#replying to ao3 comments whenever i take breaks from working and i want to cry

[shubaka]

.

[b0ther]

pardon my manners pt. i

In which Kaeya Alberich constantly fucks his secretary silly.

pairing : kaeya x reader (feminine pronouns, afab)

rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content)

type : chaptered (probably)

tags : modern au, office setting, dom/sub undertone, office sex, manhandling, vaginal sex, cumming inside, kaeya takes a vid while fucking reader here

word count : 1,755

author's note : title from 'sexy can i' by ray j. don't comment on my disappearance or i WILL cry. this is purely self indulgent <33 also i posted this in wp... im trying out new things ok.

( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 │ wattpad )

"Let me see that pretty face, baby."

How many times has he fucked his little secretary by now?

How many times has he felt her drenched cunt enveloping his cock, fill her tight hole with his cum, and watch as his seeds trickle down the inner side of her thigh?

"Nooo..." Her slurred words echo through the dark office room—she is clawing his arm, hiding her face against his shoulder, as he continues to pump her pussy, warm walls milking his cock dry.

"Don't act shy now," he chuckles against the sweat of her neck, inhaling the deep scent of her hair as he raises one of her legs against his mahogany desk for more support. "You're taking me in so well, why won't you show me your pretty face?"

She whines at his teasing tone—highly contrasting the speed in which he is fucking her—and shakes her head even as she so obediently spreads her leg wider for easier access to her cunt.

God. She will be the death of him.

Kaeya laughs, one of the two hands that has been previously propping himself against the edge of his desk now travels to her mound, where he plays for a moment with her little sensitive bud—only to hear her mewl out his name, telling him to "stop or I'll not make it" (really, what else is a man supposed to do?)—before reaching to capture her full tit in his hand, pushing her body flat against his chest as he marvels at the way her body arches in both surprise and pleasure.

"Gorgeous," he places his chin on her shoulder, fingers kneading her chest. "Look at me, pretty."

She whines again—shaking her head.

"Y-you'll take pictures again," she wraps her fingers around his wrist—the accusation got him excited and Kaeya finds himself to be pummeling her pretty hole even harder now—and bites her lips to suppress her own moans.

"But you're so cute when you're all fucked out like this," he retorts with a slight frown, this time tugging his fingers on her nipple. "Look, none of my hands are on my phone, baby."

"Mhmm..."

It looks like she is thinking about it—mulling over the decision to look at him, or to not look at him. He grins at how her hums are cut off, every now and then, as he particularly spreads open the walls of her slobbery cunt with his cock in a sharp thrust.

"Show me your pretty face," he encourages once again, feeling his cock starting to pulse against her pussy. He gives her neck one long lick, squeezing one of her tits so hard that he is sure he is going to leave a mark on her delicate skin.

"I'm comin—"

Blatantly ignoring his request, she wraps her fingers around his arm tighter, ass moving in synchronization with his hips.

He should stop right there, should let her taste her own medicine. But she feels too good wrapped around his length, and so Kaeya can't even think about stopping—he wants to shoot his thick load inside of her, decorate her pussy with his white cum.

He doesn't want to stop pounding her cunt, but that doesn't mean he can't bluff about it.

"Look at me," he says between his gritted teeth, calmly moving his free hand to grasp on her hips. She gasps, raising her ass even more as she managed to climb one leg on the table. "Or I'll stop fucking your pretty hole. Mhm, want me to stop fucking you right now?"

Despite her rebellious phases, his little secretary is the sweetest girl deep down inside. She cries out a little at his threats, hesitantly cranking her neck to let him catch her gaze in his—buds of sweats are rolling down her temple, her own chin wet with her own salivation from her endless, dumb blabbering.

To make things worse, she decides to remove the hand that is so happily kneading her tit and brings it up to her face, where she sticks out her slobbering tongue to peek a taste of his palm, not breaking eye-contact.

A sound that is almost inhumane leaves his throat—Kaeya wraps his arm around her waist and feels his cock on her abdomen, abusing and bruising her cervix as she continues giving service on his fingers.

"Your cock's soooo big," she then finally sniffles as her pretty lips wrap themselves around his two digits, the edge of her eyes are wet with incoming tears. She began pumping her head up and down his fingers, speaking nonsense in the meantime: "Spreading me open—s'big, boss, too big—"

"Shit," Kaeya mutters, weak at the way her lashes would bat against each other, how trails of her wet drool are starting to leak down his arm. "Who would have thought that you'd be such a whore for your boss, huh?"

She only nods her head, keeping her eyes on his like the good girl she is, and continues making a mess on his hand.

"Are you a good slut for my cock?" He coos, only then feeling her walls tighten around his length—he is all too familiar with her body; the little fumble on her throat, the quirks she does whenever she is about to orgasm, all of it—and he begins to focus on chasing his own high.

"Gwood slu—"

Shutting her up, Kaeya presses down his fingers down her throat—the choking sound that comes out of her riles him up even more.

"Good sluts take what they are given, right?"

His head is beginning to spin; he closes his eyes, feeling her nod her head over and over again, still trying to tell him even against the big digits in her mouth about how good of a whore she is to him and how she'll take whatever he gives her.

"You're so fucking sexy," Kaeya buries his face against the strands of her hair yet again. "Gonna mark my whore up then, yeah? Gonna fill you up with my seed, make you walk around this fuckin' office with my cum in you."

His eyes, for a moment, travels to her bouncing tits, how they're uncontrollably elevating with the speed in which they are going right now. When he looks up to her face, and sees her mouth wide open with her eyes rolled to her head in pure, solicited ecstasy, he can no longer hold himself. The string of cum that flies out of his cock instantly meets her cervix, painting her womb with bright white as his ferocity is slowly becoming calmer.

"Fee me uph—"

"Shit," Kaeya laughs at her attempt in speaking, pulling his fingers out of her mouth. "Fuck, I just did, baby. How's my cum feel?"

He lets go of her torso, and watch as she falls upon his cleared desk in absolute fatigue. His hands rub her back, playing with the jiggle of her ass for a short moment as she gather her thoughts; "S'good. Th-thank you, Mister Alberich."

"Mister Alberich," he repeats, his voice mocking. He feels her body, before eventually, with his cock still buried deep inside of her, he turns her limp body around. Her skirt is hitched up to her waist, blouse halfway open with her bra somewhere on the floor. As she settles on the hard desk, he watches how her heavy breathing shows off her glorious tits rising and falling with every breath of air.

She raises one hand to hide her mouth, perhaps feeling somewhat small under his piercing gaze, and turns so that she isn't facing him.

Kaeya takes this opportunity to reach for his phone in one of the drawers, unlocking it easily to start recording a video of her god-sculpted body with the flash obviously penetrating the dark room.

"Mister Alberich!"

In a series of flustered gasp, she reaches both arms in the air as an attempt to grab his phone, but only presses her tits against each other in the process. He skillfully dodges her demanding hands and instead captures the intense look of pleasure on her face in his phone as he feels himself getting hard again inside of his cunt.

"You're only turning me on even more," he chuckles, now aiming the camera at his hand rubbing her abdomen, watching how a bulge grows as he gets more tense inside.

"How do you even take me like this, hm?" He looks up at her embarrassed face, before focusing to record her swollen clit and where he is buried deep inside of her. "Are you used to my cock? Do you like it?"

He must be some kind of sadist—Kaeya watches in satisfaction as she tries stammering out a reply. He softly caress her stomach and she squirms under his hold, even more when he starts rubbing light circles on her pretty clit; he feels it twitching, like it's begging to be sucked on.

"Mister Alberich—"

Comes her whining yet again, Kaeya turns both his camera and his gaze on her face.

"Speak up, sweetheart."

"Nghh," she mewls as she begins rolling her hips against his hand. "Please— I— I can't—"

"Yes?"

The smirk on his face grows wider.

Kaeya tediously slips his growing cock from her hole, before pushing himself back in her sopping cunt in the same speed.

"Faster—" she gasps, now using her fingers to grip the edge of her desk. "Fuck— please fuck me faster— harder, harder."

She pushes himself to sit on the desk, feet pressed against the surface to show him her aching pussy. It's like she forgets about the existence of the camera; her face melts into his favored lewd expression—the one she only uses when she is so needy for his cock, so desperate for him to pound her cunt.

Kaeya presses his camera button, and in an instant, the flash goes out. They are once again enveloped in darkness, and he pulls out of her yet again just to test the waters.

"Harder, was it?" He hums, leaning down to capture her nipple in his mouth, obsessed yet again as he sinks his face deeper into her pair of tits.

"Please," she gasps, arms snaking around his neck.

Kaeya takes her bud between the sharp of his teeth, pressing his tongue flat against it.

"You asked for it, baby," a little warning should be fine. He glances up to see her already debauched in repeated ecstasy. "I'll go hard just for you.

[serenadeonacanoe]

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over aperitivo by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat -  prosciutto, salami, bresola, sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply.  

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the pizzeria down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky. 

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened oba-chan he learns to air kiss on both cheeks. 

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home. 

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of pity), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday- ‘such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of her. 

He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t.

Well - he might not  need  the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘Sorry, darlin’ he mumbles sleepily (because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough) - before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from home. 

Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - anyone to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of something in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has that) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

“MIYA !’ 

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between hearing his coach shout his name and feeling the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening snap of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground. 

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery. 

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital. 

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’. 

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip. 

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face. 

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says.  

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it���s not like you have a home of yer own.’ 

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap. 

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands. 

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was Oto-san and Oji-san (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand. 

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘Mama!’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs. 

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling.   

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight. 

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond.    

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings. 

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘That’s a new dress you’re wearing’, but is always rebuffed - ‘I bought this old thing years ago’, to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu (it makes him want to puke), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes. 

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack (perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before), asking her ‘how’s yer day’, she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’. 

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. Traitor. 

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when  she  would help me after physiotherapy’. 

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour. 

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’ 

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’ 

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!' 

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for months - but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’ 

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away. 

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his request, but follows him out without complaint. 

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a fuckin’ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for trying to get in his way of chasing his dreams. This is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter. 

Gods, he wants his family. He wants to come home. 

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest. 

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him. 

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly -  Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers. 

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him.  

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart. 

She shifts forward, and the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise. 

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’ 

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses. 

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and  this' - ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands -  ‘this is my attempt at outrunning you.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet. 

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go. 

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind. 

I could never hurt you, he wants to say, but doesn't - because he knows it's a lie. 

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side. 

He hears the door close behind him. 

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes. 

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily. 

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs. 

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’ 

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. You walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany yer wife to the hospital when yer kid was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause. 

The twins stare at each other. 

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away.  

The door slams behind him again.  

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour. 

[ninjago-bingo]

final month recap

wow, everyone.  we’re here.  we’ve made it.  we’re reached the end of our bingo time, and i’m absolutely floored by the sheer creative output that i’ve seen over these last four months.  everyone, take a moment to give yourself a pat on the back!!!  no matter if you made 1 piece or 10, there’s now a work of art out there in the world that wasn’t there before.  and truly, that’s super heccing rad no matter how you look at it.

so let’s celebrate!  for this recap, we have a total of 20 new pieces, bringing the total amount of ninbingo pieces up to 50.  in the span of four months, this little event has created 50 individual works (five of them in the last day!)  holy cow ya’ll.

i’m putting out this recap now, but don’t worry, it’s not the end yet!  any submissions made to the end of the 30th still count and this post will be updated accordingly :D

fic:

all the things i’ve never done by @sa-you-na-ra. tumblr || prompts: competition and teasing

It’s always a funny thing when the ninja realize new things about each other. Even though living with each other meant they had to see each other all day, there were still small habits or actions that amused the others.

(mod comments: all these little interactions made me smile so much :D looking forward to the rest!)

error 404: answer not found by @m-aster-of-spinjitzu. tumblr || prompt: memories

Akita and Zane talk after the battle in ‘Awakenings’. The conversation… doesn’t go as either of them expect.

(mod comments: the nuances in this fic are fantastic!  also Akita is always a win :D)

Five times kai was a good brother by @/master-of-fluff. tumblr || ao3 || prompts: nightmare and brother

I'm writing kai centric stuff again.

(mod comments: kai IS the big bro of the team!!! i support him all the way!!)

How Garmadon became a chauffeur by @master-of-fluff. tumblr || ao3 || prompt: driving

"um...Kai? Don't you think we should go Slower?" Garmadon asked nervously trying not to panick as they raced down the road at what had to be over the speed limit.

(mod comments: who let Kai drive?  no but honestly this is canon alskdfj)

little things by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: hugs and crying.

"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things." -Kurt Vonnegut

Lloyd’s tired of being left behind. How is he meant to be the green ninja when he always has to work harder, train better, and wait longer to go on missions with his team? He wants nothing more than to be their equal.

At least, that’s what he thought he wanted.

(mod comments: a post-ep-18 resolution scene?  SIGN ME UP!)

Neither Snow Nor Rain by @fangirltakesall. tumblr || ffn.net || prompt: post-fight

After their return from the Never Realm and all its troubles, Zane is quiet and Nya is incredibly worried. A call to action to a peculiar sort of battle might be enough to change both of those things.

(mod comments: the concept of these two on their own mission together is just so good! excited to see how their dynamic plays out!!)

Never Put Off Until Tomorrow by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: video games and chores

…what can be done today, yada, yada, yada, we all know the saying. So do the ninja- when Master Wu is drilling it into their heads every minute of every day, it’s kind of hard to forget.

Naturally, it only takes them a week (and the biggest new video game in Ninjago) to do so.

(mod comments: this is so in character that it’s frustrating lol.  also Pixal ftw!!)

oh take me back to the start by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: comfort and 3 am

The past should be left in the past. Or, at least, that’s what Jay keeps telling himself. Nadakhan is gone. It’s not logical to still be afraid. But he is, and now everything that he left behind suddenly feels like it’s never going to be the same again.

Cole isn’t so convinced.

(mod comments: Cole is truly the man we all deserve in our lives.)

On Our Own by @redefine-your-identity. tumblr || prompt: home

It’s been a few weeks since Kai and Nya’s parents disappeared without a trace. Needless to say, they’re struggling.

(mod comments: OU C H no poor babies 😭 the relationship dynamic here is great!)

orange and gold by @/m-aster-of-spinjitzu. tumblr || prompt: cooking

...I just need more Cole and Vania content, they seem like they'd be great friends.

Basically it's just 'Cole goes to visit her there, they almost burn down the kitchen, and make way too many puns', lol.

(mod comments: I also always need more Vania content!! the puns in this were breadful!)

permafrost by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: loss of control and promise

It’s not like this is the first time this has happened. It’s not like none of his teammates have ever suffered this kind of guilt and pain. It’s not like Zane himself hasn’t walked through hell before and come out the other side (mostly) in once piece.

Except, this time, it is. It shouldn’t be different, but it is.

(mod comments: super sweet moment between two ninja who deserve more interaction like seriously!!)

Precautionary Tale by @/fangirltakesall. tumblr || ffn.net || prompt: protective

Fighting is different now, and Zane doesn't know why. Yes, he is titanium now, but why should that change anything? It seems to be changing everything, although is all really as it seems?

(mod comments: a great start to a zane-centric fic!  interested to see where it goes next :D)

Star-Ninja! by @rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: siblings and competition 

What happens when the loveable gremlin the ninja adopted off of the streets introduces them to Starfarer comics?

Chaos ensues, of course.

stuck with you (through bright and blue) by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompt: protective

Kai only wants two things: to protect Lloyd, and to give him the best birthday ever. Unfortunately, Lloyd seems hell-bent on making that as difficult as possible. Kai’s always prided himself on achieving the impossible, but dealing with human emotions is much more complicated than beating up Garmadon’s generals or shooting enemies with fire, as he quickly learns. Movie!verse

(mod comments: happy birthday lloyd!! look at him getting the love he deserves uwu)

Take a walk in the rain. by @/master-of-fluff. tumblr || ao3 || prompt: rain

Cole had always loved the rain, the way it smelled, the way it felt on his skin, and especially the mud! Whenever it rained his Mother would put on his rain coat and boots And they'd both go out and splash around in the puddles and make mud cakes and do all sorts of things.

(mod comments: this fic made me smile a lot :D loved the way it was arranged!) 

the hues of an empty sky by @/m-aster-of-spinjitzu. tumblr || prompt: crying

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there’s one thing Jay’s leant over the last few weeks, it’s that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a ‘they tell everyone about the erased timeline’ fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don’t actually tell the other what exactly they’re alluding to the whole time’ fic that I wrote at like one am-

(mod comments: Skybound resolution? SIGN ME THE HECK UP YES)

The Make-Cole-Realize-How-Much-We-Love-Him Competition by @21st-century-ninja. tumblr || ao3 || prompts: bets and competition

Jay and Kai share a horrified look.  “He really doesn’t get it,” Jay says.

Kai shakes his head.  “We need to show him somehow.”

“Show me what?” Cole asks, exasperated again.  

“How much we love you!” Kai exclaims.  “Somehow, it’s not getting through your thick skull that we want to sit next to you because you’re you, so I’m gonna have to just prove it to you.”

(mod comments: a silly little movie fic!)

twitter was a mistake by @/21st-century-ninja. tumblr || ao3 || prompts: teasing and birthday

Kai 🔥 @flaminhotninja ☑

so who was gonna tell me that Jay used to be a game show host huh

🌺✨ the Gift of Jay ✨🌺 @zaptrap ☑

Replying to @flaminhotninja

NO WHO SHOWED YOU

(mod comments: twitter was a mistake)

two halves of a broken whole by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: scars and post-fight

The Sons of Garmadon have been defeated. Garmadon is in prison. The city has been saved.

In the aftermath of the battle, Nya is more than ready to take a much-needed break. But the life of a ninja is messy. Recovery is never that simple. Although the wounds may have healed, the scars still remain.

Zane’s scars seem to match up, though. And maybe together, they can begin to heal.

(mod comments: aggressive care is my jam, and this is it!)

wait by @rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: home and memories

Lloyd’s not so great at being patient. It’s not his fault though- maybe he would be better at it if waiting didn’t always end up being so disappointing- if people actually kept their promises. But this time’s going to be different, he knows it. His father will come back for him. And Lloyd’s going to wait.

As long as it takes.

(mod comments: baby.  baby boy.  baby.  protecc him plz.)

[growup-thatbeautiful]

drive is out now!! It’s a Post Season Harringrove Hurt/Comfort and I’m pretty proud of it. Read it on ao3 here or below the cut. Likes and comments are very very much appreciated :))

Billy doesn’t drive after starcourt. Something about being behind the wheel makes him sick with memories that he can’t understand. They’re abstract and totally unreliable.

But it’s kind of always been like that for him. He's used to having gaps in his memories, except most of the time it’s because of trauma. Or that’s what Joyce tells him and the rest of them whenever they have nightmares about things they don’t remember happening.

He's been living with the Byers and El. He tries to be useful around the house, doing whatever he can because he really doesn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s hard, though. It seems like everything he does, he does wrong. He never had to learn how to fold sheets or clean dishes. Not only was neil hargrove terribly homophobic, but also misogynistic, which is a word joyce taught him because she teaches all her kids that stuff. And he’s one of her kids now. So, yeah. Neil never had Billy do the chores because “he’s not a true man, but he sure as shit isn’t a woman.”

It's alarming how quickly this odd family replaces his old one. Neil seems miles away. Neil doesn’t try to look for Billy, and that’s fine as far as Billy's concerned. He's got scars to cover up the ones Neil made. no need to dwell on that when he has so much other trauma to process., right? Kind of.

He does check up on max. Asks her if neils pulling any of the shit he used to get from his dad. double checks for bruises hidden under makeup or long sleeves, and never finds any. Good.

Joyce is good. great, even. She doesn’t blame him when he breaks a dish because he heard a noise. She listens when he says he needs some alone time, and she knows when he’s just saying that. She gives good hugs and has no problem giving him Jonathan's old room to stay in while he’s off at college. leaving Hawkins behind him, calling every night anxiously awaiting the return of It. Nothing happens, and eventually they relax. Or they try to. That part of billy’s been broken for a long time, though.

So Joyce starts fading into memories of his mom, and he tries not to blame her.

Again. He's never had a great memory anyway. He does remember his mom telling him that boys don’t marry other boys when he was five and told her he wanted to marry his best friend. Then she told him never to tell his dad. It's strange, because he can’t remember her saying that she loved him, even though he’s sure she did. Did she? Huh.

At least the painful memories he gets to keep. Neil beating’s. Beating up on Harrington that night he didn’t know what was going on. The car crash before his mind was taken from him. Max’s terrible scream of “Billy” mixed in with the ear-ringing pain. Waking up in a hospital with starburst scars across his body. Skin that isn’t his. They remind him not to get to comfortable, remind him that the kindness he’s being shown isn’t well earned.

Because Billy knows he wasn’t worth those hospital bills and sleepless nights. All he’s done to the people here is hurt and scar and he’s seen them with the deepest kind of fear in their eyes. Fear because of him.

Everytime he goes down a path like this, he tries to stay clear of everyone. Because. They all tried to hide how much hurt he’s caused. They don’t blame him like they should.

He didn’t know any of them well before. But he knows El didn’t always carry around that police badge or look up at every siren, praying for a familiar face only to be disappointed and try not to show it. Because if Billy survived, couldn’t the more-deserving Hopper? Apparently not.

He knows Joyce didn’t always search for Will in every setting and have those folded up pictures of the two men that died because of all the shitty things that happened. Because she can’t stand to forget their faces or not carry that burden for just a second.

Will didn’t always get quiet every time a draft went through the room or refuse to go out that front door first. Because so many things have been ruined for him.

The rest of the kids didn’t always jump at every noise or bunch together for every corner, carrying lucky momentous and items. Because God forbid they have a break.

He doesn’t see them a lot, but Nancy and Jonathan definitely didn’t carry around an emergency kit everywhere they went, packed with medical supplies and Nancy’s choice gun. Because they’re going to be there to help if anything tries to take another person they loves away.

Some part of Billy reasons that it’s not all his fault. He wasn’t one of those scientists or government agents that started the whole thing.

But he did enough. Enough to warrant all the shit that he’s going through. It’s not the healthiest way of thinking, he’s aware of that, but it helps him get by.

No matter how hard he tries, though, there’s always someone at the house that finds him. Curled up into a ball, dry hitching sobs and no tears because “Hargrove men don’t cry.” Billy gets damn close sometimes, but the fear that Neil’s going to come out from the cracks in the wall and kick him where he lays is too real.

There are usually soft words.

“We don’t blame your here, honey. That wasn’t you, that did all that stuff. And I’m not going to let anything else bad happen to the people under this roof.” Joyce’s strong and sure voice, only breaking at the edges.

“I know what it’s like to have him control you like that. I know better than anyone else, and I know how scary it is. Mom says it’s over now, though, and I can’t feel It anymore. I would tell you first if It came back.” Will never says anything more than that, which is comforting in itself. It’s nice to have someone else.

“They lost. You’re here. I’m here. Will’s here. It is safe.” El’s statement is simple, but she makes it easy to believe.

He believes them until he gets another new memory of what he did. The Mayors blood on the floor. Heather’s petrified screams. Standing before that thing and feeling nothing but a perverse sense of but awe and, buried beneath that, a screaming sense of horror and the constant feeling of slipping in the sand.

There are times, like right now, when he doesn’t want someone to make him feel better. He wants someone who can drive him away from here and sit in an empty parking lot and smoke away the thoughts. Someone like Steve.

He would do it himself. He would. But he can’t. Can’t get over that fucking gas pedal. So he calls Steve.

They’ve done this enough times for it to make sense for Billy to have Steve’s number memorized. And his work schedule. And to know when he with Dustin or Robin or any of the others on one of those group outings Billy can’t bring himself to go to. There are too many sad faces, too many broken homes.

It doesn’t matter what he wears. It’s just Steve, and they’ve gotten past the point of caring about things like that.

Which. Is obvious to anyone who looks at Billy, not that he sees anyone. He’s lost a lot of weight. Muscles that used to be defined are gone, replaced by scars. He can’t get them back yet, because he’s not strong enough to lift any of them. And because muscles like that can hurt and hit. His eyes are surrounded by heavy bags, bloodshot and tired. The new callouses on his hands are mostly scars from anxiety ridden breakages, and the pained nails are because El wanted to try the new dark blue out. His hair is greasy and flat, nowhere near what it used to be. It hangs around his shoulders in curled waves, so far from where he used to be.

He doesn’t even try to smile to the sad reflection in the mirror.

Steve doesn’t honk when he arrives. The first time he did that and the noise sent Billy spiraling, and Steve had felt terrible, cussing up a storm that actually helped Billy out of it. Luckily, it was just Billy home and no one else was there to witness they’re collective train wreck.

Before he leaves, Billy grabs something from the bathroom and stuffs it in with the rest of the random shit he brings.

Billy slides into the passenger seat, leans his head back against the headrest, and says, “So, Harrington, how you been?”

Steve, mercifully, looks the same as always. He looks good, the asshole. It’s a relief that he’s still able to feel that fire Steve lights up. Different than all the other King’s from California. A few more scars, but they all have that. His shades are pushed through his hair, brown strands flopping over lazily.

“Same as usual, so fairly shitty and on the brink of breakdown. You?” It would be a normal conversation if Steve wasn’t completely serious, corners of his mouth only ticking up when Billy reaches over and bats at the band-aid charm hanging from the mirror. A joke from Billy to say sorry for, you know, almost beating him to death for no real reason.

“Oh, you know.” He doesn’t need to say more for Steve to get the idea. It’s the same way they’ve been feeling for months now.

“Yeah.” The car ride over isn’t far from the Byers’ house, and they spend it in almost silence. Some pop station is playing low on the radio.

“This the shit you listen to, pretty boy? I expected more than this.” It’s an attempt at normalcy, something that they’ve slowly been working up to.

“At least I don’t blast out my eardrums every time I want to listen to music,” replies Steve quickly, smile evident in his tone.

And it’s normal. It’s them. The way they were before it all got so messy. For that brief moment, there’s no winter night or july 4th. For a brief moment Billy can entertain a reality where he went to the find Steve instead of a fight. A world where Steve, with those pretty eyes and snap remarks, could hold his hand and stop him from doing all the bad things in the future.

But the moment passes. Steve clears his throat and looks forward at the road.

They arrive to the quarry, water at the bottom glinting, tossing, teasing. The car doors slam shut, and they slide up on to the front of the car. Billy pulls his last minute grab out of the bag and hands it to Steve.

“I want you to cut my hair.” Steve takes the scissors and towel in his hand, looking at Billy.

He doesn’t ask if Billy’s sure. Billy figures that Steve knows at this point he wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t real. If Billy wasn’t sure. Steve cards a hand through Billy’s hair. It feels. Good. Real good.

Steve starts cutting, and Billy winces at the sound of the scissors closing around his hair. His past.

“I like to think it isn’t just part of me.” The comment comes out of nowhere, surprising Billy more than it surprises Steve.

“What?” Steve’s voice is calm, the sniping of the scissors is methodical.

“The anger. The aggression. The tendency to hurt. I like to think it’s not in my nature, but my nurture.”

“I don’t think you’re violent.” It’s a laughable statement.

“You’re joking. Did you forget most of last year? I’m the one with the bad memory here, Harrington.” Billy can practically hear Steve’s disapproving mother’s frown behind him.

“That wasn’t you.”

“Right, sure, whatever, bullshit. But what about…you know. Last winter.”

“What happened before that?” asks Steve patiently.

“Jesus, you’re worse than Joyce. My dad sent me after Max. Found her at Byers’ place with you. Hurt you a whole fucking lot.”

“Is that all he did? He just told you to go after her?” Billy ignores the way his stomach does flips when Steve runs a hand through Billy’s hair, straightening it out.

“So you’re my fuckin’ therapist now? What do you want me to say? He kissed my head and sent my on my merry way? That’s now how he works. I’ll admit, I was saved by his new wifey. He can’t use me as a punching bag when she’s standing right there, not like he did with mom. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Nothing worse than what you’ve done to me. And the insults weren’t too bad either. He forgot to call me a fag.”

“Oh. Shit, Billy, I-“

“It’s fine,” cuts in Billy, hating the pity in Steve’s voice. He’s not the one who should have it.

“You didn’t deserve that.” This time it does make Billy laugh. It’s a hollow and haunting sound, an echo of his charming boyish laugh.

“Sure I did, dipshit. You’re probably one of the people who knows best why I did, in fact, deserve it.”

“So then I’m the best person. to tell you that you aren’t that person. You haven’t been that person since you left him and all of that shit. Let me ask you something. Do you want to hurt people now?”

“No!” Billy startles himself with his sudden enthusiasm, and Steve jumps a little behind him. Steve is quicker to recover, though, and he runs a hand through the hair he hasn’t cut yet. It’s soothing. Billy barely resists the urge to lean into it. Ask for more.

“Did you ever want to hurt people? Like really, truly want to see them hurt?” Billy has to think about the question. Steve deserves an real answer.

Flashes fly through his mind, bringing on too familiar emotions. Anger, a need to make someone, anyone, feel the way that he’s feeling. Fear that not having this power over people would make him weak. Horror at what he’s about to do. Detachment, painful as he grinned and laughed.

“I just wanted to have control. Take some of the hurt I was feeling and give it to other people. It was a rush that I was addicted to. The thrill of the fight, the feel of flesh against my fist, the look of blood on my knuckles. I liked fighting, still do. I didn’t like hurting people.” Steve puts the scissors down on the car hood, fluffing Billy’s hair and sliding down next to him.

“I’ve been on the wrong side of the fists of two people I’m now okay with,” admits Steve. “Believe me, I know now to take a beating. I’ve been heartbroken by two other people I’m close friends with. I forgive too easily.”

“So you’re a compulsive truster and I’m a compulsive fighter. What a pair we make, huh Harrington?”

“Yeah.” agrees Steve, bumping his shoulder against Billy. “What a pair.”

Maybe it’s the haircut. Maybe it’s the sunlight confessions. Maybe it’s how carefree and happy Steve looks. But Billy feels lighter. Like there was this unspoken weight he had been carrying around that no one knew about. Or everyone knew about, but couldn’t help.

The thing is, Steve didn’t even say anything. He didn’t promise a better future, he didn’t say that he was safe. He shared some of the personal pain they all carry around.

“I don’t think I ever said sorry. I am sorry, you know. I. I didn’t-“

<i>Mean to hurt you. Want to hurt you. Mean to let you see how much I hurt. Want to need you.</i>

“I know. I’m sorry too. Someone should’ve known. About you.” Steve leans closer, and Billy chalks it up to the night chill as the sun settles below the glistening rocks.

“I was good at hiding things I didn’t want people to see.”

“Yeah, well you’re not alone there either.”

“You good at hiding, pretty boy?” Billy’s eyes flick down to Steve’s lips, and, is Billy imagining it or is Steve looking at him the same way?

“Apparently not good enough,” jokes Steve. His smile falls off of his lips, and he leans minutely closer. If Billy wasn’t paying attention to all of Steve…

The way his hair glows white and gold in the sunset. That wrinkle between his brows. The way one of his eyes is a little darker than the other. How he smells like cigarette smoke and that fancy hairspray, even when his hair is blown from the wind.

The way he looked that night. Cool and collected, then terrified and fighting for his life. So beautiful in the harsh starlight and then so abstract in the broken kitchen light.

Before he knows what’s happening, Steve is filling that gap. Kissing Billy like he’s trying to sooth the pain from their past. Maybe he is. Billy wouldn’t put it past him.

His hand finds a way to Steve’s hair, the same way Steve’s been running his through Billy’s now shorter hair. He curls it into the strands, holding on tightly. Soft.

The way Steve sighs his name takes Billy away from it all. The pain. The memories. The lack of memories.

They lay out under the stars for a few minutes, but Billy knows Joyce will freak out if she can’t find him. Not because she doesn’t trust him, he has to remind himself, but because she doesn’t trust others.

On the drive home Steve plays that pop stuff again, and Billy gives him the appropriate shit for it, a smile on his face the whole time. His fingers laced through Steve’s.

They arrive at the house, and Steve declines to come in. Gives the excuse that his parents will be waiting up when they both know it’s not true. Billy can’t blame him. Billy understands needing to be alone, needing to get away.

Billy leans through Steve’s window and wished that he could kiss him goodbye. Well. The teasing will have to do.

“Night, King Steve.”

“Goodnight, Asshole.”

If Joyce gives him a knowing smile at the door, Billy doesn’t smile back. Probably.

He definitely does. Maybe he deserves the smile. If Steve thinks he does.

[backdraft-bimbo]

couldn't say just how I love you

Sam just wants to feel the warmth of another person right now, and that person just happens to be Bucky.

Yeah, that must be why, he settles; convenience.

Words: 1699

Chapters: 1/1

ao3 link

Sam squints across the shrimping boat as Bucky fiddles with his forearm. He’s barely made an inch of progress with it, yet the guy hasn’t asked for any help so far. It’s kind of ridiculous since Sam–the Falcon for crying out loud–is over here with two capable hands, ten beautiful fingers, and a proficient enough background in engineering to fix Bucky’s shit for him.

Broody Mcgee is either a whole ‘nother level of stubborn when it comes to accepting help, or he’s just a shy person, which Sam finds to be a hilarious deduction. Who the hell’s ever heard of a shy ex-assassin? Plus, this is the same guy who went chuteless out of a plane, flew face first into the trees, and had the wind knocked out of him–with all of it caught on camera. But for some reason, Bucky never asked Sam to delete the footage (before Redwing bit the dust), so he really doubts it’s a pride thing.

Maybe Bucky just needs a push.

“Do you even know what you’re doing over there, Buck? ‘Cause it doesn’t look to me���“

“No, I got it–“

“–like you know what you’re doing. You want some help?” Sam offers, raising his hands placatingly. “No shame. I worked on Redwing for years, so I’ve got my hands around tech before.”

Bucky grips his bradawl tighter, digging rather aggressively into his bionic arm. “No, seriously . I’m fine.” Sam cringes; he’s definitely doing more damage using one hand for repairs. The wires are all crooked in the part where the Flag-Smasher kicked it in–much more internal damage than Sam expected coming out of that skirmish.

“You are a stubborn man–and I don’t just mean that metal arm you've been poking at the last hour. I think the arm is the most agreeable part of you. It doesn’t complain any time I try to help it.”

Bucky groans, slamming his bradawl back on the boat table. “If I say ‘okay’ will you shut up already?”

“Definitely not,” Sam grins. “But your annoyance is noted.”

“Have you ever dealt with vibranium? ‘Cause if not–”

Sam stops him. “You had a titanium arm before, right? The one with the commie star on the shoulder?”

Bucky grumbles out an affirmation.

“Perfect,” Sam says, “how different can they be?”

A look of mild alarm crosses Bucky’s face. It’s kind of hilarious. “Well–”

“Forget I asked,” Sam says cordially, fully prepared to keep messing with Bucky. The guy is just so easy sometimes. He jogs over from the boat’s rusty bow pulpit and slaps his hands together. “C’mon, man, what’s up with your weird ‘I’d rather die than let Sam help me’ attitude?”

Bucky fleetingly glances at Sam, then back at his mangled arm, and furrows his eyebrows in that way he does whenever he’s deliberating whether or not to share something. Sam is unfortunately so used to Bucky shutting down that it comes as a surprise to him when the guy actually speaks up.

“It’s just frustrating, okay?” he says, voice rough and gravelly. “I know it’s stupid, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna be used to only having one arm.”

Sam sobers up a bit. So that’s why.

“I just...wanna be able to fix this shit up to prove to myself that, y’know...that I can do it.”

A few seagulls squawk overhead as Bucky’s words sink in. Sam doesn’t know why he’s never considered the possibility that Bucky might not totally be over losing his arm. Hell, Sam feels kind of foolish for missing it; he used to deal with soldiers coming back from war zones missing a limb or two.

“Nah, man,” Sam says after a thoughtful pause. “That’s not stupid at all.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that, and Sam doesn’t expect him to. The guy silently shifts his bionic arm so that Sam can sit down and work on it, side-eyeing him like he’s weighing whether or not he should have said anything. I guess decades of being a Prisoner of War and brainwashed HYDRA assassin will do that to you, Sam meditates.

He and Bucky have had their share of falling outs. Hell, just a few days ago they were promising to take separate long vacations apart. They both said shitty things. So what? That doesn’t mean Sam can’t feel for the guy. He catches himself occasionally ruminating all that Bucky has been through and finds that he can’t go too long without needing a break. But that’s Bucky’s life; ain’t exactly like he can just take a pause from it. It sort of breaks Sam’s heart in a way he can’t explain; all those years Bucky can’t get back...

“Sam?”

Sam blinks, not realizing he’d been staring. The shadow of a smile has crossed Bucky’s face.

“Looks like I’m not the only one with the staring problem.”

Sam shakes his head, blinking some more. Geez. What were they doing again?

Bucky looks at him half-expectantly, half-amusedly. He gestures loosely at his arm. “Go crazy, man.”

“Right. Right, the arm.” Sam grapples with the tools splayed out on the splintery table, trying to recall what he needs with an odd sense of urgency. Why the hell is he forgetting everything? Last time he checked, empathy isn’t supposed to instill this kind of reaction.

“Take your time,” Bucky says... nicely? And all right, that’s another Bucky-related thing Sam has to set aside for later. It’s an extraordinarily long list, but Sam’s got shit to do right now. He exhales deeply and focuses all of his attention on the job before him.

It’s easy to get into a rhythm. The slight breeze and white noise waves blend together as Sam zones in on Bucky’s arm, the two settling into a comfortable silence. The atmosphere is sublime for fixing broken things–the Wilson family shrimping boat always seemed to do that. Sam wonders if Bucky feels it too; maybe it’s just his own nostalgia. Whenever Sam thinks of his parents on deck, laughing and telling anecdotes to their relatives...it makes Sam feel like an invincible kid again. He can do anything as long as he can tap into those memories.

When the wires start looking right, Sam can’t tell how long it’s been since they started. The freaking sea, man. Gotta be more careful next time. The sights and sounds of the shore are too hypnotic; before you know it, the seagulls have left and the sun is already setting on the horizon. Judging by the dimmer light, it’s probably early evening now.

Sam looks up at Bucky for the first time in what feels like ages. The guy’s resting his chin on his right hand, eyes closed as the invisible fingers of the breeze comb through his dark hair. And wow, he looks peaceful –a word Sam seldom uses when it comes to Bucky Barnes. The profile view is making him notice things, which is probably why Sam is opening his mouth before better judgement can grab him by the collar.

He stops fiddling with Bucky’s arm and leans forward.

“Dude, you got loooong eyelashes.”

Bucky shifts at that, eyebrows furrowing back into their natural state, and the idyllic moment is broken. All right, so Sam can admit that was a random, out-of-left-field observation probably suited for a different time. But give him a break, he’s been looking at wires for like three hours straight. Sam is nevertheless grateful Bucky doesn’t comment on his weirdness. The guy just glances down at his new and improved arm and gives Sam a stoic nod of approval.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Bucky says. “So, uh, thanks.”

“Still gotta test it,” Sam replies, strangely off-put by Bucky’s honesty. But, to be fair, there’s a lot of crazy new stuff happening today. For example, Sam must be getting old, because the moment he stands up from his chair, hoping to get some blood moving, a rush of lightheadedness washes over him, and he’s forced to lean his hips against the table for a second.

He shakes his head, laughing at himself. “Shit.”

“You okay?” Bucky asks skeptically, staring up at Sam with his big blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just test-run this thing, Cyborg Man. I need a nap.”

Sarah must’ve put something in the carrot souffle, because Sam is seriously on a roll with odd behavior today. It might be because it’s Saturday and none of his family are watching, or because he and Bucky aren’t out on a mission for once, but there’s absolutely no justification Sam can think of other than complete self-indulgence for why he wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. With his left hand, Sam lifts up the vibranium arm, bends it back and forth, nods to himself, and says, “Looks good.”

For a second, Bucky is craning his neck back, gaping at Sam like he’s grown a second head. As quickly as that expression comes, though, it’s gone a second later, and Bucky returns to his familiar guise of reservation, shifting his gaze to Sam’s handiwork, a faint tint of traitorous red rising to his cheeks. Sam leans forward farther, sighing heavily into Bucky’s shoulder, like they’re already at this stage of intimacy. But Sam lets the fact that this isn’t as per usual blissfully fly over his head, because he’s tired and sore and can’t give a shit anymore.

Sam just wants to feel the warmth of another person right now, and that person just happens to be Bucky.

Yeah, that must be why , he settles; convenience.

Bucky just sits there silently and lets Sam lean against him, the exhaustion drooping off his shoulders and into the creaky old wood of the Wilson family boat. He shifts for a second, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Eventually, Sam is moving up and away, sliding his hands off Bucky’s body, a strange fluttery feeling enveloping him. He tries not to think about how much he didn’t want that to end, or how badly he misses the touch when it’s gone, but–

For another time, Sam promises himself.

Neither of them say a word as they walk back to Sarah’s.

[sweeethinny]

The Second Time of Three

some time ago I talked about the discovery of the first pregnancy - here - and now, it's Albus' turn, my little boy. For sure, I'll do Lily's  tell me what you think! <3

part 1 | part 3 | ao3

‘’Good morning, luv’’ Harry kissed each cheek, the tip of the nose, the forehead and both closed eyes, smelling the familiar scent and smiling with it

‘’No’’ His son replied, turning on his side and curling up more on the blanket, sighing and closing his eyes again

‘’Come on buddy, today is an important day for mommy’’ Harry whispered, kissing his son’s tanned skin again, settling on the bed next to the boy ‘‘We’re going to watch her play’’

‘’No’’ James spoke more firmly this time, as much as a two-year-old child could be, but at least he turned to his father, lying on his chest and mostly hidden by the blanket

‘’Are you just going to say that?’’ The man asked, stroking his son’s fine dark hair, lightly sweaty, giving a kiss on the top of his head as well, amusing how the little one looked like Ginny upon waking up

‘‘No’’ And the child finally opened his brown eyes, a little darker than Ginny’s, but nothing that didn’t make people say he had ‘mother’s eyes’.

James was two years old now, walking and talking (even though his sentences were often confusing and incoherent, in a dialect that only Harry and Ginny could decipher), showing more and more Weasley temperament and finally managing to sleep alone in his room - but he always crawled into his parents' bed in the morning.

Harry had thought he had never been so happy, being a father who was completely drooling over his son, showing his picture to each workmate, talking about his prowess, and always managing to talk about James even in random topics.

''Mom will be sad, and Teddy too'' He started over, kissing the boy's forehead again ''Remember yesterday he told you he wanted to go to the game?'' The godson was another person who seemed in love with James, keeping a jealousy of an older brother every time the other children came to play with him, following behind like a watchdog, even though Harry said that everything was fine and that James was fine.

‘’Nooooooo’’ The son slowly shook his head ‘‘Mom isn’t here’’ Harry denied

''She went to the game, and so are we'' A little reluctantly like his son, he stood up, stretching his arms over his head before taking the little boy's body (which had been growing very fast, in his opinion) on his lap, taking them to the bathroom in order to start the whole ritual.

James was getting teeth, which worsened his mood 10 times, as well as the situation of his diapers.

After the two were properly cleaned, Harry went down to the kitchen, preparing a quick meal and not being able to spend all the time doing it manually as he would like, benefiting from the magic to cut the fruit and make the juice, and make the toast. Still keeping James on his hip, who was hurriedly talking about something he and Ron had done when they went for a walk yesterday.

When he, James and Teddy arrived at the Field where the game was going to take place, the audience was already all fervent, shouting for the Harpies and showing the posters with the names of the players, encouraging them and cursing the Puddlemore who would be the opponent of the time, making jokes about their catcher being lousy and an idiot who would mistake the Snitch for anything else that flew.

Ron and the other Weasleys were already in the box, the green T-shirts with the number of Gin being the majority around, looking as anxious as Harry was, talking about statistics and the potential of each player over the Harpies.

James, as a two-year-old, remained in Harry's arms the whole time, eventually going to talk to Molly or order candy from George (who had been fighting with Ron about being the best uncle).

‘’What if they don’t win?’’ Teddy asked, in the middle of Harry and Bill, dangling his legs anxiously

‘’They lose their position and Puddlemore qualifies’’ He explained ‘’But their goalkeeper is sick and the reserve is terrible’’

‘’But the Harpies do it, Ted. Genevive hasn't lost almost any snitch since last season, and Ginny's been great too'' Bill said, stroking the boy's green hair. '’Do you want to come with me, Jamie?'' The son, who was still sitting on Harry's legs, looked to his uncle as if evaluating whether he was a trustworthy person, before pressing even more against his father

''No. My dad’’ James spoke, causing a wave of laughter in everyone around,

''I'm your daddy, Jamesy, don't worry'' Harry assured him, before starting to clap and whistle, feeling as nervous as when it was her first game, hearing each player's name being announced and echoed across the field, a wave of shouting and excitement taking over the stadium, as well as a box.

When Potter was announced and Ginny went up in the air, he thought he might lose his lungs from screaming, feeling all the adrenaline rush through his body like an electrical charge;

‘’It’s mommy!’’ James shouted, climbing Harry to sit on his shoulders, clapping his hands too ‘’MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!’' He shouted, raising his fist as he saw his uncles doing, looking as angry and fearless as he could

The game began, Ginny was making incredible assists and didn't seem to be being affected much by the pressure, but Harry knew her well enough to notice that her lefthand shot was shaky, and that her reflex was a little longer than it used to be, almost making her be hit by a bludger in the ribs.

She had been nervous for the past few days, no matter how much she counted, Harry had seen the methodical way she tidied James's wardrobe, and kept the little one neat and tidy at all times - which was very difficult since he loved playing in the mud .

When Puddlemore scored the tenth goal and Harry thought he might start crying, Gwenog asked for a break

‘’What was that ?! ’’ Ron screamed ‘’Guiliandra made the worst pitch I’ve ever seen!’’

‘’She tried to get to the left’’ Teddy replied, eyes wide and legs shaking anxiously ‘‘But Edgar was right behind her, she would lose to him if she continued that way’’

''Ginny almost got it right ... who knew that idiot would be able to intercept the quaffle?'' Harry sighed, annoyed by the score and the screams of offense that Puddlemore fans were shouting at the Harpies ''What the fuck are they talking about?! It's your fucking whisk that's a bag of shit!” He shouted, barely remembering Teddy and James's presence

'‘Bag of shit! Bag of shit! Bag of shit!‘’ James repeated, crossing his arms under his chest and puffing ‘‘I want to go down’’ He asked, pulling his father’s hair until the man helped him slip and get back on his lap ‘’Mommy! Mommy!’’ And there was Ginny again, in the air, looking a little more confident, barely looking around

When the game started again, the Harpies finally showed what they came for, Guiliandra scored two goals and assisted Ginny to score another four. Puddlemore began to have to work harder and harder to not let them reach, but there was not much to do, especially when Hernet got a bludger in the head and was lost long enough for Ginny to score two more goals.

Harry no longer had a voice, his throat burned every time he screamed in celebration or irritation, James was sitting next to him, eating his apple and taking turns shouting 'mommy' and clapping his hands. Teddy could barely sit, pulling on his green hair whenever the opposing team looked too close to the goal, or if Ginny had the quaffle in hand.

It was when Gemma saw the snitch, that everyone in the box stood up in nervousness.

Harry was distracted, assessing each Harpy's move toward the golden piece, which seemed faster than he had ever seen, barely noticing when James jumped out of his chair and fled himself out of the box.

‘’And Gemma took the Snitch! Harpies win by ... Calm down, what is that? Do we have a child in the field?!’’ Tuney’s loud voice echoed through the stadium. As if he knew exactly what had happened, Harry looked at James's empty bench with only the empty pot of fruit, and then looked up at the floor, seeing his little boy walking freely across the field, in order to find Ginny coming down from the sky almost in a panic. ‘‘It looks like Potter’s son cannot wait for his mom and he needed to see her right now.’’

Harry could barely feel his heart beating, looking at his son raising his fist and shouting '’Mommy! Mommy!’’, Moving everyone who imitated him by shouting the same. James was on Ginny's lap, who now came out of the field laughing and whispering something to the little one, who didn't seem to care at all, proudly showing off his green mini T-shirt.

‘’Holy shit! How did he get there?’’ He, for the first time in a few minutes, took a deep breath ‘’He could have been trampled underfoot!’’

‘‘I think he did magic again’’ Arthur commented, laughing towards the scene, while calming a terrified Molly.

Inside the locker room, as soon as Ginny entered with her son around her waist, all the women made a noise of adoration, giving praise to the boy - who was now embarrassed - and commenting on the scene.

‘’You shouldn’t have gone there’’ She whispered to the little one, not even bothering to change clothes, anxious even to the nerves to speak to Harry soon. She just threw her stuff in the bag, feeling shaky ‘’I almost fell off up there’’

''I missed you'' James spoke softly, laying his head on her shoulder and looking at her with big brown eyes ''Dad shouted'' He spoke after the two left the locker room, with Ginny receiving several hugs and congratulations from her team, who almost made her cry;

‘’I want you next season, Potter’’ Gwenog smiled at her, after all the hugs and goodbyes

‘‘Am I not out yet?’’ Ginny asked, a little uncertainly, feeling James look closely at the two women

‘’Not as long as you want to play…’’

‘’Your dad screamed, huh?’’ She looked at her husband standing in the back, talking to Teddy, holding James’s orange purse, and looking very handsome.

‘‘Yep’’ The son smacked his ‘P’ lips, making her laugh weakly and get closer to her little family, it didn’t take long to be hugged tightly and receive kisses and congratulations

''You played very well'' Harry smiled, kissing her forehead ''I'm sure you will go to this year's Cup'' Ginny took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in her chest that she felt during all those hours that passed after there was uncovered

‘’No .. maybe another year’’ Her husband frowned

‘’But Gin-Gin, you won! And played very well! Of course they’re going to rate you’’ Teddy raged on the other side of her waist, looking indignant at her

‘’I .. I think this was my last game for a while .. But it was good, not every baby plays a decisive game in a professional league’’ She said, feeling her heart almost break her chest

‘’Gin, I know James came on the field but… Oh, MERLIM!’’ Harry shouted, his green eyes getting huge as he threw himself at her, making their son grumble about the squeeze ‘’When did you know?’’

‘’Two hours before entering the game. I took the test last week and it was negative, but then, today Gwenog told me to do it again, and there it was ... They couldn't replace me but ... it was my last game of the season'' She didn't want to cry, but her eyes were already pricking ''Grace was assigned to take all the bludgers away from me, just for safety''

‘’Gin-Gin, did you get hurt?’’ Teddy asked, pulling on her shirt

‘’Did Mom hurt? Are you hurt mommy?’’ James pulled her face so she looked at him, looking even more worried.

‘’I’m fine my loves, just pregnant .. You’re going to get a new brother’’ Teddy smiled, clapping and hugging her, all loving the way he always was. James just made a face, denying and hiding his head again in her neck

‘‘I don’t want a brother’’ Harry and she laughed, slightly denying as they faced each other

‘’We’re going to need to get the boxes out of that room’’ She nodded, seeing that it was now he who had tears in his eyes ‘‘We’re going to be parents’’

‘’Yes .. again’’.

[cry-stars]

Fic Questionnaire

Tagged by @dazais-guardian-angel! Thank you so much, Dana! This is ridiculously long, so I’m putting it under a read-more, but first, I’m tagging @shocotate, @gemstoneslesbian, @theo-sev, @101flavoursofweird, @asa-liz, @teaofdestiny, and @ms-enmystic if any of you would like to do this as well! If anyone else would like to, please feel free, I mean it! I only tagged people that I know have an Ao3/write fics, but if you would like to, please go for it.

How many works do you have on AO3? 41

What's your total AO3 word count? 152999

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 

Professor Layton, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Lord of the Rings are the ones I’ve written the most for. I’ve also written a few stories for Rune Factory, Ace Attorney, Astro Boy, Ouran High School Host Club, Marvel, and Sonic the Hedgehog.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 

The Open Jar, Golden Child, Ambivalence, The Duality of Homunculi, and Responsibilities. They’re all FMA stories; I’m kind of sad that none of the PL stories are on top, since I think I improved a lot since writing the FMA ones, but it all comes down to fandom size, I think.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? 

These days, I always do, even if it’s just a short “Thanks so much for reading, I’m so glad you liked it!” I’m just really grateful that somebody would take the time to read the story and bother to say something. It takes a lot of energy to leave a comment sometimes, even a short one, and saying thank you for that is the least that I can do. I had pretty bad depression about two and a half years ago and took a big social media break for about six months; I didn’t respond to any comments during that time. I feel pretty bad about it now, and sometimes I think about responding, but it was so long ago that I feel awkward replying now.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? 

Maybe that OHSHC fic “Funeral” I wrote years ago where Tamaki gets… shot and dies??? Why did I write that…??? I intended to write a follow-up where he didn’t actually die and recovers, but I never did, so the fic seems to end with him dying. That’s one of the cringe fics that I kind of want to delete now :’) Second-closest (and one that I actually like/don’t find too cringey) is my recent Clora fic “Almost Lost,” which ends with a lot of crying, but it isn’t a tragedy and their crisis is averted.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? 

Not exactly. I did get a couple of comments with criticisms on FF.net years ago, but nothing horrible. Sometimes people vaguepost about how Clora is Bad after I post something, haha, but that’s pretty much the extent of it thankfully... I’d probably cry if I actually got a hate comment adsjhkdsaf... :’) 

Do you write smut? If so what kind? 

Asdfhjkadfasdlfaf no. I get so embarrassed even writing about kissing. I’d someday like to write something that actually deserves the T rating that I give to a lot of my ship fics, but I don’t think that I could write anything higher-rated than that, and it’ll probably take me a long time to work up to that.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

I don’t think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated? 

No, not to my knowledge. If someone wanted to, though, that would be neat!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

A long time ago, my friend and I wrote a very silly LOTR fic where we would alternate writing chapters, with no planning whatsoever. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard from her in years; I wish we could have finished the fic, even if it was garbage adskjhdsf… I miss her. More recently, my friend and I have been co-writing (or at least brainstorming) a Clora story (costarring a cherished OC) set twenty years after UF. Even if the fic takes forever to actually come together, we’ve come up with so many great ideas and it’s been loads of fun.

What's your all time favorite ship? 

Clora’s definitely my all-time favourite. There have been a few others that are really special to me, but honestly, Clora has everything I want in a ship. They have so much potential for fluff and angst, and they can get SO much character development together. (and I really relate to/adore both characters sdjkhsadf…) The ship does get hate and that does discourage me at times, but they feel really rewarding to write about; I feel like I’m solving a puzzle whenever I get one step closer to having them get a happy ending together. Nobody had written about them since like… 2016 until I started last year, so I’m really glad that a few other people who also liked the ship have something to read again now.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? 

Some of my old FMA WIPs… I’m not really into FMA or the characters/ship I used to write for anymore, and I kind of feel like I won’t ever get that kind of passion for the series again, although I still have some good memories of it. Every so often, though, I get a really nice comment on one of them and wish that I could finish them for those peoples’ sake. 

What are your writing strengths? 

Once I’ve found what emotion I’m going for, I think that I’m fairly good at keeping it consistent throughout a whole fic. I think that I’m also okay at being sympathetic to most characters, even ones that I don’t really like; it feels awful when somebody spitefully writes about my favourite characters, and I don’t want anyone to feel that way when reading my stuff. I think that I’m good at writing about… longing or yearning too, haha… not so good at writing established relationship stuff adshjksfd but I’m getting better.

What are your writing weaknesses? 

So much… The biggest thing is getting myself to write at all. I just get so easily overwhelmed, distracted, or discouraged and give up. It takes me forever to write just a oneshot, let alone multichapter stories. I’m also quite bad at planning ahead… I plan major moments in a story, but often, the in-between bits are surprises to me. I do enjoy how my characters kind of take me on a ride and surprise me, but sometimes I find myself written into a corner. I also overexplain. So many of my chapters wind up so long because I feel like I have to explain every little detail. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? 

I’ve never done much of that when writing about real-life languages, but I used to throw in the random Sindarin word in my LotR fics, such as calling someone’s father “Ada,” since that was common in LotR fics back then. If I was to do it now, though, I’d probably only include dialogue in another language if it was immediately translated to English afterwards, like someone explaining what a sentence meant, but I wouldn’t throw in random words unless it was a character’s normal habit to mix languages.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? 

The Lorax, but it was super cringe, and I deleted the fic… Funnily enough, it wasn’t even about the onceler, it was about my OC dad for him.

My official first fandom in my mind is Lord of the Rings/Tolkien in general. I was a very awkward and excitable teenager, new to the internet, and met a lot of kids on FF.net who were as awkward as me by commenting on their very silly fics/writing very silly fics similar to theirs to try to impress them. I had so much fun and made a lot of friends that way, although I’ve lost touch with almost all of them, sadly… I really miss them. The fics are all on my FF.net profile still, but I don’t recommend most of them aJSDKsdf… Those were the days before I was an angst addict and everything I wrote was ridiculous. Most things I wrote before 2019 aren’t very good to me... 

What's your favorite fic you've ever written? 

Right now, probably Bright Saffron Dreams… I put so much love and energy into that one, and it has so many tropes that I like in it. If I’d been brave enough to make it slightly more overtly romantic, it would have been exactly what I wanted in a Clora fic, haha...

[neon-junkie]

The O’Driscolls Daughter - Chpt.1

Summary: You're Colms daughter, stubborn and temperamental like him, but you've got a kind heart and a soft spot for the poor stableboy that Colms gang torments.

Pairing: Kieran Duffy x f!Reader

Word Count: 3468

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Gang war, Colter, Grizzlies west, Strangers to friends to lovers, Slow burn, Flirting, Masturbation, Fantasies, Arguments, Fights.

Notes: UGH, more kieran stuff? yepppp.  I knooooow Colms gang has been around for only a decade but lets just pretend they've been around since before you were born :^) also, I think the Del Lobos don't appear at Lake Cairn till after Chapter 1 buuuut lets pretend theyre there for the sake of this fic.

NEXT CHAPTER  |   Read on AO3

Colm O'Driscoll has laid with many women, though most were not consensual. You were the product of an odd affair, your mother actually falling for the man in his early years. She left you on his doorstep after Colm turned his back on her, calling her nothing more than a 'whore' and 'pity-fuck.' You had no idea who she was, and wouldn't be surprised if Colm had killed her long ago.

To everyones surprise, Colm actually took you in and raised you within the gang. He was a lousy excuse for a parent, barely being there for you throughout the years. You had no treasured memories of him, nothing normal like reading bedtime stories to you, playing games with you, spoiling you on your birthday. There were memoried you tried to treasure, like him teaching you how to shoot, hunt, and kill, but they were definitely not normal. Unfortunately, you had picked up a few of your father's traits, but thankfully not all. You were short-tempered, not afraid to snap, and would shoot first, question later. Oh, and you were just as wanted as Colm. You saw your first ever personal bounty poster at the age of ten. Colm had framed it in his cabin; that was one of the few times you'd seen him so proud.

You're in your early twenties and arguably second in command within your father's gang. Colms other right-hand man, Tom, considered himself to be next in line since he had known Colm since before you were born. Yours and Toms' relationship was... heated. Colm knew the two of you didn't get along, yet would snap at the two of you to 'put your fucking differences aside' whenever he needed you to work together. Colm would usually have to pick one of you to take charge, taking it in turns. Fairs fair, I guess.

Here you are, returning from a failed mission. Colm had asked the two of you and some other disposable men to track down the Del Lobos hideout and clear it, seeing as your hideouts were far too close together. You approach your gangs current hideout, a camp just southwest of Lake Isabella. Yes, it was fucking freezing up here, but Colm ran up here to escape the Pinkertons on his tail. Sadly, his gang wasn't the only one with that idea, but it seemed to work. No one had found you all, yet.

You dismount your horse just as they're riding into the stable, leading them into a pen and hitching them. Tom follows behind, hitching his in a pen beside you.

"You better clean this nag good, boy," Tom shouts over to the stableboy, currently cleaning another horse.

"I will, Sir," he responds.

You don't know his name, he's only been with the gang for a few months. He seems like a bundle of nerves, constantly shaking and flinching around everyone. The men loved to pick on him, they loved watching his tail shake in between his legs as they torment him. You'd seen him get hit over the pettiest of things; their saddles not being clean enough, the horses having a tiny knot in their manes, a nail on their hooves being a centimeter out of place.

You remembered the only time one of the men tried to hit you. You were in your mid-teens, starting to find your role within the gang. One member had challenged your authority, claiming you were just a child and that 'Colms daughter should get no special treatment.' He had gone to hit you over some petty thing you barely remembered, but you did remember the look in his eyes when you gripped hold of his hand just as he tried to swing for you. His wrist felt like it was going to break as you'd tightened your grip. To everyones surprise, you kicked the back of his knee, causing him to fall to the ground. You then let go of his wrist, shoving him forward so he lay flat on his front. Without thinking, you stomped hard, feeling the crack of his bone as you snapped his arm like a twig. It all happened within a matter of seconds. You weren't thinking, enraged that not only was this man constantly picking on you, but had tried to put his hands upon you.

Colm had stormed out of his cabin after hearing the commotion. You were quick to explain what'd happened, the other men watching backing you up. Colm scoffed at the man crying on the ground, telling him to 'get out of my sight.' The guy quickly got up, gripping his broken arm, and ran as fast as he could. Your father seemed proud of you, putting his arm around your shoulder as he lead you into the cabin, fixing you a drink to 'celebrate.' The only other man to pick on you was Tom, though he mostly just said small petty comments behind Colms back. You'd called Tom out in front of your father many times but Colm never seemed fussed, probably not wanting to pick between the two of you.

"You fuck up like last time and I'll beat you till the snow turns red," Tom threatens him.

"Lay off, Tom," you order him. Tom snaps his head over to you.

"Oh oh oh! You soft for this pipsqueak?" Tom laughs, pointing at the stableboy who looks rather uncomfortable. He stays silent, watching the two of you bicker.

"I'm soft on no one. You just pick on anyone you view as lesser than yourself. You must have a lot of confidence issues, Tom," you smirk at him, heading out of the stables with him on your tail.

"I ain't the one with confidence issues here, girl. Just cause you got your whore mommas ugly looks don't mean you can take it out on me," Tom replies, following you over to Colms cabin.

"Why you usin' my insult against me? Can't think of your own?"

"I... what? No. I ain-" you cut him off.

"There there, it's alright, poor little Thomas," you taunt. That was a name that always made him turn red. You look over your shoulder to see that exact expression growing on his face.

"Now you better stop with al-"

"Tom. Shut up," Colm says as the two of you enter his cabin, Tom barking down your ear, not giving Colm a good impression.

Tom huffs but remains silent. Colm looks at the two of you for a moment, sat down at his table. The three of you remain silent until Colm snaps.

"Well? How'd it go? I'm gonna guess from the arguin' and silence that you fucked up," Colm half-shouts.

"Tom fucked up. Again." You state. Colm draws his gaze away from you, over to his right-hand man.

"Now hang on just a damn minute. There's a good fucking reason to why we fucked up."

"You, not we," you correct him.

"And that reason is...?" Colm's losing his patience.

"Well, we took out most of em, till THE Flaco fucking Hernández showed up. Killed all those men we took with us. We bolted just in time."

Colm can't be angry at either of you for this. Flaco was one of the world's most famous gunslingers, the 'Terror of the Grizzlies.' Just about anybody would lose a fight against him, including Colm himself. Colm sighs, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"You're sure it was him?" Colm asks, looking down at the table.

"Not unless you know any other giant Mexican outlaws, yes," you sarcastically respond.

"Great. The two of you, get outta my sight. I gotta think about how to deal with this."

Both of you turn and leave, no one saying a word as you exit the cabin. Tom sulks off, probably going to join his little gang of friends. You make your way over to the stew pot, grabbing yourself a bowl of whatever was on the menu today. You're quick to eat, wanting to check on your horse after today's shootout. You heard them whine during the fight but didn't see anything as you were checking on your ride back.

You find your way over to the stables, looking around for the sun to figure out what time it is. She's getting ready to set, her rays peeking out from behind the many mountains that surround your camp. You enter the stable, stomping the snow off your boots as you shut the door behind you. The stableboys not here for once, which is fine as you weren't in the mood to make awkward conversation.

You approach your mount, feeding them a few pocketed treats as you begin to check for any signs of pains or discomfort. You're quick to notice a bandage on their lower leg, your heart dropping as you begin panicking. You kneel down, peeking under the bandage to see how bad the wound was. The stable doors quickly open and shut, the stableboy returning. He huffs into his gloves, trying to blow hot air onto his face to warm his reddened cheeks up. The two of you notice each other at the same time, looking over your shoulder to watch him stand in his tracks, eyes wide. He looks like you've just caught him doing something he shouldn't have. The two of you are awkwardly silent, both staring at each other.

"Hello," you say. You really had no idea what else to say to break the tension.

"Evening, Miss," he responds, calming himself down as he makes his way over to his own horse.

"You taken care of my horse?" you ask him. He looks a little puzzled till he realizes you're on about their wound.

"Oh. Yes, Miss. It ain't nothin' to worry about, just a little scratch but I didn't want nothin' rubbin' against it," he informs you.

"Thank you," you say as you stand up. "Are they okay to ride?"

"I mean, you could, but they ain't gonna be too happy about it," he responds, feeding his own horse a few pocketed treats.

"You ain't gotta answer me like I'm one of them boys. I wanna know the brutal truth, I ain't gonna snap at you for bein' honest and doin' what's right," you inform him. You have a gut feeling that you shouldn't ride, but you want to hear it from the horse master himself.

"Oh.. I err... Well, no. You should let 'em rest a little while. If you take em out in that snow it could get infected," he tells you.

"The honest truth. I love it. Thank you, Mister...?" you trail off, wanting to know his name. You make your way over to him, leaning back against one of the pen fences, watching him fuss his horse.

"Oh, no, I'm just Kieran. I ain't no 'Mister' somethin'," Kieran looks away, looking defeated.

"Yes, you are. You're a man, ain'tcha?" You ask him.

"The last time I checked, I was, yeah," Kieran jokes. You let out a laugh. This stableboy was funny.

"Well then, Kieran, who are ya?"

"Duffy," he responds.

"Kieran Duffy, that's a real cute name," you tell him. "I'd introduce myself but everybody knows who I am," you shrug.

Is he... blushing? Or still flustered from the sudden change of temperature? A wicked part of you is eager to find out how red he can really go, in a flustered sense, not a bloody one.

"Thank you," Kieran sheepishly replies, stuttering a little. "Yeah, I know you is Colms daughter." Kieran seems nervous as he tells you that, which isn't a surprise. You'd had many people cower once they find out whose daughter you are. Sometimes you enjoy it, liking the little power trip you get, but other times you wished you were just some normal girl that lived a normal life.

"Yeah," you laugh. "Don't remind me."

"Oh... Well, I'm sorry, Miss. I don't wanna tread on no ones toes," Kieran replies. He watches you as you climb up and sit on the pen's fence, your legs resting on the wooden plank below, keeping you in place.

"It's alright, darlin'. You ain't doin' anything wrong," you turn to see him going red again. Darlin'? Something tells you this man doesn't get much attention, especially from women.

"Well er... that's good to hear," Kieran lightly laughs. He looks away, pulling out a brush so he can clean his already overly-groomed horse. You watch him, noticing how his eyes flick over to look at you every now and again, face going redder as he meets your gaze every time.

"You're real good at carin' for these horses, you know that?" you ask him, breaking the silence.

"Oh, thank you, Miss," Kieran replies.

"Do my fathers men not compliment you on your work?"

"I'm sorry to sound so blunt, but all your fathers men do is use me as their punchin' bag." Kieran has sadness in his eyes, trying not to look at you.

"Which ones?" you sternly ask, taking Kieran back.

"W-what?"

"Which ones do that to you?"

"I... I don't know many names here, Miss. But you seen it earlier, that Tom fella is one of the main ones. Most of 'em do it. Usually one will start and the others will join in, bit of a gang thing, you know?" Kieran sheepishly replies. He's internally screaming, worried he's just chucked himself under the bus. He can see rage on your face, yet he's not sure if you're going to snap at him for being a tattletale, or snap at them.

"The next time they do that, you come tell me, alright?"

"Yes, Miss," Kieran says under his breath, giving his head a little nod.

"I'm serious. You work harder than most of those idiots, especially Tom. He's a real fuckin' clown."

"Thank you, Miss. I really appreciate it," Kieran sincerely replies, giving you a little smile.

"I'd tell you to keep up the good work but I know you will," you say as you shuffle off the fence, slowly making your way out. "I'll see you later, sweetheart," you say as you exit.

Kierans glad you've left, only because his face is redder than a tomato. Kieran hears you trudge away through the snow and once he's certain you're gone, he turns to Branwen.

"Sweetheart?! You hear that, Branwen?" Kieran asks under his breath, trying to keep his voice down. He talks to Branwen all the time, but only in private. God forbid anyone ever heard, they'd probably hang him for being so 'weird.'

"She called me darlin' too, and cute. And she complimented my work... and she's got my back. What in gods name is goin' on?" Kieran asks, his face still flustered. He picks at his scarf, trying to let some air in to cool himself down.

"What the hell am I meant to do? That's Colms DAUGHTER, and there she is bein' sweet on me! This must be one big joke. I bet them fellas were listenin' in the whole time, gigglin' to themselves," Kieran huffs, trying to make this situation as negative as his mind will allow him.

Branwen gives Kieran a look. If horses could talk, he'd be saying 'don't be silly, this ain't a prank. That woman's clearly got eyes for you.'

"No way," Kieran responds. "There ain't no way a woman like that would go for a boy like me," Kieran folds his arms, leaning back against the fence. He thinks to himself, going over what just happened in his head. He's trying to pick away at it but everything you said seemed so sincere, so kind, so gentle.

Kieran slumps about the stable, lighting a few lanterns dotted about the place. He gets himself ready for bed, lying down on a pile of hay at the back of the stable. His arms are folded under his head, one ankle over the other. He's still thinking about you, trying to convince himself this is all a joke.

It can't be. It was far too kind.

Kieran puts his hands over his face and lets out a small scream, angry that he has no idea what to do. He's had a soft spot for you the second he laid eyes upon you, but quickly buried those thoughts as soon as he found out who you were. Colm will definitely chop his dick off and force him to eat it if he ever caught even just the tiniest hint that Kieran liked you.

Kieran decides to do what he does best, bury his feelings. He rolls onto his side, facing the wall. He tries to force himself to sleep but as soon as he shuts his eyes, all he can see if you.

Kieran then feels the worst thing that can happen to himself right now.

Kierans rock hard, solid.

His boner rubs against the inside of his jeans, urging him to at least get it out so it's not painful. Kieran sits upright, shuffling so his back is pressed against the stable walls. He undoes his jeans, letting his cock spring free and rest against his white shirt. He wants to touch himself, he really does, but he's telling himself off for getting this hard over such a small conversation. The guys so deprived, it's amazing how just a few kind words have made his heart flutter and his cock hard.

Kieran huffs, crossing his arms, frowning with his cock out, waiting for it to go down.

'I ain't... I ain't jackin' off to her. Again.' Kieran tells himself

There's no denying it. Kierans has gotten off to the thought of you many times, though he's not proud of it. He can't help it, you make him feel so dizzy every time he looks at you. He sits there a little while longer, trying to think of anything but you. He looks around the stable and the first thing his eyes come across is your mount, making him huff. How was he meant to not think of you?

'Fine.' He sighs, talking to himself in his head. 'You're pathetic, you know that? Gettin' off to some poor woman just cause she called you a few sweet names.'

Kieran pulls his gloves off, his warm hands wrapping around his cock. He starts slowly, trying to think of anything else to jack off to, but everything flicks back to you. He eventually gives up, allowing himself to really think about you.

'This is the last time you're doin' this,' he tells himself.

Once he's happy with his little self-discipline talk, he lets his mind wander. Kieran allows himself to get as dirty as he wants, but the first thing that comes to mind is how good your ass looks in that tight pair of jeans. Yes, he's checked you out many times, usually as you're mounting your horse. He's often wanted to pull you off your horse, bend you over the pen's fence, and fuck you there till your knees are weak.

Kieran picks up the pace, letting his eyes fall shut and mouth part slightly. He thinks about earlier, how he wishes you'd have called him over to stand in front of you whilst you were sat on the fence. He wishes you'd grabbed a hold of him by his O'Driscoll scarf and pulled him against you, letting your lips meet. He wishes you'd have wrapped your legs around his waist as you made out with him, uring him to grind against you. Kieran doesn't wish for much, but you're top on his list.

Kieran lets out a small whimper, quickly opening his eyes to ensure himself that yes, no one is around. He shuts them again, huffing and trying to remain silent as he continues, starting to feel himself get close. The only person he wants around is you, fuck the rest of the gang. He'd love for you to come in here and put your lips around his cock, he'd probably cum the second your lips touch him.

Kieran lets out a sharp gasp as he cums, quickly lifting his shirt so it doesn't ruin his already tatty clothes. He rests there for a moment, suddenly realizing how absolutely fucked he is. He's got the hots for you real bad, and he knows that if you decide to keep being sweet on him then Colm will find out sooner or later. Kieran reminds himself that it was probably just a one-time thing, or that you were just messing with him.

Kieran wipes himself down on the hay, not having anything else to clean up with. He chucks it away from him, shuffling back over to his usual sleep spot after pulling his pants back up. Kieran lies back down facing the wall, falling asleep a lot faster this time, still thinking of you.

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace - chapter 11

A Manorian High School AU

Words: 2601

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn’t let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

And the heart is hard to translate

It has a language of its own

-Florence + The Machine, All This and Heaven Too

«Manon! Gods, are you okay?» Asterin ran over to her, voice frantic, eyes lined with worry.

Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Manon contemplated the crowded hallway. There were too many nosey ears and eyes that could eavesdrop.

«Not here,» Manon hissed to her cousin, pulling her into an empty classroom and closing the door behind them. This wasn’t a conversation meant to be had in public.

For a moment, none of them said anything, and Manon let her eyes rove over Asterin. She was seemingly unharmed, and Manon couldn’t stop the wave of relief that coursed through her.

The same couldn’t be said for herself. She’d spent a grueling hour that morning trying to cover up the thin cut on her cheek, but to no avail, the angry red line still visible. She hoped Asterin was too distracted by the fact that she had just been kicked out to notice.

Uncomfortable silence filled the room, and in lack of better words, Manon asked her cousin, «How are you?» She wasn’t sure if she wanted the conversation that would surely follow.

«I’m fine,» Asterin answered, looking down at her shoes. «She was so eager to get me out that she didn’t even bother to fully yell at me.» She let out a low laugh, but it was devoid of any emotion.

«Anyways, I’m staying with Hunter from now on. I should have left months ago.»

Manon didn’t say anything, only crossed her arms. Her grandmother’s words from last night echoing in her mind.

If I hear you talk to her, so much as look at her, I’ll make you regret it.

This was a mistake. She should have ignored Asterin from the second she approached her. Already, Manon was disappointing her grandmother, was ruining everything for herself. How could she be so stupid? So weak?

She had lain awake most of the night, worrying about her cousin, trying to convince herself that she didn’t really care where Asterin was. For she was merely a distraction, an obstacle, keeping her from reaching her goals, keeping her from doing better.

I truly thought you could be different from your mother. Better.

She would. She would do better. Be better.

Yet here you are, that vicious voice in her head whispered.

«You can move in with us too. It’ll be a bit crowded, but we’ll figure something out. I’ve already clarified things with Hunter. We’ll figure this out, Manon.»

Manon blinked in confusion, taking a step away from her cousin, who looked at her with such worry, such pity. Manon didn’t want any of it.

«What are you talking about?» she hissed back, brows furrowing.

«You can’t stay there. You don’t have to endure her anymore.» Asterin’s eyes were burning with clarity, with determination.

«And why not?» How could she possibly think Manon wanted to move away from their grandmother? The woman who had done everything in her power to make sure they succeeded in life. To make sure they didn’t end up like their own mothers. And here Asterin was, throwing it all away. It was her own fault, Manon said to herself.

Asterin nodded towards her cheek, saying in a quiet voice, «She did that, didn’t she?»

Manon stilled.

Was it that obvious?

She focused her eyes on the wall, a feeble lie ready on her tongue. «I don’t know what you’re talking about. I startled Abraxos and he scratched my cheek. It won’t even scar.»

Guilt churned deep in her stomach for bringing her innocent cat into this, but she couldn’t handle Asterin’s judgement if she had known the truth.

It didn’t work though, for Asterin said, «We both know that’s bullshit. Abraxos wouldn’t hurt a fly.»

And it was the anger in Asterin’s voice that made Manon meet her cousin’s gaze once more.

Betrayal, that was the name of the thing burning in Asterin’s eyes.

«Why do you keep defending her?» Her voice was shaking, with anger or sadness, Manon didn’t know, and Asterin didn’t budge.

«She only wants what’s best for us,» Manon said, chin held high.

«You can’t possibly believe that? She’s insane, Manon.» Asterin was raising her voice. Anger, then.

«Where would we have been without her?»

«She kicked me out. She doesn’t care about us.»

Manon scoffed, crossing her arms once more. When she stayed silent, Asterin said, «How can you be so blind?»

She could feel her anger growing at Asterin’s accusations. How could she be so blind? Asterin was the blind one for throwing it all away. For choosing something as stupid as love over her own future. Manon was done with this conversation, wanted to end it as fast as possible.

Which was why she delivered one last blow to Asterin. «Getting kicked out is the least you  deserve after getting yourself knocked up by a boy who will leave at the first sign of some real responsibility. Don’t come crawling to me when you find yourself homeless and heartbroken. You’re off the dance team, by the way.»

Asterin had opened her mouth to say something, but she quickly shut it as Manon’s words hit her. Tears began gathering in the corners of her eyes, and she placed a protective hand over her still-flat stomach. The sight made Manon want to vomit.

She was certain that Asterin would run crying out of the room, but she didn’t. Instead, she took a steadying breath, looked up at her cousin with narrowed eyes, and hissed, her voice as vicious as ever, «I thought you were different, but you truly are her creature.»

Manon slumped against the wall as Asterin left the room, not understanding why it felt as if she’d been punched in the gut.

You truly are her creature.

-

Dorian had been staring at the same page for five minutes now. All day, he’d been looking forward to lunch, to finally finish the thrilling book he’d started reading earlier that week. Except it was impossible to focus.

Everywhere, it was so loud, too loud. The cafeteria, his friends, his own head.

The past week had been stressing, to say the least. Manon still wouldn’t talk to him, and he hadn’t had the chance, either, since he barely saw her at school. It was as if she’d become a ghost.

He tore his eyes away from the book to scan the cafeteria, hoping to spot that white ponytail somewhere in the crowd. His heart skipped a beat as he spotted Asterin, Manon’s cousin, but she was sitting alone, Manon nowhere in sight.

As he finished scanning the room, his eyes met Aelin’s. She lifted an eyebrow in silent question. Everything okay?

Shaking his head, Dorian shifted his gaze to the door. He jumped slightly as he spotted something resembling white hair, but it wasn’t Manon, and he couldn’t help the disappointment that filled his body.

When he looked back at Aelin, her face said, Don’t worry. She’ll come to you if she wants to talk. Giving him a kind smile, she dived back into the conversation she’d been having with Rowan and Chaol. Dorian had no idea what it was about, so he tried to focus on his book.

Don’t worry.

She made it sound so easy.

Nothing about the he was missing Manon was easy. In fact, it was close to driving him insane. And it was only the tip of the iceberg of the many worries he had…

Like yesterday, when he’d had to sit through another one of the weekly family dinners.

Dorian wasn’t sure what was worse. His parents fighting or them pretending everything was fine.

Through the entire dinner, he’d fought the urge not to vomit. All because of his father, sitting there, spewing out offensive comments, one after the other, his mother, pretending she didn’t hear any of it, and his brother, throwing ridiculous tantrums just to get their attention.

And it had been another dinner, where courage failed him, Dorian still hiding the fact that he was bi.

Someone in the cafeteria laughed a little too loud, and Dorian had to stop himself from covering his ears. He glanced at the clock. There were still 20 minutes left of lunch break.

«I-I have to get some air,» he stuttered to his friends, abruptly standing up, his chair scraping against the floor.

Before any of them had the chance to reply, he was out the door, heading towards his spot in the library.

He would have opted for outside, but it was pouring rain, so the library it was.

As Dorian rushed for the hidden alcove, he willed his breathing to calm, his head to keep quiet. All he wanted was some peace to read his book and not think so much.

What he hadn’t expected, was to find Manon.

-

You truly are her creature.

Since the argument with Asterin the day before, this had been the sole clear thought in Manon’s head.

She couldn’t focus anymore. Not in her classes, not at dance practice, not at night, when all she wanted was deep, dreamless sleep. Instead, Manon laid awake, worrying.

It was all too much. She couldn’t possibly keep her promise to her grandmother when she was unable to focus. She had a math test tomorrow, damn it, but whenever she tried to study, her mind went blank.

Luckily her grandmother had left for work again that morning. It made it all a little easier when she didn’t have to constantly lie about her schoolwork.

Manon had no idea what to do when she got a bad grade on that test though…

Right now, it felt as if the world was moving faster than what she could follow.

And all that guilt, for lying to her grandmother, for what she’d said to Asterin, for failing, again and again. It was choking her.

She’d gone to sit in the library, in that hidden alcove where she’d first met Dorian, during lunch, didn’t want to risk running into Asterin in the cafeteria, or the rest of her dance team for that matter. The news that Asterin was off the team hadn’t been met very well.

At least the library was better than the girls bathroom. Her life hadn’t gotten that sad yet.

You wouldn’t be so lonely, had you not pushed Dorian away, a voice echoed in her mind.

Manon cursed it.

Still, thinking about Dorian made her feel all strange. Was she missing him? Was this what was happening?

It had been a mistake to befriend him, if she could even call it that. A stupid mistake.

After she’d finished her lunch, Manon glanced at the clock and saw that it was still 20 minutes left of the break.

She relished the stillness of the library. Here, breathing was a little easier, thinking, too.

That was, until a panicked-looking Dorian appeared around the corner of the shelf.

It felt as if they were back to that day, months ago, when they’d first met.

«Why do you always show up whenever I want to be alone?» Manon tried her very best to hide the surprise and comfort and sadness in seeing him.

Her words seemed to pull Dorian out of whatever stupor he’d been in, and he gave her a narrowed look. «That was one time, and lucky for you, I’m not in the mood to talk right now.» His shoulders sagged at the last part, but his voice remained empty, cold.

As he sat down next to her, Manon was tempted do gather her things and leave, but she didn’t, as if curious to see what happened next.

You can’t stay away from him, can you?

She sighed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

Dorian didn’t say anything, the silence stretching out, becoming uncomfortable.

Sighing once more, Manon asked, «What’s up with the mood, anyway?»

«I thought you wanted to be alone?»

She didn’t answered, only stared, raising an eyebrow.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dorian said, «It’s just…a lot, right now.»

Then everything poured out of him.

«Senior year is more stressing than I thought, and my parents are fighting all the time, which makes it really hard for me, because I’ve been trying to come out to them as bi for months, but my dad keeps being a homophobic asshole and I don’t think my mom knows what planet we’re on, and then you stopped talking to me all of a sudden and just-»

He groaned, head falling into his hands.

Manon had no idea what to say, what to do. She’d never been good with emotions. So she asked about the least complicated part of what he’d revealed. «You’re bi?» There was no accusation in her voice, or shock, only curiosity.

Dorian let out a breath of relief. «Yeah,» he said, voice weak.

«Cool,» was all Manon said in answer.

«You don’t care that I’m bi?»

«Why the fuck would I care about that?»

Dorian looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, that awkward silence returned.

Manon felt like she had to say something again. «I mean it Dorian, your sexuality is none of my business.»

«Thanks,» he said, giving her a tight smile.

Manon looked down at her hands, picking at one of her nails.

«So,» Dorian started, drawing a deep breath. «Why are you brooding in the library?»

She gave him a look that said, I’m not answering that.

«You’re the one who started this conversation.» Dorian stretched out his long legs, getting comfortable.

Oh, she wasn’t getting out of this one.

«I’m just-» Manon sighed, not knowing where to start.

I feel like a constant disappointment to everyone.

I feel like a failure, a liar, a fraud.

I miss you.

«I’m lonely,» she said.

Dorian searched her with those blue eyes of his, his expression going sad.

«Maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely if you hadn’t ignored me for weeks,» Dorian suggested quietly, still looking at her.

«You know nothing,» Manon hissed.

The realization of what she’d said, what she’d accidentally referenced, hit them both at the same time, and Dorian’s chuckle was quickly followed by one of her own.

«I’m sorry,» he managed to choke out between the fits of laughter. «This isn’t funny,» Dorian continued, but it was. It really was.

Why had she thought it was a good idea to ignore him? Manon asked herself as she tried, and failed, to control her laughter.

Because for the first time in weeks, she could breathe again…even if the breathless cackling said otherwise.

But everything it felt light, and easy.

Maybe…just maybe, this was what she needed to stay focused. To do better.

The only thing she was sure of, was that laughing with Dorian made her feel good, worries be damned.

When the laughter had died down at last, a few giggles still escaping them, Manon and Dorian were sitting against the wall, face to face, eyes locked on one another.

«Why are you staring at me?» Manon whispered, butterflies in her stomach.

Dorian swallowed, not breaking eye contact. «I’m contemplating how stupid it would be to kiss you right now.»

Manon drew a shuddering breath, all while gazing into those blue eyes. She could get lost in them.

To hell with it, a voice said inside her. A voice she hadn’t heard before. It sounded wise, and confident, and Manon decided to listen to it. To hell with it, indeed.

Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

A/N: What's up my dudes!

As always, it's been forever since last time, but hey! It wasn't six weeks this time....

Things are starting to happen now, though! Next chapter will be a filler, and therefore quite short, but that means I'll hopefully get it out in the near future:)

Taglist: @fireheartdreamerstarborn​ @bookishwitchling​ @ladywitchling​ @kit-12​ @onfma​ (this is a taglist for ALL my manorian fics, let me know if you want to be added!)

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 22

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Leo Valdez can be sweet when he wants to.

A/N:  Sorry for the long break! The holidays were a rather busy time for me so it did good to take some time off from writing. But now I'm back for my weekly updates (at least I hope I am)! And not just with any chapter but a long-ish chapter full of Caleo fluff :) I really hope you guys enjoy! Please let me know what you think because I 100% mean it when I say I love reading your comments!!

Words: 3200+ 

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

Once Calypso had made up with Leo and Annabeth, she had new issues to deal with. When she paid her rent for the month, she noticed that she only had enough money for one more month’s rent, not even including the other living costs such as food, other daily necessities and school supplies. She had pushed back the job hunting earlier partially because the friendship issues had made her feel too low to care about that kind of thing, partially because she had no idea what she could do, only having a high school level education and no special skills. She had only ever worked at her father’s company and that was not something she wanted to advertise in her applications. But now she was in a situation that unless she wanted to return to the very place she wanted to stay away from, she had to come up with something.

Annabeth and Piper had seen some of the clothes and other items she had sewed and made with her own hands and encouraged her to sell them but Calypso herself wasn’t entirely convinced they were good enough to be sold. She was also a decent enough artist but with a class full of artists just as good (some even better) than her, what would make her stand out in the public? Her people skills weren’t amazing either so she doubted that she would make a good retail worker. But she knew she would probably have to come out of her comfort zone in this case, so if anyone was willing to hire her, she’d accept it.

She was startled when she suddenly heard a familiar voice from the other room: “Sunshine, I’mma head out to buy some groceries and stuff for a new project. You need anything?”

In some other situation, Calypso would have been thankful for the offer, but she was still feeling like a nervous wreck because of her earlier discovery. That’s why the words escaped her before she could stop herself: “Huh? No, I don’t think so? And I can still buy my own groceries, thank you very much.”

“Sorry, I just thought I’d ask… I didn’t mean to…” Leo seemed a bit baffled by her outburst. He was already about to head out when Calypso came out of her room and stopped him.

“No, I’m sorry.” She sighed, looking regretful. “I was just on the edge because I just noticed my financial situation isn’t exactly the best… But that is something I need to figure out on my own, I don’t want charity.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna buy you a car or anything,” Leo tried to crack a joke. “Just thought that if you’re running out of milk or something, I could have saved you the trouble… Since I’m going there anyway…”

“Oh… no, I don’t think I need anything,” she said, this time a lot softer. “But thank you for asking.”

“No prob, Sunshine,” Leo replied, looking relieved now that he knew she wasn’t actually angry at him. “But hey, if you do need help with, like, searching for a job, or something, I’m your man.”

Calypso tried to keep her face neutral even though she had a feeling her cheeks were probably red. “I’ll… keep that in my mind.”

“Well, see you soon,” Leo said after the two just kept staring at each other for a while. He seemed to be sizing her, possibly still a bit thrown off by her weird reaction before he put his coat on (Calypso noticed it was the same shade of red as a lot of his shirts seemed to be. And it was also rather snugly fit, definitely not a bad sight, she thought before she had time to stop herself) and took his bags, leaving her alone.

“See you,” she said quietly when the door was already closed.

Once sure that Leo was far enough and not coming back, Calypso leaned her back against the wall of her room, sliding down into a sitting position on the floor. Throwing her head back, she groaned at herself. She had thought that the small falling out they had had because of the Percy incident might have affected her feelings towards Leo, but it seemed to become clearer and clearer every day that wasn’t the case. Even if she had admitted to Hazel and Annabeth that those feelings were not quite flatmate like, it was a whole different thing to really come to terms with that fact. She was falling quite hard.

The more she thought about it, the more she freaked out. Her relationships before one faithful day during her teenage years had failed badly (and that was over 5 years ago anyway) and the online dating she had done afterwards… Well, now that Calypso thought about it, only the conversation with Percy had seemed to be going somewhere. All the people she had cared about had left her and never come back. That, along with the fact that she had spent a lot of time alone in the past, had left her scared of relationships and ruined her self esteem, making her think that she simply wasn’t good enough. If Leo left too… she wasn’t sure how she’d handle that. Not to even mention, her dad was still probably looking for her and getting Leo mixed into that would be very dangerous for him. No matter what Annabeth said about wanting to help.

Biting her lip, she decided there was only one option. No matter what she felt, she should try to treat Leo just like any of her friends and conceal her true feelings. Having Leo in her life just as a flatmate was way better than not having him in it at all. When she remembered her friends’ hints that perhaps Leo himself wasn’t as indifferent to her as he probably should be, she suddenly felt like crying. In different circumstances… maybe they could be happy together, go on dates, hold hands… Now she would inevitably have to let him go when someone else would realize that Leo was a great person worth dating.

Calypso didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, and she also hadn’t noticed that there were tears running down her cheeks. She didn’t snap out of her daze until she heard the front door clunking again, this time indicating that Leo had already returned.

“Please just ignore me…” Calypso ranted in her head, but no luck. She heard steps from outside her room, stopping right in front of it. Swiping her wet cheeks quickly into her hands, she stood up from the floor just in time for Leo to knock on her door. Calypso didn’t really want to open it when she was in that emotional state but she knew that not answering would raise even more questions. Her messy looks she could always try to shrug off as a ‘bad day’, she decided.

“Yeah?” she asked weakly, opening the door to reveal her flatmate with that stupid trademark grin of his on his face. He seemed pretty happy about something he had or was about to do. The late autumn wind had made his curly hair even messier than usual and his cheeks were red from the cold weather and the exercise but his eyes were sparkling excitedly, like he couldn’t wait to show her something. He started: “I went to the hardware store and…” He quickly stopped when he noticed Calypso’s expression and puffy eyes. His happiness immediately melted away. “Hey, what’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

“It’s been a rough day,” Calypso sighed, looking down. “Don’t worry, I was just being overwhelmed by the loads of uni work before the exam season. And like I told you before, I need a job… But… it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Alright, if you’re sure…” Leo narrowed his eyes slightly, probably sensing that she wasn’t telling him the entire truth. “But yeah, I was gonna give you something. Hope it cheers you up a bit. He handed her a tiny packet of what seemed like flower seeds but before Calypso had time to read the text on it, he started explaining.

“So, I was gonna tell you that I went to the hardware store to buy me some supplies, and you know how they sell all kinds of seeds there as well? Well, I just happened to notice these while waiting for my turn to pay for my stuff and I just randomly decided to buy them.”

“But… why?” Calypso asked, finally looking at Leo directly.

“Um…” He started rubbing the back of his neck. “Remember when Festus jumped on your desk and broke it? There was a plant on it too… and I never replaced it. When I saw those,” he nodded towards the packet Calypso was holding, “I remembered that the plant looked like that… At least I think it did… I’m no good with that kind of stuff… But I know you care about your plants… so I thought it’d be only fair if I got you those. I know it’s not gonna be the exact same one you had, but…”

Leo didn’t manage to finish his sentence because Calypso couldn’t contain her feelings anymore. She closed the space between them and hugged him even tighter than the time they had had a game night with Jason and Piper. No one had gotten anything for her in years, and even if the seed bags didn’t cost much, it was the thought that mattered way more to her. She had never expected him to remember such a detail from several months ago when they hadn’t even been friends, but apparently he did.

“Uh, Cal, some air would be nice,” Leo said jokingly when it started seeming she didn’t even want to let him go. He didn’t attempt to break the hug, though, instead gently stroking her back. “Wow, Sunshine,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, “You’d think I bought you a house based on your reaction.”

Calypso raised her head from his shoulder, giving him a half hearted glare as she broke the hug.

“I’m not allowed to be thankful for a gift? You don’t know… You don’t understand…”

“Understand what?” Leo raised his eyebrows.

Calypso took a deep breath before answering. “I haven’t gotten gifts from anyone since I turned 16. And even then it was just… uh, never mind. The point is that I’m not used to such nice gestures… And I didn’t think you’d remember… It was my favorite plant. So excuse me if I’m feeling a bit emotional because your gift was more thoughtful than you probably realized.”

“OK, sorry,” Leo apologized quickly. “If you’re not used to nice gestures, I’m not used to displays of affection so I got a bit surprised, that’s all… Well, either way, I’m glad I got you something you care about.”

Calypso’s expression softened again. “Yeah. Thank you. I’m sure they will look pretty.”

Suddenly Calypso realized she was feeling a little dizzy, not sure if from the crying or from the smell of the mechanic oil she had just smelled on Leo’s shirt as she had hugged him. Sitting down on her bed, she leaned her face into her hands.

“Um, are you really OK?” Leo asked. “I know it’s not any of my business, but… if I can help you somehow, let me know.”

After a while, Calypso looked up from her hands, having half expected Leo to leave already. “If you happen to know anyone who’d be willing to hire an inexperienced, uneducated young woman, sure, be my guest,” she muttered.

“Hey.” Leo sat down next to Calypso on her bed, nudging her arm slightly. “Where’s the Calypso who has told me to fight my fear? I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who’d be willing to hire you if they knew how talented you are.”

“Wait… what?” Calypso wasn’t sure if she had heard right. Even if they had been friendly towards each other for a while now, she didn’t remember Leo complimenting her like that before. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true!” Leo exclaimed, his eyes gleaming fiercely the same way Calypso had seen a couple of times earlier. “You are a talented person and even I can see that. You can draw and paint – I bet you’d do way better blueprints for machines than I do. To be honest, I’d probably hire you to do that if I could. You create a lot of things with your own hands – like that one dress you wore the other day, right? Like, OK, I wear overalls all the time so you can take my opinion with a grain of salt, but I thought it looked neat.”

“But…”

“But there are other things as well,” Leo continued persistently. “You know a lot and you’re always working on something – if not something university related, you take care of your plants or bake or something like that – and I think under that hard cover of yours you’re actually a super caring person. I dunno, those are things that at least I value. But maybe I’m the weird one here.” He rolled his eyes as if everything he had just said had been very obvious.

“Leo…” Calypso just stared at him with wide eyes, not finding the right words. She hadn’t been emotionally prepared for Leo showering her with compliments. If her cheeks had felt warm earlier, they were definitely burning now, and her eyes felt weird too… like she was going to cry again. “I…”

“Shhh. Crying doesn’t suit you, Sunshine. Luckily Uncle Leo is good at bad jokes that make the ladies laugh. How about this: What do you give to a sick lemon? Or… why didn't the astronaut come home to his wife?”

“Leonidas,” Calypso repeated but this time she did it with an annoyed groan. That was apparently what Leo had wished, though, because he grinned at her in return.

“Alright, I won’t finish that one!” he raised his hands up. “But it did work because there’s still some spice left in you. That’s what I wanted to see.”

“You’re the only person I know who can literally go from 100 to 0 when trying to cheer someone up,” Calypso said, but her mouth twitched. “But thanks. As much as I hate to admit it, I think it might have worked. For your information,” she added unexpectedly, “you give lemon aid to a sick lemon and the astronaut needed his space.”

“I think my job here is done,” Leo said approvingly, taking one step closer to her. Calypso had seen his brown eyes sparkling when he was happy and burning when he was mad but now she thought they seemed soft and warm, unlike she had seen before. And her heart skipped a beat when she registered that the reason for the warmth might have been… she herself. He looked at her right in the eyes and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear before his fingers moved to her face. He brushed some of the wetness off with his thumb and for one, short second Calypso thought that he also wanted to do something else… touch her jaw, her lips… But that moment ended fast when he cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. One, tiny part of Calypso’s brain yelled: “no!” while the rational part tried to be relieved.

“Um… You had something there…” Leo tried to brush his previous actions off. “Anyway. Like I said I have no doubt someone wouldn’t hire you. But now that I think of it, I remember hearing from my moms that one of their friends is looking for a holiday helper at her flower shop that is quite near Waystation. The holidays are always a busy time there and the owner’s daughter, who has usually been the one helping, has moved away, so they could really use an extra hand.”

“A flower shop?” Calypso asked, hope starting to flicker in her eyes. “Do you think they may have a lot of applicants?”

“Who knows.” Leo shrugged. “I think it might be a pretty popular place… but you can’t win if you don’t try, huh?”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Calypso agreed. “Do you know how I can contact the place?”

“Hold on for a moment. I can call Emmie and ask,” Leo said and left Calypso alone in her room, baffled by what had just happened but also a bit hopeful. Maybe at least something would turn out right even if her social life would probably continue to be a mess.

A few minutes later Leo returned with a piece of paper in his hands and a satisfied expression on his face. It told Calypso that he had managed to get the number.

“Here you go, Sunshine! Hope you’ll still remember me and how I helped you when you become rich and famous.” He winked.

“I know I’ve told you this before but you really are a weirdo,” Calypso shot back but took the piece of paper gratefully. She excused herself to make a phone call and managed to get a hold of the owner of the flower shop who suggested a meeting for the next day. After finishing the phone call, Calypso searched for Leo who had withdrawn into the living room to watch a movie.

“So… I’m going to have an interview with the owner tomorrow,” she told him. “Keep your thumbs up that it will go fine. I’m kind of nervous, to be honest.”

“I’d keep even my big toes up if needed but I think you’re gonna do great,” Leo noted. “For reals. Have some faith.”

“Easier said than done,” Calypso sighed. “You probably understand.”

“I… yeah,” Leo admitted, thinking about one moment only about a week earlier when he had felt like nothing would work out. “But for what it’s worth, there are people who do support you.”

“You too?” Calypso asked carefully even though she was a bit scared of his answer.

“Yeah, me included.” Leo nodded.

“Listen, Leo… Thanks… for everything you’ve done for me today. Not just the seeds and the phone number, the emotional support too. It really helped.”

She surprised even herself by leaning closer to Leo and giving him a quick peck on his cheek. He went completely speechless and just rubbed the spot on his cheek Calypso had kissed absentmindedly as Calypso waited for him to say something.

“Uhh… you… you’re welcome?” he finally stuttered when Calypso had already started thinking she had crossed some line with the cheek kiss and they were back on square one.

“I should probably go back to do some research…” she said. “I’ve had a hard time focusing on anything lately but I’m feeling better now so hopefully I will manage to make some progress with some assignments. Have fun with your movie!” She attempted to sound cheerful even though the two sides of her brain were having an intense battle in that moment. One said: ‘why don’t you just stay with him? The assignment can wait!” while the other side wanted to run from that situation before Calypso did something she would regret.

“Alright… Thanks. And good luck with that!” Leo said. Calypso was convinced that she just imagined it but to her he had seemed just a bit disappointed that she hadn’t joined him. When she was back in her room, she exhaled sharply. So much for that ‘being just friends’. She would really have to start working harder on that before someone got hurt.

[fivour]

5 from imaginary-legendary-hamilton's list with holnilla?

enabling me to write more about these two’s issues with being vulnerable? i love it op thank you. this got soooooo long and soooooo sad lol i’m sorry but i hope you like it anyways :)

5. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?” tw: lots of references to depression read on ao3

-

The lack of action is getting to him.

Hol Horse had decided that, for a little while, he would lay off of his gun. He needs this time to himself, to his thoughts and his newfound anxieties whenever he crosses someone who reminds him of them; although he is very good at telling himself that it is all for Vanilla Ice’s sake.

Vanilla Ice needs him to be there, Hol Horse often lies to himself, and he can’t very well be there if he's dead. He also neglects to acknowledge that he has never even considered the possibility of failing a hit before that shitstorm of a job. Ignoring these sorts of thoughts is one of the few skills he has taken the time to hone in all of his years.

All talents fade when they are not used, though. As this particular one starts to go, Hol Horse is beginning to remember why he has never lasted long in a relationship. The recent weeks have been slow, introspective ones, and he finds that every offhand comment that Vanilla makes about his mood twists his thoughts further into dreariness. Hol can’t convince himself that Vanilla has only noticed the drop in his laughter and the slow onset of a monotone in his voice and, like a good partner, has grown concerned. Even the most careless lover would be caught off guard by Hol’s rather sudden onset of insomnia, but Hol himself is blind to these things.

He’s felt this drop before. He recognizes the actions that he can’t seem to connect with his own emotions. The lingering gazes, the steadily collecting questions, the tension in his own temples and between the two of them  — these are the hallmarks of the end that Hol is so familiar with, but something else is there, too.

Hol feels bad.

He feels the end is nigh, and he feels bad.

The indifference he always experiences hasn’t shown its face once. Vanilla leaving him was a thought that came out of the blue and decided to stick around, gnawing on his nerves which were already strung tight.

Hol doesn’t know what he’ll do when the time comes and it terrifies him. It paralyzes him and makes his blood freeze and makes him ask himself just why the hell he has to be like this. Why must he get sad when his distractions run out? If it drives everyone away from him, then why the hell does his mind keep doing it?

Adrenaline, one-night stands, hits. For once, he doesn’t need these temporary reprieves to feel happy, but now he’s sad again and that surely means that Vanilla will tire of him because Hol Horse’s relationships have known no other fate. He feels so idiotic when he thinks these things, and yet the thoughts will not stop coming to him in the dead of the night when Vanilla lays curled up to his side and Hol still cannot sleep despite his warmth.

All these fears and worries do is build and build upon another, until Vanilla finally has had enough, as Hol sees it. He is almost relieved to see the exasperated look on his face when Hol says he isn’t hungry enough to eat dinner.

“Sit,” Vanilla says, pointing towards the kitchen table as if Hol were a child he’s about to scold. He does most things this way; the familiarity is little comfort now.

Hol obliges, crossing his arms over his chest. Vanilla pulls the chair next to his out and sits facing him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“I just ain’t hungry,” Hol says.

Vanilla frowns. “Now, you know I didn’t mean that, or you wouldn’t have sat down.”

Hol is certain he has a response, but he trips over the words in his mind and can only give Vanilla a look that he hopes expresses all he cannot say.

“Hol, talk to me,” he says, his disposition softening.

The phrase puts him on edge anyways. He almost would have preferred if Vanilla broke up with him, because this is already much more difficult to handle. He is quiet for a long time before managing to piece together: “I’d love to, darlin’, but... I don’t know how.”

“Have I done something?” Vanilla asks.

“No. No, you ain’t it.”

“Then what?”

Hol readjusts his arms over his chest, but Vanilla tugs his arms away and takes one of his hands. The touch is so gentle and warm and brings a vague reassurance with it, but it’s still not getting through to Hol that he can trust Vanilla with this. He’s trusted him with most everything else, but now it is impossible to open up. How does he even explain these feelings that he doesn’t understand? All he knows...

“I’m sad,” he says finally, telling Vanilla the only part of it all that he understands.

Vanilla’s brows draw together. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Hol says. He hesitates, and then admits, “I kind of thought that you been thinkin’ of leavin’ me.”

“And why would I do that?” He continues to poke and prod and tear down all of Hol’s irrational fears one by one, in that logical, professor-like way of his. They still linger, as irrational fears are prone to do even in the face of rationality; but Hol finds that he doesn’t have a good answer.

“Well... ‘cause I’m sad,” he says.

Vanilla laughs. It’s short and humorless. “Do you really think I’d leave you because you don’t feel well?” He asks. “You’ve done so much for me. I love you. And I want to know what’s wrong because of that.”

Hol finds that his nostrils sting when he breathes in. “I love you, too,” he replies. Despite the amount of times they’ve exchanged the words, it still leaves him feeling so vulnerable to speak them. Bringing his eyes up from their hands and to Vanilla’s genuinely concerned expression, he sighs.

He wants so badly to tell him. To let the dam break and let Vanilla know all the things he’s been obsessing over for the past months.

But what if it’s too much?

What if, when Vanilla knows what’s really going on inside of his head, he decides that love doesn’t go that far?

“Hol?” Vanilla asks when he doesn’t continue, giving his hand a squeeze.

He blinks. He wishes that he had a cigarette, but now is not the moment to grab one, even if his skin itches once he’s considered lighting up. With difficulty, he says, “I like bein’ with you. And it,”  — he cringes inwardly at the word  — “Scares me that maybe you’d... y’know, leave like the rest ‘em whenever I got like this.”

“The rest of them?” Vanilla encourages.

“Everyone always leaves me when they see I ain’t all charisma and smiles.”

Vanilla doesn’t have to think long about his next words. “They’re not worth much, then.”

His tone is gentle, sweet in the same way as when Hol does something stupid in the barn and comes inside bleeding. “They got a point. I ain’t no fun to deal with.”

“You took care of me when I wasn’t fun to deal with,” Vanilla says. “And I’ll take care of you. That’s how love is supposed to work.”

The words are like a revelation. Hol supposes he never considered that perspective, nor does he understand it now that he’s heard it out loud. You give in love, he always learned, and you don’t expect nothin’ back. When you expect things back, you’re offering yourself up for trouble.

All he can manage is a very dignified, “Oh.”

Vanilla doesn’t comment on it. “Tell me what you need.”

“I...” Hol aches for a cigarette now, needs to breathe in the smoke and let his brain rest from how hard it’s working to put together these sentences. He is tired, and empty, and restless all at once — but with Vanilla’s firm reassurance, he decides he can afford one person on this earth knowing a little more about him. “A hug, for starters.”

Vanilla promptly stands up and pulls Hol up and into his chest, and Hol feels like he can breath again. He never thought about how safe a strong pair of arms around him could feel; but he takes a deep breath and buries his nose into the crook of Vanilla’s neck, and swallowing the lump in his throat is suddenly a little easier now that he’s surrounded by someone who cares.

When they lean back, and Vanilla takes his face in his hands, Hol Horse feels the damning crack in the wall he’s built around himself. And after all these years, he certainly has a few tears to cry.

[three-drink-amy]

All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

masterlist - AO3

Chapter Ten: Lying Beside You, With You Wanting Me

I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet, but my hand was already moving across the bed to find Jamie. I said a mental “aha!” as my wandering hand came in contact with his leg. Running it up his body, I found that he was still naked from the night before. Conveniently, so was I. 

I turned onto my side, scooting over closer to him. Slowly, sleepily, his arms came toward me, pulling me closer. My eyes flicked up to his face. His eyes were still closed, still holding onto sleep even if he was waking. Once he had me flush against him, he opened his eyes, staring down at me. 

“Good morning.” 

I smiled in greeting, leaning up to kiss him softly. “Morning.” 

One corner of his mouth curled up, showing me a small smile. He closed the distance between us and kissed me deeply. Rolling me onto my back, he hovered over me, not breaking our kiss. My arms came around his neck, holding him to me. I could feel him against my leg. Mornings were a beautiful thing. 

His tongue was deep in my mouth and I could feel him groan against me as I shifted my hips upwards. Pulling back, he shot me a look, but his eyes were already blown wide. He moved his attentions further south as he licked and sucked at my neck. I could feel myself reacting, my fingers tightening in his hair. The man knew how to wind me up and took pleasure in doing so. 

He continued to work his way down my body. I was already in such a state that I didn’t think I’d last long if he actually did what he was seemingly intending to do. Tugging at his hair, I grabbed his attention. My legs tightened around him, trying to gesture him back to me. 

“Come here,” I breathed. 

I ignored his smirk as he moved back over me. Crushing my mouth back to his, it was my turn to roll him onto his back. A moan escaped him as I settled myself against him. His hands clutched at my hips. “Claire,” he sighed. I wondered if I’d ever get used to it. Him. My name coming from his lips. Sounding like that. Honestly, I didn’t want to get used to it. The way it made me feel each time was a shock to the system in the best way. 

Rolling my hips against his, I tried to make him say it again. 

He pulled me down to him, bringing my lips to his with a sense of desperation. His hands were tangled in my hair as our tongues danced again. I could feel him grow even harder beneath me. Without breaking our kiss, I reached down and took him in hand, guiding him into me. 

Jamie cried out into my mouth while I settled back down. I started moving on top of him, a slow roll of my hips. His head fell back against his (that’s right, it was his now) pillow and his hands gripped my thighs tightly. He thrust up into me, making me cry out as well. 

I was being devious, making it slow and torturous for him. But damn it, watching him slowly fall apart beneath me was fucking incredible. He was a strong man that was completely at my mercy. I reveled in it. With each slow roll of my hips, each clench around him, I saw him grow more desperate. My thighs would likely be bruised, leaving traces of where his fingers had clutched so deeply. But I couldn’t find it in me to be upset about it. Watching him slowly lose it was winding me up and up. 

After I picked up my pace, Jamie brought me back down to him, crushing his mouth against mine. His hands were everywhere. My breasts, my hips, my hair, my neck. It was as though he didn’t know where to put them, so he put them everywhere. He thrust into me madly, pushing me closer to the edge. Moans fell from my lips as easily as they did from his. 

The first night we’d spent together had been mind-blowing, indeed. But how he continued to do so was insane to me. Our bodies were so in sync that I could tell by the way his breath caught and his body stuttered that he was getting very close. 

I leaned down and hovered next to his ear. “Come on, Jamie,” I encouraged. His hands tightened on me. “Come for me.” His eyes closed as he thrust two, three more times and was releasing inside me. With one more deep thrust, I was right behind him, collapsing against him. His arms seemed weak with exertion, but he wrapped them around me anyway. 

Our panting synched as we both fought to regain our breath. Jamie looked at me, brushing hair from my face. A smile spread lazily across his face. Leaning up, he kissed me softly. I reached up, running both my hands through his hair as I languidly returned his kiss. 

We laid around for a while after that, barely moving from my bed. Jamie had made me lazy in the mornings, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. When his hands were drifting across my skin, giving me goosebumps, and pulling me close, I didn’t care if I had other things to do. Nothing seemed better than laying in his arms and kissing him whenever I pleased. Which was often. Very often. 

It was the sound of a rumbling stomach that prompted us to move this time. Jamie chuckled and clapped a hand to his own stomach as he reluctantly pulled away from me. He threw on a pair of sweats he’d worn two nights ago while I got up and moved towards the bathroom. A shower seemed important to me.  

I was dressed in his t-shirt and my own shorts, towel drying my hair as I walked into the kitchen. I had expected Jamie to be eating or perhaps heating up something. But instead, he was sitting on a barstool, phone in hand. Walking behind him, I planted a kiss on the side of his neck. Grinning, he set his phone down and turned around to look at me. He pulled me closer, into the space between his legs. 

“All fresh and clean?” he asked before pressing a kiss to my lips. I smiled and nodded, leaning into him and his kisses. It was slow and easy. Just the way it should be. Both of us were relishing the easy intimacy between us after months of trying to ignore it. Jamie’s hands closed against my waist, holding me right where I was. 

Jamie drew back, looking at me with an odd expression. “How often?” 

I frowned at him. “How often, what?” 

A cheeky grin revealed itself as he tried to pull me even closer. “How often did ye think of our night together?” I rolled my eyes, smacking him on the arm. My lips were sealed, though. “Come on, tell me.” 

“You first.” 

“No, I asked you first.” His fingers played with the hem of my shirt. “If ye dinna tell me, I’ll just assume it was always, at all times.” 

I slapped at his hands, shaking my head at him. He was trying to hide his laughter. Trying, and failing. I climbed up onto his lap, praying the barstool was sturdy enough. Straddling him, I cupped his face in my hands. “Maybe once or twice.” 

His eyes narrowed at me as he caught my grin. “I’m afraid I dinna believe ye.” 

I laughed before kissing him quickly. A trail of kisses formed against his jaw, moving back toward his ear. “Well then perhaps you were right the first time.” I bucked my hips into his, grinning as his hands held me tighter. The trail resumed, this time moving against his neck. I found a good spot and started to focus just there. 

“Sassenach, no,” he said weakly. 

“Hmm?” I replied against his throat. 

He halfheartedly tried to get me to stop. “They’ll find it in makeup. Caitlyn will let half the crew and cast know by showtime that I let someone mark me.” 

I pulled back, raising one brow at him. “That doesn’t mean they’ll know it’s me.” 

Jamie leaned forward and caught my lips with his. “Still. Best to not raise questions, aye?” 

I didn’t hide my glare, but moved back in to kiss him again. A knock at the door startled us both from our activities. “I’m not expecting anyone.” 

“Oh, tis lunch!” Jamie lifted me (easily) off his lap. He went to the door and greeted the man. Walking back with a bag of food, he put it on the counter and started unpacking it. 

“When did you order food?” 

Jamie glanced up at me quickly. “While ye showered.” A smile crossed his face. “Besides, I figured I still needed to get ye back.” 

My brow furrowed. “Get me back for what?” 

He walked to me and handed me the container that must have been mine. Smiling still, he kissed my temple. “For that time ye bought me lunch.” 

I laughed. “You didn’t have to make that up to me.” 

Jamie shrugged. “Well, now I have.” He settled himself on the same barstool from before, about ready to eat. “I never kent why you did that.” 

I sat myself down on the stool next to his, taking a deep breath. “Well, honestly, I didn’t really either. I guess I just...wanted to feel like there was something more there than just director and actor. You know?” 

He smiled, lacing his fingers through mine. “Aye, of course I do.” He kissed the back of my hand before we both started eating. 

Not long after we finished lunch, Jamie moved to put on his shoes. I glanced at him with a confused look. “I have to run back to my place to get a change of clothes,” he explained. Walking over to the couch, where I still sat, he bent down and kissed the top of my head. “Canna show up in the same clothes night after night.” 

I laughed. “They’ll think you were victim of a house fire or something.” 

“Well if it’s a fire, then I’m happy to burn,” he told me, waggling his brows a bit. 

My head leaned back against the back of the couch. “What a line,” I whispered before he met me for a kiss. 

“I’ll see you later,” Jamie said as he walked back to the door. 

“Yes, I’ll see you at the theater.” 

Jamie gave me an odd look before he shrugged and walked out the door. 

* * *

“How did I know I’d find you here?” 

I whipped my head over to see John staring at me. He bore a disapproving expression. “Well, it is my office after all.” 

“No, it’s not your office. Not anymore. Now it’s the stage manager’s office.” He raised a brow, essentially saying, You know this. 

“Yes, well, I’m allowed to be here, John.” I didn’t know what I was attempting to say by that comment. 

“You know that most other directors I know don’t come to shows past Opening Night. With the exception of check ins now and then.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I do know that. I would think that you would know from working with me over the last several years that I usually stay a bit past that.” 

“If I recall, your magic number is usually Opening Night and then two more shows. Then you’re gone. Out of their hair. Letting them do it all on their own. As they should be able to do,” he reminded me. 

“What’s your point, John?” 

He let out a frustrated huff. “My point is that it’s show 8 and you’ve been here every night.” 

“How do you know that? You haven’t been here every night.” 

“I have friends here.” 

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. “Who snitched?” 

“It doesn’t matter who snitched!” John cried, his hands covering his face. “Look, Claire, I’m coming to you as your friend. I know why you’re doing this.” 

I raised a brow at him. “Think you know everything about me, do you? So what’s your big insight into me?” 

He sat down across from me. “This one is obviously different. This show, I mean. You don’t want the show to end because then that means you have to move on.” 

“That’s what it always means, John.” 

“No, I mean you have to move on...from Jamie.” 

The mention of Jamie made me take a deep breath. John had no idea anything had happened. Was I okay letting him believe that was my true reason? I didn’t really want to be reduced to a woman with complicated feelings. 

“That’s not why.”

“It’s fine if it is, Claire,” John tried to reassure me. “You’re entitled to your feelings.” He sighed. “But by this point, you usually already have your next show at least in mind.” 

“John, I’ve worked my arse off for the last decade, jumping from show to show without end. At least as much as I could. Am I not deserving of a break?” 

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t want you to make yourself miserable. You’re staying here because you want to be around him. But you’ve also made him off limits to yourself. You’re just making it harder for yourself, Claire.” 

I was silent. I had no idea how to reply given that it wasn’t truly my situation. 

“Maybe a new project is just what you need to finally move on from him.” He stood up and walked to the door. “You made this show a success, Claire. Let them prove that they can do it without you. I’ll see you at our workspace next Monday.” 

He left the office before I could tell him no. I sat there for a lot longer than I meant to, thinking over everything John said. Good points had been made, but he didn’t know the truth of the situation. The biggest takeaway was that at least one person in this show found it strange that I was still here. And that would lead to questions. John was right; I needed to move on. 

But only to a new show. 

That night, I only wandered out to catch a look at Jamie just before he went on. He glanced up and caught my eye. Flashing me a brilliant smile and a terrible wink, he reminded me of why I had kept coming past when I knew I should be done. 

I smiled back, giving him a small wave. He turned to prepare himself to go on stage. I watched him until he disappeared through the set door. As he began his eighth show, I accepted a rough truth. 

Our lives were about to get a lot harder.

Next chapter

[schrijverr]

A Familiar Face

Despite their looks when they return to Narnia the second time, the Pevensie siblings have all grown up once before and Peter had even been married. Upon returning he is not happy to see that an idiot of a prince has not only stolen his crown, but also the face of his lover.

Narnia Prince Caspian rewrite, but then make it gay

On AO3.

Ships: Peter/OMC that is also Caspian, Peter/Caspian

Warnings: homophobia mentioned, Peter is grieving and angry. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag somethine

~~~~~~~~~

The Pevensie siblings had been quite confused to hear about love between a man and a man or a woman and a woman when they had first started their reign. But in Narnia love is love and with their young minds this was a simple truth to accept.

For the first few years none of them really thought about it, until Peter was saved on the battlefield by a young dashing soldier, who had hauled him up with a grin and a bow.

Peter had stared after him dumbfound for a second, before his attention was pulled back to the battle by an ax nearly hitting his head.

Over the next few weeks, he couldn't get the young man out of his head. He’d tried to shake it off and didn’t want to believe it. It was only okay for others to feel like that, not him, not High King Peter. What about heirs?

No, Peter could not be like that.

However, the thoughts stayed and he found himself wanting to give in. He knew he couldn't, he had avoided finding out in which squadron the boy was so it wouldn't cloud his judgment when coming up with a strategy. But his mind did long for it.

Peter grew over it though and only saw it fit to mention it to his siblings when it had happened again. This time it had been a young knight, who had bested him during a tournament.

When he returned to the others later, after he had talked to the knight, who was called Darian. He softly said: “It is good that we came here, for I might be able to marry out of love in these lands.”

He swallowed thickly as he waited for what they would respond. He knew they were accepting of their subjects, but how would they feel about their own brother?

“Oh, oh my.” Susan replied with wide eyes, before her face softened and she smiled as she said: “Well, then I am also glad that we came here.”

Lucy engulfed him in a big hug, nearly the same height as he was now, as she said: “Oh, Peter, how wonderful for you!”

Edmund waited until the hug was over, before he knowingly smirked: “Any reason you’re telling us this now, brother? Perhaps a fellow swordsman?”

He had always been too observant for his own good and Peter could feel the blush creeping over his face as he looked away quickly. Susan and Lucy quickly caught on and soon he was pushed down on the couch as they tried to drag all the details out of him.

Later he would be grateful to them for pushing him to talk more with Darian, but now he grumbled embarrassed as he was.

Darian was kind and funny and an amazing sword fighter.

Everyday Peter fell harder and he couldn't be more overjoyed that his feelings were returned with Darian claiming he never made the best decisions when it came to love with a smirk and a wink after Peter had asked him if he didn’t mind Peter being the High King.

Susan once commented to Lucy and Edmund that she had never seen Peter happier than when he was with Darian. Something they agreed with wholeheartedly.

Peter and Darian married in the fifteenth year of their reign when Peter was twenty-seven and Darian twenty-nine. It had been a logistical nightmare to prepare the law for it to work out seamlessly, but the ceremony had been beautiful.

Both had worn white tunics and at the end their cheeks had hurt from smiling and their feet from dancing.

Three years later the four siblings disappeared chasing a white stag that was said to be able to grant any wish. Peter would never tell his siblings how he had intended to wish he and Darian could’ve had children of their own.

Darian would try and pick up the reign in their absence, but die in from heartbreak soon after his love had vanished. Leaving Cair Paraval vulnerable to attack.

Meanwhile Peter had suddenly been pushed back into the body of a child, just twelve-years-old, with the mind of an adult and the grief of a widower.

Susan had tried to broach the subject with him, but he had snapped and yelled, only breaking down to cry when she had fled the room for his outburst. He wanted to go home, he wanted to see his husband and have him hug him and tell him it was alright.

He ruined his hands trying to break the back of that goddamned wardrobe trying to return to his love to no avail.

They were stuck here and it didn’t look like they were going back as life went on.

Their mother had no clue what to do with the serious and far away eyes her children now wore and had send them away once more, this time to a boarding school.

Peter remained silent throughout almost the all years. Sure, he would talk with the others about the Beavers, Mr. Tumnus and all the other things they had left behind, but he would become withdrawn and silent whenever Darian was mentioned.

The first time he mentioned the name himself was after he’d been beaten up on a train station for the so many-th time. Susan asked: “What was it this time.”

“He bumped me.” Peter answered shortly.

“So you hit him?” Susan exclaimed.

“No, okay, that’s not the reason- just, nevermind.” Peter turned away from her, fists clenched.

“Then what was it, Peter? Just talk to me.” Susan said, trying to get through to her brother for once after all this time. They used to be so close, now it was just this.

Peter took a deep breath, then he turned around and looked her in the eye: “He looked like Darian, okay. I ran up to the guy because for a split second I thought I saw him and then it was just a stupid guy, who asked me what the fuck my problem was, so yeah, I hit him.”

“Oh, Peter.” Susan sighed as the other two gave him a look of pity.

He snapped: “Don’t ‘oh, Peter,’ me, okay, just don’t. I’m just tried of being treated as a kid.”

“We are kids.” Edmund said and sometimes Peter hated how the little shit was always right. It was annoying.

“Well, I wasn’t always.” he moped as he slumped down on the bench, “It’s been a few years and I just want to go home. How long does he expect us to wait?”

Susan gave him a sad look and softly said: “I think it’s time to accept that we live here. It’s no use pretending any different.”

She looked over to the platform and got big eyes, but before she could say something else Lucy shot up with a shriek. So, she hissed: “Quiet, Lu.”

“Something pinched me.” she exclaimed, looking around.

Peter was about to look who it had been when someone tugged on his hair from behind, Ed, the fucker. He got up and yelled: “Stop pulling.”

“Not touching you.” Edmund frowned at him.

Susan looked at the train starting to pass and asked: “What is that?”

“It feels like magic.” Lucy replied.

“Quick hold hands!” Susan told them.

Beside Peter Edmund complained, but Peter didn’t really listen and grabbed his hand. They were going home, he was going to see Darian again.

The train station turned into a cave and soon they were running on the beach and into the water while yelling a having fun. Their return was interrupted by Edmund, who asked: “Where do you suppose we are?”

“Well, where do you think?” Peter couldn't believe Edmund hadn’t realized where they were, they had ruled these lands for eighteen years, even Edmund couldn't forget that in a few years of being back in their original world.

“Well, I don’t remember there being any ruins in Narnia.” Edmund said.

That got Peters attention and he looked up. They had to rebuild their land from scratch and every ruin had been a reminder of what had been lost to the White Witch, so they had made sure none were left, but Edmund was right, again, and also annoying, again.

There was a ruin on top of a familiar hill.

A pit started to form in Peter stomach as they all hurried to put their shoes back on so that they could explore these mysterious ruins.

Lucy frowned, probably desperate not to believe, and asked: “I wonder who lived here.”

Susan picked something up from the ground and confirmed their worst fears: “I think we did.”

“Hey, that’s mine.” Edmund pulled it from her hand, “From my chess set.”

“Which chess set?” Peter asked, still hoping it all isn’t true.

Edmund didn’t care or didn’t notice as he replied: “Well, I didn’t have a solid gold chess set in Finchley, did I?”

Peter was about to break down and cry, his home, his husband to which he wanted to return so badly was ripped from him, even if he was here once more, when Lucy pulled him away from the edge with a: “It can’t be.”

Then she ran off and Peter would always be the big brother that ran after her, while he yelled: “Lucy!”

“Don’t you see?” she asked, standing on a ruined platform.

Peter desperately didn’t want to see, but still asked: “What?” hoping the answer wouldn't be what he thought it was.

“Imagine walls, and columns there and a glass roof.” Lucy sounded excited about it as she pointed and made the other look at their former home.

Before his eyes the walls rebuilt themselves in his memory along with stolen moments and good times. He confirmed: “Cair Paravel.”

They explored the ruins of Cair Paravel as they wondered what could have possibly happened and how long they had been gone.

“Catapults.” Edmund suddenly said, looking down.

“What?” Peter choked, immediately all kinds of scenarios started to whirl in his head as Darian died a thousand horrible deaths in his minds eye.

“This didn’t just happen, Cair Paravel was attacked.” Edmund explained, taking his upset for confusion.

If there was a siege, perhaps their stuff from when they were young would have been taken as well, and Peter didn’t want tot think about what certain things could to in the wrong hands. He followed old routes easily and soon he and Edmund were clearing the way to the treasury room.

There was a bit of levity as Edmund tried to cheer him up with the flash-light. Peter smiled at his brother, he appreciated the gesture, but there was still a heaviness in his heart.

“I can’t believe it. It’s all still here.” he said, glad their weapons hadn’t been taken by whoever had done this as he approached his chest, while the others rushed to theirs as well.

Lucy pulled out a dress and exclaimed: “I was so tall!”

“Well, you were older then.” Susan replied.

“As opposed to hundreds of years later. When you are younger.” Edmund added and Peter felt a stab of pain go through his heart once more. He had returned, but he was too late. His lover was dead, his home was destroyed and he hadn’t seen any of his people.

In the background the others chattered on while Peter slowly drew his sword. It felt balanced in his hand as it had always done and he read the inscription out loud to himself: “When Aslan bears his teeth, winter meets its death.”

“And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.” Lucy finished, then the realization of what it all meant sank in on her as she said: “Everyone we knew: Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers, they’re all gone.”

“I think it’s time we found out what’s going on.” Peter said, before he fell to his knees to rummage around in his chest, hoping to find some clues or at least some better clothes to wear.

He ignored the wedding tunic in his chest as he blinked away the tears, he knew that they had saved a few clothes from their youth at the bottom and he assumed that with everything as they left it, those must be there was well.

With no new clues there, they set out to find someone they could talk to in the hope that a person could tell them more about what had happened, both to Narnia and Darian. Although Peter was privately more interested in one of the two.

They meet a dwarf, Trumpkin, who was only slightly helpful even after Edmund beat him in a duel and he believed they were who they said they were. Although they did get the clue that Telmarines had invaded their country and they had been called by their Prince, Caspian.

“They used to dance.” Lucy lamented once they were in the boat.

Trumpkin gave her a look and explained: “It wasn’t long after you left that the Telmarines invaded. Those that survived retreated so deeply to the woods. And the trees have retreated so deeply into themselves that no one has heard from them since.”

“I don’t understand. How could Aslan have let this happen?” Lucy exclaimed, before Peter could ask about Darian.

“Alsan?” Trumpkin said, “I thought he abandoned us after you lot did.”

“Who took our places. Was it Darian?” Peter asked.

“Who’s Darian?” Trumpkin asked in return, stomping on the last bit of hope Peter had as the chasm in his chest opened further.

“No one.” Peter said, ignoring the looks from his siblings as he told Trumpkin: “We didn’t mean to leave, you know.”

“Doesn’t make much of a difference now, does it.” Trumpkin told him and Peter was honestly starting to get annoyed at the dwarf.

“Get us to the Narnians and it will.” Peter said determinedly. Fighting he could do, just turn off his mind and ignore the loss until it was over. Aslan must have returned them with a reason, he could figure out what had happened to Darian on his own.

None of them had realized how bad it had truly gotten until their encounter with the bear. It was all wrong, this wasn’t their Narnia, not anymore.

They walked through overgrown lands, without structures that could point them in the right way. Peter was not in the best frame of mind, but he kept pushing onward, perhaps letting his bad mood flow out in harsh comments to his siblings and the newly acquired ‘DLF’.

His siblings seemed to understand and didn’t push him. He tried to ignore the guilt at his own words, but it was easy to allow himself to wallow in the feeling. Better guilt than that ever crushing heartbreak and grief.

He just needed to find Aslan, once they found him, he could tell the Lion about everything and plead for his love to return to him.

But then Lucy saw him, but they didn’t and a small part of Peter began to doubt if Aslan would even come, even care.

However, Lucy kept on believing, which wasn’t really discouraged with how they got over the gorge. Already annoyed Peter followed her as she walked away from their camp on her own and almost got herself killed.

Peter signaled her to be quiet as he walked up to the minotaur, but before he arrived someone else came out of nowhere and clashed swords with him.

The new person left Peter unbalanced and in shock. He looked so much like Darian that it was almost unnatural, he was also just as good with a sword and after a few years without practice, Peter was on his back before he knew it.

“Prince Caspian?” he asked, starting to put together who they must’ve ran into.

“Yes.” he answered, with a slight foreign accent, “And who are you?”

Right at that moment Susan came running, calling out his name along with Edmund and Trumpkin right behind her. With the name Caspian looked at the sword as his eyes grew wide: “High King Peter?”

Peter had gotten up and replied: “I believe you called.”

“Well, yes, but I thought you’d be older.” Caspian told him.

So did I, Peter thought, getting irrationally irritated at the boy who had stolen his lovers face. He answered: “Well, if you’d like, we can come back in a few years.”

“No! No, that’s alright.” Caspian came back on his words, “You’re just- you’re just not exactly what I had expected.”

“Neither are you.” Edmund told him, looking at the minotaur and Peter was glad he was here to talk to this prince.

“A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes.” a badger said and they all hadn’t been more glad to see a talking animal.

A mouse walked up to Peter and bowed, before pledging his service. There was a slight miscommunication when Lucy couldn't help but comment on the apparent cuteness of the mouse, but Peter was glad he was here.

“Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade.” he told the mouse.

He was even more glad when the mouse told him about the weapons they were gathering and told him as much: “Good, because we’re going to need every sword we can get.”

“Well, then, you’ll probably be wanting yours back.” Caspian offered him back his sword, the same expression on his face Darian would get whenever he had beaten Peter in combat. Wordlessly he snatched it back, before walking off. He did not want to be near this Caspian.

They were led to Aslans How and Caspian let them go in first. He apologized for the lack of luxury, but was ignored as Susan yelled: “Peter, you might want to see this.”

He ran up to her to see a carvings on the wall depicting the four of them. She looked at him and said: “It’s us.”

Next to him Lucy turned to Caspian and asked: “What is this place?”

“You don’t know?” Caspian asked with a frown and Peter kind of wanted to hit him, because of course they didn’t know, they had been away for so long that everything they did know had disappeared.

Still, he followed the prince as he showed them through the How to Aslans table. Peter silently hated seeing his face again after he pulled them back without giving him a chance to see his husband again.

Lucy saw his look and assured him: “He must know what he’s doing.”

“I think it’s up to us now.” Peter told her, not wanting to ruin her connection with Aslan, but also not in the mood to like the Lion or believe in him.

In the days after, he spent hours looking at the carvings. He still showed enough interest in all the other stuff to avoid suspicion from everyone that weren’t his siblings. But they knew who he was looking for on the walls.

There was nothing.

No clues, no tales, not even a mention. He knew this was about the four of them and Darian had only officially been part of the royal family for three years, but he couldn't imagine something so important being omitted.

Of course, there was also the option of the How being built by Darian in honor of their memory after he had left him behind, but that hurt too much to think off.

He only saw Caspian whenever he needed to do something about the war.

Peter didn’t know how he felt about that. On one hand, he was glad that he didn’t have to see that face without the person and the love he knew behind it, but on the other, he was desperate to imprint it in his mind while he still could.

Most of the time he was more glad. It was irrational to be mad at someone for not being the person you want them to be, but Peter still got angry whenever that accented voice spoke, instead of the kind teasing voice he knew.

So, he mostly ignored him and was glad of that fact.

Now, however he had to see it. Caspian had allowed him to speak, which had already irritated him, but he pushed it away to propose his plan: “Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us.”

“But that’s crazy, no one has ever taken that castle.” Caspian protested, too young to see the How for what really was.

“There is always a first time.” Peter told him, trying not to get irritated.

“We’ll have the element of surprise.” Trumpkin said, Peter was starting to like him more.

“But we have the advantage here.” Caspian argued.

“If we dig in, we could hold them off indefinitely.” Susan agreed with Caspian, making something flare up in Peters chest that he quickly pushed down.

“I for one feel safer underground.” the badger said.

Peter ignored the badger and turned to Caspian as he explained: “Look, I appreciate what you’ve done, but this isn’t a fortress, it’s a tomb.”

He had led enough sieges to know what starvation could do to people and with his own paintings on the walls it had never felt more like a final resting place, especially once you knew what had happened on that table.

“Yes, if the Telmarines are smart, they’ll starve us out.” Edmund agreed with Peter, he had always been a good right-hand man with a smart head on his shoulders and Peter was glad to have him on his side.

There was a bit of squabbling between the mouse, Reepicheep, and an squirrel, which Peter ignored in favor of asking Glenstorm: “If I can get your troops in, can you handle the guards?”

“Or die trying, my liege.” the centaur promised.

Peter was about to thank him when Lucy cut in: “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“What?” Peter asked, he appreciated Lucy’s input. He hadn’t forgotten how she had charged into battle alongside him and Edmund even if her body was too young to do so now.

“Well, you’re all acting like there are only two options: Dying here or dying there.” she said and Peter would really like to know what else she thought they could do, because in his eyes the situation was dire enough for a suicide mission and if he could save his men, he would.

Still, that third option was hard to believe and Peter already had a hard time believing these days, so he said: “I’m not sure, you’ve really been listening, Lu.”

“No, you’re not listening. Or have you forgotten who really defeated the White Witch.” she gestured to the Aslan mural on the wall.

He wanted to sigh. He knew Lucy had always had the most faith out of all of them, but couldn’t she see that Aslan had abandoned them? He did not care for this world or he would have never kicked them out, make him leave Darian behind.

It hadn’t even been Aslan who had pulled them back, just a harsh reminder that took the shape of a prince. Alsan wasn’t here anymore, it was up to them now.

“I think we’ve waited for Aslan long enough.” he told her, not missing the hurt look in her eyes, but he couldn't believe, not now, not after everything.

Peter had a plan to make, it had to be perfect or they were all doomed. He had to make sure this suicide run wasn’t for nothing.

When he finally realized he shouldn’t have given Caspian such an important roll, it was too late. He had allowed the face to make him over-calculate Caspians skills and now he was running off and ruining everything.

Getting to Miraz room and he was already there, ruining the plan by waking him. Caspian should have been ruthless. He was outnumbered, he couldn't afford to be dramatic, didn’t he see that? Beside all that, he wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Caspian, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be at the gatehouse.” Peter was going to kill him once they got out of here. What were their troops going to do now?

The prince ignored him as the situation got more and more out of hand.

By the time they got out the bells were already ringing and all the surprise they had on their side was gone, but Peter wasn’t about to abandoned ship like that, he wasn’t like Aslan. So he ran down a different hallway as he yelled at Susan: “Our army is just outside.

Then he was yelling at Edmund, loyal Edmund, who was where he was supposed to be: “Now, Ed, now! Signal the troops.”

Edmund yelled something back, but he couldn't hear it, since he was too busy with opening the gates.

“Peter, it’s too late. We have to call it off while we still can.” Susan was next to him, but she wasn’t helping.

“No, I can still do this. Help me.” Peter told her desperately, he could still do this, he could still save Narnia, he could still make up for what he had done to his people, to Darian. Didn’t Susan see that they had to make it right again?

She started helping him along with Caspian, who should’ve been here already. As they were opening the gate, she asked him: “Just who exactly are you doing this for, Peter?”

“You know who.” he mumbled to her, but then the gate was opened and their troops ran in, so he screamed: “For Narnia.”

Then all around them there was the all too familiar chaos of battle. People were falling left and right from both sides, but they had to make it through.

“Get that gate closed.” he heard from above and soon enough the gate started to close.

Asterius was holding open the gates and it was too late. They had failed in seizing the castle. He yelled: “Fall back! Retreat!”

Glenstorm charged past, swinging Susan onto his back as she screamed at him: “Caspian.”

Peter looked around to see the idiot prince missing and he yelled back: “I’ll find him.”

Frantically he looked around for the missing Caspian. He’d hated him, still hated him, but he couldn't fail him. He was too much like Darian and he did not need to know how his husband would’ve looked like once he was dead.

A wave of relief crashed over him when he saw Caspian on horseback with an older man, presumably the professor he had wanted to free.

With that solved he set to retreating himself as well. Right as he was through the gate, Asterius collapsed and he looked back to the troops trapped inside with horror. They were going to get slaughtered.

He wanted to go back, go help them. As High King he should go back for them, he couldn't abandon his troops, but they also couldn't loose him. Then Caspian would be in charge and they would never survive with him.

Hot rage burned through his veins as he fled. Better rage than grieve and loss, he told himself, just push it down, don’t think about it.

They returned to the How lesser in number with no victory under their belts. Peter had ignored Caspian and Susan on the way back along with most of the troops that hadn’t been wounded.

“What happened?” Lucy asked, face horrified.

“Ask him.” Peter spat, nodding to Caspian.

“Peter.” Susan chided, and of course she did. She never took his side in this sort of thing, just like during the fight when she had insisted Caspian could still get to the gate in time. Like that had gone over so great.

“Me?” Caspian sounded indignant, “You could have called it off. There was still time.”

“No, there wasn’t thanks to you.” Peter shouted at him, “You’re too emotional and inexperienced for battle. You might as well have killed them with your own hands. If you’d stuck to the plan, those soldiers would still be alive right now.”

“And, if you’d just stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be.” Caspian yelled back, like Peter hadn’t explained to him why they couldn't stay there.

“You called us, remember. You called us, because you couldn't handle it on you own.” Peter spat at him.

“My first mistake.” Caspian bit back.

“No, your first mistake was thinking you could lead these people.” Peter told him coldly, “You abandoned them in the middle of the fight when they needed you most, for a personal vendetta, great leadership.”

“Hey! You abandoned Narina first, in case you have forgotten.” Caspian yelled back, the words cutting through Peter like a knife.

“You think I abandoned my home? Think I left my life behind on purpose?” Peters stare was ice, “I was forced out. Stuck. Back into the body of child. Left in a world that wasn’t my own anymore, tossed to the side, like my people here, who got invaded by your people, in case YOU have forgotten. You have no more right to it than Miraz does. You, him, your father. Narnia is better off without the lot of you.”

Caspian had no response to that and just yelled as he drew his blade. Peter didn’t mind, he was mostly back in shape and he would love to beat the others face in, no matter how much it would hurt. He had seen his love bleeding on the battlefield before, he could bear it.

They were stopped by Edmund, before anything could really happened and when Trumpkin was healed, Peter stormed off. He needed to be alone right now.

He had been planning to yell at Aslans mural when he saw Caspian, hand outstretched to the White Witch as she beckoned him close. His eyes grew wide as a hand squeezed his heart tighter. He ran towards Caspian, Edmund and Trumpkin on his heels, and yelled: “Stop.”

There was a fight, but he heard the White Witch call Caspian and he couldn't let it happen, not again, not her.

He pushed Caspian away, another person echoing through his mind, as he yelled at her: “Get away from him.”

But then he was stood in front on her and she gave him such a pitying look as she said: “Peter, dear, I have missed you. Come on, just a drop. You know you can’t do it alone.”

Peter tried to fight her and although he wasn’t moving away, he also wasn’t giving in. She reached for him and whispered: “I can get him back for you. Darian was such a darling.”

A shock went through his body as a bit more fight drained out of him and he hesitated before lowering his sword. He wanted to give in so badly, to be able to return to the arms of his lover, have him by his side again, smiling and making him laugh with a stupid joke.

Then the wall shattered and the White Witch disappeared, leaving only Edmund standing there, looking as kingly as Peter remembered him to be.

If it had been anyone but Edmund he would have gotten mad, now he just looked defeated as his little brother told him: “I know. You had it sorted.”

Edmund left and now it was just Caspian and Peter along with the remnants of the ice where the White Witch had stood. Caspian sagged to the ground and buried his head in his head as he took a few shaky breaths.

He looked so unlike Darian, whom he had only known as self assured and happy, and after that Peter could hardly blame him for almost giving in. So, he sat down next to him and looked at the carving of Aslan with him.

“She offered me my uncles head on a platter.” Caspian softly confessed after a few minutes of silence, “It seemed so easy, just shake her hand this would all be over.”

“I know how that feels, Edmund knows it too. Happens to the best of us.” Peter comforted him.

“Edmund?” Caspian asked.

“Not my tale to tell.” Peter answered.

“Oh.” it was quiet for a few seconds, then Caspian asked: “What did she offer you?”

For a moment Peter considered not telling him, but the prince had told him and he needed his trust if their last stance against Miraz was going to be a success. So he said: “She offered me help, for all this. And,” he hesitated, “and a chance to see my husband again.”

“Your husband?” Caspian exclaimed surprised.

“I know we don’t look it, but when we left Narnia I was thirty. Lucy was already twenty-seven, if you can believe that.” he told him, “When we returned to our world we were the same age as when we entered. It has just been a few years for us there, not centuries.”

“That explains some things, I am sorry.” Caspian said, “I did not know you had been married.”

“No need to apologize. It seems like no one remembers him.” Peter said sadly, then he sighed: “I just wish to know what happened to him.”

It was silent again, then Caspian asked: “What was his name. What was he like?”

That was the first time someone had asked him that. All his siblings had known Darian and no one back in their world knew of him, nor anyone here.

A bit of happiness floated up in his chest that he could talk to someone about him, without getting a pitying look.

“His name was Darian,” Peter smiled softly, “He was amazing. He was kind and funny and good with a sword, beat me the first time we met at a tournament. We were married for three years before I disappeared. He looked a lot like you actually, but different accent. Perhaps I put some of my grief about him on you, for that I apologize.”

Caspian thought over his words, before he replied: “He sounds like a lovely person. I can understand how being thorn from your word and pushed back with healing scars and no explanation can leave one irritated. I do not hold it against you.”

“And for that I thank you.” Peter told him.

“No need to thank me.” Caspian said, “This might not be anything, but all I have learned about Narnia came from professor Cornelius, I can ask him if he know something about what happened to your husband.”

“If you did so, I would forever be in your debt.” Peter smiled.

“Like I can ever repay you for helping me, High King Peter.” Caspian replied.

“Call me, Peter.” Peter told him, “It looks like you’re going to be my equal if we make it out, might as well start acting like it.”

“Alright then, Peter.” Caspian said, smiling as well.

They leaned back against the table and Caspian asked: “Can you tell me more about back then? About the Golden Age? I hear so much, but know so little. I wish to know more about this land if I am to rule it one day.”

“It will be my pleasure.” Peter told him as he started telling Caspian about the rebuilding of their home, the wars, the feasts, the treaties and the small moments of peace.

Late at night after many tales from back then, Caspian thanked him once more, before he retreated for the night. Peter stayed there in front of Aslan as he wondered if he would ever return to them and if he could do what the White Witch had promised.

He was still sitting there the next day when Lucy sat down next to him and looked up at Aslan as well.

“You’re lucky, you know that.” Peter broke the silence.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“To have seen him. I wish he’d just give me some kind of proof.” Peter sighed, “All I have is a too small army and no clue how Darian died.”

Tears sprung in his eyes and Lucy threw one arm over his shoulders as she said: “Maybe we’re the ones who need to prove ourselves to him.”

He looked at her and could see the smart woman she had been, who had kept hope in the hearts of their men and themselves. Lucy always had the most faith, if she still believed it would be alright, it had to be.

Maybe he couldn't believe in Aslan right now, but he could believe in Lucy.

Before he could reply to her, however, Edmund stormed in. He looked tense as he said: “Pete, you better come quickly.”

Then he hurried away again as Peter and Lucy rushed after him. Outside the Telmarine troops marched. The waiting time was over, they needed a plan and quick.

Luckily, the faith he had placed in Lucy wasn’t for nothing and she had a plan. Now they just needed to hold Miraz off for as long as they could.

“Cakes and kettledrums! That’s your next big plan? Sending a little girl into the darkest parts of the forest alone?” Trumpkin wasn’t happy with Lucys plan it seemed.

“You forget she is Queen Lucy the Valiant, my friend.” Peter said, “It’s our only hope and I trust her to come through.”

“And she won’t be alone.” Susan added.

“Haven’t enough died already.” Trumpkin was certain this plan was doomed.

At least the badger, Trufflehunter, was there to calm him: “Nikabrik was my friend too, but he lost hope. Queen Lucy hasn’t and neither have I.”

He seemed to have the right idea Peter thought approvingly. Reepicheep chanted: “For Aslan.”

And a bear echoed, with that settled Peter turned to the next point, keeping Miraz troops away from the forest. Behind him he heard Trumpkin say: “I’m coming with you.”

“No, we need you here.” Lucy told him, she knew war well enough to know each and every soldier counted.

“We need to hold them off until Lucy and Susan get back.” he said, looking over the map and calculating their numbers, knowing they didn’t have enough.

“If I may?” Caspian stepped forwards.

Peter would have shut him down by now before, but he knew Caspian was trying to win, trying to be a leader worthy of Narnia. And he had the same pleading eyes Darian had had, which he never had been able to refuse.

So he allowed him to speak.

“Miraz might be a tyrant and a murderer, but as King, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people. There is one particular thing that may buy us some time.” Caspian said as he began to explain his plan.

Grinning Peter told Edmund to start writing a duel challenge, his brother had a way with words, so he only gave the order: “Make it sting.”

Edmund grinned in return and before Peter knew it they were anxiously awaiting his little brothers return. Beside him Caspian asked: “Is he going to be alright?”

Peter glanced over and saw genuine concern. He smiled and assured Caspian: “Ed is always alright in these sort of things. I once witnessed him insult the entire royal house of the Lonely Islands, before he convinced them to surrender to us, without them even noticing.”

“Really?” Caspian asked with big eyes.

“Jup, really.” Peter confirmed with a proud grin.

In the How behind them Trumpkin was making sure Lucy and Susan would be on their way safely, before joining Peter and Caspian just in time for Edmunds return.

Peter got ready for his fight, knowing that Glenstorm was keeping an eye on the forest to make sure his sisters would be safe. He knew they were deadly on their own, but the big brother instinct stopped him from leaving them unguarded.

In front of him Miraz said: “There is still time to surrender.”

“Well, feel free.” Peter had won enough fights not to be intimidated by a man with a metal beard on his helmet.

“How many more must die for the throne?” Miraz asked him, trying to get a rise out of him.

Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes as he replied: “Just one.”

Then the fight started for real, swords swinging through the air as they clashed. He and Miraz were dancing around each other, looking for any weak spots. Muscle memory took over for the most part, but his body wasn’t the same as the last time he’d been here.

He made a wrong step and was on his back, tripping over Miraz feet. He kept rolling to break his fall, but Miraz stepped on his shield and his arm twisted, making him cry out in pain.

Trying to get away, he kept on blocking, but it wasn’t looking good. It was a stroke of luck he managed to trip up Miraz as well.

Both got up quickly and he saw Glenstorm riding with Susan on his back. Caspain gave him a short nod, before rushing towards them, giving him a thumbs up, but Peters attention was already back on Miraz, who asked: “Does his highness need a respite?”

“Five minutes.” he needed to know what happened to Lucy.

“Three.” Miraz said and Peter was willing to take that.

They limped back to their respective sides and slumped in their seats. With fear in his eyes he asked: “Lucy?”

“She got through, with a little help.” Susan told him, nodding to Glenstorm.

“Thank you.”

Glenstorm bowed his head: “It was my honor and duty, but your sister oversells it, they did not need much help.”

Peter turned back to Susan and nodded to the How: “Better get up there, just in case. I don’t expect the Telmarines will keep their word.”

Susan quickly hugged him, making him wince in pain. She let go if burned and softly apologized, he waved it away and assured her he was alright.

“Take care.” she told him.

“Keep smiling.” Edmund said next to him, signaling to him that he was being watched and shouldn’t show weakness.

“I think it’s dislocated.” he told Edmund, then he a sudden thought came up in him “What do you think happens back home if you die here? Would I go to the same afterlife as- …You know, you’ve always been there, after Darian. I never really-”

His thank you and maybe farewell speech was cut off by Edmund, who relocated his shoulder and sternly said: “Save it for later.”

It wasn’t the first time they gave each others words that might become their last, but Edmund knew Peter could survive this and he wasn’t about to listen while the other talked himself into a spiral that could effect his performance.

And with that the fight started again. It was harsh and it hurt, but Peter was managing this time around. He had been able to study how his opponent fought and was ready with some new strategies to try.

He practically had Miraz when the man yelled: “Respite! Respite!”

“Now is not the time for chivalry, Pete.” Edmund shouted from behind and Peter knew this. Still, he hesitated. He was High King Peter the Magnificent, it would be wrong to kill a man unarmed, he had won.

Edmund might be Just, but he could be a cold blooded judge and had always fared better in backroom backstabbing than duels, which said a lot seeing that he was already an amazing duelist.

Peter lowered his sword and walked away. The moment his back was turned Edmund began to shout: “Look out!”

He dodged just in time and cursed himself, how many times did he have to learn to listen to Edmund before that lesson stuck? His little brother had proved himself to be wise beyond Peter many times and still he forgot.

But, Miraz was weakened and Peter was not intending to stop right now. With a few blows he had the self-proclaimed King on his knees before him.

“What’s the matter boy? Too cowardly to take a life?” he asked tauntingly, not realizing that the boy in front of him was way more than he seemed.

Looking back Peter was every inch the High King he claimed to be as he said: “I am not cowardly and I have taken many lives on many different battlefields. I just know when a life is not mine to take.”

He offered Caspian the sword, who took it with determination. He had earned this kill, if he wanted it, it was his for the taking. He raised the sword slowly as his uncle told him: “Perhaps I was wrong. It seems you have the making of a good Telmarine King after all.”

Caspian screamed and plunged the sword into the soil. There was fury in his eyes as he said: “Not one like you. Keep your life, but I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom.”

As he walked back to them everyone cheered, but Peter and Edmund exchange looks. They had just seen how treacherous a Telmarine could be with your backed turned to them and they did not trust them to keep theirs turned.

Soon they were proven right as Miraz died at the hands of one of his own men and the troops were called to arms anyway.

Peter quickly found Caspians eyes and the prince nodded at him self assured, before he rode back into the How, while Peters heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t seen Darians eyes this time, but still there was that reaction as he started to count.

The fight was brutal and Peter was keeping a strong face because he had to, because he couldn't fail once more. He couldn't disappoint Lucy or Caspian or Edmund or Susan or any of the men under his care, he needed to keep them safe for Aslans sake.

With no Lucy in sight, however, there was no other choice. He called out: “Back to the How,” he wouldn't make the same mistake twice, they were retreating. Now.

But their escape was cut off as the How collapsed and there was no other choice than turn back to face the Telmarines once more. With Edmund by his side and Caspian on the other of the battlefield they charged again.

Then the battlefield was filled with trees and Peter smiled to himself, not all hope was lost. He rushed over to where he had seen Caspian last and pulled him up with a grin that was returned. Looking back to the fight he shouted: “For Aslan!”

And they charged again, making the Telmarines retreat back to the river, where they were intercepted by what could only be Aslan and Lucy.

With the Telmarines dealt with, the three of them and Caspian knelt before Aslan as they waited for him to speak: “Rise, Kings and Queens of Narnia.”

Everyone except Caspian rose, surprising Peter, but also making a wave of pride surge through him when Caspian responded to Aslan with: “I do no think I am ready.”

And he could not agree more with the Lion as he said: “It’s for that very reason that I know you are.”

After that they got interrupted by Reepicheep and his friends, while Peter threw an arm around Caspians shoulders and smiled at him, getting one in return, before he let go.

Then the four of them were busy helping Caspian set up and make everything go more smoothly. He at least had the luck that there was already a system in place that he could mold to fit the current situation instead of having to start anew, but it was still a lot of work.

Peter and Caspian were almost constantly together and Peter had grown very fond of the pri- uhm, King.

With very fond, he meant he had fallen for him and he had fallen hard, but he did not want to burden the young man with it, for it felt he was projecting Darian onto him, which would be unfair to him.

Still that did not stop his eyes from lingering and his lips from smiling as he found himself seeking out Caspians company more often. Finding he had a bigger sense of humor than the dire situation they had met in, had allowed.

He still missed Darian so much, but it felt like the salt was removed from the wound and he could start to heal now. He had asked Aslan about him, but the Lion had only responded: “He died peacefully in bed, trying to care for Narnia the best he could.”

“Can you bring him back?” he had asked as well.

“Maybe if you look he is already here.” Aslan had said mysteriously, “All will be revealed later, do not worry, Peter.”

And with that he had left Peter to his own.

Now he and Susan were walking through the courtyard and she commented lightly: “So you and Caspian have grown close.”

He blushed and replied: “I have become quite fond of him, I must confess. But I fear I might only see him as replacement and I cannot do that to him, he deserves better.”

“You really have a magnificent heart.” she teased him, but there was truth in her statement.

“And you are too gentle, Su.” he told her.

Before she could say something else, they were interrupted by Caspian, who called out: “We are ready. Everyone has assembled.”

They hurried to the tree where Caspian addressed his people: “Narnia belongs to the Narnians just as it does to man. Any Telmarines who want to stay and live in peace are welcome to. And for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers.”

One of the Lords called out: “It has been generations since we left Telmar.”

“We are not referring to Telmar.” Aslan took over, “Your ancestors were sea-faring brigands, pirates run aground on an island. There they found a cave, a rare chasm that brought them here from their world, the same world as our Kings and Queens. It is to that island I can return you. It is a good place for any who wish to make a new start.”

It was quiet for a moment, then Gozelle stated: “I’ll go. I will accept the offer.”

Next to him Prunaprisma stepped forwards as well with her child and said: “So will we.”

“Because you have spoken first, your future in that world will be good.” Aslan told them as the tree unwrapped into a portal through which they disappeared.

“How do we know he is not leading us to our deaths?” someone from the crowd called out.

“Sire, if my example can be of any service, I will take eleven mice through with no delay.” Reepicheep said with a bow to Aslan.

“I can go.” Peter offered.

He got looks from his siblings and Lucy frowned: “Why Peter? You love it here, this is your home, do you want to leave? Go back to where they hate you for nothing?”

Peter gave her a sad look: “I do love it here and I do not want to go, but these people need to be assured and I leave this place in good hands. Beside, there is a lot of hurt for me here too, I do not even know where my husband is buried, Lu.”

“So you have not figured it out yet.” Aslan asked.

“I tried, Aslan, I did. I searched high and low, but there is no headstone here.” Peter told him.

“What is he talking about, Peter?” Susan asked.

“He told me Darian is already here, but I cannot find him and the search is hurting. I want to believe, but I do not wish to chase false fantasies and keep opening up a wound that should be healing.” Peter explained.

“My dear boy.” Aslan said, “In my land people can choose to stay there if they wish or be reborn to find their true love again.”

Peters eyes grew wide as the meaning of what had just been revealed to him sunk in. It was no miracle he had been brought back now, that the person he met with a duel wore the face of his lover and reminded him so terribly of Darian.

He turned to Caspian is shock, who wore the same expression on his face as he too, realized what had just been said.

“Is that really true?” Caspian asked Aslan, “Was I Darian in a former life?”

Aslan nodded and Peter started crying. Unsure of what to do Caspian approached and softly said: “If you cannot love me back that is okay and I shall let you return to the world you came from without protest.”

“Love you back?” Peter asked, hope building up in his chest.

Caspian blushed and it was even prettier than he remembered as he admitted: “Well, I never claimed I make the best decisions when it comes to love.”

He could not know how achingly similar it was to the last time he had confessed and more tears flowed out of Peters eyes as he embraced Caspian. He quietly asked: “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Nodding Caspian pulled back and allowed Peter to bring their lips together as they kissed softly, a thousand words hidden in a kiss.

When they pulled back people cheered and Peter saw his siblings smile at him. Both of them blushed scarlet, but could stop the big grins from taking over their features as they stuck close together, hands fitting perfectly in one another.

Aslan turned to the crowd and said: “I myself shall walk through the portal. After I am through, it shall remain open for a day, then it shall close forever. Think wisely of whether you go and what you bring with you.”

Then he turned to the siblings and said: “I was truly an honor to have met you. You shall help the new King greatly. Till we meet again.”

Lucy embraced him in a big hug, tears falling down her face as she clutched his manes tightly and said: “Thank you, Aslan. Goodbye.”

The others also said goodbye to the Lion, before he roared to his people and walked through the portal without looking back. He was not needed for now, he had left his kingdom in the right hands and he could only look forward to a better future.

[the-hidden-writer]

A Second Chance: Chapter 6

An Ace Attorney fanfic. Read on both AO3 and FF.net!

Summary: Miles learns the identity of his “dead” mother, and the aftermath of that revelation is a tricky one. Especially when his newfound little sister is trying to turn him into a spirit medium.

AKA Miles is a Fey. Miles also doesn’t really know how to family properly.

[Chapter 1] | [Chapter 2] | [Chapter 3] | [Chapter 4] | [Chapter 5]

Comments make my day! :D

The Cousin

“She did what?”

Maya felt like tugging her hair out as she paced around the couch, flapping her hands about as if doing so would fix all her problems. After her super abrupt phone call with Pearl, she’d practically ran to Phoenix to relay what happened. Long story short, it hadn’t gone well. 

“I don’t know, Nick! I just started telling her and then she ran off crying!”

Phoenix looked just as puzzled as she felt.

“Did you tell her gently?” He suggested, but by his accusatory tone of voice Maya was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“I was excited, okay?!”

“Fine, fine…” Phoenix sighed, leaning back. “I get that.”

After a few seconds, Maya slumped onto the couch next to him. “No, you’re right,” she admitted, uncharacteristically quiet, “I should’ve been more sensitive.”

Phoenix opened his mouth to argue, but Maya cut him off.

“I should’ve realized it would be different for her.”

She honestly felt like she should have known, but she’d been so tied up in her own self-justified excitement that she’d failed to even think about what it would mean for Pearl, and for everyone else in general. 

“Wait,” said Phoenix, interrupting her thoughts, “why would it be different for her? She’s met Edgeworth before and she was fine with him. I know he can be a bit… intimidating, but still, I wouldn’t run away screaming.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t.” Maya couldn’t help but laugh. 

Phoenix gave her an extremely pointed what’s-that-supposed-to-mean look.

“No, it’s just that…” Maya began awkwardly, before letting out a small sigh. It wasn’t a nice subject to talk about, but it had to be done. “Look, I’ve told you about how the village doesn’t have the best history with men, right?”

Phoenix nodded gravely. 

“Well,” she continued, trying to find the right words, “when we were young, Aunt Morgan liked to drill it into our heads that ‘all men tied to the Fey clan are evil’. If she ever caught us talking about them we’d get told off.” She paused, lost in the memories. It made sense why her aunt would think that, now that she knew about Dahlia and Iris. “Now I never really took any of her lectures to heart, but Pearly…”

“...she would cling onto those words for life.” Phoenix finished. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“I just don’t get it though!” Maya whined. “Like you said, she knows Edgeworth, it shouldn’t be such a big deal.”

Phoenix scratched his chin in thought. “Remember, she doesn’t know him as well as we do though, she’s still intimidated by him.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t be.” She replied instinctively, before slowly turning her head to look Phoenix directly in the eyes. He gave her That Look again.

“Why not just take him over to Kurain so they can talk it out?” He suggested, after a few uncomfortable seconds. “He can get to see her properly, and Pearls can see that he’s a pretty cool dude. Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Nah, that won’t work.” Maya replied. “Aunt Morgan’s not the only one who has a thing against men, and suddenly bringing in Edgeworth and telling everyone he’s the master’s brother probably won’t end well.”

Maya noticed Phoenix’s wince but didn’t mention it. She’d paraded into Kurain Village with him by her side many times, and it’s true that some of the women had been… less than polite toward him.

“Well you can’t just leave it at that.” He said. “Miles is gonna want to speak to her eventually, and you don’t want her screaming as soon as she sees him.” “Yeah, I know, but I just don’t know how!” Maya huffed.

“I could talk to her?” He offered. 

“No way! If you do, she’ll think I sent you, and when she’s angry she will go to surprising lengths to avoid people.” Pearls had once climbed an entire mountain to avoid having a bath. It was not something to be taken lightly.

“So what you’re saying is, we have to fix this from far away. Great.” Phoenix groaned.

“Actually,” Maya jumped suddenly, her eyes lighting up, “that’s exactly what we need to do! And I have a plan of how we’re gonna do it.”

Phoenix cringed at Maya’s newfound determination. Maya’s plans tended to be quite dramatic, to say the least. They also happened to be really hard to talk her out of doing them.

“What are we going to do?” He asked unenthusiastically.

“If we want to get them to talk it out properly, we’re gonna need a secret weapon!”

“Secret weapon?” Phoenix asked, fear creeping into his voice.

Maya pushed him to one side, sprung up from the couch, darted across the room, and grabbed a notepad and pen. 

“Yeah! Trust me Nick, with this, Pearly and Edgeworth will be best friends by the end of the week!”

~._-_.~

“Hey pal! Over here!”

Detective Gumshoe waved frantically from the station platform at his target who was peeking at him behind the phone booth.

“M-Mr Detective!” Called Pearl Fey as she slowly made her way toward him, tugging at her robes.

Gumshoe noted that the poor girl’s eyes were puffy and swollen, and he guessed it was probably from rubbing them too much. Poor kid. At first he’d thought that Maya had been exaggerating about her being upset, but apparently not. 

It only made him more determined to complete his mission.

“Hey, sweetheart! A little birdie told me that you were feeling down, so you’re old pal Dick Gumshoe’s here to cheer you up!”

Pearl looked hesitant, and Gumshoe thought that he maybe shouldn’t have shouted so loud. He didn’t want to frighten her, after all.

“Are you the surprise Mystic Soma told me about?” She asked.

Gumshoe nodded with enthusiasm. “Uh huh! And I’ve planned a whole day of fun! Just you wait little missy, we’re gonna turn that frown upside down!” He demonstrated this using his own face and some strange noises to accompany them.

People had always told him he was good with kids, but he’d always replied by saying he was just doing his job as a friendly citizen. But as he watched Pearl’s nervous face crack open into a fit of giggles, before getting covered with her hands when she was overcome with embarrassment, he half-believed them.

After that, it wasn’t that hard to convince her to come with him, but they’d gone to double check with her guardians first. He already had permission but he needed an excuse to use up the time before the next train. He also managed to get a free cup of tea with it.

He was slightly concerned, when the train finally arrived, that Pearl was so confident in navigating it herself that she ran off inside without him. He was on a mission dammit, he couldn’t fail at the very start!

Truth is, when Maya and Phoenix first enlisted him for this task the day before, he hadn’t had much time to prepare and think things through. Luckily for him though, they already seemed to have things all planned out. He hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to it of course (especially once Maya so kindly offered that Phoenix could pay for the train tickets) but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. There was a lot on the line.

All he could do was hope that it all worked out.

The train ride itself wasn’t anything special. He made sure to regularly ask Pearl a random question so she wouldn’t get bored, but toward the end they’d ended up bouncing up and down in their seats, singing the songs he’d taught her on the journey. The small handful of other passengers had sent them plenty of annoyed glares, but he was used to it and she didn’t seem to notice. They had fun and that was all that mattered. The fun didn’t stop there, though. 

Once they arrived, Gumshoe let Pearl sit in the passenger seat as he drove around the city. He wasn’t sure how much she’d already seen but thought a tour couldn’t hurt. 

He also didn’t have enough money to take her inside anywhere special, so a tour would have to do.

Pearl spent most of the time gazing out of the open window in awe. She was familiar with the streets around the courthouse, and the pair stopped for a moment outside to see if they could hear any heated arguments from inside. They obviously couldn’t, but it was fun nonetheless. 

He purposely avoided driving past Wright & Co Law Offices because he was supposed to be providing a distraction. 

Time passed surprisingly quickly, and it was a good few hours before he noticed Pearl start to fidget and wiggle around in her seat. Sighing, Gumshoe checked the time. 4:26pm. Almost time.

“Hey kid, wanna go to the park?”

Pearl looked up at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s a park?”

It took every bit of effort in his bones to not slam down the break right then and there. Alas, this did mean that he couldn’t hide the look of abject horror on his face.

“You’ve never been to a park?” He asked incredulously. 

“I don’t think so?” Pearl replied, shuffling in her seat. “Maybe I have, but I don’t know what it is. I’m sorry.”

“Right, that’s it.” Gumshoe grit his teeth together and thrust his foot onto the gas. “We’re going to the park this second and you’re gonna get to play there if it's the last thing I do.”

He might’ve been speeding, probably was in hindsight, but whilst caught up in his determination he didn’t notice. Anyways, it was more important to let this little girl experience a park as soon as humanly possible. 

And oh, the look on Pearl’s face when they went inside the park. Her eyes shone with wonder, she jumped up to touch the leaves whenever they walked under a tree, and as soon as the play area came into view she tugged at his trenchcoat and pointed shyly.

“Can I go play there?”

“Knock yourself out!” He said instinctively, before hastily adding “I mean go play as much as you want, I’ll be over here. That’s just a way of speaking.” after Pearl’s jaw dropped in shock.

She really was a sheltered kid, huh.

He sat on the bench and watched her play for another hour. She was surprisingly agile, and she was scrambling across the jungle gyms meant for kids double her age. He almost had a heart attack when she bolted to the monkey bars and began to swing across them as good as any monkey, speeding past the other children leaving them gaping at her in amazement. Or maybe fear. He couldn’t speak for them, but he was definitely terrified of this nine-year-old.

When she eventually tired herself out, she joined him on the bench. Gumshoe thinks that in the few hours they’ve spent together, he’s just made a friend for life.

“Hey,” He leaned in close to her ear, and whispered: “wanna get some ice cream?”

“Yes please!” Pearl squealed, clapping her hands together happily; a stark contrast to the sad little girl he’d met at the station.

He bought her a vanilla cone covered top to bottom with rainbow sprinkles, and she asked him multiple times if it was actually edible and if she was the one meant to eat it. 

What he didn’t tell her was that he wasn’t going to have dinner that night, but one little girl’s happiness was well worth the price of one little meal. He was starting to get sick of instant noodles anyways.

While she was busy eating (her face scrunched up whenever she licked it because of the cold, and he found it absolutely adorable) Gumshoe kept on anxiously checking his watch. The face was cracked slightly, but he could still tell the time so it was all good. It was about 5:50pm, which meant that his target would appear any time now. He wasn’t sure where exactly, but he kept his eyes peeled.

After a heated debate with Pearl about how ice cream was made, he spotted him. He was sitting with his back to them on a bench on the other side of the playing field. He looked like any other stranger wearing a black coat from that distance, but Gumshoe’s eyes were trained to seek him out at all times. And there he was, right on schedule.

“Hey Pearl, wanna piggyback?” He asked once she’d finished her treat.

“Yeah!”

“Hop on!”

He stood up and bent down in front of the bench, which Pearl used as a boost to stand on before leaping onto his back. She was light, and even Gumshoe’s own nieces weighed twice as much as she did. He grinned.

“Ready? Here we GO!”

They ploughed through the playing field, whooping, and Pearl bounced up and down with each stride. When Gumshoe noticed their target standing up to leave, he forced himself to go even faster.

“MR EDGEWORTH SIR!”

Edgeworth’s head snapped in their direction and he dropped his briefcase in surprise. The man was positively shocked to see them, and Gumshoe felt a twinge of guilt for maybe/probably ruining his ‘much needed alone time’. 

“D-Detective?!”

“Um, Mr Gummy?” Pearl tugged at the collar of his coat. “Where are we going?”

She’d stopped cheering and now her voice sounded frightened. Gumshoe felt lucky that he couldn’t see her face right then, or he might’ve ended up abandoning the mission altogether.

“Just gonna go talk to a friend.” He replied, as cheerfully as he could. “He’s super cool, he’s the best guy I know!”

He felt the back of his collar get tugged again. “I d-don’t want to…”

Seeing as they were almost there, Gumshoe gradually slowed his pace to get his breath back.

“Don’t worry,” he huffed, “it’ll only be for a minute.”

“Detective, what are you doing here?” Edgeworth asked once they were close enough to not shout to be heard. Then his eyes settled on the young girl trying to hide behind Gumshoe’s scruffy mass of hair. 

“Pearls!” He said, eyes wide. Then, to Gumshoe in a stage whisper that sounded a lot more like a hiss of a snake: “Does she know?”

Gumshoe nodded happily. “‘Course she does! You know who Mr Edgeworth is, don’t you Pearly?” He felt her climb higher onto his back and guessed she was nodding.

Edgeworth’s eyes were unblinking and his lips were parted slightly as he stared at the girl on his back. Gumshoe had done his job, now he just had to wait and see if the mission was successful.

“Hello Pearls,” Edgeworth said hesitantly, extending every syllable. “How er-, how are you?”

Without warning, Gumshoe felt Pearl slide off his back in an instant and didn’t have time to process what was happening before she was charging toward Edgeworth, fist raised. She struck him in the stomach causing him to double over in pain.

“You abandoned Mystic Maya!” She shrieked, throwing another punch onto the already-winded Edgeworth.

“Watch out sir!” Gumshoe cried ten seconds too late.

“You left Mystic Maya all alone and she cried about her family and you didn’t help her!” Pearl shouted, still throwing punches. “And she trusted you!”

“I-I didn’t know- OOF” Edgeworth wheezed, before letting out a groan as his thigh was slapped particularly hard. Gumshoe desperately wanted to pull her off him, but wasn’t facing problems the best way to solve them? So he held back until she aimed for a nasty spot to punch, because then he hastily grabbed her and pulled her back.

Pearl was crying now. “You sh-should have been there for her!” She wailed.

“I’m sorry,” said Edgeworth while he regained his breath, “I am really sorry Pearl, but I honestly didn’t know. If I’d known then-”

He cut himself off and looked down in… shame? Gumshoe watched him in concern. He didn’t seem interested in finishing his point though and instead crouched down to her level.

“I didn’t know.” He repeated, gracefully pressing a hand against his heart. “But I promise that I’ll try to make it up to her. Will you allow me to do that?”

Pearl sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “Y-You really didn’t know?”

Edgeworth nodded slowly.

She brushed her tears away, all cried out, and grabbed onto Gumshoe’s coat. “Did your dad know?”

At first, Edgeworth huffed in disbelief, before his face softened. “Yes, I think he did. But he loved Maya, Mia and their mother very much and didn’t have a choice to leave them. He passed away when they were young, and didn’t get the chance to tell me.”

As far as Gumshoe knew, Edgeworth had no way of knowing any of what he’d just said. It also then occurred to him that he was a very good liar. Had he been lied to before without realizing it? 

They stood there in tense silence for a few moments, waiting for Pearl to react.

“You’re not lying?” She asked quietly. “No.”

Lie or not, it seemed to work, and all of a sudden she let go of her grip on his coat and darted towards Edgeworth, wrapping him tightly in a cuddle that looked like it was squeezing the life out of him.

“I-I’m sorry!” She wailed again from within his chest. “I thought you left on purpose! Mom said everyone leaves to hurt us and I thought you did as well and I’m sorry-”

As she rambled into his torso, Edgeworth was as stiff as a statue. His hands were frozen a few inches away from Pearl’s back. They were shaking, as if unsure whether to touch her or not. His eyes were pointed at Gumshoe, desperately begging for help, pleading for him to intervene and just say something, anything, but he didn’t. So he was just left to squat there awkwardly as a little girl cried into him.

Gumshoe watched on from the side, feeling a wave of pride wash over him. 

“Um, Pearl?” Said Edgeworth, once Pearl had finished her long apology. “Would you like to go and see Maya?”

Pearl shuffled away and turned to Gumshoe, who nodded gleefully. She looked back at Edgeworth and nodded.

“Right then.” He said, standing up and brushing himself off. “We’ll go to Wright’s office.”

“Mr Eh-ji-worth?”

“Yes, Pearls?”

“Please can I go with Mr Gummy in his car?”

Gumshoe smiled. Mission accomplished.