but bravely watched the puddles regardless. 

“I’m scared too.” You giggled cheekily and cuddled up to him sitting down on the floor beside them. He gave you a sly smile with a disapproving shake of the head. He pulled you into him with his free arm regardless. He kissed your temple as you brushed your hand over Teddy's hair pushing her curls away from her face. 

“Wawa mama.” she pointed outside to show you. You kissed Trent’s cheek and smiled at her. 

“Oh okay. So it’s not scary, huh?” You cooed looking at her with a pouty smile. It was so cute she was trying to explain something she had just learned. 

“Nah, it’s okay. Right, Ted? Such a brave girl for daddy.” He held her chubby little body close to his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck eager to be close to him justtt in case another too scary thunder happened. 

“Sleepy.” She cuddled into Trent before she let out a yawn.

“Yeah, daddy’s brave girl is probably tired. I think it’s time for sleep, Teddy bear.” You peeled her off him. You both said a long goodnight to her before you brought her upstairs and put her down for bed. Trent got up with you but moved to the cinema and waited for you to come back down. Teddy took awhile to get down because of the rain but you eventually got there. 

“Hi.” You sleepily whispered entering the cinema. “Can I have a cuddle please.” You crawled on top of Trent before he could even answer. He eventually hummed and kissed your head. Your ass was hanging out of your tiny shorts as you moved yourself atop him. He kneaded your ass cheek as you shuffled trying to get settled in further on his chest. 

“Came in here just to distract me, huh? C’mere.” He helped you a little, pulling you directly on top of him. Then to your displeasure he slapped your exposed ass. 

“Ow T!! No!” You whined. “I wanted soft, mushy, lovey T not this.” You complained with a pout trying to wiggle away now. You were not in the mood for cheeky Trent. You were tired after it took so long to get Teddy to sleep and you just wanted to cuddle with him. 

“Only you get to have both.” He cooed with a slight laugh wrapping his arms around you keeping you fixed on top of him despite your efforts to get away. 

“I don’t want both.” You whimpered, speaking into his shirt, accepting your fate.

“Alright alright. I’m sorry, baby. I love you.” He cooed kissing your cheek. You gave a sarcastic humph. “I was thinking about you, ya know?” He cooed and you hummed interested but still mildly annoyed he wasn’t being as gentle as you wanted. “If we have another kid…” he began talking. 

“When, baby. It’s when.” You corrected him. There had been some unspoken tension surrounding that topic and what was going to happen there. Trent didn’t want to ever pressure you and definitely didn’t want to be the one to inflect any more troubles on you but he smiled and kissed your head hearing your correction.. 

“I really think you’re the most amazing mum. Sometimes I see with her and I’m just awestruck by how natural it comes to you. I hope Teddy knows I’m trying my best.” He smiled and you pouted at him for a different reason. 

“Thanks T… I mean it takes work for me as well like you know me accepting messes are not coming naturally.” You giggled and so did he as he kissed the bridge of your nose. “You’re a very good daddy to her though, just the best.” You softly spoke looking at him, inspecting the cluster of freckles on his cheek beneath his eye. 

“I like being a girl dad, you know?” he cooed with another kiss, brushing his thumb over your cheek. You dropped your head and nuzzled into him.  

“Really?” You giggled a little. You kissed his neck and held him a little tighter. You loved hearing that from him.

“Yeah think I’m good at it.” He boasted proudly. You always remember when you found out when you were having a girl asking Trent if that was okay. Not like you could change it but you were nervous.  

“You’re good at everything.” You concurred with him cheekily but honestly you felt like you could cry. Knowing he liked being a girl dad, knowing how good he was as a girl dad made you want to just cry how cute it all was. You knew he would be a good dad but seeing it everyday made you melt. 

“Think so?” He sarcastically asked. You slapped at his chest cutting your emotional moment. He knew the answer, of course. “You doing okay, baby?” He cooed. You nodded silently just loving being in his arms. You just settled in a comfortable silence. 

“Golf…” Almost an hour passed when you finally spoke again. Trent hummed not understanding what you were talking about.  “Golf… poor. You’re no good at that.” You said it without breaking a smile.  

“Nah…” he disagreed with you. You picked up your head to look at him questionably ready to remind him of an outing with your dad once. “Alright alright, you got me. Girl dad though?” He asked with a devastating smile flashing back at you.

“Very good. Very” You paused giving him a kiss. “Very good.” You cooed kissing him once more.  

“I think you’re the best kisser in the world.” He hummed with another beautiful smile. 

“Who are you exactly comparing me too?” You asked him with a raised brow. “You told me I was the best. I thought I was the only one you wanted to remember.” You sat up a little in a joking huff. 

“You’re funny but nah, I’m just making an assumption. You’re the best kisser in the world, the most beautiful girl in the world, best mummy in the world.” He hummed kissing you again.

“Anything else?” You asked with a giggle. He shook his head and grabbed your face pulling you in for another kiss without an answer.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 24 xx

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn't aware of)

Taglist: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie @juda-the-simp  @colsons-baker @junnniiieee07  @ok-boke @ren-ni @katie-tibo @bruce-yamada @kenma-izhu @cookielovesbook-akie @elevenpurple @hyunlix-world @mavix @halleest

A/n: Oh-my-god, I am so sorry for the major delay! Trust me, I was in the middle of writing the chapter the same day I said I would post it, but being a mom is super-duper busy and they will always come first and I completely forgot to post the chapter, but here it is FINALLY.. My twins are now 3 so they’re acting like teenagers, but toddler form; super bossy, extremely demanding, always and I MEAN always keeping me on my feet. Plus, I had to re-write it as I didn’t like how the first attempt at chapter 14 sounded 😮‍💨 Anyways, I barely have time to write, but when I can, I hope you all enjoy it. I hope this chapter is up to your liking! More chapters are still on the way, A LOT MORE. Keep in mind, the Billy scene in previous chapters and this scene is my first time writing smut/smut related things… 😓😓😓 Lastly, Thank You ALL so much for getting me to 405 followers! I’m in disbelief 🫢💜

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Chapter 14

Gulping, you shakily took the phone off the counter, hanging it up and unplugged it from the wall, making sure no calls would come through anymore that night for her sake.

Looking over, you saw Sidney gripping at her brown hair, pulling it in every direction, her jaw clenched, yet, her teeth chattering; she wanted to scream, shout and cry, but couldn’t. Her pale features now a rouge from both exhaustion and terror. Her sanity seemed to slip away bit-by-bit each time Ghostface would call; preying on her, taunting her, humiliating her.

“What, what!?” Dewey came running from his room, waving a gun around in his white t-shirt and blue and white striped boxers.

Tatum tsk-ed at her brother’s tardiness, pushing passed him to follow Sidney.

You rubbed the nape of your neck, placing your other hand on Dewey’s shoulder, “Next time.. maybe be a little quicker.” You laughed, half-heartedly, trying to make light of the situation, seeing how confused Dewey seemed to be.

__

“(Y/n) (L/n) and Sidney Prescott who were both…”

Before the news reporter finished his sentence, Dewey shut the tv off, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table, sitting down.

“Billy was released.”

Your ears perked at the sound, relief washing over.

Sidney’s eyes lit up, but she still clearly had her doubts.

“His cellular bill was clean. He didn’t make those calls..” Dewey stated, grabbing a carton of milk before pouring some of it into his coffee. “We’re checkin’ every cellular account in the county.” Dewey finished, taking a long gulp of his un-sweetened drink before continuing. “(Y/n), Sidney..” He eyed both of you, “Any calls made to you two or Casey Becker are being cross-referenced, it’s going to take some time, but we’ll find him.”

Tatum nudged you and smiled at Sidney.

__

Dewey pulled into the school lot with ease, parallel parking at the curb.

He got out and opened the door for you and Sidney.

You smiled at him, thanking him quietly, and he tilted his hat at you as Sidney got out next.

However, your smile quickly faded, seeing a reporter running towards your side; most likely to ambush both you and Sidney about what happened.

“(Y/n) how does it feel to know the murderer is lusting after you and nearly butchering your friends? Do you know who the killer is, are you a part of his twisted game?” A red head asked, shoving a mic at you, accusing you of being his partner-in-crime.

You scoffed, irritated, but somehow calm, honoured that she knows the killer wants you.

“What about you, Sidney? How does it feel to be almost brutally killed?”

Sidney bit her lip, already wanting to cry.

Dewey stepped in front, shoving the reporter away.

“Hey, leave them alone!” He shouted, towering over the petite woman.

She stumbled back, but wasn’t giving up.

“People want to know. They have a right to know!”

You, Tatum and Sidney bolted, getting away from all the interrogations this woman was sure to have up her sleeves.

__

You were pressed against a locker; your mid back arched causing your torso to move forward; and your arms folded, pushing your breasts together, making them pop out.

“This is a mistake, I shouldn’t be here…” Sidney huffed, grabbing her books and slamming her locker door shut.

You sighed, plopping a sucker in your mouth; twirling the red treat around your tongue, pursing your lips tightly around it and without meaning to, your eyes landed on Stu who was already watching you.

You blushed and he smirked, liking how you looked with your mouth full.

“I want you to meet me right here after class, okay, Sid?” Tatum spoke and Sidney nodded.

“Hey, Stu, I haven’t seen Billy around… is he really pissed?”

Stu tore his gaze from you, looking at Sidney.

“Oh, you mean after you branded him the Candyman?”

You shoved Stu slightly, giving him a glare.

He winced, “No, his heart’s broken—“

Suddenly a scream was heard and the four of you looked into the direction it came from, spotting a student running down the hall dressed as Ghostface.

You blushed again, seeing the full cloaked figure and that ghostly-white mask again.

‘Fuck, that’s hot.’ You smirked slightly, turning your head to the side, trying to subtly check out the student who’s dressed up like the murderer, you let out a quiet “Mmph” squeezing your thighs together.

Unbeknownst to you, Stu heard your moan, and knew exactly what you were doing with your thighs. Luckily, the others did not, but he is so glad that he did. He can smell the hormones leaking off of you; they were practically oozing with want for the cloaked-killer.

He bit his lip, trying to contain his excitement.

“Why are they doing this?” Sidney spoke, watching the student run away.

Stu, glanced at you, “Are you kidding me? Look at this place, it’s like Christmas!” He laughed, a devious smirk prying at his lips as the comment was directed at you. You were his Christmas, knowing the woman he wants is full blown horny for him, for Ghostface.

Tatum huffed, hitting him with the lollipop you had given her prior, “Stupidity leak.”

“Hey!” Stu shrieked, immediately looking at his girlfriend, while the school bell blared, signalling the start of class and students were quick to get going.

Sidney ran down the hall, upset at Stu’s comment and Tatum ran after her. You sighed, looking down, picking up your bag in the process. You went to go wave ‘bye’ to Stu, but he vanished.

“Huh?” You mumbled out loud, seeing how he was gone and so was every other student that was there nearly two minutes ago. “That’s my cue…”

__

Tapping your fingers against your hip, you hummed to the tune of ‘Your Dead’ by Norma Tanega.

You stopped in front of the janitors closest to reach for your Walkman that was in your bag, wanting to blare the song in your ears, hoping that actually listening to the catchy tune would make it stop repeating itself inside your head.

Though, the universe had other plans…

You felt the door swing open, hitting you, knocking you out of the way, making you drop your only source of music.

Soon after, a hand covered your mouth and an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the closet.

A scream hitched in your throat as the unknown figure flicked the light on, revealing who the culprit was…Stu.

“Stu, what the actual fuck was that for!?” You narrowed your eyes, clenching your fist, ready to punch him out of fear.

He laughed, but soon afterwards told you to be quiet, locking the door behind him as he stepped forward.

“Shh, I don’t want anyone to hear us.” He whisper-yelled, getting closer to you, placing both hands on either side of your arms.

He was a good two-to-three feet taller than you.

“I saw you, you know…” He bit his lip again, rolling the flesh with his teeth, gripping your arms tighter.

You looked up at him, confused, not sure what he meant, however, a part of you knew where this might be going.

“The way your face went red, how you rubbed your thighs together..” He taunted, poking your nose, “Let’s not forget that sweet-little moan you let out when you saw that student…” He leaned into the crease of your collarbone, nipping at the skin, the coolness of his lips penetrating your warmth.

Your face was hot with yearn, but also embarrassment. “The student who was dressed as the Woodsboro slasher…” He grinned, feeling you shiver at his touch.

“W-what—“ You began, trying to act like you didn’t know what he was talking about; ashamed that you were caught. You were quickly silenced by Stu pressing his lips against yours, his bulge pushing up against your side.

His fingers danced across your arms to the string of your grey tank top, ripping it from your body with force as the sound of the thin material shredding lingered in your ears. Fortunately for Stu, you didn’t have a bra on…

Your breasts jiggled from the impact, bouncing in place which caused a small guttural growl to emit from Stu’s throat.

Stu immediately grabbed your boob in his right hand, rubbing his thumb across the perky bud, while his other hand gripped at your bare side, his fingers digging into your ribs.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, staring at the finger prints you already had bruised into your skin. They almost lined up with his own marks, but his were slightly bigger. Stu only quirked a brow, continuing to fondle your breast, not wanting to ruin the moment by asking.

Stu trembled at the thought of someone else having you, but he was sure to find out who and kill him.

“M-mm..” You let out a breathy moan, making Stu lose track of his thoughts,“But T-Tatum—“ you stuttered, holding back another sound as he slid his hand into your shorts, rubbing your clit through the silk of your panties.

He hooked his finger under the band, pulling you even closer, his forehead pressing up against your own.

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[atlasofthestaars]

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .016

first part | previous part | next part

NOTE:

Not much to say here but, I hope you guys enjoy this one! Still trying to get back in the groove of updating quicker, but with college life comes more responsibilities I'm afraid haha. I think in this chapter there will be something some of you guys have been waiting for a while now :)!

FROM THE EYES OF SOMEONE WHO DOES SOMETHING A LITTLE DIFFERENT

“You don’t have to do this with me.”

“I don’t mind.” You replied, not even bothering to look up from the recount of events you were writing. You felt Sonya Blade’s gaze bore into you. From how intense it felt, you understood why she was so respected in her field. If she had magic powers, you would have guessed she would have had magic beams that shoot from her eyes. 

Even without looking at her, you could tell she had a concerned look on her face. One that you’ve experienced plenty of times lately, not just from her either. While touched, you were feeling horrible lately about it all. “I’d have to do this eventually, I expect, plus I would feel awful leaving you to do this alone.”

It was the day after the showdown with Shao Khan. Well, to say the day after was rather misleading. It was just barely midnight, the new day having just barely rolled in. And here you were, sitting in a Special Forces office with your friend, Sonya Blade, writing up a report of events that had gone down the day of the whole affair.

You hadn’t eaten, slept, or even bathed. You still wore the tattered clothes, all scratched and messy from being tossed around. Dried blood still stuck to you like glue. But that was by choice. You didn’t want to spend a moment too long by yourself to let your thoughts creep in about what happened in the last twenty four hours. You suppressed a shiver at the idea.

If you were going to be forced to think about it, you’d rather do it doing something productive, and not by yourself.

You didn’t want to even think about what would happen if you let whatever happened truly soak in.

“You sure you don’t want to go back with Raiden?” Sonya inquired, her words carrying a sense of caution. It was odd to hear from the usually bold and blunt woman, but it was charming to hear her be empathetic towards you. You set down your pen, setting it aside. You had a feeling this would be a talking break.

“No, I can contact Lord Raiden myself whenever we’re done here.” You said, lifting your gaze to meet her eyes. The concerned look you had imagined to be on her face felt like an understatement now. The usually guarded, professional woman felt like an open book. Or maybe, you’ve gotten better at reading her after the couple of years you’ve gotten to know her for.

You weren’t ready to face Raiden yet. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of facing the thunder god made your stomach churn. You felt guilt at just the thought of having to look at him. So many people had died, many people you might have been able to save if you had just stayed behind. 

“You should really rest.” The blonde urged, her eyes scanning you. You held back a small pitiful laugh. The woman in front of you was a workaholic, it was strange to hear her tell you that. And yet, from the way she looked at you, you could tell you looked like an utter wreck. Your fingers brushed your cheek, and you wondered silently just whose blood was on your fingertips.

“I wish I could, Lieutenant.” You replied. You just noticed how exhausted your voice sounded. It was like you had dragged yourself out of the darkest pits of the netherrealm, which probably wasn’t too far off. Your fingers drummed on the wood of the desk, trying to fill the silence of the room. Your eyes looked around before you settled them back onto Sonya. “Can I just be honest for a moment?”

“Anytime.” She reassured you. You saw her straighten out her back, making her perfect posture just that more pristine. Your eyes seemed to drill into your own, as if she was trying to reach into your soul. You couldn’t imagine how intimidating she’d look if she were to be interrogating someone. 

“I don’t think I can rest until I know that our friends are avenged.” You admitted. Even with your admission, the weight on your shoulders didn’t lighten. If anything, it felt like it got a bit heavier, as if the weight of your ambitions had finally settled in. Sonya nodded, though the concerned look on her face did not change. “I don’t know how, but I know there’s some way to honor their deaths.”

“That sounds honorable, and I completely understand.” Sonya began, her words slow and deliberate. You knew from the way she spoke, she completely understood. She never talked about it too much, but she had alluded before to you that she had been tracking down some asshole because her partner had died. You looked at her, and you saw her hesitate. “You shouldn’t let your life be dictated by something like that though.”

Even as she said it, you knew she felt awful for being a hypocrite. 

“I know you speak from a place of kindness and experience, Sonya.” You said. You leaned forward, resting your weight on your forearms. “But I don’t know if I can heed your words.” A sigh left your lips, and you felt your shoulders slump forward. Exhaustion was clawing at you, threatening to drag you down. “I have to at least avenge Kung Lao and Liu Kang. I know Shao Khan’s dead, but I would feel so useless if I couldn’t avenge both of their deaths.”

“You think Shao Khan killed Liu Kang?” Sonya inquired. You saw her eyes widen slightly, and she shifted a bit in her own seat. You lifted an eyebrow, uncertain why she would ask that sort of thing. You nodded solemnly. 

“Of course he did, who else would? I’m certain you saw it too. You and Johnny both arrived on the rooftop before me.” You reminded her. “When I got there, he was dead already” You felt yourself tremble, the guilt within yourself threatening to spew out of you. “By the gods, if I had been a little faster, maybe, just maybe I would have been able to save him.”

You knew you weren’t just talking about Liu Kang.

“Hey.” The lieutenant spoke up, snapping you out of it before you could possibly spiral. Her eyes scanned you again, a torn expression on her face. She then stared deeply into your eyes. Her mouth opened, then she hesitated. Whatever she was about to say, you could never guess as she then proceeded to cringe before she got the words out. “Did…did you talk to Raiden about any of this?”

“No.” You admitted. And you weren’t planning to. You knew the god would disapprove of your plan, and you weren’t letting him change your mind. While you knew Liu Kang held some resentment towards the thunder god before he died, you didn’t. But you did feel like, perhaps, some decisions that you could make would be best without his influence. “I’m not going to tell him either.”

“I see.” Sonya said, her tone now awkward. There was a tension in the room, one that you couldn’t quite identify the reason behind. You looked back down at the report, trying to distract yourself amidst the silence that lingered in the air. “Hey, how about we just finish these reports up then head to bed, how does that sound?”

“I…” You began. The thought of going to bed, all alone with the memories of what had just happened, nearly sent a shiver down your back. You couldn’t suppress the goosebumps that covered your skin. But still, you couldn’t deny the fact that sleep did sound pleasing. You weren’t certain if you could stay awake for much longer. “I think that sounds fine.”

“Good, let’s wrap it up, I think we both need the rest.” Sonya nodded. She picked up her pen with a bit of renewed vigor. Then she paused and looked at you. “And hey,” She said your name, “if you ever need to talk about all this with someone, I’m here for you, okay?”

For what felt like the first time in forever, you smiled.

“Okay.”

Waking up this time was not dramatic like before, but it was not quite calm either.

Your eyes slowly opened, as if you were trapped within honey. You lifted a hand over your chest, your fingertips touching where your heart lay. It ached dully, as if remembering the memory along with you and was reminded of the pain of losing those you once cared for. All that left your lips for a moment was a forlorn sigh.

Your mind lingered on the blonde that had been so prominent in your last memory. Sonya Blade. This was the first time she had been prominent in your visions. She was not a foreign person to you, you remembered her as the ex wife…or wife, you weren’t quite sure. Not to mention, she had appeared at the tournament as well as the rooftop confrontation.

You rolled over to the side of the bed, staring at the ground. She was one of the few you had remembered but seemed not to be present in this world you now lived in. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall other people you haven’t seen yet, assuming they even existed. 

Nightwolf, Jackson Briggs, Fujin…several other names drifted in and out of your head.

Why have you not met them? This question buried itself in the back of your mind. It was always a question you’ve asked yourself. Some of the names you’ve had these questions about you’ve met, but it was odd these people who seemed to become more and more dominant in your memories seemed to be missing.

Was there a reason for that? Did these people even exist at all? Or were they replaced or missing, just like…

You felt your chest ache again without even finishing your thought. You pressed your hand to it, as if it would help soothe the pain. All it did though was allow you to feel the slow rhythmic thuds of your heart. You were still alive and kicking, that was for certain.

“No use lingering on it.” You muttered to yourself. It didn’t sound confident. Instead, it sounded almost defeated. Still, you took in stride and forced yourself out of bed. You didn’t have the time to think about all that and go through the heart ache. You took pause for a moment, your body recognizing the irony of the situation before your brain did.

You sounded just like your past self.

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. Some things never change, do they? You fought back the sinking feeling in your stomach and continued on with your morning routine. Like you said, it was best not to think about it, even despite what your gut told you.

By the time you walked outside your door, you heard the familiar sound of heels. You looked up to see the confident stride of Kitana. Her posture was even more pristine than usual.  Yet there was something off. You glanced at her face, and for a moment you saw an undertone of guilt on her face even with her head held high. The moment her eyes locked with yours, that guilt was hidden away as if it were not there in the first place.

“Good morning.” The princess greeted, the professional looking smile placed on her lips. You felt your eyebrows furrow, and for a moment you considered asking what was wrong. Then, in the next you reconsidered. Not only were you barely acquaintances, she was royalty. Any words close to asking her of her troubles died on your tongue. 

“Good morning.” You returned her greeting, wiping away your concern. Her eyes scanned your face, and for a moment, you wondered if she was going to question the look on your face. But instead she simply nodded and walked towards you, waiting patiently for you to join her side. “Today we are watching the match in the Hanging Gardens, correct?” 

“Indeed.” She confirmed, glancing at you. 

“Oh, your sister, Princess Mileena is fighting today.” You said aloud, eyes widening. A small smile spread on your face, wondering how it would be like to see the princess in action. You glanced over, and caught the sight of Kitana’s eyes widened a bit. Her smile turned a bit strained, much to your confusion. She hesitantly nodded.

“Yes she is.” She told you. Yet there was a tone to her voice that made your eyebrows raise. It was barely perceptible, the way her voice hesitated. But still, from your memories, you caught onto the subtleties within her voice. Maybe you were closer to her in your past life than you thought. Either way, it was not the same here so you could not ask. But there was definitely something off with how short her responses were.

“I’ll enjoy watching the fight, I cannot say I’ve ever seen royalty fight before. In Earthrealm, there isn’t much royalty left there, and if there is, not many, if at all, fight like Outworlders do.” You informed the princess. She nodded, seeming vaguely aware of that fact already. “Do you fight and spar often with others?”

“We spar and train often.” Kitana replied, her shoulders rolling back slight to make her perfect posture impossibly more pristine. “As for actually fighting, we only do so when necessary.” You supposed that made sense, after all, why would one need to fight unless necessary? Then again, she could always be lying to save face. After all, why would a princess disclose her empire in a state of distress?

Then again, Outworld wasn’t always subtle about its fighting habits before, maybe it was the same here. You remembered the state that the Outworld you once knew was in. It was…odd to think this world held the same name as the more bloodier version of it. Then again, from what you recalled, this world seemed more similar to Edenia.

What did happen to Edenia anyways in this world? You weren’t certain if that was taboo to ask. After all, in the past world, it had been conquered and merged. Would asking it be rude? You glanced over to the princess, noting her attitude. She seemed to be in her head about something, even if she was doing well at attempting to conceal it. You supposed it would be for the best to not ask right now.

Maybe you could ask Liu Kang about it.

“Do you and your sister spar often?” You asked, keeping up with your questions to show interest and civility. Kitana pursed her lips, pondering over your question for a bit. After a moment, she nodded. 

“We do, occasionally.” The princess replied. There was another pause, considering her words carefully once more. You didn’t try and question it much. Perhaps she was simply erring on the side of caution. You were a friend of Raiden’s. Maybe she thought you were trying to get more information on her sister to give Raiden some last minute tips. “We tend to spar more with the Umgadi more than anything.”

”I was not aware that they sparred with you on top of protecting the royal palace.” You said, glancing over to an Umgadi guard that was further down the hall. Upon reflection, the Umgadi reminded you a bit of the Lin Kuei, but only in the vaguest sense. Still, it was nice to make a mental connection to something from home.

”The Umgadi are responsible for plenty of things.” Kitana replied. One of her hands gestured to the guard down the hall you had been previously looking at. “Guarding the palace, sparring with us, making sure everything runs smoothly and properly. Being an umgadi is a lot of pressure but it is an honorable job.”

Ah, now it definitely reminded you of the Lin Kuei.

”I respect them for that.” You nodded, sending the guard you passed by a grateful smile. She returned that small smile for a few moments before returning to a more stoic look. “Your Umgadi reminds me of a clan back in Earthrealm.” You told her. “I will say though, that clan is not composed entirely of women.”

”A shame.” The princess said, and for a moment, you could detect genuine pity in her tone. Her mouth opened, probably to ask a question, but then the both of you arrived outside in the hanging gardens. You spied a little farther off was all three of the thrones of the royal family. You rose your eyebrows, wondering if the princess would sit down before the fight, but you chose to not question it. It was probably put there out of respect. “It seems we are here.” Kitana said, her shoulders relaxing just a touch. Her eyes met yours before nodding. “Enjoy the match.”

And with that, she walked off,

“Glad to see you here early as usual.” You commented, walking up to Raiden, Kung Lao, and Liu Kang. You watched as the champion let out a embarassed chuckle, his cheeks flushing for a moment. You smiled at him, trying to reassure him after your little joke. “No need to look so clammy, I was simply joking.” You told him. 

“I know.” Raiden said, avoiding eye contact with you for a few moments before he managed to wrangle his eyes to focus on you. Despite this, his face was still a little pink. On top of it all, a small sheepish smile was placed on his lips. You stared at it, admiring it for a moment. It was a nice sight. “I can hardly believe I’m going to fight a princess.”

”You mean you’re going to win against a princess.” Kung Lao spoke up, walking over to put himself right by your side. He flashed you a grin, crossing his arms as usual. He tilted his head to his friend. The confidence Kung Lao displayed was akin to someone who was going to partake in the fight rather than watch it. You watched as Raiden’s grin grew, seeming to absorb the positive feedback from both of you. 

“Indeed, you are ready for this match.” Liu Kang reassured Raiden. The champion nodded. “Princess Mileena is very skilled, but we have provided you with the information necessary for the tide to be in your favor.” You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with the god’s words. You couldn’t have put it any better yourself. 

“You’ve taken down five others before today, Raiden.” You told him, displaying your hand out to show him with your fingers the amount. “All of them were skilled in their own right. Do not treat this match any differently simply because you are to spar with royalty. Just focus on yourself and your own techniques and you’ll be fine.”

”I will do my best.” Raiden told you all, looking around. You felt better seeing a more confident man in front of you. Not only for the sake of the world, but it was nice to just see the man understand that he was indeed strong in his own right. It was a far cry from the beginnings of your lessons. It was heartwarming really.

Time passed, and you all discussed tactics and techniques to keep Raiden focused on the match ahead. You were only interrupted when Johnny Cage strode in and let out a low whistle and commented how this would be the perfect place to shoot an action scene, or even a romantic walk at night. 

”All I’m saying is that people would kill for this type of place to shoot at. It’s the perfect set.” The actor said. He held his hands out, creating a box to frame the area. “Just look at that bench, perfect place to hold an important scene. That’d be the money shot right there.” You held in a chuckle, seeing the very bench you and the princess had been sitting on for a few nights now. 

“Good luck, I doubt you’d be able to ever let a film crew here.” Kenshi commented, his arms crossing. He shook his head, letting out a dismissive sigh at the mere idea of Johnny even attempting to negotiate with the Empress to let them film here. You had to agree, the idea was rather farfetched.

”Oh they will, once I turn on the Cage charm.” Johnny boasted, grinning wickedly as he continued to survey the area with a careful gaze as if he were planning out the scenes he would shoot here. Which he probably was, given how he was muttering under his breath. You supposed you could respect his ambition to keep on the consistent grind.

Then, a little after that, the Empress arrived.

It was odd seeing her flanks empty of the sisters. But even without her daughters, the confidence and nobility she exuded caught your attention. She strode through the crowd before sitting upon her throne. You watched carefully, your eyebrows knitting as you watched her walk in alone. Where was Kitana? You had see her earlier, so he absence didn’t quite make sense to you.

You tried to brush those thoughts away as Sindel settled down comfortably for a moment, scanning the area before landing her eyes on Raiden. You stood at attention by Liu Kang’s side, ushering the others to stand with the others.

“You continue to surprise, Raiden.” Sindel complimented, her posture as perfect as Kitana’s was earlier. “Among others, you have defeated Kotal, Motaro, and Sheeva. Only two fights remain.” There was the smallest of pauses before she continued. “Are you ready, Earthrealmer?” There was a gleam of confidence within her eyes that seemed to have been revived.

”I am, Your Majesty.” Raiden said, his confidence from before still not faltering despite the renewed vigor. 

“Then next you will face my daughter…” You heard the familiar clacking of heels. Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to look at the source of the noise. “Kitana.” Bewildered beyond measure, you watched as the princess you weren’t expecting walked in. Two folded up fans were gripped in her fists as a mask adorned her face.

Had you not been so perplexed, you would have caught on earlier how similar her walking in with such ferocity looked. But alas, you were too caught up in your thoughts. Why was Kitana going to fight? Was this a trick from Outworld to try and trip up Raiden? Thoughts like this pervaded your mind as the little clues you had brushed aside fell into place.

Mileena’s discomfort at the mention of a match, not to mention her whole general attitude last night along with Kitana’s strange dance around the mention of her sister fighting Raiden seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in your memories. You almost felt foolish for not seeing it earlier.

Had Sindel intended to intentionally swap out Kitana for Mileena to gain the upper hand? That would certainly explain why the elder sister was upset last night, but still, the mere idea of that felt…scandalous. You fixtated your eyes on the Empress as Liu Kang, who was a little more lost than you were, stepped up in between the would be fighters.

”Your Majesty, this is unprecedented.” Liu Kang spoke, his words slow. It was as if he were trying to find the right words to voice his confusion without trying to display distaste at the current events. “Raiden’s next opponent should be your heir.” He gestured to the throne beside Sindel where Mileena usually sat.

”Mileena is unavailable.” The Empress replied smoothly. She seemed unphased by the events and by Liu Kang’s reaction. You supposed that came with the experience of leading an empire for so many years. “She’s away on pressing imperial business.” 

You felt your gut stir, as if to tell you that the Empress was lying. And honestly, you weren’t sure whether to believe your gut or not. You swallowed, trying to reason out the situation with what you knew. Maybe that was why the two had been acting so suspiciously? After all, it must be frustrating to be sent away so quickly before an important fight. And if it really was so urgent, it made sense that the heir would take care of it.

Still, your gut twisted and turned.

”But I have not prepared him to battle Kitana.” Liu Kang pushed back, pointing out the unfairness in the situation. You glanced at the masked princess who was holding Raiden’s gaze. From what you remembered, the two had very different fighting styles in your past life, which probably was true for this world. It made sense for Liu Kang to worry over it.

”He’s already demonstrated great skill.” Sindel replied, her voice and posture displaying jus how nonchalant she was over the whole thing. And yet, there was a quality to the way she spoke that caught your attention. It was like a challenge in her voice, like her scoffing and asking if Raiden was not as skilled as has shown if he couldn’t defeat a surprise. It was almost like an insult hidden behind a compliment. “Can he not improvise?”

”Do not worry, I can do this.” You heard the champion reassure the god who had been shaking his head. You were caught off guard, and soon found yourself smiling. The god nodded, accepting the courage Raiden displayed. It was good that even when Liu Kang showed doubt, Raiden was able to steel himself and push ahead.

”I will be no easier to fight than my sister, Earthrealmer.” Kitana boasted, walking back an appropriate distance. You watched as the fire god approached and stood by your side. You shot him a sympathetic glance. Traces of confusion still displayed on his face. You placed a hand on Liu Kang’s bicep and leaned over to whisper to him. 

“He’ll be fine.” You told him, squeezing his bicep for a moment. Then, a moment later, you found yourself pinching the skin there. He may not be Kung Lao you once knew and understand the gesture, but it was something small you wanted to do. You watched as Liu Kang’s expression relaxed and he nodded, now trying to focus on the match. 

“I suffer under no delusion, Your Highness.” Raiden replied, his voice devoid of any cockiness like the princess displayed. Instead, it was serious, taking her seriously just as he did for all of his other opponents. You admired the way he was able to lock in, mind focused entirely on the goal.

”I will win this fight.” Kitana said, making a promise. “For her, my Empress, and all of Outworld.” She took a step forward, before taking one step back into a fighting stance. There was a “sching!” as the blades of her fans brushed against each other, revealing the awe inspiring war fans she wielded. 

Then, the match begun. 

Kitana’s movements were elegant, it was like she was dancing more than she was dueling. It was almost like watching a hawk. Graceful, swift, but had deadly precision. The control she had over the fans she wielded along with the bits of magic she must surely have was beautiful to witness. Almost effortlessly, you watched as she would sometimes gain the upper hand and juggle your champion in the air, hit after hit with her fans and kicks.

For a moment, you were worried. Raiden seemed unable to adapt, being bewildered by the strange manner Kitana would throw out her fans, and not to mention the way she would use the air to her advantage much more than any of the others he had fought against. It was as if she thrived up there.

Still, even as he was battered and bruised, the man pushed through. He matched her movements, aiming to move as quickly as she was. He also threw in some of his own projectiles into the mix, deterring her from simply zoning him out from an advantageous position. Had you been an outsider watching this, you would have never guessed that Raiden was merely improvising these techniques against the surprise contender. It was honestly quite impressive. 

After seeing the man turn the tide, you were not surprised to see him finally topple the princess. This feat had been much more earned, as both of them seemed exhausted after the fight. Between moments of heaving breaths, Raiden looked down at the princess before nodding and smiling respectfully to her.

“You fight well, princess.” He commended, a weary, but kind smile upon his lips. Pushing herself off the ground, Kitana looked up at her opponent. For a moment, there was a frustrated look as she took some deep breaths of her own. Despite her mask, she was still very expressive. You looked at the mask adorning her face, remembering how she used to wear it long ago,

“As do you, Earthrealmer.” Kitana replied, sharing the same respect Raiden had shown her. Her gaze scanned the man, assessing him one last time. “Surprisingly so.” She added on, a hint of reluctance and shock in her tone. It was as if despite being beat, she still could not understand how the Earthrealm champion had bested her.

“Excellent match.” Sindel praised, though there was a hint of strain within her voice. Both of the competitors turned their attention to the empress. You gaze focused in on her as well. Her displeasure at the outcome of the match as well hidden, but you could still see it. It was in the way her knuckles grew bone white despite supposedly being folded neatly within her lap. Her jaw was set as she smiled at the two. 

While you weren’t certain still whether Sindel had intentionally swapped the princesses, you could see that she was not all too happy that Raiden had managed to improvise his way through the match. Your eyes darted back to the electric wielder. Had Mileena still been here to fight him, would he have fared as well as he did against Kitana?

“Tomorrow, young champion, you will face your final opponent.” She declared, looking up at the sky for a moment. “Then afterwards we shall hold a celebration. A festival, dedicated to whomever emerges victorious, whether it be Earthrealm or Outworld. We shall meet back out here for your final match.” The empress instructed, before swiftly walking off. You observed how the thrones were hauled back to the grand hall before a pinch on your bicep snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Finally today we get to hang out.” Kung Lao piped up, sending you a grin on the sly side. Your eyebrows rose. At first, you focused on the pinch. You caught yourself holding your breath, a wave of nostalgia and grief washing over you. You were perplexed on how he remembered the pinch, but then you remembered that he was probably mimicking the action you had done to him previously. “Oh don’t look so blue, it’s an honor hanging out with me.”

“When did we agree to hang out?” You asked, pushing away the thoughts of the old Kung Lao who your brain yearned for. Almost instantly, you regretted your words. His smile faltered, dropping. It was as if someone had kicked a puppy. Instantly, you put on a smile and placed a reassuring hand on his bicep, returning the pinch. “I was joking.” You quickly said. “I’d love to hang out with you.”

“Good.” Kung Lao replied, the glee returning to him. It was as if he hadn’t been affected by your question earlier at all. You weren’t sure if he had been acting or not, but you felt better seeing his smile. “I saw a lot of good food by the pier, I want to try them with you.” The former farmhand told you, beginning to lead the way to Sun Do. 

“As long as we get to go around looking for one last gift.” You piped up, following him to the way to the city. Kung Lao looked back, a small look of surprise on his face. 

“I thought you had been out yesterday with Kenshi to find the last gift?” Kung Lao asked. His eyes darted behind you, most likely gazing at where the others were before his eyes settled on you again. “By all means, I don’t mind. I know I have perfect taste.” He shot you a grin, making you chuckle and shake your head at his antics.

“I had been, and yes, I did find a gift. But I wanted to get something else too.” You informed the man with the razor hat. At this admission, his interest was piqued. He leaned over to you, his voice dropping to a whisper as if you were swapping a secret.

“Oh really now?” Kung Lao spoke, his voice dripping with excitement. A gleam was in his eye, and you spotted his dimples become more prominent as his smile grew. Your lips pursed as you observed them, you weren’t certain how to feel about even the little details like dimples being the same between the two worlds. “Well, if it’s a gift for me you can just tell me now, I don’t mind.”

“It’s not a gift for you, it’s a gift for Lord Liu Kang.” You told Kung Lao. You watched as his lips pursed into a pout. A disappointed look crossed his face, though this one was more playful than the last time. “Don’t worry, I already got your gift for you.” A look of surprise, as if he wasn’t actually expecting a gift, appeared on his face. You let out another laugh and picked up the pace, walking a bit faster as the man paused.

“Wait, really?” He asked, perking up as he made a light jog to catch up to you. You simply sent him a small smile, watching him think over your words. “What is it? When am I going to get it?” Kung Lao asked, his questions firing off like rapid fire. 

“I already ruined the surprise by telling you that I got you one.” You said, pointing at Kung Lao as you walked side by side down the road. “I think I have the right to keep the rest of it as a surprise, no?” The man hummed, head tilting upwards as he contemplated his words. Then he looked back at you with a mischievous look.

“I guess you do, but that won’t stop me from wildly guessing what you did get me.” Kung Lao pointed out. You nodded, letting out another laugh. You supposed that would be fair enough. It wasn’t as if you could stop his curiosity anyways. 

The rest of the walk was filled with light chatter. With Kung Lao, it always felt as if you could talk with him for hours on end. You tried not to linger on that fact that it felt like you were talking to an old friend. You had to stop that train of thought, after all, this man in front of you wasn’t…your Kung Lao. It was someone else, even if they were all too similar.

For a bit of the day, both you and Kung Lao roamed around the docks. The air was filled with the scent of street food. It made your mouth water as you took in a deep breath. Glancing over to your companion, you swore you even spotted the man drooling. You found yourselves hopping around the area, tasting and taking food as you pleased.

“This is amazing.” Kung Lao said, seeming to be lost in bliss as he indulged in the fried foods. You couldn’t help but agree. There was something special about this food, and it wasn’t just how cheap it was for the quality. As you let the taste melt onto your tongue, you couldn’t help but ponder over the seasonings within the dish. Did these type of seasonings exist back in Earthrealm? Or only here. “You think you could recreate this?”

“Maybe.” You said, still mulling over the unique taste it held. “They have different spices here, so it might be hard to recreate it one to one in terms of flavor.” You blinked in surprise as a bit of food was held in front of your face. Leaning back a bit, you shot a look of confusion towards Kung Lao as he brought the food closer to you.

“Try it!” He encouraged, a wide grin on his face. You looked between the man and the morsel of food, trying to work out what to do. Then, you leaned forward and ate the food from his fingers. You savored it, nodding as you closed your eyes and contemplated the flavors. A small hum left your lips. That was good. As you opened your eyes, confusingly enough, you were met with Kung Lao being…slightly flustered?

“Are you good?”

“Hm?” Kung Lao said, snapping out of his little daze. His cheeks were still dusted light with a bit of pink as he let out a laugh. “Yes! I’m fine.” He told you, though there was still that little tone to his voice that you couldn’t quite pin down. You rose your eyebrows, but shrugged. “Would you make me some of this food?”

“If I figure it out, sure.” You told him, finding it hard to say no to the hopeful look he sent you. You grinned at him, a slightly wicked look in your eye. “You know, you do still owe me for losing that bet.” You couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh at the pout he sent your way. “Did you think I would forget, Kung Lao?”

“Maybe.” He mumbled, looking away from you with a faux innocent look. You sent him a narrowed gaze, shaking your head. “I promise I’ll hold up to our agreement.” He said, putting a hand on his heart, an earnest grin on his face. You smiled and pinched his bicep. 

“Good, because otherwise if you don’t, I’ll make sure to talk to the monks about making your training regiment harder. And that’s on top of what I plan on making you do.” You informed him, a sly smirk on your lips. “But if you remind me, I think I’ll consider lessening your punishment.” 

The both of you toured the area for a bit longer until you passed a store selling fabrics. You took pause as you walked past it, at first dismissing it. Then, a familiar shade of red caught your eye. You wandered over, feeling compelled to inspect it. Picking it up gently, you marveled at the fabric. 

It was nothing special, to be honest. It was just a very vibrant red headband. And yet, as you held it in your hands, you felt emotional over it. You slowly rubbed the quality material between your fingers, a small smile on your lips. You felt Kung Lao’s presence beside you, and nearly jumped upon remembering that he was here. 

“You’re planning on giving Lord Liu Kang a headband?” Your companion inquired. He squinted at it, processing the piece of fabric you were holding. 

“I know it’s a simple gift, but it just…speaks to me.” You explained, returning your gaze back down to the headband. It was nearly uncanny how close it looked to the red headband that your friend would always wear. Ever since you remembered the accessory, you’ve missed seeing the man in it. You’ve never brought it up though, since you it was a little odd. “What do you think? Is it a silly gift?”

“No.” Kung Lao said, and you were a little surprised at the certainty in his voice. You looked up and over to him. On his face was a determined look, as if nothing could convince him that this was a bad idea. You were comforted by the look. “I think it’s the perfect gift actually, good find.”

You stared at Kung Lao for a few more moments. Your heart squeezed at the idea that this Kung Lao agreed with the headband fitting just so well for Liu Kang. For a moment, you were tempted to ask him why he thought so. Was it just the idea that Liu Kang would look good in red? Or was it…something else? And yet, despite your longing, you restrained yourself. You didn’t want to seem so…silly.

“Yeah, I think I will get this.” You agreed. You walked up to the naknadan who was manning the shop. You were delighted to see you had some money left over. Maybe you could keep it, as a reminder of your travels here. You took the headband, and folded it neatly, tucking it away. You felt proud of yourself, feeling accomplished for finding all the gifts you wanted for your friends. 

After a bit more wandering around the city with Kung Lao, you both eventually return back to the palace. You weren’t certain if you were going to go to dinner after a day full of tasting food, but you might for the sake of being with your friends. 

Before you could walk up the stairs into the palace, you stopped. You grabbed Kung Lao’s hand, stopping him in his tracks as well. You noted his hand, and how it still was as soft as it was when you had felt it when you had shook his hand. The former farmhand turned around, sending you a curious look, though there was a bit of a blush on his face.

You weren’t certain why seeing that pink hue on his cheeks was so pleasing to you.

“I just wanted to thank you for accompanying me today.” You said, smiling at him. You felt your hand squeeze his, though you didn’t consciously think about squeezing his hand. “I had a lot of fun going around and trying food with you. Sorry it took so long for me to have some time to hang out with you. I hope today was worth it.” 

“It was fun.” Kung Lao replied, a grin on his lips now. It was lopsided, as usual. You couldn’t help the little sigh that left your lips. “If you really want to make up for it, you could always forget about our little bet-” He noted the little glare you sent his way, and his smile grew. “Kidding! Kidding! But if you did want to make up for it, I would not be opposed to hanging out with you more often.”

“I would not be opposed to that idea either.” You replied. You stood there for a moment more, before you turned to go grab one of the ring boxes from your bag. You turned, inspecting the boxes more to see if you grabbed the right one before you held it out to the man. “Here, the gift for you, like I told you earlier.” 

Kung Lao plucked the box out of your outstretched hand. Almost hesitantly, he let go of your hand so he could open the box with his other hand. You watched as surprise overcame his features as he inspected the ring with the pink gem was sitting in the center of the box. He glanced back and forth between you and the ring. A soft look was on his face as he placed it on.

“I like it.” He said, admiring the ring as it adjusted to fit perfectly upon his. “I see it matches yours too. Now we’re doubly matching.” Kung Lao pointed out, pointing between both the rings and the dragon motifs you both had. A smile that was a little smug appeared on his lips. “Why pink though? Not that I mind.”

“We’re all going to match soon, it was a ring set.” You explained. looking down to the little ring that you had on your hand. “And yes, the necklace you gave me…” You paused, grabbing the necklace to feel it, “it honestly did inspire me, so thank you. As for pink, well…” You trailed off, thinking back. 

For a while now, you’ve associated Kung Lao with cherry blossoms. At first, it was because of how often you saw the petals fall near him at the Wu Shi. It was almost as if he was a magnet for them. But now, with you memories, it only seemed right. Much like many other things, it seemed to be a constant between your lives.

“I think it just fits. It’s the pink of cherry blossoms, which I think are very fitting for you, you always seem to be covered in those petals.” You answered, looking into Kung Lao’s eyes. Another softer look appeared on his face as he heard your explanation. 

“I think it fits too.” Kung Lao admitted, glancing back down to the ring on his hand. A grin spread across his face before he grabbed your hand. “Now let’s go, I don’t want to miss dinner.” His tone was dripping with excitement, despite how much you both had eaten earlier. You nearly stumbled to keep up with his quick pace, but you let out a small laugh as you tightened your grip onto his hand to adjust yourself.

Never change, Kung Lao.

Tonight was an especially beautiful night in the garden. 

The stars seemed to shine a little brighter. The skies seemed to be a little more vibrant, the bits of the purple sky swirling with the dark colors of the night sky. Not a cloud was in sight to block any bit of the view on display for tonight. It was like looking at a piece of art, just for you.

You sighed as you sat alone on the bench in the Hanging Gardens. You weren’t even certain why you were out here. Princess Mileena was out on imperial duties…supposedly. She probably wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. You supposed that you didn’t need her in order to appreciate the garden, but you also couldn’t deny it felt awfully lonely out here without someone to accompany you.

You weren’t sure how you caught the movement while looking up at the sky, but you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye. At first, you perked up. Maybe she was back early and sought your presence here. But as you turned, the figure you saw walking around the gardens was not the princess you were expecting. No, it was someone else.

In fact, it was someone you didn’t even recognize.

A man walked through the gardens. He held himself with grace, an air of elegance surrounded him. His hair, long and neatly tied, cascaded down and fell down his shoulders. A small smile appeared on his lips as he toured the area. You spotted a gleam of gold, and looking down, you saw a golden amulet with a large red gem in the center hanging off his belt. 

As you inspect the stranger, your eyes locked with his. A look of faint surprise appeared on his face, before a smile replaced it. He strode over, and for a moment you felt awkward. You hoped you didn’t leave a bad first impression on this man.

“Hello there.” The man said, stopping a little bit away from you. One of his hands gestured to the spot next to you. “Are you waiting on someone?” He asked, his voice smooth just like honey was. You glanced at the spot, thinking of the princess for a moment, before shaking your head. Gracefully, he sat beside you. “I don’t think we’ve met, to whom do I have the pleasure?”

“We haven’t met.” You confirmed, nodding. You told him your name, eyes scanning the man up and down. No matter how much you inspected him, you could not glean anything from him. If anything, the slight buzzing in your head almost seemed to quell around him. Your lips pursed. Seems you’ve never met this man before in your previous life. “I’m just here for the tournament. I’m from Earthrealm, actually, I’m accompanying Lord Liu Kang and his companions.”

“Oh, the tournament. I had nearly forgotten about that.” The man said, his hands neatly folding in his lap. “I have been so awfully busy carrying out requests for the Empress, I have not had the time to observe. In fact, I’ve only come back tonight just to gather some materials before I go back to my laboratory. A shame, I would have loved to watch.”

“It has been rather exciting, our champion has nearly won all of the matches so far.” You said, trying not to outwardly brag to this stranger. You paused, thinking to the words he said. “You said you had a laboratory, are you a sorcerer, or a mage of some sort?” You asked, thinking back to how Rain had a laboratory of sorts within the Imperial Academy.

“I am.” The stranger replied. The smile on his lips grew slightly as he nodded. “I have the pleasure of being part of the royal court. As much of a privilege it is, it is labor intensive at times, I must admit.” He scanned you, looking up and down. “You sounded quite excited about that prospect, are you interested in magic?”

“I suppose I am.” You admitted. You lifted your hand, shifting it to display a webbed frog hand. “Though I’m from Earthrealm, I have some magic of my own. Back there, we don’t really have magic schools, it’s more commonly thought of as a myth there.” A small hum left the man’s lips as he nodded along. His hands locked in on your limb as it displayed the little feat of magic. If you weren’t mistaken, it almost seemed like he was quite impressed with the little display. 

“Fascinating.” The stranger said, a tone in his voice you couldn’t quite place. Admiration, perhaps? That was the closest thing you could think of. “You can shapeshift, that’s your magic?” He asked, double checking your abilities with you. You blinked, nodding as you changed your hand once more, this time into a horse’s hoof. “Just animals, or are you capable of shifting into humanoids as well?”

“Just animals, I think. I’ve never really tried to transform into another humanoid, really.” You told him. You transformed your arm back, taking some time to mull over his question. You’ve never really…thought about humanoid transformation. Your magic was instinctual, so you’ve never really put much thought into it.

Was it possible? You’d have to explore that idea later.

“I think I’ve heard of you.” The man said. You blinked in surprise, furrowung your eyebrows as you looked at the man suspiciously. You doubted you have too much of a reputation to have random strangers hear of you before. “My colleague, Rain, has mentioned you before, I believe?” He said. You blinked, before you remembered.

Hadn’t Rain mentioned a sorcerer with talents like yours?

“Oh, Rain?” You said, repeating the name. The man nodded. “Ah, you must be the court sorcerer he mentioned!” You told him, a smile now across your features. You tried to think of his name, but found yourself coming up short. Ah, he had been interrupted before he said the name, didn’t he? You sent him an awkward smile. “Sorry, I don’t think he mentioned your name, what was it?”

“My name is Shang Tsung.” The sorcerer said, his smile growing more as he nodded. From the corner of your eye, you swore your saw the red gem in his amulet gleam for just a moment as he introduced himself. Must be the moonlight reflecting off. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“It is an honor to meet you too, Shang Tsung.” You said. The name rolled easily off your tongue. You folded your hands on your lap. “Would you do me a favor?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at the man. His eyebrows rose, but the charismatic, polite look remained on his face as he nodded. “Could you tell me about magic? I love to hear about it.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

And that night, you think you made a new friend.

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 25/August/2023

(So sorry I forgot to post this last week) So this week I did a bit more fleshing out to the scenes I wanted to go back to before the next step.

One particular scene was good fun! I got to build out an…interesting conversation between a certain character and the villain (I’m calling them full villain now rather than antagonist because, well, they are pretty darn bad, hehe!). The moment gives the player a deeper insight into how the villain thinks—or likes to portray that they think!—and about why it is they’re doing what they’re doing.

It’s really fun getting to explore how these things happening are viewed by different characters!

Some of the other scenes I looked at again are some quite big moments in the romances too. Some things really can push forwards with those, and the scenes are ones I’ve been thinking of for a very, very long time! So I want to make sure they still work with all the new ideas I’ve been adding into the plan—so far they have so that’s a major happy relief!

Next week, I’ll be moving onto the next step and printing out the plan to begin breaking it down into more detail.

My hopes are having the plan so super detailed means that writing will go smoother, and I can get it done a lot quicker. I can already see that the way I’m setting out the chapters and the individual scenes is going to be WAY better to organize in my head as well as on paper!

But the next stage is also where I’ll be thinking of how to add in the storyline I’d been umming and ahhing about that I now really want to do…

A villain romance! :D

This isn’t 100% for sure yet, and it won’t take away from the main romances (which are always my priority) at all as it will only be available in the ‘Friend’ route where the MC isn’t romancing anyone.

It also will be a villain romance. And this baddy is bad. Like, pretty much non-redeemable kind of bad. So obviously…that’ll be personal preference as to whether it’s right for you, hehe!

The only reason I’ve been contemplating it is because this villain only pops up for Book Four, so I don’t have to worry about extra branches and variations for future books, which means it won’t be adding too much workload.

Plus they are just…yeah, I really like them even though they’re awful, lol! And the way they go about interacting with the MC already opens up the easy possibility of a romance.

So some exciting things this week, and I’m really eager to get onto the next stage to put me another step closer to starting writing! :D Hope you all have the most fantastic weekend! It's a bank holiday here on Monday in the UK, so I'll talk to you all again next week!

[rockybloo]

🌱Beanstalked's Revamped Chapter 1 is OUT🌱

I FINISHED MY MINI PROJECT which means now's a good time to stop being so vague about what I've been up to for the past month or two.

I spent this whole time basically giving the first chapter of Beanstalked a revamp!

"But Rocky, didn't you already redraw the first chapter before?" YOU ARE CORRECT ✨--but to not clog stuff up, I have a more in depth explanation for why I did this under the cut!

I swear this will be the last time I touch the first chapter. I AM AT PEACE NOW! I am also SUPER happy with how everything turned out. I love Beanstalked very much and am constantly trying to do my little fairy tale comic justice.

I originally did redraw the first chapter in 2022 or somewhere around that time range.

I wanted to reboot Beanstalked since I had originally written everything back in highschool and I knew I could do better executing the story. That redrawn chapter sort of winded up acting like a pilot of sorts. And thanks to Glitter and Guilt, I figured out an easier and quicker way of going about coloring and shading characters so I could complete pages waaay faster.

What initially was planned to just be a thing for Glitter and Guilt winded up becoming how I've decided to do all my future comic stuff now.

This is the reason why Chapter 2 looks stylistically different when it comes to rendering compared to the older Chapter 1. PLUS...I really hated how different Jack's hair looked in the original redraw. I also cleaned up and resorted some speech bubbles so dialogue flows a little smoother at points.

SO THAT'S ONE TASK CROSSED OF MY TO-DO LIST!

[most-calm-revice-and-geats-fan]

Kamen Rider Den-O Novel Translation (Novel: Kamen Rider Den-O: The Demon Dog of Tokyo World Tower)

Happy Easter, everyone! ^w^

Just dropping that in since I got it done before Easter ended, in my timezone, but I got a third translation out: FINALLY! I got my hands on the Den-O novel!!! I actually skimmed through this one quicker than I thought!

Sorry if so much of this is confusing, or ye- The translation I used was in Chinese. Plus, this is another novel, like the W novel, there it's told via the protagonist's POV, that being Ryotaro's. Damn, was not expecting that from the Imagin, too- But overall, this is another novel with a sweet-ish ending!

If there's anything incorrect, anything needing corrected in any way (like misspelling), please let me know so I can fix it. Thanks a lot! Hope you enjoy reading!! (If it's readable at least)

yes we do have some wild shiz

Chapter 0: Hisui

Chapter 1: Feburary 10 2005

Chapter 2: Demon Dog of EightLiner

Chapter 3: The Man Who Knows the Future

Chapter 4: Fantasy Wine

Chapter 5: Contract Holder

Chapter 6: Second Imagin

Chapter 7: Interlude

Chapter 8: Jade

Chapter 9: Pastrami at Night

Chapter 10: September 15 2008

Chapter 11: April 23 2013, and its Future

I sadly couldn't find the Zeronos novel while translating Den-O's, but hopefully one day I'll find it! Glad I was finally able to do this!!! Sorry if things are still kinda mid-

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? Chapter 3

*Rolling in six months late with Starbucks* Did y’all say you wanted another 15k of angst? No? Well, I got you another 15k of angst. Sorry for the wait on this one folks! There’s been a lot going on in life and a lot of other projects and prompts! Next update should be quicker — plan is to finish this fic by the end of the year! Thank you @dear-monday for reading this over for me and assuring me that it was not 15k of utter nonsensical self-indulgent angsty wank, as usual she and the horny whatsapp group are saving my sanity xD And an ENORMOUS thank you to @kieren-fucking-walker for talking to me about Edwardian burial customs and cemetaries and giving me lots to go on when writing this! I still wouldn't got expecting bulletproof historical accuracy but it was truly so enlightening and inspiring and really shaped some elements of this story and made it more than intially planned, so thank you my love 💛 This is, as my opening bit suggests, mostly more angst. Heed the warnings of the tags/previous chapters, plus this chapter has a little more of a focus near the end on the sadness/circumstances of Edwin’s death and how his family handled it. So refs to teen death, to homophobia and hate crime, to family shame. There’s a section that switches up the format a bit, and which contains brief but supernaturally grisly instances of gore and body horror. There’s also a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it instance of ghostly suicidal ideation. Everything is sad and the chapter ends on more angst but I swear to you that there will be one more chapter, and all with be right. I am knocking Edwin down hard but I WILL give him a soft place to land. More commentary afterwards. In the meantime; are you sitting comfortably? Then we’ll begin 💛 Also on Ao3

"Oi, Edwin," said Charles, gaze affixed to the letter in his hand. "You speak ancient Babylonian?"

Edwin hummed. "I have a smattering."

"That'll do. Letter from Tragic Mick — says he's got a book might help, but there's no translation."

Edwin looked up from his well-thumbed copy of The Arcane Physician's Desk Reference. Over the last few days he'd read it so often he could quote large tracts of it verbatim. "You contacted Tragic Mick?"

"Thought we should pull whatever contacts we had," said Charles, picking his way over the chaos to give Edwin the letter. "Tried our magic shop, but Flimsy Steve wasn't picking up the phone."

"Unsurprising."

Charles snorted. "Leave off. He's a decent bloke."

"He's perfectly agreeable, Charles. I merely wouldn't trust him with anything time sensitive."

"Alright, he's a bit flaky." Charles had a visible mental debate on the best way to navigate around a teetering book stack, before rolling his eyes and phasing through it. "Not his fault about the hex, though, innit?"

"Hm, yes. The hex. Convenient excuse..." Edwin muttered. "If I could explain away my abysmal punctuality with bouts of vaporousness I'd certainly consider it."

"Heh. Yeah, does pull it out a bit much, doesn't he?" Charles chuckled, finally succeeding in his quest to reach Edwin. The office was in a dreadful state. Tidying up after the self-contained paranormal monsoon hadn't been a high priority. Nor had re-shelving the books, given they were bound to be pulled out again for double, triple, quadruple checking. Edwin was only grateful that the blizzard had been a spectral plane phenomenon. The thought of his entire library subjected to water damage was almost too much to bear.

Edwin himself was in a rather sorry state as well. He'd set up operations on the floor beside the trunk, after their discovery that proximity lessened the noise and the cold. At first he'd sat upright and cross-legged, to maintain some comforting sense of professional decorum. But as they had continued to hit dead end after dead end, he'd taken to lying on the floor. In part so he didn't have to keep seeing the sickly blue glow of his own skeleton every time he turned his head.

It shouldn't have felt uncomfortable, not to him. But in such close range to the bones, he was above averagely aware of his surroundings, even the hard floorboards at his back. Edwin wasn't sure which he disliked more; the discomfort, or the indignity. At some point in the proceedings Charles had dug a large, cuddly shark from his bag — acquired during the case of the Swedish poltergeist, if memory served — and propped it under Edwin's head like a pillow. It had helped with the comfort issue; though it had rather exacerbated the dignity one.

But comfort and dignity were among the least of his problems. More concerning by far was the fact that the bones, despite quieting down, had not in fact ceased to speak to him. Instead all their past phrases, the look at me see me don't leave me's, had been replaced by just one simple refrain. Quiet, soft as silk, neither demanding nor insistent. Merely persistent...

Edwin took the letter as Charles offered it down to him, skimming it quickly. The bulk of it, as usual, was a lengthy, hand-written tangent about Mick's woes and the majesty of the sea, but he soon found the section pertaining to their predicament. "Hm. I'm not sure we'll find anything of use in that text. I had the chance to peruse a copy some years ago. But at this point I'm willing to try anything. Beggars can't be choosers. Perhaps if we're opening inquiries with our Port Townsend contacts, we might consider asking Thomas."

"Who?"

Edwin re-folded the salt-stiffened paper. "The Cat King."

Charles' eyebrows arched, hands landing on his hips. "Oh, he's Thomas, now, is 'e?"

"Rolls off the tongue rather more easily, don't you think?"

"Since when d'you still talk to that tosser?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. For such a personable fellow, Charles could hold a grudge with the best of them. "We've a long-running game of correspondence chess in progress. Man's dastardly with a rook. But he is a rather seasoned magic user, not to mention his... intimate experience with witches. He could be a valuable source of information in this case."

"Let's try a few more things before we get Whiskers on the phone, yeah?"

Edwin sighed, passing the letter back up between two fingers. "Very well."

Charles tucked it under his arms as he crossed them, cocking his head to regard Edwin from on high. "Comfy down there?" It was said in a tone light and teasing; a tone that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Oh, yes. I'm luxuriating," said Edwin, dry as a bone. "I should do more of my thinking on the floor. Stimulate the little grey cells."

"Look at things from a different angle, yeah?"

Edwin peered up at him, his line of vision beginning directly beneath the point of Charles' chin. This shouldn't be a flattering angle for him, but alas, he looked as handsome to Edwin's eyes as he ever had. Must he never know a moment's peace...? "Yes, something along those lines. Although so far it's offering precious little in the way of fresh insight. And it —"

Charles gave him a pointed look.

Edwin sighed, and corrected himself. "He is... not helping."

Frowning, Charles squatted down beside him, bringing their faces closer together. His knee rested lightly upon Edwin's abdomen as it bent. With the illusion of awareness afforded to him, Edwin could almost feel the weight of it. Almost.

"He's still talking to you, then," said Charles, voice low; as if he didn't wish for the bones to overhear.

"On occasion," said Edwin, with equal caution. "On... fairly frequent occasion."

"What's he saying now? Still on the 'stay with me’?"

Edwin shook his head, before letting it fall to the side. Peering across the length of his whimsical pillow at the dark leather siding of the trunk. He let his eyes drift closed, let the soft susurration of the voice creep back into his mind unimpeded by distraction or resistance.

"He wants..." His fingers flexed on his chest. "He wants to be held."

Distantly, the phantom weight of Charles' hand alighted upon his shoulder. All the more frustrating for possessing the barest edge of tangibility. As if Edwin was allowed to sense the shape of him and nothing more.

"By anyone?" Charles asked.

A short, stabbing pain flared behind Edwin's eyes. He winced. "No. No, not just anyone will do, I don't think."

A door clicked, and a new voice chimed in: "Do you think you should hold them?"

Edwin and Charles both looked up at Crystal, who was propped wearily against the doorjamb leading to the small water closet. Aside from dealing with whatever human activities she'd had to carry out in there, she'd also clearly splashed her face with cold water. A few glistening droplets clung to her neck, and she had that touch of mania in her eyes that oft accompanied a minor shock.

She shrugged, arms crossed. "I mean. He told you to look at him, and that helped. Maybe you just need to do what he asks you to do..."

"It's... possible," Edwin hedged.

Unfortunately, Crystal did have a point. Based on prior evidence, there was every reason to believe that giving in to the bones' demands would alleviate Edwin's suffering. But for reasons he could neither name nor explain, he had the distinct feeling that to do so wouldn't end well for him. A feeling he suspected he wasn't alone in; raising the subject had caused Charles to tense up, his shoulders a rigid line of stress.

But they were rapidly running out of alternatives.

Edwin hitched himself up, sitting with a wince at the shadow of an ache in his spine. His shoulder bumped up against the open top edge of the trunk, and a small surge of anticipation from its resident rippled through him. Edwin raised his hand and, with a dry, apprehensive swallow, reached out —

It was stilled before it could get within three inches of the skeleton.

"Let's — let's keep digging a bit, yeah?" said Charles, fingers flexing visibly around Edwin's wrist. When Edwin looked up he found Charles with his eyes wide, and his ghostly countenance paler than usual. "Bet we'll stumble on something soon."

Edwin offered no resistance. "Yes. Yes, I daresay you're right."

Crystal seemed neither surprised nor overly upset that her idea had been rejected. Perhaps she shared their concerns after all. "I still have a few more magic shops to hit up," she said. "I can go try and shake down that Steve guy in person."

"Don't count on it," Charles warned her. "Slippery customer. He'll be under the door and away in two seconds flat."

"...Right. And, uh, I figured maybe Emma might have some ideas..."

"Emma?" asked Charles.

"The little girl," said Edwin. "With the squid."

"Oh!"

"Good idea, Crystal," Edwin mumbled, rubbing his brow. "She's been dead a long while, clearly has a working knowledge of the occult. Perhaps she's seen a curse of this ilk before."

"Jesus, I'm gonna go," she said, gravely. But she gave his shoulder a companionable squeeze as she passed him to claim her jacket. "Freaks me out when you're too nice to me."

Edwin scoffed. "Honestly, Crystal, you liken me to some sort of wicked stepmother. I'm not a drill sergeant."

"No," she said, shrugging into her jacket with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. "You're just a bitch. Look after him, Charles."

She sloped out of the office without a backwards glance, ignoring Edwin's protests and Charles' giggling. When Edwin turned his displeasure on Charles he was met with crinkled eyes and unrepentant cheer.

"What?" said Charles. He held his thumb and forefinger close together. "You are a bit."

Edwin scowled, toppling back onto his pile of blankets with crossed arms and poor grace. "Perhaps it's best we read in silence for a little while."

~

Days passed, and still no breakthrough.

Crystal was consuming inadvisable quantities of coffee on a daily basis, and had taken to pacing the hall outside the office. Her hair had ballooned to twice its usual volume under the stress of her fretful tugging and twisting.

Even Charles was showing the strain through his erstwhile bulletproof veneer of optimism. Edwin kept glancing up at him, and catching him staring back with a haunted look. As if he half expected Edwin to vanish in a puff of smoke before his very eyes. There was a marked increase in the frequency of grounding hands upon Edwin's arm, chest, shoulders; holding Edwin down lest he flutter away in the breeze.

Edwin, it had to be said, wasn't coping all too well, either. For the first time in a hundred sleepless years, he felt truly exhausted. He was burning the candle at both ends; as far as he was concerned if his eyes were open, he could be reading something. Though book research, generally something he found intriguing and invigorating, now had his weary eyes sliding off the page. And onto the trunk.

Always, always to the trunk.

Hold me hold me hold me please hold me...

Its calls never ceased. They waxed and waned, and at times softened to barely a breath, but always they remained; pestering, pattering, pleading. Crying out in the corners of his skull for him to come closer, closer, closer, to hold me please hold me —

As their research dead ends stacked up and desperation grew, so too did the temptation to succumb. It was, after all, as Crystal had said; if giving into the first demands had eased the way, surely there was something to be gained from giving a little more.

And yet somewhere, in the back of his mind, under the droning rattle of pleas and demands, it persisted. The niggling notion that if he were to give in, he'd surely come to regret it.

He wasn't alone in his apprehension. Just once or twice, his hands had strayed closer to the bones than usual — and each time they did, Charles' eyes snapped to them, wide and wary. If Edwin's own instinct to pull back hadn't sufficed, the dread on his best friend's face would have stayed his hand.

But every passing hour represented another frayed nerve, another chip in his resolve. Every whispering plea a grain of sand pouring down upon him, suffocating him slowly. Though he didn't wish to, he could feel himself beginning to buckle under the strain. Not even the small relief that came from facing the problem head-on, looking the remains of himself in his hollow eyes, was enough to mitigate the mounting horror of prolonged exposure. It was incessant. It was inescapable.

To be frank, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. If they didn't find something...

"FOUND SOMETHING!"

Edwin jumped — which, from his position on the floor, caused his body to lurch in a rather unpleasant jackknifing motion. Gathering his wits, he propped himself up on his elbows. "What?"

"Here!" Charles babbled excitedly, jabbing his finger to the page of the battered leather-bound book in his hands. "In this old apothecary's journal. Must've looked right past it first time, it's dead small."

He cleared his throat and read aloud, affecting — in Edwin's opinion — a needlessly exaggerated upper crust intonation. "'My 'esteemed' colleague in the mortuary magicks' — that's magics with a 'k', by the way. Proper old arcane stuff."

"Charles, the point," Crystal prompted.

"Right, yeah. 'My 'esteemed' colleague in the mortuary magicks recently positioned — no, wait — recently posited that in the event of sudden, traumatic demise in the presence of powerful magic, a soul might be rent asunder. A colourful theory, though I find his speculations on the ability of the same spirit to commit multiple hauntings dubious at best."

Charles grinned up at them, fairly bouncing on his feet in his excitement. "Author's a snooty git, but sounds like his mate might be onto something!"

"Holy shit," said Crystal, bounding up from the sofa to lunge for the book. "Charles, I think you might be onto something!"

Edwin likewise sprung into action, leaping from the floor and elbowing in to flick through the pages with Crystal. "Charles, that is brilliant. We must find the identity of his colleague. Perhaps he's done further study into the subject..."

"Name's gotta be in there somewhere — this bloke writes almost as much as you do," Charles teased. "Flip back a bit, might've missed it earlier in the entry..."

The pages grew rather busy with all of their hands pointing at them, poring over them, riffling restlessly back and forth. Edwin found himself at the centre of a rather tight huddle; Charles and Crystal half draped across his shoulders and conversing over his head.

"This guy's writing is the worst," Crystal complained.

"Apothecary's sort of a doctor, innit?" Charles nudged her — or rather nudged Edwin, who transferred the proxy-nudge to Crystal like the central ball of a Newton's cradle. "S'pose doctors have just always had shit handwriting, eh?"

"There!" said Crystal, jabbing the page. "That name."

Edwin followed her finger, squinting. They were both quite right — the handwriting was atrocious. "Let's see... Johnathan Harrington — oh! I'm familiar with him. Or her, I should say. Harrington was the nom de plume of one Sybil Crombie. I'm given to understand she frequently adopted a male alter ego to carry out her research undeterred. Her writings are supposed to be quite radical for the time, but they're wretchedly hard to come by..."

"Must be able to find 'em somewhere," said Charles — with a confidence implying that were it not possible, he'd go to great lengths to make it so. "Maybe Tragic Mick knows someone? Could hop through the mirror and ask him."

"No need," said Edwin, closing the book with a decisive snap. "I believe I know where we might find it."

~

"Charles, you must be quiet!"

Charles winced, straightening up the book pile he'd rather loudly upset with the toe of his loafer. "This place is bloody booby trapped. What kind of bookshop keeps half the books on the floor?"

"The kind that isn't overly interested in making sales," Edwin muttered. "Keep your voice down. The proprietor bears an inane grudge against me for some reason."

"Maybe 'cause you nicked his book, mate," Charles chuckled.

"I borrowed his book. I had every intention of returning it, he's quite unreasonable. Now, if he has any regard for organisation whatsoever —"

"Wouldn't bloody count on it."

"Then it must be somewhere in this section. Look for anything by Johnathan Harrington — quietly!"

Charles resumed his search, tiptoeing about the treacherous shopfloor with a wincing expression. He was, unfortunately, not widely renowned for his stealth. But with Crystal unable to mirror travel and Edwin likewise tethered to the office, Charles was their only suitable spy.

Edwin scowled at the mirror, at his hand disappearing into it. So far, Crystal hadn't tugged his wrist, so he could only assume the bones weren't yet causing a scene. It would seem that remaining at least partially connected to the office lessened their separation anxiety. Edwin was growing rather tired of having to dangle through a mirror portal, half-in and half-out, on a metaphorical leash. Honestly, if he had a penny!

He couldn't aid much in Charles' search, but he scanned the one bookshelf within his reach while Charles pored over the reverse side. He could see Charles' efforts through the gaps above the books; see his brow furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out between his teeth as his clever brown eyes flickered over the spines. Something tight and anxious in Edwin's chest loosened at the sight. Despite the direness of the situation and the insistent voice tugging on his sleeve, he felt assured. Safe in the knowledge that neither of them would rest until this case was solved. Not even Charles, who hated nothing so much as having to read lots of words very quickly, was going to leave this bookshop until they had what they needed.

"Not here," said Charles. "Gonna check the other shelves!"

"Quietly!" Edwin hissed after him; to which Charles responded with a lip-zipping motion and a sloppy salute.

Edwin closed his eyes, attempting to slow his breathing. Attempting to enjoy the moment of slight distance between him and the voice, though he could still feel it under his skin, as if it were creeping through his fingers and into his brain. He could feel his tension ratchet ever upwards with every passing moment. He couldn't be sure what was more abrasive on his nerves; the stealth mission, his inability to contribute, or the whispering bones. When calming breaths proved to be a lost cause, he focused instead on standing sentry; keeping his eyes and ears attuned to any sounds from beyond the bookstacks.

"Gotcha!"

Charles' too-loud, triumphant cry startled Edwin. His eyes snapped back to find Charles dragging a book from a nearby shelf and holding it up for Edwin's inspection. The title: Connective Tissue: Osteopathy and the Human Soul, by Johnathan Harrington.

Despite his misgivings, Edwin grinned. "Well done, Charles!"

"I say — is someone there?" came a voice from off, prim and peevish.

They both jumped.

"Shit," Charles muttered.

"Mirror, now," Edwin hissed, seizing Charles by the hand as soon as he scampered within reach.

Hand in hand, two ghosts and a very old and valuable book ducked back into the in-between — leaving Soho and the cries of the irate bookseller behind them.

~

November 1st, 1832: A Case Study, and a Confession

William Stoker, my friend and colleague, passed away earlier this year. Too young; a mere lad of twenty-four when he was taken from us.

His father is (or perhaps was) a friend of mine. As long as I'd known him, William (or Will, as I would come to call him) had always had a keen eye and a scientist's curiosity. When his father suggested I take young Will under my wing, I leapt upon the chance. It was a valuable experience for him; and a much-needed helping hand for myself. Frequently, Will would aid me in my research endeavours, no matter how unsavoury. A strong constitution is required in our field, and William possessed it in spades. Not even the more grisly aspects of the job could dampen his cheerful whistling while he worked — nor could my insistence that it was bad luck to whistle inside. He was far from a superstitious lad. For several years, he acted as my research assistant and, more commonly, dogsbody, with good grace and no complaints. Pride was of no concern to him. His only thoughts lay with the work.

It was a tragic and violent incident that ended William's life; an incident for which I hold myself responsible, at least in part. I could not have known, and yet even now I feel I should have. Somehow. I worry that day, that incident like a loose, aching tooth. Wondering if I overlooked the signs, somehow. Wondering if his death could have been avoided...

I sent William to collect something for me. Some samples; a selection of assorted vertebrae, to be exact. With the help of a local hedgewitch, Sally Cubbins — a long time associate of mine — I had been preserving them in a variety of herbal and chemical compounds, in order to observe reactions of the marrow. It should have been a simple task. Little did I know as I gave him his marching orders that Sally was in the midst of a delicate situation. A summoning, to be exact. One of the women in her locale was being harassed by a malevolent entity, a demon. One more powerful and more bloodthirsty than my poor Sally bargained for. Her summoning and dismissal went badly awry.

When I went to investigate Will's prolonged absence, I found him and Sally both. What was left of them, at any rate. Rent asunder atop a similarly broken summoning circle. To this day, I've no idea what became of the demon. Perhaps, when my own time comes, it will be waiting to drag me to damnation.

That gruesome scene was the last I saw of Sally Cubbins, God rest her soul.

It was not, however, the last I saw of William Stoker.

William's father asked that I prepare the remains for burial. Perhaps he wanted to assure me that he didn't hold me responsible. Perhaps he was simply too deep in his grief to seek other arrangements. Either way, I accepted without a thought. There was little left of Will; needless to say, an open casket was out of the question. But I did my best to make him presentable. I believed it to be the least I could do.

And later that evening, in my mortuary, William appeared to assess my work for himself.

(No doubt, many of you reading this just scoffed. But I shan't sidestep the matter. I have encountered a number of spectres in my time; in my line of work they are practically an inevitability. I have seen them, often, and consider them to be a manifestation and demonstration of the fortitude of the human soul. Though my detractors will no doubt continue to insist that the embalming fluid fumes must have gone to my senses. If you, dear reader, are likewise unconvinced, I would politely recommend you seek alternative literature.)

I had met many a phantasm over the course of my career, yet Will was quite unlike any other I'd previously encountered. He was recognisably himself, at least. But I had always found conversation with spectres little different from conversation with the living. They are by-and-large sensible, coherent, rational folk, simply seeking their end life's purpose. If they were a person I had previously met in life, I generally found their spirit to be no different in personality or demeanour.

Will, however, seemed... troubled. Deeply troubled. He had adopted a number of tics and nervous mannerisms, and a wildness of eye. When he spoke he was prone to saying things which were unreasonable, paranoid, frantic. And despite my suggestion that he take a constitutional, bid farewell to his friends, family and favourite places, my prompting fell on deaf ears. He exhibited a powerful reluctance to exit the mortuary.

I soon realised it was not the room to which he felt attached, but his remains.

Though I myself was still grieving, I was nonetheless fascinated by the situation, and decided to investigate further. The funeral, after all, would not be for several days yet. Besides which, I must confess a desire for distraction, for purpose — and perhaps some small absolution from the guilt of his passing.

Over the next several days, I took careful note of Will's moods and movements as they occurred. Any dips and troughs, any manic periods. Any strange phenomena I could notice connected to either himself, or his remains. I asked him frequently what he was thinking, or feeling (insomuch as a spectre is able to feel), and I recorded all that I could. This amounted to dozens upon dozens of pages of notes, likely insurmountable to most given my particular manner of writing, but I shall attempt to summarise the key points:

William complained often of pain, largely in his 'joints', and discomfort at minor physical sensations he should not, by rights, have been able to feel at all. Discomfort which increased in proximity to his remains. He also reported itchiness, headaches, and nausea.

William exhibited acute episodes of psychological distress. When I was able to get any sense out of him he reported feeling dread, anxiety, claustrophobia, and a feeling of being ‘hounded’. On more than one occasion I witnessed him having what I can only describe as an attack of panic. What good rapid breathing serves to a ghost, I've no idea. Aside from his acute episodes, William also suffered a near constant low-level psychological turmoil. He was prone to listlessness, melancholy, restlessness, and frustration. He would often tell me, with a smile short on humour, that he 'wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry'.

William was hearing things. A voice, a whisper. Something, somewhere, was speaking to him.

As you can imagine, I found this last revelation alarming. And there was little I could do to glean more information, as Will only let slip of this voice once and then proceeded to bury the matter. No doubt he feared himself mad, or cursed. No amount of reasoning could convince him to open up to me about the voice or what it was saying.

By the time the day of Will's funeral was upon us, I was no nearer to answers. And so I made a choice, out of desperation. As I’ve every intention that this entry be published posthumously, I can confess to you my sin.

Reader, I did not bury William's remains that day. I sent the undertakers a closed coffin, nailed tight, and warned William's father that his son's remains were in no fit state to be observed. That despite my best efforts, there was simply not enough of him left to reconstruct. I advised him, please, to hold onto the memory of his son as he was, and let his body claim its final resting place sight unseen.

I ask not for forgiveness, reader. Only understanding. You must understand that I already believed myself hellbound for my part in William's death, amongst myriad other indecencies and indiscretions in my life. If I was to face judgement either way, I decided I would do everything in my power to find answers first. If it comes as any consolation, Will endorsed my course of action. Although looking back, I wonder whether he was truly of sound enough mind to do so...

But that too is a question only God may answer, and I'm sure He will let me know in due course.

The remains, of course, had to be reduced; there was only so long I could keep a cadaver in progressing states of decay lying about without causing suspicion or ill health. It was a grim and unpleasant task, but within the week Will's flesh had gone the way of the incinerator, and only his bones remained in the mortuary. And what peculiar things they were; they had about them some strange energy, though I had no opportunity to find out if this was widely-noticeable, except to those already with the Sight for the paranormal. To my eyes, they were in possession of the faintest glow; and to my ears, on occasion, a soft, susurrating rattle.

With Will's remains safely in my possession, and his spirit in permanent residence, I observed both over the following weeks. I did, of course, continue urging Will to take his leave, say his goodbyes, seek his own absolution. But he staunchly refused to do so. He became a shadow to my work, much as he had been in life — though by all accounts he was a mere shell of his former self.

In death, more so than any spectre I'd ever met, Will was short-tempered and morose. Though his old self, the lively young man I'd considered a close friend and worthy apprentice, clearly still dwelled within the spectral form. I glimpsed him from time to time, in fleeting moments of lightness and candour. Whatever it was which held Will in its grasp, it had neither erased nor altered the heart of him. He still had a smile on his lips for me, still whistled his jaunty tunes long into the night, albeit with a new edge of mania. He was not a man changed or possessed, but a weary soul under considerable strain. This I believe, even now.

I did my utmost to ease that strain upon him, but found there was little I could do. He was bedevilled by forces beyond my ken, and I felt powerless to aid him in any way that mattered. Though to the best of my ability I kept him company, lifted his spirits (if you'll pardon the play on words). I spent many a long night in the mortuary, playing cards with the deceased. I was deeply comforted to find that despite his quite alarming personality shifts, he was still an inveterate cheat. Always an ace up his ghostly sleeve.

Despite my best efforts, his temperament worsened. And though he continued not to confide in me, I knew that mine was not the only voice in his ear. Something was still speaking to him, whispering to him, things I could only speculate upon. And so often when he heard that voice, when his countenance drew tight and his jaw clenched, I would find his gaze drawn to the covered unit where his own remains now resided.

I became convinced that the bones had become possessed in some fashion. I suspected the demon that had slain Will and my dear Sally was to blame. Perhaps it had been too weak to step into the mortal world from its summoning circle, and had instead taken refuge in the remains of its victims. I called upon all of the occult knowledge I had amassed over the years to try and oust any such unwelcome guest, but to no avail. If only Sally had still been with us, perhaps... but no. No matter what exorcisms I conducted, no matter the counter-hex or cleansing spell, the thing residing in Will's remains held fast. Burrowed in, anchored to the marrow, as surely as if it had belonged there all along.

I explored other avenues, of course. Raided my library and my journals, passed the scenario as a hypothetical amongst my friends in occult circles. I explored the possibilities of paranormal parasites, of life echoes, of curses and corruptions, but no theory held water and no counter yielded results.

All the while Will, God help him, continued to deteriorate. Day by day he grew more frantic, more preoccupied. Often I saw him lingering near his bones with a strange, mad look in his eye. I might even go so far as to call it murderous. Whatever had taken residence in his bones, it had not granted him a moment's peace in weeks, and he was wearing thin.

I had formed a new theory, although to this day I have no true manner of verifying it. It is not, after all, as if I can secure Will or the thing in his remains for thorough interview or cross-examination. But it was, and remains to this day, my theory. The only cogent explanation for these wretched happenings that makes any sense with the facts. I theorised that somehow, perhaps due to the violent and intensely magical nature of William's demise, a part of him was separated from the whole. Perhaps a spirit can be propelled from a physical form with such ruthless immediacy as to leave a small piece of itself behind.

Well, I see no reason to beat about the bush. If you wish to call me mad, I'm sure you've already reached that decision with yourself. I believed, and continue to believe that William was, in effect, carrying out two hauntings at once.

The lion's share of his soul, the person most easily identifiable as the Will I'd known, lay outside his remains, as is the norm with spectres. He was still thoughtful, intelligent, able to follow and carry conversation. Able to reminisce upon his life, able to form complex arguments and hold nuanced opinions.

The piece he'd left behind was, I fear, severely lacking in any of these traits. It's debatable whether it could even be said to be in possession of a personality. Based on what little I'd managed to eke out from Will about its way of speaking, it seemed to me a shrivelled, stunted thing. An essence comprised merely of a single want, a single need. It did not have within it the capacity for reason, for comfort or conversation. It cried out in his mind like a hungry child, insensible to any and all things but that which it craved. There was no reasoning with it, no bargaining, no way to soothe it. Nothing, except to give it what it desired.

Now, here is where the tragic end of this tale writes itself. For you see, though Will was my friend, and confided in me about a great many things, he would not disclose the exact nature of the fragment’s request. I believe it scared him, or shamed him. Rendered him vulnerable in a way his scattered soul was simply not equipped to handle. I pleaded with him to tell me exactly what it is the voice wished, what it said, what it would keep saying, but he would not confess. Not even to me.

How I wish he had.

For all my expertise, all my tools and skills and hard-earned knowledge of the anatomical magics, I was powerless. Powerless to do anything to change his fate. Or at least, this is what I tell myself; but as I take responsibility for his death, perhaps I merely wish to absolve myself of his suffering thereafter.

As the days and the weeks wore on, Will closed himself to me. His world narrowed to a pinpoint; to the bones. Always the bones. I would see him standing beside the drawer where they lay, staring into it whether it stood open or closed. At times when I had them pulled out and resting upon a pallet, desperately seeking any clues I might have missed, he would circle them. Pacing, edging closer, closer, hand outstretched; ultimately pulling back with a hair's breadth to spare. I considered locking them away for good, removing them entirely from his sight, but what good would it do? To a spectre, wood and metal are hardly a deterrent. Though I considered the merits of building them a box of iron, something even a ghost would hesitate to cross.

I had no wish to hold his remains hostage, however, so instead I tried to talk to him. Tried to encourage him to different pursuits. But there was nothing I could hold his attention or interest with. There was nothing else, not anymore. All William cared about was those bones. He would stare at them with fascination, with yearning, with revulsion writ plain across his expression, his fine-featured young face now carved and haggard. He hated them; and he needed them.

And one day... he touched them.

I will never forget it so long as I live, and I will carry it thereafter into damnation. The scream that tore from him, violent and visceral, more animal than human. Nor will I forget the sight of his arm — his strong, steady arm, which had once fetched and carried for me without the slightest tremor — as it withered, liquified. As his spectral flesh loosened from his frame and dripped like hot candle wax down an invisible pathway; following the hollow shape where once resided the bones of his arm, his wrist, his fingers. Before I could act or react, the effect was spreading; shoulder, chest, neck. Face. Before my very eyes he melted, oozed, his liquid remains drawn to the bones like water to a spigot, like gas to a vacuum.

And before I could even think to scream, William Stoker was no longer.

Afterwards, the remains lay... well. I do not wish to say dormant. Evidently, they are no such thing. Energy still thrums within those bones, clear as day to those with the eyes to see, but it is of a more benign disposition now. It no longer wishes harm upon any who might come near; I suspect if it wishes harm, it wishes it only upon itself. I tried over the years to do my research, find a solution, to do everything in my power to draw poor Will out of his prison, but I never succeeded.

He never rematerialised. No more did he appear in my mortuary to fret or pace or cheat at cards. No more did I hear his whistling into the night.

But sometimes, from the dusty iron lockbox wherein his pitiable bones reside in the mortuary to this day, I can still hear his screams.

May God have mercy on his soul. And on mine.

~

Edwin's voice trailed off. It seemed to hang in the air like a curse long after the fact.

Hunched forward in the opposing desk chair, Crystal sat looking distinctly nauseous. "Oh, my god..."

Charles — perched, as ever, upon the desk itself — was white as a sheet and, for once, at a total loss for words.

Clearing his throat, Edwin closed the book with great care. "Well," he said, clipped. "That, at least, was... pertinent to the case."

"Edwin..." Crystal began, face pinched in concern.

In an explosive burst of motion, Charles was over the desk and on his feet in a metaphorical heartbeat. Three long strides had him over to the trunk, to the whispering bones; and a sweep of his arm had the lid slamming down upon them like a portcullis.

Edwin winced, gritting his teeth as the mild hum in the back of his head spiked into a distressed, cutting wail. "Charles, please —"

"You're not touching 'em!" Charles snapped, picking up the enchanted lock from the floor and slipping it through the shank. It rattled and grated; his hands were shaking. "You're not getting anywhere bloody near them!"

"Believe me, Charles, I've no intention of it," said Edwin, rising from his seat. His own hands felt rather unsteady as he braced them upon the desk. "But it does help to mitigate the effects if the trunk is kept ajar."

But Charles was shaking his head, hunching his shoulders. It was only when Edwin heard the sound of a slight sniffle that he recognised what was happening.

His heart clenched. "Charles..."

Charles swiped a hand angrily down his face as he lurched upright. When he rounded on Crystal, his eyes were dark with a shadowy smudge of dissolving kohl. "We nearly let him touch them," he barked. "Earlier, when we —"

"I know, Charles, I know," she said as she stood. "But we didn't. You didn't. Charles."

She walked over to him, bold as brass despite his bristling demeanour, and took his face in her hands. "He's fine. He's fine."

Edwin, feeling like an interloper despite being the subject of distress, hovered at the desk. Fists clenched, knuckles braced together; grounding himself against his own spectral solidity the only way he knew how. "Charles," he repeated, softer. He sounded altogether too close to weeping himself.

In a blink, Charles was back by his side — and his arms were around Edwin like a vice. "I'm sorry," he babbled, breathing the words in a rapid patter against Edwin's neck, voice choked with tears. "Fuck, Edwin, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Perhaps it was proximity to the remains or simply a rawness of emotion, but... Edwin could almost feel him. Trick himself into believing he could feel Charles' weight in his arms, rich and real.

"You've nothing to be sorry for," Edwin uttered, soft, yet stern. He returned the embrace, clutching the nothing that was everything in his arms. "You held me back, Charles. You saved me again."

He squeezed him tight, for all the good it would do. "Thank you."

Charles seemed in no hurry to pull away — and frankly, neither was Edwin. So he allowed himself to hold and be held a few moments longer, clinging to Charles like a port in a storm.

Meanwhile, behind Charles' back and in the corner of Edwin's vision, Crystal had begun to pace.

"Okay. Okay, so. So this has happened before. That's good, right? Means we're not totally fucking alone, here," she muttered, tugging at a flyaway curl of her hair. "We just — we just need to think about this. Sybil, John, whatever didn't know what the bones wanted because that guy wouldn't talk to her, but we do, right? Edwin, you've told us everything, right?"

"I've told you the whole of it," he replied. It came out slightly muffled in Charles' shoulder.

"Good. Great, okay, so we're not flying blind. We just — look, she said it was like, a haunting, right? Like his spirit was..."

"Split in two," said Edwin, quietly.

The look she cast him over Charles' shoulder was gratingly sympathetic. "Yeah. Yeah, so fine. It's a haunting. So how do you stop a haunting?"

"It depends," said Edwin.

"Unfinished business," Charles cut in. He inhaled through his nose as he pulled back, and pulled himself (mostly) together. "Sort out the unfinished business, sort out the haunting. More often 'n not."

"Great," said Crystal. "So we find whatever unfinished business the piece of Edwin trapped in those bones has, and we finish it."

Edwin snorted, scratching his cheek where it had been pressed to Charles' neck. Though he could scarcely feel a bit of it, he already missed the embrace. "You make it sound so very straightforward."

"I mean, isn't it?"

"It's not as if we can interview the client," he sniped.

"Oi," Charles mumbled, ever the peacekeeper — but his heart wasn't in the admonishment. His hand, however, was in Edwin's hand. As if he could no more bear to break the contact than Edwin could bear to lose it.

"No, but it can't be anything complicated, right?" She clicked her fingers. "She said that piece of his spirit was like, it was a fragment. Like it wasn't intelligent."

Edwin bristled.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying you're not intelligent. Idiot."

"How silly of me to think such a thing," he said icily.

"What I mean is — that you, the one in the box, it's like, base, right? That's what she said. No reason, no personality. It's barely conscious. Right?"

"Right," said Charles, nodding to himself. "Right, so he's — he's not gonna be wishing he'd composed a bloody symphony or anything."

"Exactly. Nothing complex. We've just gotta find whatever basic, boring, any-amoeba-can-do-it thing that he wants and... give it to him. And then he moves on and the haunting stops. Right?"

"In theory, yes, it could be as simple as that," said Edwin. "Although we mustn't discount the possibility that what it wants is..."

Though he'd absorbed the images as text on a page, they flickered through his mind on a vivid reel, crimson-tinted frames of celluloid horror. Images of his own arm twisting, warping, bubbling. Bleeding away from him in a roiling mass of terrible tallow, into the empty vessel of his howling bones.

He swallowed. "A reunion..."

"Nope," said Charles, flat, with a decisive shake of his head. "Nah. Nah, we're not. No. S'not that. There's gotta be something other than that. Hasn't there?"

"Yeah," muttered Crystal, answering his pointless tag question with an even more pointless platitude. "Yeah. Sure. Gotta be."

But she shared a look with Edwin behind Charles' back, a worried one. One he returned with a grim set to his jaw.

Neither one of them spoke another word for fear of upsetting Charles — or speaking the terrible truth into existence — but it lingered nonetheless. Lying unspoken between them, as large as the box of bones and all the more ominous a presence. The terrible elephant in the room.

Maybe there is no other way.

~

"So." Edwin turned on his heel to face the gathering as his chalk scraped a decisive line beneath the words 'Unfinished Business' on the board. "Let us have it. Any notion that springs to mind. At this juncture, there are no wrong answers. What could he want, what could he need?"

Charles and Crystal sat assembled on the floor, watching him and the board like tall, bedraggled schoolchildren with poor posture. Stationed dutifully between Edwin and the trunk — which had been propped open again, on his request. He needed to think, and it was damnably difficult with his bones having a tantrum.

"Gotta be basic, yeah?" said Charles, scratching his nose. "Right, so what's like, the most basic thing people can want?"

"Sleep?" said Crystal, on the tail end of a stifled yawn.

Edwin rolled his eyes, but dutifully jotted it down.

"Food?" Charles offered, hopping aboard her train of thought. "Um, water...?"

"Sex?" said Crystal.

Edwin, halfway through making note of the previous suggestions, gasped in indignance and turned upon her. "I absolutely do not consent to anyone attempting... that with my skeleton." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm not even sure how one would go about such a thing..."

"Bet there's a few people online who'd have ideas," she muttered.

"I dread to think. Hm. Perhaps there are some wrong answers, after all," he said curtly, deigning not to write it down. "Let's rule that one out for the time being. Any others?"

"Cash?" Charles suggested. "We could lob a few tenners at 'im?"

Edwin closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Let us call that Plan F."

"You know, there is a way we could get the answer straight up," said Crystal, voice quiet and eyes to the floor. "Straight from the horse's mouth."

"Crys..." said Charles, a gentle warning.

"I could read them," she blew past him.

"You heard what that journal said," Charles argued. "They'll melt the bloody flesh off your bones!"

"I'm alive — pretty sure that was a ghost special." She turned to Edwin. "You agree with me, right? It's the fastest, most bulletproof way to figure this out."

He did agree, and he opened his mouth to say so. But then he made the mistake of looking directly at her; at that now-familiar glint of reckless determination in her eye.

Edwin sighed. "I agree with your assessment. But I agree with Charles, as well. It's a risk. We must exhaust all other avenues, first."

He saw Charles let out a breath he'd been holding, a spark of gratitude glowing warm in his eyes. It was a suitable balm to the caustic ire of Crystal.

"We've been here days! How long did that guy last before he caved, like a month? I know you say you're fine, Edwin, but you're not fine! Look! You're doing your — your thing!"

She pointed to his hands — he followed her gaze, scowled, and pointedly unclenched his fists, letting them fall to his sides.

"And you're still twitching," she said. "They're still in your head, right?"

ClosercomeclosercomecloserlookatmeholdmeCLOSER —

"I have it quite under control," said Edwin. "And even if I did wish to succumb, I'll hardly find the chance with the two of you watching me like hawks."

"But I could —!"

"Crystal," he said, voice like a sharp rap across the knuckles. "You are of far too much value to us to risk when we haven't exhausted all other options, and that is final."

She blinked, mouth flopping in a flabberghasted, fish-like manner.

"Yeah," said Charles, softly. His hand found hers, cupping over her smaller digits upon the office floor. "What he said."

Crystal looked to him, then Edwin, with eyes that looked suspiciously damp. Oh, good heavens, no. He simply couldn't bear it if another person were to cry in front of him today.

Edwin cleared his throat. "Well." He brushed down his rumpled shirt. "Now that's dealt with —let us return to the task at hand, shall we?"

"Right, yeah. Unfinished business." Charles frowned, tapping his fingers on his knee. "Mate..."

"Yes, Charles?"

"I'm thinking, yeah... If we find out what his unfinished business is," he said, jerking his thumb towards the sealed trunk at his back. "And he moves on. Does that mean... Since, y'know, since he's you..."

"That I would move on with him?"

Charles exhaled, a ragged sound, and nodded.

Edwin swallowed. "We... mustn’t discount the possibility."

A possibility which hung heavy in the air between them, grey and charged like a storm cloud. Edwin could see the panic in Charles' eyes — recognised it intimately for it matched that rising in his own chest. A thin, taut thread of terror strung between their unbeating hearts. A thread which neither one of them wished to snip.

"We don't have a choice," Crystal cut in, quiet. Almost gentle. "Edwin's sick. And he's gonna keep being sick. If it gets bad, if his bones... absorb him."

She chewed on her lower lip, and looked Edwin solemnly in the eye. "Then we lose you either way."

He closed his eyes. "We have to try."

"Yeah," said Charles, the weight of the world in one little syllable.

Edwin waited to face the blackboard before he opened his eyes once more. He couldn't bring himself to meet Charles' gaze; he'd only want to run and hide in it. "So. What else have we —"

"Oh, boys!"

The three of them startled like gazelles, whirling on the new voice. That was no surprise appearance of the spectral postman — that was the unmistakable voice of —

"Ah," said Edwin, sheepishly straightening his back and attempting to do likewise with his rumpled shirt. "Good evening."

The Night Nurse stood, in all her crispness and cleanliness, at the heart of the veritable bombsite of their office with an air of horror. "Is it, Master Payne? Because it hardly seems to be the case from where I'm standing! What have you little delinquents been doing — I was gone for less than a fortnight!" She frowned, and consulted her watch. "I was certain I’d accounted for your terrestrial timezone…"

"Long story," said Crystal. "But we've got a situation."

"I can see that, young lady. Would one of you care to elaborate?"

"We found Edwin's..." Crystal's eyes flickered to him, uncomfortable.

Edwin sighed. "My remains. We found my remains." He gestured to the trunk. "Stashed and forgotten in the attic at the school where I... yes."

She leaned over neatly, knees and back unbending, and peered into the trunk. For just a moment, her stern expression softened somewhat. "Oh. Wee lamb..."

Edwin blinked, the gentleness of that designation altogether a little more than he was prepared for. He found himself unsure what to do with it, so he put it down on the floor and backed away slowly with a clear of his throat. "Yes, it's been a... trying few days."

"There's something about 'em," said Charles. "We think they're sort of... haunted."

"They're making Edwin sick — keeping him here, talking in his head," added Crystal.

"Found some notes about it happening to someone else." Charles picked up the book from the floor at his side and tapped the cover. "Basically, we don't sort them out, Edwin's fucked."

"Thank you, Charles," Edwin muttered.

"I see," she said, taking the book from Charles and flicking through it. Though she merely riffled through the pages as if she were shuffling a deck of cards, Edwin had no doubt the information found its way into her brain somehow. An enviable talent. "And how do you intend to 'sort them out'?"

"Unfinished business is our best bet so far," said Crystal. "But it's gotta be something super basic. Something unconscious."

"And I take it burial didn't work?"

Edwin looked at Charles. Charles looked at Crystal. Crystal, wide-eyed, only shrugged.

"We... have not attempted burial," said Edwin, carefully.

The Night Nurse stared at him, eyes slightly bugged, before they narrowed. "You haven't. Tried. Burial?" she said, voice clipped, stilted. Sharp and precise as the rhythmic snip of a pair of sewing scissors.

"Well, um, no — but, it was gonna be next on the list!" Charles lied.

"Children," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with two immaculate fingernails. "In the event of cursed or haunted remains, proper burial is almost always standard protocol! Did any one of you think to read the Lost & Found Guidelines and Procedures manual that I gave to you?"

Edwin, abashed, shifted his weight and steepled his fingers. "I... gave it a cursory glance."

Edwin had read some dry texts in his time, often with interest and even some pleasure, but even by his standards that tome had been... a difficult read. He'd wished fervently, as he did most every day, that Niko had still been with them. How she'd managed to read that book at all, let alone absorb and decode its convoluted contents in a handful of hours, remained one of life's great mysteries. A truly uncanny affinity with the text, as if she'd written it herself.

The Night Nurse scowled. "Well. Chop chop, then — kindly locate a suitable, respectable burial site and crack on. And once you've got that sorted out, clean up this mess; we can hardly invite clients into this pig sty."

She cursed under her breath, in a language too old for even Edwin's linguist's ear, as she picked up the briefcase by her feet. It seemed to weigh a tonne — possibly a non-figurative one. "Now. If that's all sorted out, I've accrued a lot of paperwork from the conference. I'll be attending to that in my study and I would strongly advise you not interrupt me." She huffed a frustrated exhale through her nose. "I do hope that irksome landlady of yours hasn't re-ordered all of my pens, again..."

And with a sharp snap of her fingers, she was gone once more. Folding through space and time neat and sharp-edged as an origami crane, she teleported to the top floor, and the other disused apartment where she'd set up her own office to distance herself from 'the youth'.

The three of them left behind stared at the empty spot, where her stiletto heels had pinched small matching dips in the floorboard.

"Well," said Charles. "Seems as good a start as any, yeah?"

"Yes," said Edwin, tightly. "I'm amazed we hadn't thought of it."

"I was, uh. I was kinda joking, before, with the mirror and stuff, but..." Crystal furrowed her brow. "Are we like, actually stupid?"

Edwin jotted down burial on the board, and underlined it thrice. "Best not to dwell on it."

~

Edwin and Charles had become quite familiar with London's so-called Magnificent Seven. Unsurprising, given their line of work. Cemeteries and the engravings therein were a treasure trove of useful information when it came to helping the unquiet dead move on.

In fact, they'd visited the sites often enough to form extensive opinions and pick favourites. Edwin's preference was for the peace and quiet of Nunhead, or the fascinating architecture of West Norwood. Charles, on the other hand, had taken a shine to the overgrown, ramshackle remains of Tower Hamlets.

"Almost like it's barely a graveyard anymore, innit?" he'd said of his fondness once, as he bent to inspect another fragment. Many of the gravestones had become so broken, so weather-worn and algae-crusted, they were barely distinguishable from protruding roots in the undergrowth. "Practically a jungle. Like a proper adventure, yeah?"

Edwin let him have his fun, but truth be told, he took some dislike to their outings to that particular cemetery. He'd not attended a service there in life — few in his family would have deigned to be buried in London's east end — but he'd visited, on occasion. Usually at the behest of his aunt, who'd insisted a stroll through the grounds was good for the mind and soul.

"Around here, my boy, you're never more than a stone's throw from a dead person, a real person, or a parakeet."

At nine years of age, Edwin had found that statement rather perplexing. At a hundred and twenty, he'd decoded two of the three. 'Real' person, he imagined, referred to the working class in the area, the sort of people Aunt Florence spent the majority of her time with, despite her brother's best attempts. And after thirty years in the company of one Charles Rowland, Edwin couldn't agree with her more on that point. Edwin was, simply and unequivocally, a better and happier person for knowing him. As to the benefit of being among dead people, perhaps she'd been referring to the good psychological practice of acknowledging one's own mortality, in order to make peace with it.

He was, admittedly, still baffled as to what an invasive species of parrot could provide for his mental acuity. He suspected she'd just thrown them in the mix because she enjoyed the colours, and respected the rule of threes.

Memories of an aunt he wished he'd tried harder to understand set aside, the cemetery was still not an easy place for him. Unlike much of London, which looked so different from his day it could be mistaken for a new city altogether, the cemetery had few modern additions. The last hundred years were marked only in growth and destruction. The shellings of the nineteen forties had shaken the stones loose, and nature had crawled in through the cracks. It was a place where each long year of his absence from the world lay plainly marked, like chalk notches on a cell wall.

Fortunately, it was not to Tower Hamlets that Crystal's internet led them, but to Kensal Green. Edwin was rather embarrassed about being unable to recall the cemetery or plot location himself. But in life, he'd visited it only a handful of times, for funerals or family pilgrimages. Over the course of seventy years in Hell, he'd lost far more vital information from his life than a burial site.

To be truthful, which cemetery it was mattered little to Edwin. After a week of confinement, he was just grateful for the outing.

There was the question, of course, of what to do about the bones and their separation anxiety if Edwin were to leave. But Charles outright refused to leave Edwin alone with them, so a temporary solution was devised. An effective (if inelegant) workaround.

Charles gave a low whistle. "Mate. This whole bloody plot's yours?"

"My family's, yes. My great, great grandfather's investment, if I recall correctly." Edwin went to give his bowtie an anxious tug, only to remember he wasn't wearing it. Lost in the dreadful haze of the last week. He settled for adjusting the collar of his shirt. "He was always quite adamant about being buried away from 'the rabble'."

"'Course he was," Charles snorted.

"So, what are we looking for?" asked Crystal, rubbing her arms. The sky was heavy with the threat of rain, and going by her chosen attire the weather must have been fresh for July. "Like... just a big enough patch to start digging?"

Edwin tutted. "Crystal. The onus is on a proper burial; we can hardly tip my mortal remains into a hole in the ground."

"I'd dig a nice hole," Charles joked, nudging Edwin with his elbow. "I'm great at digging holes."

He had mastered quite a technique over the years, but that was by the by. "There might be a grave waiting already," said Edwin.

"Like an empty one?" said Charles.

Edwin nodded. "It wasn't strictly orthodox, but I recall a similar arrangement when my Uncle Cuthbert perished at sea."

"Okay," said Crystal, rolling her shoulders and switching on her torch. "Let's get looking. I don't wanna be the only visible person digging up graves when the sun comes up."

"Check them all, thoroughly," said Edwin. "I did die rather young. It's possible I share a headstone with... with my mother."

Crystal and Charles set to — but not before casting him another worried look or two. Edwin was rather tiring of those. Just because he was being plagued by malicious forces beyond their ken didn't mean he needed to be mollycoddled.

When Edwin lifted his lantern and took a step towards the nearest headstone, he winced. Then scowled. "Oh, shush," he snapped, giving the trunk a sharp kick with his heel. It skittered a little on the wonky wheels of the pilfered airport luggage trolley to which it had been haphazardly lashed. "I'm hardly going far."

"Careful, Edwin!" Charles called out in a panic.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "I am being careful."

"It's definitely closed, yeah?" Charles persisted.

"Yes, Charles."

"Got your gloves on?"

"Yes, Charles."

"What d'you want him to do?" Crystal chimed in from the next row. "Wear a hazmat suit?"

Charles left a worrying pause. Edwin couldn't see his face at a distance in the dark, but he could see it in his mind's eye. The raised brows, widening eyes, the considering dip of his head as he thought 'actually...'. Absolutely unacceptable.

"Charles," said Edwin, firm. "Less fussing, more searching, if you don't mind."

He grumbled, of course, but his torch beam flitted away and his crunching footsteps resumed.

Though it would be more efficient to aid their efforts, Edwin decided to hang back, standing vigil over the box of bones. He'd hardly be an asset to the search party with a migraine.

Besides, if he was being honest, the idea of stumbling across a familiar name graven into ancient stone was... troubling, to say the least.

And if was being genuinely honest, more troubling still was the idea of being untroubled. It had been so very long since he'd seen his parents, his aunts and uncles and cousins. What little he remembered of them existed in his head only as fleeting snatches of memory. He'd written down facts about them, names and dates and habits and views, but in the end that was all they were. Facts. Impersonal jottings on a piece of paper. Seventy horrific years in Hell, followed by thirty in a situation comparable to a personal heaven, had put all that came before quite out of mind. It was only their recent excursions that had begun to dredge up the past; hauling the pitifully small shipwreck of his mortal life out into the light of day.

Edwin sighed and leaned on the trolley handle. In the lantern glow, the silhouettes of his family's tombstones crouched dark and dubious. No names visible, no detail, only vague forms, pitch black and hunching like a murder of silent crows. He closed his eyes against them.

His bones whispered urgent, incoherent litanies; there was little to do but bob upon the tide, and watch the distant torch beams. At some point, the one denoting Charles scurried over to meet Crystal. They might have been whispering to one another, but Edwin didn't hear, Couldn't hear. Hard to hear much of everything beyond that insistent little voice, breathing its pleading words into his ear.

Hold me hold me hold please hold me...

"Edwin?" came Charles' voice, creeping closer behind twin beams. "Got a problem."

"That doesn't fill me with confidence," said Edwin, opening his eyes slowly. Feeling as if he was coming up from underwater. "The last time you said that in a graveyard, the problem was zombies. And quite a lot of them."

"No zombies," said Crystal, hustling into view side by side with Charles like a two-headed creature in the gloom. Charles' earring flashed in the lantern glow before his worried eyes had the chance to catch up. "But..."

"But...?"

Charles puffed, raising his arms in a sharp shrug before letting his hands fall to his sides with an audible slap. "We can't find you. Anywhere."

Edwin frowned. "Are you certain?"

"Yep. Found an Edward Payne," said Crystal. "But he died in 1909."

"My grandfather," said Edwin, absently. He went to the funeral. He thinks...

"Yeah, well. Closest we've got." Crystal crossed her arms uncomfortably. "There was... we found your mom's stone, but. Your name wasn't on it."

Edwin closed his eyes and exhaled, slowly. "Right. Well. I thought this might be an issue." He adjusted his coat. "If they labelled me a disappearance, it's possible they never had any sort of funeral."

"That's bollocks," was Charles' immediate and incensed response. "No memorial? Not even a bloody stone?"

"Could it be someplace else?" asked Crystal. "Do you have, like, family scattered across the country?"

"This was our plot for generations. We had a branch of the family in the north, but why they'd memorialise me there I haven't the faintest. We scarcely even visited." Edwin's leather gloves creaked, fist braced to fist. "However..."

"What?"

Edwin cleared his throat. "Well. There is, of course, the chapel annexed to St. Hilarion's. I seem to recall a small graveyard in the vicinity."

Even in the low light, Charles looked distinctly ill. "You reckon they buried you there?"

"Evidently, Charles, they didn't bury me at all," he said. "But if there's anywhere else a memorial might be..."

"Great," said Crystal, in a bitter, biting tone that communicated the exact opposite. She sounded about as happy about the lead as Edwin felt. "So. Guess we're going back."

"I suppose so."

"Do we have to?" asked Charles, plaintive. "I mean — no rule saying we have to bury you where your old man put your grave marker, is there?"

"Strictly speaking, no," said Edwin, peevish. "But in the absence of an alternative plan, I think it important we do everything in our power to execute this one flawlessly. It is as I said, only a proper burial will do — and regardless of your hole-digging technique, Charles, I doubt disposing of me in an unmarked pit in the woods is liable to solve anything."

Crystal inhaled sharply.

Charles stared at him, stricken. "Christ, Edwin. I'd fucking never. You know I'd never."

Edwin sighed — a dry, rattling sound. "I know. I... I apologise."

Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. At least, Edwin imagined it did. For him, silence was a long-lost friend; he'd not met a silence these last days that couldn't be filled with the hushed, manic whispers of the dead.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, massaging his temple. "I'm... I'm not myself."

Dull, distant pressure brushed his hand aside; and Charles held his shoulders and met his eyes.

"You're fine, mate," he said, voice low, urgent. "Just under a bit of stress, yeah?"

Edwin took a slow, steadying inhale, and looked at Charles — even though a part of him wasn't wholly sure he had the right to do so. Charles' signature eyeliner was faded, the neat arcs reduced to dark smudges, making his eyes appear sunken and bruised. It was a little affectation of his, a tell, like misty breaths and uncontrollable shivers. The true emotions peeking through the cracks. He looked about as haggard and overstretched as their poor living colleague did.

And it was all Edwin's doing.

He gathered himself, insomuch as there was anything left to gather. "Well. Mustn't dawdle," he said, giving Charles' arm a brief pat before stepping back from his hands and taking hold of the trolley. "Let us hasten to that chapel while the night is on our side."

Crystal glanced between them both, then evidently decided whatever she wanted to say wasn't worth it. "Fine." She huffed as she collected up an armful of shovels and torches. "Jenny's gonna be real stoked about how many places her van's been seen loitering around tonight."

She tromped off towards the borrowed van in question, looking for all the world like a rather dejected and unsuccessful grave robber. Edwin supposed it did look a bit suspicious, from an outside perspective. Certainly Jenny would have had words to say, if she knew what they were up to. But Jenny was otherwise occupied tonight, and Crystal had a newly minted driver's licence, so there'd been little point bothering her. Crystal disappeared over the grassy verge, leaving Edwin and Charles alone with a couple more shovels and a restless cart of bones.

Charles gave Edwin another worried look, and reached for the pull handle of the trolly. "Let me take those for a bit, mate," he said.

Edwin shook his head and tightened his grip. "They'll make a fuss."

"Well, they can bloody lump it for a minute, can't they?" said Charles. Firmly, but with care, he pried Edwin's finger's from the handle and replaced them with his own. Edwin winced in anticipation of a flare of pain that never came. For whatever reason, for the time being, the temperament of the bones remained stable.

Exhaling slowly, Edwin flexed his fingers. "Thank you," he muttered.

"S'alright." Charles was watching him, all too shrewdly. Shrewdness bore a rather unique flavour when Charles wielded it. Neither cutting nor cruel; it was simply an expression which asked if all was well, and saw right through to the real answer. "Did you..."

"Did I?"

"Did you wanna..." Charles bit his lip, and shrugged. "See anyone? Say anything? Seeing as we're here." He nodded towards the hunching shadows. "With them."

Edwin looked at his feet.

"You don't have to," Charles hastened to assure him. His free hand landed, with that reassuring Charles-signature firmness that carried even through the intangible ether, upon Edwin's shoulder. "Just thought I'd ask, yeah?"

Edwin turned his head to the grave plot. Generations of his family, from before his time, and after. Each as dead as he, or moreso. He imagined Aunt Florence was here, somewhere, despite her cemetery preferences. Uncle Cuthbert. Grandfather Edward. Mother. Father.

The names rang clear as a bell, graven across his memory in his own hasty handwriting. Etched year by torturous year in Hell into the pages of books and the dust of the walls lest he forget; lose the familiar syllables to the sands of time.

The faces to go with them?

Edwin pressed a hand to his chest, to the outline of his notebook where it lay tucked against his heart. The impression of a family crest. A singular tether, a constant reminder. A tribute, like his frantic scrawlings, to the name. Nothing more.

"I... think I'd rather not linger," he said, shamefaced, looking at Charles' hand — if only to avoid his eyes. "If it's all the same to you."

He watched Charles release him. But not without a squeeze, and a slow trail of his hand down his arm. As if to prolong the non-touch as long as possible.

"Say no more, mate," he said, low and achingly kind, as he shored up his hold upon Edwin's mortal remains. "Say no more."

He followed in Crystal's footsteps, towing the trunk and its contents with care and attention. Edwin followed, and did not look back. Perhaps it was for the better, that they'd found no grave waiting to receive him.

He had no wish to be buried amongst strangers.

~

Returning to St. Hilarion's even once had been quite enough for Edwin's nerves. Twice was pushing it. But needs must when the devil drives. And with his own bones now found — and apparently happy to keep their interference to a low, droning whisper whilst being towed along in Charles' steady hand — at least there were no extreme supernatural weather conditions to contend with.

The chapel, as well, was an altogether less familiar area of campus. Edwin had spent his fair share of time there, of course, for Sunday service amongst others. But the headmaster in his time had preferred to conduct assemblies elsewhere, and so the chapel became an infrequent haunt. And a relatively peaceful one, considering his bullies had to torment him very, very quietly, lest they incur the wrath of this God fellow. Or, more pressingly, the wrath of the bishop with the sharp eyes and cutting tongue. He never raised a hand to them himself, but was always quite happy to recommend any ne'er-do-wells for punishment from the school staff. As a result, Sunday service was somewhat of a sanctuary in Edwin's week, which he'd enjoyed greatly; even if the boredom threatened at times to choke him. But he daren't attempt to hide more interesting reading material in his prayer book. Just because he was rarely a target for the bishop's ire did not mean he didn't carry a healthy respect for it.

Much like the rest of the school, the chapel had been well-kept since Edwin's day. Though he wondered if it saw as much use in these enlightened times. Did they still herd the boarders in the door every Sunday? The grass outside was short and freshly chopped. He experienced a moment's pure nostalgia for the fragrance that always erupted about the school when the groundskeeper had been out and about with his little push-mower. That bright, green, fresh scent that bled through the open windows of the classroom on a summer's afternoon, a stark contrast to the smell of books and bodies and the throat-clagging chalk dust. It wasn't often Edwin so keenly missed his sense of smell, but that had always been one of his favourites. Remembered with a vivid fondness not even afforded to his own immediate family.

Being buried on school grounds was certainly not ideal; but buried under fresh cut grass, that he could abide.

"Well," Charles muttered. "This shouldn't take long."

In contrast to the sprawl of Kensal Green cemetery — and even the relatively small subsection of the Payne family plot — the St. Hilarion's graveyard amounted to a mere handful of scattered stones. It seemed relatively few new additions had sprung up since Edwin's time.

"Good," he said, dryly. "They must not be haemorrhaging students at a breakneck pace."

Charles tossed him a wry grin. "S'pose we're special then, eh?"

"Wait," said Crystal. "Charles, is one of these yours?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I'm over Croydon way."

Edwin's gaze snapped to him. "You are?"

"Yeah. Found out a while back." He shrugged, but his expression had clouded. Somewhere behind his eyes, a distant rumble of warning thunder. "Should've been cremated, really. Always thought, 'cause of mum... but, well. Dad had to go and steamroll that, didn't he?" He kicked a clump of loose sod at the side of the cobble path. "Just like he always does. Can't not have it his way, can he?"

Edwin wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that rhetorical. If he were Charles, someone more at ease with the practice of offering comfort, he might have reached out to touch him. But he was no such thing.

"Charming man," he muttered instead, tongue dripping venom. And that, at least, coaxed a wry smile from Charles' scowling lips.

"Right then. Better get looking, hadn't we?" said Charles, as he gently passed the trolley handle back into Edwin's hand, fingers lingering in the changeover. "Be careful, yeah?"

Edwin smiled, tightly, and offered Charles a torch. "Of course."

Charles took it, and he and Crystal marched grimly towards the grave plots. Crystal, Edwin noticed, walked in close step, and gave Charles the reassuring squeeze that Edwin himself had failed to provide. He averted his eyes, glowering at the infernal trunk he was once more saddled with.

It didn't sit well with Edwin. Waiting. He liked to be pragmatic. Not in Charles' sense of the word, of course — impulsive decisions were neither his preference nor his specialty, and he was loathe to charge into a situation unprepared. But preparation in itself was a form of pragmatism, and Edwin had been feeling woefully understocked on both these past few days. When the only resources they had to hand were a single book and the odd scattered diary entry, it made it rather difficult to contribute in any meaningful way to the case. It hadn't even been his idea to fasten the trunk to the trolley — at most, he could claim credit for holding the tape.

Well. He'd had quite enough of waiting. Squaring his shoulders, he took a firmer grip on the handle. "Come along, then," he told his bones brusquely. "Let us see what we can see."

The wheels of the luggage trolley were not well suited to grass and dirt. Edwin wove a very slow, very stilted path across the green, full of routine stops to disentangle the axles from tangles of loose cuttings. But he made it, eventually, to the yard, exchanging a glance with Crystal as he went. She made no efforts to stop him, for which he was quietly grateful. As she continued to inspect the smattering of stones in the southernmost stretch of the small yard, Edwin surveyed the ones closer to the gate. Many of which were clearly too modern to be his, but it made sense to leave no tombstone unturned.

He was directing his gaze away from the carving of a lamb upon an older stone, when something caught his eye. A single name amongst a jumble of them.

His breath caught.

"Edwin?" Charles called, his voice very distant, rising in budding concern. "Edwin, I still can't see you anywhere, mate..."

"Me either," added Crystal.

Edwin didn't look at either of them; cold to his very soul. "I can."

He heard rather than saw their approach, Charles and his insensible loafers skidding in the dirt alongside the confident crunch of Crystal's sturdy boots. The noise stopped abruptly when they reached his side; and silence reigned as they read what was written.

"Shit..." Crystal muttered.

"Edwin," said Charles, quiet. "What's this about?"

"I don't know," said Edwin, his own soft voice roaring like a waterfall in his ears. "But I can make an educated guess."

The stone which bore Edwin's name was not a dedicated gravestone at all. What it was was a tall, distinctive structure, carved in the image of a celtic cross. A better word for it might be cenotaph. Beneath the most prominent engraving on the plaque, the fairly boilerplate 'IN PROUD REMEMBRANCE', a list of names. Edwin's peeked out from within it, almost timid. Eighth down in the roster, amongst a handful of others. All familiar, some more than others. The name Simon Fairfax stood out somewhat.

Charles took a knee in the dirt beside him, reaching out. His gloved fingertips traced Edwin's name in the brass. "Mate..."

It took Edwin some moments to find his voice again.

"Act of God," Edwin parrotted, dully. "Covers all manner of sins, does it not?"

Crystal squatted at his other side, arms folded on her knees.

Edwin wondered who'd originated this rather ingenious cover. The school, or his family. How long had his parents waited, he wondered. How hard had they looked. Did they know, from the moment news of his disappearance reached them, that this was how they'd explain it away? Or did this happy coincidence not occur to them until some time later?

It was rather easier to explain, wasn't it? No uncomfortable questions to be fielded about where Edwin was last seen, or with whom. About why he could have been a target for abuse at the hands of his peers. About what he and at least one other of the boys who'd disappeared that night had in common. An easy explanation; and an easy, expeditious route to a noble death.

He laughed, cut-glass sharp. "How convenient."

"Shit..." Crystal muttered. "Shit. Edwin, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, no, don't be. It's the kindest thing, is it not?" he spat, fingers tightening to a bruising grip on the trolley handle. "I should be thanking them, really. How thoughtful of them to spare me the embarrassment."

"Edwin..." said Charles.

"Really, what a kindness. What a gracious act of self-sacrifice to cover up the truth of the matter for my sake." The words were coming thick and fast, now, but he hadn't the wherewithal to care. He had dead lungs with no need for oxygen, and no shortage of acidic vitriol to burn. "It must have been so very difficult for them, to stand in front of all our friends, relatives, all of father's business associates and lie. Poor Edwin, ran away with his chums to join the front lines. Fought valiantly, or so we heard. How brave of him, that hard-headed, foolish boy. How tragic to see a fine young man cut off in his prime. Oh, but not to worry. At least he died a hero's death, him and all of his little friends. At least he died defending his country, and not in the school that we sent him to, screaming, begging. Pinned against his will, writhing on his back and sobbing like a wretched little Mary Ann!"

The hated words, like a bitter incantation, broke the spell. The red haze bled from his vision and soon, all that was left in its place was sorrow. So old, so aching it could be felt, quite literally, in his very bones.

Closer closer closer please closer...

He dropped the handle, uncaring for how they cried, how it hurt in his head and his heart. How a small, broken part of him wished, shamefully, to throw himself upon them and melt like wax just to make it all stop.

Hold me. Please hold me...

But he sat petrified, a statue among the stones, between Crystal's hand at his elbow and Charles' on his shoulder. Bound inescapably to the terrible moment and so he did the only thing he could think to do. The only thing he felt capable of doing.

He wept.

~

Minutes ticked, inexorably, into hours. A light rain fell, staining the weathered cenotaph a deeper, slicker grey. A stone effigy of a darkening stormcloud.

It was when the sky had wept its fill, when the rain had left behind only a glimmering beading upon the neatly trimmed cemetery grass, that Edwin's tears likewise subsided. He blinked up at the dawn's gloaming.

"Hey," said Crystal, quiet. He looked at her; her jacket was sodden and her curls had been tamped down by the persistent, penetrating drizzle. She hadn't complained once.

Edwin found, with a somewhat detached sense of surprise, that he was as drenched as their living friend. His blazer was heavy with water, his knees damp and grass-stained. A slick forelock of his hair had split from formation to curl, limply, in his vision. He looked to Charles and found he, at least, was dry. But the slight tremor of his hand, the soft puffs of vaporous air from his lips denoted a worry he was simply keeping a tight lid upon.

With a ragged exhale, Edwin wiped his eyes. How strange, to not feel the water, and yet to see his fingers come away wet. "I'm sorry."

Quick as a flash, Charles' hands were upon him. On his neck, cupping his jaw, turning Edwin to face him. Edwin had never so deeply craved something he couldn't have in his life; he wanted the warmth of Charles' hands. Wanted them to ward off the ice settling upon his very soul.

"Oi. You have nothing to be sorry about," said Charles, serious as the grave.

Edwin breathed in, slow and shuddering, and nodded. His hand found Charles', and held on tight.

"Are you okay?" asked Crystal. Then, with an audible wince: "Shit, of course you're not okay. I mean, like... physically, are you okay? You look..."

A droplet of water broke from the tip of Edwin's flyaway hair. "Like a drowned rat?"

"Uh. Yeah. Kinda."

Edwin shook his head. "They're — this near to them, it's like I can..." He shivered. "Everything feels very... close."

"Hey, now. You're alright. You're okay, yeah? Here." Charles shrugged out of his coat, and draped it over Edwin's shoulders. "It's alright, mate."

It made precious little difference, of course, being draped in a piece of ghostly wool. He'd much rather Charles have kept it for himself, to stave off his own spectral chill. But he clutched it tight to his chest, nonetheless.

"So what now?" asked Crystal, bleakly.

Edwin had no answer for her.

"Could try burying 'em with your family, anyway," said Charles. "Make a grave ourselves. A proper one."

"It won't work," said Edwin, softly.

"Why not?" asked Crystal.

Edwin wasn't wholly sure why it wouldn't, but it wouldn't. He'd felt the unrest of the bones at the very suggestion, in the back of his mind. As if an invisible hand had grabbed at his head and yanked it back by the scalp.

"They don't want to be there," he said, gathering Charles' coat tight around him. "He doesn't... I don't."

Crystal rubbed her face. If there was any of her eye cosmetic left behind from these frantic days, it had been washed away by the rain. "Would here work? I know it's not like, a real grave, but..."

Edwin, considering it, stretched out a shaking hand and sank his fingers into the wet, unresisting dirt beneath the stone. The pain was as immediate as it was pronounced. Less a pull of the hair, and more of an icepick to the frontal lobe. "No," he grit out through clenched teeth, falling back on his haunches in the grass. "No, no, here... here won't do, either."

"Maybe they don't even bloody want to be buried." Charles threw up his hands in frustration, before raking both through his hair. "Christ, not got much to go on, have we?"

Silence hung in the air following his outburst, taut and trembling; until Crystal snipped the thread. "But we could."

Charles' gaze snapped to her. "No."

"What choice do we have, Charles?" she argued. "If there's no grave, and if they don't want us to make one, then — then we've gotta find out what they do want. And I have a way to do it."

"It's too dangerous," he said, bringing his hands down to his thighs with an impact for emphasis. "Right, Edwin?"

Edwin looked at her, and she at him. She raised her eyebrows.

"It is too dangerous," he agreed, barely above a whisper. "And I cannot ask you to do it."

She hesitated, then put her hand on his arm. "But you want to ask me."

He nodded.

She nodded in return. "Then I'll do it."

"Crys..." Charles mumbled.

"Charles," she said, in a tone that took no prisoners. "Open the box."

He glanced between them, fists clenching fretfully on his knees. But one look at Edwin's sorry state, and he seemed to make his uneasy peace with the idea. "Alright. Alright..."

It was hardly a quick or elegant process, laying the trolley down flat and cutting through the yards and yards of heavy-duty duct tape with Charles' pocket knife. Some cursing was involved, and Edwin considered, briefly, that perhaps they ought to have adjourned to the office for this part. But it was too late now. The trunk's mummifying wrappings lay in mangled shreds about the grass, and Charles had the padlock in hand. He cast Edwin one more wary, terrified glance, before he willed it open with a click and let it fall to the ground with a damp and anticlimactic squelch.

The trunk swung open with its customary ominous creak. That faint blue iridescence from within shone upon the weathered planes of the cenotaph, and on each of their harrowed faces. Still vibrant in the pre-dawn light, not yet drowned by the encroaching sun.

Crystal climbed to her knees, shuffled closer, and propped her elbows upon the edge of the box. Her face was sallow in the direct glow of the contents, her eyes disconcertingly enormous.

"Careful..." said Charles, visibly twitching with the effort of not pulling her back. "Just..."

"Don't die?" she muttered.

He chewed his lip. "You've still got a life to lose," he mumbled.

She looked at him with a weary kindness, then. Tucked away somewhere in the wry uptick of her smile. "I'm not gonna." She glanced between him and Edwin as she reached out, tentative, naught outstretched but her littlest finger. "Guess you're both stuck with me."

Edwin's breath hitched. He extended his hand to her. "Crystal..."

But she closed the distance, first; her finger brushing like a kiss upon the crown of Edwin's bare, hollow skull.

The effect was instantaneous; her eyes clouding into perfect white pearls, her mouth falling open. Edwin half expected her to scream like a banshee, or start speaking in tongues but it was far, far worse.

She started crying.

It was a hideous sound, wet and wrenching; the sort of crying that had to escape through the mouth lest it force itself through the ribs instead. Edwin's blood ran cold.

"Crystal, that's enough now," he pleaded, trying — and failing — to keep his voice level against the rising panic. He reached to touch her, but hesitated — what if he only need touch the bones by proxy to fall into their trap? "Crystal, let go, please —"

Charles had no such considerations. "Crystal!" he hollered, throwing himself at her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Crystal, stop it, now!"

He pulled, and her hand parted from the skull.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes flashing back to normal in the space of a blink. The tears, however, continued to roll.

"Crystal. Crystal, you alright?" asked Charles, frantic. He'd yet to release his hold upon her, rocking her back and forth with his own restless motions.

She sobbed, burying her face into Charles' arms.

Edwin swallowed, and inched forward. "Crystal. What did you see?"

"Oi! Give her a sec!" Charles defended.

But Edwin could feel it, already, the bones and their insistence creeping back into his mind. Maddeningly inscrutable. If Crystal had managed to get even a glimpse...

"Crystal, please," he breathed, hushed and intense, crowding closer. He took her trembling hands in his, letting Charles' coat fall from his shoulders to the ground. "Please, Crystal, what did you see? What does he want?"

When she finally looked at him, he wished she hadn't. Not even in his lowest moments had he ever felt such pity in her gaze.

"He's so lonely," she said, sounding very small and very broken, very little like herself at all. "That's all. There's nothing else he wants, nothing else he knows, he just." She sniffed. "He just doesn't want to be alone anymore."

Hold me please hold me...

Edwin slumped, a dead weight. Cold and heavy as the stones which surrounded them.

“How long… How long will I have to stay with him in order to make him… happy? Do you think?”

"It's been in front of us the entire time," he said, voice ringing out hollow in the cold snap of the graveyard air. "It was so obvious, we just..."

Before my very eyes he melted, oozed, his liquid remains drawn to the bones like water to a spigot, like gas to a vacuum.

"I just did not wish to see it."

He saw Crystal's hands squeeze his, unfeeling. She may as well be across the universe.

"Edwin..." said Charles, low and urgent. His hand reached out past Crystal, going for Edwin's shoulder, where it belonged.

Edwin flinched. "Don't."

Charles froze.

"I'm sorry," Edwin whispered. "But please don't."

He couldn't bear it, another empty embrace, another grip without weight or warmth. To touch Charles without feeling him. Not now.

His pitiful, cadaverous heart couldn't take one more drop.

~

Dawn crept up on them, a silent hunter; rosy claws touching upon three harrowed faces in a graveyard. Each as young, as open, as lost as the next.

Somewhere in the woods, the first blackbird of the morning began to sing.

~~

Thank you to all who've bookmarked, subscribed, and especially commented, love you loads, until next time 💛

[hyperdramas]

head over heels | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol au, high school au, high school senior drum major seokmin, reader is implied to be female (high school senior cheerleader), aquaintances to lovers, kissing, confident & popular seokmin

now playing: head over heels, tears for fears

"Are you sure? You're probably really tired and I don't want you to overwork yourself." Seokmin's voice pulled you away from your friends, and you shook your head, following after him.

"No, no, it's fine! I'm not doing anything busy, and I'm waiting for my parents to come and pick me up." You say, grabbing a snare drum as Seokmin follows your lead, grabbing the stand. He smiles, and the two of you make your way across the lit field, silence falling between you as you blush.

Here you were, taking snare drums back to the dark band closet with your crush (who probaly didn't even know you liked him in that way). The field was almost empty, except for a few coaches still chatting over the game scores. Seokmin's strong cologne hasn't wore off just yet, and it mingles with the November humidity as you sigh.

"You were really great up there tonight, Seokmin." Your voice is small as you try to create idle chat, and Seokmin looks over at you, smile wide as he continues to carry the snare's stand with ease.

"Thank you so much. I'm really trying to do my best, especially since this is my last year." Seokmin's eyes get a bittersweet look to them, and you feel his sadness as you walk in silence with him yet again. The smile on his face is still sparkling, perfect in every way, but you can tell that his heart is heavy.

"I know it must feel unreal, knowing this chapter of your life is coming to a close," You say quietly, heart pounding at the though that you're in the same position as he is, living out your last days as a cheerleader.

You'll be the one regretting that you didn't confess to him sooner.

"Yeah, but I try to keep up my morale for the band. They need it to do well. They need someone to be there to cheer for them and direct them in the way they need to go." Seokmin says, and you meet eyes with him for a second as you reply, "I believe you're doing a great job of that."

The smile on Seokmin's face brings a shy smile to yours, and you continue to make your way to the band room.

"Your outfit is amazing, by the way." Seokmin's quick to compliment you, and it makes you do a double take. You thought the skirt was a bit short and tight, and the sleeveless top was too cold for a game in November, but if Seokmin liked it, maybe you could deal with those parts.

"Ah, thank you! Yours too! It looks really warm." You compliment back, quite awkwardly, while Seokmin chuckles.

The outfit is a flashy mix of black and gold, with big gold buttons, a sheer black undershirt, and matching gold-striped pants and heeled dress shoes. Seokmin's hair is styled perfectly, bangs held in place by who knows how many layers of hairspray, and the slight makeup brought the whole look together. He looked like a dream.

"Do you want me to bring you home?" Seokmin asks politely, and you pause, turning to him as you laugh nervously.

"Oh, you don't have to! Plus, I don't know if my dad would take kindly to having a guy take me home." You laugh nervously, and Seokmin laughs, nodding as he replies, "I understand. I'm always open to do it for you though."

"Thanks, I'll remember that." You smile, and the two of you go quiet, a weird tension in the air as Seokmin falls silent. His eyes run over your goosebump-covered arms as he reaches out to touch your hand, and your heart follows quicker than your mind can, putting your hands on his as he pulls you to his chest.

Neither of you know what's going to happen, or what's come over you two, but both of you welcome it. Before you can think about what's happening properly, Seokmin's leaning in, eyes closings as he brings his other hand to enclose around your clasped hands on his chest.

The kiss starts soft, but multiplies in force as time goes on. Your mouth trembles as Seokmin's ministrations almost melt you on the spot.

His massive hands are warm against your exposed back as your hands fly to the epaulettes adorning his broad shoulders, feeling the threads in between your fingers as he pulls away just seconds later.

"Oh my god, wow. You're a really good kisser," Shyly touching your lips in disbelief, Seokmin chuckles, face a flushed red too as you both leave the band room in an awkward fashion.

"I didn't even ask you if it was okay first. I'm so sorry about that, I—" Seokmin almost started talking again, but you got a random burst of confidence at the way the kiss made you feel, and craved more. Your lips were on his before he could beat you to it, and you pulled away, hand still interlocked with his.

"It was more than okay, Seokmin. I liked it. I liked it a lot." You sigh happily, and Seokmin laughs nervously, leaving the two of you to make your way back to the paring lot as it was getting later and later.

"So, I'll—"

"See you tomorrow?"

You and Seokmin finished each other's sentences, and it was obvious the two of you were out of it. A laugh shared from you two healed your broken heart, and you fell for drum major Lee Seokmin a little more that night.

[dawnoftime22]

small details.

| W.M -> N.R

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 8

Chapter Warnings: a moment of not wanting to get out of bed, white lies, reader loves orcas/sea animals and collecting music(?)

Summary: A decision takes place to guide you towards your next path, green eyes leading the way.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 3.7k

Category: Fluff

Series Playlist

| Started on 31/03/2024, 8:16 PM |

| Finished on 04/15/2024, 2:56 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 7 Chapter 9 ->

"Your heart is so soft, I find it hard to believe anyone could ever hurt you."

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

...You tap on your contacts, scrolling down in the alphabetical pattern. Soon you find yourself, not at the bottom, but at the letter N.

Lingering on the contact, your mind filled with thoughts of everything that could happen. You didn't even know her full name, but the contact seemed like she had saved it with her first letter.

"What am I doing?" The whisper of your voice wasn't meant to be directed to anyone but you, yet you could feel movement on your body of a paw gently landing on your stomach.

You look down and see Lucky, staring up at you adorably and peacefully, his eye shining from the sunlight. There was a small reflection of the park in his pupil.

This was a better decision than going back to your ex though, isn't it? You took a deep breath in and sighed, your free hand gently going through Lucky's fur.

Then, you look back at the screen and decide to text the stranger, your thumbs hesitantly making their moves.

hi :]

I'm Y/N, the one with the golden retriever

I got the right phone number, right?

you're the redhead from earlier?

Her reply came in quicker than you had expected, so your heart skips a beat when you see her typing.

Hey. :]

You've got it. I'm the redhead.

I don't know your name so...

Natasha.

But you can call me Nat.

Natasha. thats a pretty name :]

Thank you. Yours is cute.

Cute.

At that, you had gotten far too distracted and lose your grip, your phone sliding out your hands and falling atop your face.

"Ow." The golden retriever in your lap jumped slightly and went forward, his nose bumping into your hand or face as you picked up your phone once more, seeing him check if you were hurt.

"I'm okay," you say with a gentle chuckle, and Lucky licked your face once before retreating back to his original place.

Your eyes focus on your phone screen once more, reading the words she's written out.

So, when do you think you're free?

Thinking it over, your teeth sinks into your bottom lip, wondering if you should dive in, or take small cautious steps.

With you basically not having a job anymore, considering you're in New York, you had all the time in the world.

how about friday?

She doesn't reply for a few minutes, and you almost got anxious, thinking you had somehow scared her off or lost her interest, but the three bubbles soon pop up once more.

Friday's good for me.

I know a cozy cafe somewhere near cornelia street. Only, it is french though, would you like that?

I'm okay with anything really!

maybe we could also hang out at that pizza

place we met near?

Or well...the second time we met?

As long as you're comfortable with the place we pick, pizza sounds good too.

It didn't matter what you picked as much, but seeing as you were slightly more familiar with the area, you chose that. Plus, you'd be able to get Lucky or Kate a pizza once you were done.

friday, pizza place at 2, if

thats okay with you?

Then its settled. See you there :]

see you!! :]

After a few seconds of not doing anything else but stare at the screen for a bit, you turn off your phone and set it aside. You weren't sure if the warmth you felt on your face was from the sun starting to shine on you, or whatever had just happened earlier.

Looking at the time on your watch, you decide its best you go back to Kate's apartment before you'd end up falling asleep on the grass and it'll be sundown.

Your hand props your body up, and at the movement, Lucky shifts until he realizes you're about to stand up, to which he gets off of you and places his paws on the grass.

With a lighter heart, you gather your things and make your way back home, Lucky somehow not getting distracted along the way as he followed beside you.

The close of the door echoes through the apartment when you arrive, kicking your shoes off. Surprisingly, Kate was already home, watching The Hunger Games on the couch.

She paused the movie and turns her head to look at you, her eyes moving from the dog beside you and you. She saw something different in you, but didn't question it, thinking it was just because you went on a walk outside.

"Hey." You say gently to Kate as you leaned down to take the leash off of Lucky, and she smiled, seeing the pizza dog run to her with excitement of seeing her again.

"Hey. Wanna join?" She asks you, then greeting Lucky when he arrived to her, and jumping on the couch to lay beside her.

"Sure, which movie are you on?" You walk over to both of them, sitting at the single open space there was left.

"The first one. I just started, so you're right on time." Kate had brought out a treat from somewhere beside her, holding it in her hand and testing Lucky's patience.

"How was the walk?" She asks as she glances up at you. Lucky was slowly moving forward, sniffing until he chomped on it while Kate got distracted, and you had to hold in a laugh from his swift movement. Kate on the other hand, had a shocked face from the sudden feeling of his saliva.

"Good. But this little guy saw a pizza restaurant while on our walk." You pointed at the golden retriever, your hand then moving to pet his head.

"Oh, no, what happened?" She freezes and stares at you, a million thoughts in her head. Could Lucky have ran into the restaurant? Did he steal someone's pizza? But look at his eye. He could never have done something like that. But he could. But he wouldn't.

"He practically dragged me towards it." You chuckle softly, pulling your hand back and sitting back against the couch, putting your legs up and getting comfortable.

"Jeez, you little troublemaking pizza lover." She cups Lucky's head, shaking her head before gently running her hands through his fur.

"Are you okay though?" She asks softly, her face turning into one of concern as she looks back up at you once more.

"Yeah, I accidentally bumped into someone, but I'm fine." You brush it off lightly, your mind proceeding to think of the redhead you had met, and the messages, but you decide against mentioning it to Kate.

She hums, "Better keep in mind the path you're walking in the future, then." You let the words sink in. It had sounded deeper than you knew she intended it to, and she probably didn't even notice as she played with Lucky. She then settled back comfortably on the couch, resuming the movie.

"I will." You say under your breath, nodding, but she didn't give another word, her eyes focused on the screen. The rest of the night continues with small conversations and jokes until the two of you bid each other goodbye to go to your bedrooms and sleep.

You fell onto your bed, wanting to close your eyes and surrender into the darkness, but you can't help but only twist and turn for a bit, unable to rid your mind of every thought it had.

Since you couldn't sleep, you grab your phone from the side, checking it for anything. For a moment, you linger on the text messages, going over every word before closing the app.

When you went to the lockscreen to clear your notifications of anything else so you don't read the things you've already seen later in the morning, you notice your low battery. So, you reach to the side to turn on your charger and plug your phone, the battery going green in indication.

Yawning, you try sleeping once more, this time, it starting to look to be more successful, and soon enough, the whole world disappearing until your breathing went into a softer rhythm.

The night passes by, the moon slowly fading out from the sky as it brightened with the sun that was rising.

You did your morning routine tiredly, repeating onwards until it was friday. With the smell of freshly blended fruits from Kate's smoothie she had made still lingering in the air, you walk out the living room fully ready to go out.

Well, your appearance is ready. You, on the inside? You were not prepared, even if you had a few days to get yourself together. It was just hanging out with her, right?

Was it a date? No. No, it can't be. You had just met. It was a planned meeting...meeting? That sounds too formal. Planned hang out? Oh, whatever it is, you're not ready for it.

Kate sees you anxiously check your phone along with the time, to then you making sure you have everything in your pockets. Her curiosity peaks and she stops working on her smoothie.

"Where are you going?" She asks simply, and a tinge of red lightly crosses your face as you realize she was observing the way you're acting, and you try to make yourself look more proper.

"Just...on a walk." You say your words slowly, treading carefully, yet making it up as you go along. "I'm thinking of grabbing some stuff from the nearby bakery." That was a lie. Well, a half lie. You're going to visit a bakery, but you're going to go on a dat- hang out with a certain redhead.

"Really?" She squints her eyes at you suspiciously, scanning your fancier than usual of an appearance. She's noticed all the times you've had the tiniest hint of a smile when you'd stare at your phone the past few days too.

"Yeah." You nod, trying to make it seem believable as you go towards the door, your keys clinking within your hand. "You want anything?"

"Well, if it's true, grab me a croissant." She shrugs, playing along even though she could already suspect what was happening.

"The chocolate one?" You point your finger up to her in gesture, and she smiles, tilting her head. She honestly looked like Lucky for a moment.

"Yes, the chocolate one," Kate said with a small gentle chuckle leaning on the kitchen counter, as she wondered how you had remembered. She had only gotten it once or twice but found it delicious each time.

"Okay, bye!" You open the door and was going to get out, but feel Lucky bumping into you with his head and paws, having ran to you thinking you were going on another walk with him. But, you gently push him, telling him he'll get his next walk another time. He soon relents, sitting down and watching you go. Little did he know, Kate would be home for the entire day.

"Bye!" She says, putting her hand up to wave at you slightly, about to return to finishing putting her smoothie into her cup before looking at you once more, who was right about to close the door. "Oh, and have fun!" She adds teasingly, a smile on her face.

You only felt the blood stream into your cheeks further but shut the door to start your journey to your planned meetup. As you walked along the path, you had a sense of deja vu. Yet this time, you aren't going to the park. Your legs stop completely at the pizza place.

Your eyes scan the area first, seeing if the redhead's arrived before you, but you only found someone that didn't have green eyes or the correct jawline...jawline? Why were you so focused on her features? You shook it off and went in, the smell of freshly baked pizza in the air.

Voices of people talking filled your hearing, and your feet took a few bit more steps until you get to an empty corner table, beside it, a window. The place was lively, but it was almost a light, joyous atmosphere.

You sat down, getting yourself comfortable as you looked around the area, up until a server gives you the menu, making you look up to the person, giving a smile and saying a 'thank you' before going over the meals written down.

Nearly everything looked delicious, but you try your best to take notes as to which one you would order, along with your drink.

When you heard the bell of the door opening from the entrance of the restaurant, you turn your head, but it wasn't someone you were expecting, so you purse your lips and look back down on the menu, only to grab your phone to check the time.

It showed 2:00 PM, exactly. There was still time anyway, and why would she leave you hanging? You scroll on your phone for a bit, catching up on the media and everything.

Just as you were about to open your messages, you see a shadow and a presence beside you. You look up, and see green eyes staring back at you, her red hair perfectly framing her face as she had her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.

"Oh, hi," you say, nearly quietly as you leaned back slightly, feeling she was a little close. But in fact, she wasn't at all, your body was just moving in instinct.

"Hey," she said, moving to settle in the seat in front of you, a hint of a smile on her lips while she kept her gaze on you.

"Sorry if I'm a little late," her hand places her phone on the table while she shifted to get more comfortable. You return her small smile, hoping to ease any worries she had.

"It's okay. Nearly got worried you weren't going to come though." You didn't know why those words came out your mouth. They were supposed to stay in your head, but it just happened.

"Don't worry about that," She rested her arms on the table, leaning forward slightly. She mirrored your form, your own arms folded against the plastic covered menu.

"I would've texted you if I couldn't come," she reassures you gently, taking the menu you slid over to her side, and it almost calmed your nervous heart.

"What do you wanna order?" You ask, seeing how her eyes scanned the menu, concentrated on each word. Then you try to keep your gaze elsewhere, trying to not stare.

The quiet silence was only filled by the sounds of the restaurant, the clattering of the kitchen and the noise of laughter echoing from the other side of the room.

"I'll take...a pepperoni pizza. We can share, if you want," she said slowly, looking back up at you. Both of you knew neither of you could finish a single pizza by yourselves.

"Sure," Your lips raise up and you nod, taking the menu back from her and calling up the waiter. When they arrive, you order the pizza along with your drink, not forgetting to then ask her about her drink of choice. She orders it easily, and the waiter repeats your order to make sure it was right. When it was, they step back, taking the menu back with them.

She looks back to you, and you almost hesitantly bring your eyes to meet hers. It was almost like she was a magician, able to make your heart rate go higher with just a single look while everyone else disappeared. That damned stare.

"So, what brought you here to New York?" She finally speaks up, her hand fiddling slightly on the sleeve of her leather jacket, but she soon stops when she realizes she's doing it.

"Oh, I..." You utter out, taken aback at the question. It was a simple one, really, but not an easy one to answer. You take in a breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

"Well, thing is, I was um...moving out of..." You start slowly and quietly, wondering if you should actually even share such a thing. What would it hurt anyway? She waits patiently, her eyes searching your face for your thoughts.

"...my ex's apartment. a few weeks ago." You finish, talking a little faster and unfolding your arms as you felt it getting warmer.

"I see," She whispered under her breath with a nod in understanding, looking to your arms. She was going to say something else, knowing it needed a change of topic, but you add another sentence first.

"It's fine, I'm getting through it," You say with a purse of your lips. That was the second lie you've said today. Why were you counting? You didn't know. She tilted her head, but it didn't seem like it held any judgement.

When she didn't say anything, you spoke softly. "You have any hobbies?" You were trying your best to seem normal, as if you weren't panicking on the inside.

She thinks it over, her eyes slowly moving across the table to gather her words.

"...I like taking pictures." When the sentence comes out her mouth, your eyes widened slightly in surprise and shined.

"Ooh, professional, or just like casual?" You say with a bit of excitement, leaning forward. Nat chuckles softly at your interest, sinking deeper into a cozy conversation.

"Casually. Things like the sunset or just scenery. I'm not a portrait type person," she shrugs lightly, her lips raising up a little more with her smile, and you almost couldn't take your eyes off of it.

"I used to do photography. Sunsets, too, or just random people outside from faraway, but...I don't know, I slowly just stopped," you said yourself, remembering your own passion from back then.

She hums, giving you a gentle gaze. "It seems like that's something we should work on then," She suggested, as if to gently push you to dust off your old hobbies.

"Do you do anything else?" Her voice was soft, and the words started to form a little more natural in your head.

"I like collecting. Physical copies of music and stuff." You sat a little more upright, although still comfortable. The sun got brighter outside, shining down through the restaurant windows.

"Like what?" She replied in curiosity, but her appearance was calm. Her eyes shined slightly from the sunlight, and her orange hair glowed.

"Cassettes, CDs, vinyls, kind of, but they hurt my bank so I took a pause on that." You chuckle slightly, your head moving with your words.

"I have some cassettes, but I don't listen to them as much as I should," She said, and you could've sworn you were imagining the tinge of red crossing her face.

"I definitely need to see your collection." You said eagerly, and her eyes widen, possibly worried about her music taste.

"Oh, no, they're probably old and dusty...I--" She shook her head, and your smile grew, but before she could go any further, you spoke gently.

"It won't hurt." At your sentence, her shoulders went down slightly in defeat.

"Well, if you insist." She smiled once more. It felt nearly unnatural to her, but she couldn't help it. You didn't have a thought at all about it, other than simply thinking she was absolutely gorgeous.

"...What's your favorite animal?" Right as you asked the question, your food and drinks arrive, making you lean back to let the waiter put it all on the table. Once it was done, you set your arms back on the wooden table once more.

She hums. She'd never thought about having favorite things. Especially not 'silly things' such as animals. "I like cats." You raise your eyebrows just a little, your heart getting lighter as time passed by.

"A cat person. I can see that about you." Your eyes roam her face, watching how her slightly curly hair move and how she had just raised her own eyebrow with a small smirk.

"Oh, really? And what else do you see?" She asked casually, but it did have a hint of teasing. You had two choices. And you went with the one that was right to you.

"Someone kind." At that, Natasha nearly freezes, her eyes blinking as if she was in shock. You tilt your head at her, but she moves again by diverting her eyes to the window, her face natural once more.

"What about you? Your favorite animal, I mean." She said, quickly adding in the last part of her sentence as she gestured her hand to you. Your teeth sunk gently into your lip as you tried to resist yourself from having your smile widen even more.

"I like orcas." You say, nearly with a small voice, and she found it adorable. Her curiosity piqued up further though, her mind thinking about the sea animal.

"...Orcas. They are beautiful creatures." She said, her eyes elsewhere in almost a longing way.

"You know, I once saw an orca swimming near the coastline." She adds, and instantly, she sees the way your face brightened up with happiness and interest, a gasp coming out your mouth.

"Where?" You asked, and she chuckled softly. As if you weren't already happy at her mentioning that she's seen an orca, the sound of her raspy yet gentle laugh warmed your heart.

"Long island." She said at first, her head filled with her memories. She was sitting near the shore, up near the mountains all alone, having been reading a book.

"Here," she pulls out her phone and opens her gallery, finding her photos and videos of the moment she had captured, showing it to you.

You were absolutely mesmerized, your eyes kept on the video upon her phone. Her green eyes in the meanwhile, keep themselves on your features, admiring exactly how happy you looked.

The meetup goes on like this, a comfortable atmosphere, shared smiles and small laughter. You've never had a conversation flow so naturally with someone before. It was like you were in a dream, and you had nearly forgotten about anything else that had happened to you

Afterwards, you say your goodbyes, content with the time you spent. You had grabbed the chocolate croissant for Kate from the bakery, needing to trace your steps back when you had forgotten, but relief flowing through when you remembered once more.

end of chapter 8. <3

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 7 Chapter 9 ->

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