#since this is now confirmed not a task most likely option for next suit + first task is carousel

[nikkiissleepy]

good news: theres no win/lose to worry about, u can get max currency (5) from every try by getting an S from War Prep, which can be retried for free as many times as u need

bad news: u need to buy resets one by one 💔 and ofc the tries also cost stamina 💔

[miracleonice87]

1,000 Nights

a/n: in honor of Sid’s 1,000th career game. congratulations, SPC. you’ve come a long way, baby. story set in a non-covid-riddled universe.

warnings: swearing, alcohol

word count: 3.5k+

“I’m sorry I won’t be there tonight,” you sighed into the phone with a frown, tossing a stack of media briefings on your desk. “I just… I feel awful.“

“Baby, please, don’t apologize,” Sidney said softly, but so sincerely, on the other end. “Trust me, I get it. I mean, look, I wasn’t there for the thousandth press release you wrote, eh?”

You chuckled lightly, appreciative of your boyfriend’s efforts to make you feel better about missing the one thousandth game of his NHL career — a milestone that would come only once.

“It’s not quite the same,” you mumbled. “I just hate to miss it. But Kelsey promised me she’d FaceTime me the whole time.”

You heard the smile in Sid’s voice at the mention of his teammate’s wife, one of your closest friends, as he replied, “That’s nice. Listen, I don’t want you feeling bad about this, okay? We’ll celebrate when you come down next weekend.”

You drummed your fingers on your desk, then spotted your boss, Brendan Shanahan, quietly knocking before wincing, realizing he had interrupted your phone call. You shook your head, signaling it was no big deal, and waved him in.

“You got yourself a deal, Crosby,” you said as Brendan sat down in the chair across from you, a grin on his face.

“Alright, baby,” Sidney spoke. “I’ll let you get back to it. I love you, sweetheart.”

A weak smile crossed your face at his words, but you were certain you felt your heart splitting within your chest, the sting of missing him more painful today than most days.

“I love you, too,” you replied softly. “Call me after the game. And, hey, Sid?”

“Yeah?” Sid prompted.

You paused, knowing tears would likely be streaming down your cheeks if not for your friend and colleague seated on the other side of your desk.

“Congratulations,” you said solemnly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Your chest swelled at Sidney’s appreciative hum in response.

“Thank you, my love,” he said. “I’ll call you tonight. Bye.”

You said your own goodbye and dropped your phone to the oak desk, tipping your head back, emotionally exhausted.

Brendan gave you a sad smile. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

You heaved a deep breath, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your desk while rubbing at your temples.

“I guess so,” you began unconvincingly. “Just basically feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world today.”

Brendan offered an understanding nod, pausing before sitting straighter in his chair, sniffing casually. You’d known him for years now, since you started as an entry-level social media team member with the Leafs following your graduation from Pitt, before working your way to communications director three summers ago. The two of you had formed a near-instant bond, and now, you could read him like the back of your hand.

Which is how you knew he was up to something.

You folded your arms in front of you and narrowed your eyes at him.

“What?” was your only question.

Brendan couldn’t keep the smirk from his lips as he cleared his throat and reached into his inside suit jacket pocket for a stack of papers, folded together in thirds. He placed the parcel in front of you and nodded toward it, signaling you to open it.

Your eyes never leaving his, you reached for the papers and pulled them toward you. Your gaze eventually dropped to the stack and swiftly fell to the Air Canada logo printed in the upper corner. The breath left your lungs in a flash.

“You didn’t,” you whispered, looking back toward Brendan, who was now smiling widely.

“I might’ve,” he admitted.

You attempted to restrain your emotions, but your eyes burned with tears as you looked more carefully at the papers, scanning them furiously for more information.

Toronto (YYZ) to Pittsburgh (PIT) - First Class

Saturday, February 20, 2021 - Departs 1:38 p.m. EST

You shook your head repeatedly, blinking back the wetness that now blurred your vision.

“Brendan, I can’t-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he warned, pointing sternly at you. “Consider this an executive order. I already told the Pens staff you’d be there, and they’re emailing you over a pass. Family comes first here — you know that. That man is your family. You need to be with him tonight to celebrate.”

Tears fell freely down your cheeks now, and you quickly stood from your chair to round the desk and wrap your arms around Brendan’s neck.

“Thank you,” you whispered simply.

Brendan patted your back affectionately before you stepped back, standing up straight as you dabbed at the fallen tears on your cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” Brendan replied as he stood. “We’ll handle things here tonight, and we’ll see you back here for tomorrow night’s game, eh?”

You nodded furiously, a stupidly big smile on your face as you returned to your desk.

“Absolutely,” you confirmed. “And don’t worry — I’ll finish what I have going now and I’ll brief the interns before I go.”

Brendan nodded once and sent a wink your way as he neared the doorway.

“Please give Sidney my best, and congratulate him on behalf of us all,” Brendan requested. “He’s one hell of a player and one hell of a man. I’m glad I have the opportunity to know him better because of you.”

Overcome by emotion once again, you opened your mouth to respond, but decided against trusting your voice. You closed your mouth and nodded at Brendan one last time before he patted the doorpost and left you to finish your tasks at hand.

_____

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered upon realizing that traffic had stopped completely in the two blocks leading up Center Avenue to the arena.

You’d come through two airports in two countries, but the most vile threat to your seeing Sidney’s recognition ceremony was now two measly city blocks of Pittsburgh traffic.

Your Uber driver groaned. “Sorry, dear,” he said. “Looks like we’re gonna be backed up for a while.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you assured, glancing at your phone to realize that it was already 6:42, giving you about ten minutes to get inside if you wanted to witness your the pregame festivities honoring your boyfriend.

You had only one option.

“You know what?” you began, unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for your bag. “I’m just gonna run. Thank you so much for your time. I swear I’ll leave you a nice tip. ‘M sorry for leaving you stuck.”

You watched your driver’s eyes widen in the rearview mirror. “Miss, I don’t think that’s a good idea!” he tried to protest.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I know my way. Again, thank you.”

With that, you jumped out of the car and set off toward the arena, walking briskly up the hill leading to the entrance. Your breath created small white puffs in the frigid air, and you pulled your coat around your waist more tightly, thankful that you had grabbed the woolen scarf hanging on the back of your office door at the last second before departing. You rushed up the sidewalk, burying the bottom half of your face within the warmth of the fabric, and retrieved your phone to pull up the pass that the Penguins’ front office had sent over earlier in the afternoon. You sighed in relief when you found it, and once more checked the time — 6:47.

You just might make it.

As you finally approached the arena doors, you made a beeline directly for the club level entrance, smiling when you saw a familiar face.

“Hi, Manny,” you said to your favorite arena attendant as he pushed the door open and welcomed you in from the cold.

“Well, look who it is!” Manny exclaimed, hugging you briefly. “I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“I didn’t either,” you panted, smiling. “But I made it.”

Manny patted your arm and looked toward his colleague.

“Joey, I’m gonna escort this young lady down to the tunnel so she can get a better view of tonight’s little event,” Manny said with a wink, pressing the button on the elevator in front of you.

“No, no, that’s okay,” you protested, shaking your head as he ushered you into the elevator. “Really, I can just go up to his suite and watch from there. I don’t need to go down to the tunnel.”

Manny laughed and shook his head, nodding to the elevator attendant. “I don’t think so, hun,” he chuckled. “Not on my watch. We’ll get you down there and give you an up-close view.”

You sighed, shrugging off your jacket and scarf and folding them over your arm.

“Thank you, Manny,” you said with a grateful smile. Manny nodded, just as the elevator doors opened to reveal the depths of the arena.

“Come on,” Manny motioned toward himself. “Give me your things, and you go.”

Acutely aware that the clock was really ticking now, you didn’t put up a fight and passed your belongings to Manny, who silently pointed toward the tunnel outside the home locker room, where you caught a glimpse the tail end of the line of Sidney’s teammates, with Geno bringing up the rear as the men made their way to their bench for the presentation.

At that moment, Geno happened to look to his right, spotting you immediately.

“You’re here!” he exclaimed, still walking behind his team. He threw his hands atop his head and laughed in disbelief. “Oh, my god, Sid will be so happy you’re here!”

You smiled at Geno’s excitement, nodding as he pumped his fist once before disappearing from sight.

As you reached the locker room doors, you took a deep breath, knowing that only one player was still behind them.

Sidney stepped out of the room, and you noted that his shoulders sagged slightly, his eyes downcast as he sighed softly, turning in the direction of the ice before pausing as the PA announcer started his introduction, rattling off Sid’s lengthy list of accomplishments.

You took that as your cue.

“Hi,” you uttered quietly.

His head whipping toward you, Sidney’s eyes found yours after the briefest of moments, wide and gleaming. He breathed your name; you only grinned.

In a heartbeat, he was in front of you, gathering your face in his hands as he kissed you feverishly.

When he eventually broke the kiss, he hurriedly whispered, “What are you doing here?”

You smiled, resting your hands on his shoulder pads. “Same thing everyone else is doing,” you answered. “Celebrating you.”

Sidney giggled incredulously. “God, I can’t believe you’re-“

“And now, please welcome to the ice, your captain-“

You shoved at Sidney’s chest with a gasp, pushing him toward the ice where the announcer’s voice echoed and the crowd roared.

“Go!” you shouted.

Sidney immediately reached for your hand, pulling you along as he passed the spot where you had planned to stand and watch, hidden from view.

“You’re coming with me,” Sidney said firmly even as you shook your head. He firmly nodded his own.

“Yes. My family’s out there already. Stand by them,” he instructed, eyes glimmering with joy.

Your ears began to ring — not just because of the crowd noise, but because of the intensity of it all. Parading you in front of the entire Penguins organization and 18,000 of his fans was not something Sidney took lightly, and you knew that. You’d been in attendance for milestone games before, sitting in the stands with his family, or with Mario in the suite. And, of course, you were aware that you’d been spotted in public by Sid’s side before — at dinner dates on Mount Washington and at bars on the North Shore — but this incredibly public gesture was something entirely new in your relationship with him. It was overwhelming, but somehow still felt right. And if Sid felt ready, then so did you. You’d do anything to make him smile the way he had when he first saw you tonight in the tunnel — especially on a night that was so sentimental, one that you’d look back on together for a lifetime.

And even if you had been hesitant, it didn’t much matter, because without a second to resist, you were walking out onto the unrolled carpet while Sidney skated alongside you, parallel to your path, as fans applauded. Troy, Trina, and Taylor were visibly stunned as they watched Sidney enter with you at his side. The crowd cheered Sidney louder and louder with each passing moment, and he waved and nodded in acknowledgement, while you reached the end of the carpet and were embraced by each of Sidney’s family members.

“When did you get here?!” Taylor asked through clenched teeth as she tried to remain composed, despite the signature Crosby laughter bubbling from her lips.

“Literally minutes ago,” you answered in the same manner as Trina murmured your name tearfully, shaking her head in astonishment.

Troy smiled warmly down at you, squeezing your shoulder.

“This is gonna mean the world to him,” Troy spoke softly.

You nodded in acknowledgement, incredibly thankful to be able to share in Sidney’s special moment next to the people who raised him.

When the crowd’s volume eventually faded enough for the PA announcer to begin the recognition, you still barely heard the words echoing from the loudspeakers. Instead, you focused on the man standing next to you — the one you’d loved since the day you met; the one who left you in awe each day, not because of his unmatched talent on the ice but because of the resolute goodness of his soul; the one who would, in time, surely be the person you decided to step away from your career for, to settle down beside, and to start a family with. Before him, you were sure that you would never slow down for long enough to get married and have children; after him, you thought about doing so every single day, and you were surprisingly thrilled by that very thought which used to send you into a panic.

This man meant so much to so many — this night was proof of that — but he meant the most to you, and you knew without a doubt that he would be the one with whom you built your forever.

But, for now, on this night, he continued his own building, that of his hockey legacy — a fairy-tale story that started in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia, and continued more than a thousand miles away in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, with a thousand chapters so far and much still to be written.

_____

“A little birdie told me you might be here this evening,” a distinct French-Canadian accented voice said softly as his fingers curled around your shoulders.

You snickered, finishing your sip of merlot, and turned to face Mario’s towering figure. You leaned into his chest and were immediately wrapped into a warm hug.

“Was that little birdie named Shanny by any chance?” you asked with a grin. Mario simply shrugged coyly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“In all seriousness, sweetheart, I was so glad when I heard you were coming,” Mario said, his voice even and serious. “He wants to share it all with you, especially the big stuff, like this. I can’t imagine how happy he was when he saw you.”

You smiled, cognizant of the common sentiments coming from the two most influential men in Sidney’s life. You knew how much you meant to your boyfriend, but hearing that Sid let both Troy and Mario know the same brought a warmth deep within your chest. 

“It was pretty incredible. I’m just so pleased that it worked out,” you said fondly. “I want to share it all with him, too.”

Mario nodded, squeezing your bicep softly.

“Come on,” he encouraged with a smirk, nodding toward the bar at the back of the suite. “Let’s get another drink and celebrate.”

_____

“What a night,” Sidney murmured warmly into the dim master suite, lighted only by a few candles on the end tables that you’d lit upon returning home, signaling that it was time for your and Sid’s own private celebration in the comfort of his home.

You hummed in acknowledgment, circling your fingertips on his bare chest.

“I’m so glad you were there,” he added, placing a kiss in your hair.

You smiled up at him and reached to peck his lips.

“Me too,” you said. “This day couldn’t have been more perfect.”

An ornery smile tugged at the corner’s of Sidney’s plump lips.

“You don’t think so?” he began, making you furrow your brow in question. Seeing your confusion, he added, “I can think of one thing that would make this day even better.”

Leaving you lying in his bed watching him, propped up on your elbows, Sidney pulled on his sweats at the foot of the bed and crossed the room to his chest of drawers, reaching into the top one, his fingers moving all the way toward the back of it.

And there, even in the darkness, you knew exactly what he’d retrieved.

You sat straight up, pulling the red velvet-shaded sheets around your bare form. Tears already formed in your eyes, and you covered your mouth in utter amazement as Sidney walked toward you with a look of determination and knelt at the side of the bed.

“Sidney,” you whispered, splaying your hand across your chest.

“I was gonna wait until you were here next weekend to do this, but I honestly can’t wait anymore,” Sid began, his serious expression giving way to a joyful one. “This day has been all about me, and don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful to be where I am in my career,” he continued. “But the whole day, knowing you weren’t going to be there, I just felt... empty inside. It felt like a waste. I was just plastering on a smile and saying all the right things, but in my heart, it just felt meaningless if you couldn’t be a part of it. That’s how every day feels when I can’t be beside you.”

You were sobbing unabashedly now, your hand resting on Sidney’s neck as you listened to him.

“And I know you love your work, and I would never dream of asking you to give that up. But someday, in the not-so-distant future, my days of playing hockey are going to come to an end. And the second that happens, I can promise you this — I’m going to come to wherever you are, just to be near you,” he spoke, his voice quivering just slightly as his emotions became evident. “Because someday, whether it’s ten years from now or five years or a month or tomorrow, I wanna marry you, baby. I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. So...”

Sidney cleared his throat and lifted the box he held so that you could see it, flipping open the top to reveal the loveliest marquis-cut halo diamond ring you had ever seen. Your breath caught in your throat, and before Sidney could ask the question, you let out a firm “yes!”

Sidney threw his head back in laughter — your favorite song.

“How do you know what I was gonna ask?” he teased, leaning closer to you with one brow quirked.

“Sorry,” you muttered halfheartedly. “Okay, okay. Ask me.”

Sidney beamed. “Sweetheart, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed the second he finished the sentence, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him urgently. Both of you smiled into the kiss and continued your embrace for several moments, parting only to stare at each other and giggle incredulously.

“I love you,” you whispered. “And trust me, it won’t be ten years or five years from now. I’ll be ready very, very soon. I promise,” you assured.

Sidney’s smile grew even wider, and you knew he was somewhat taken aback by your assertion.

“Really?” he asked, smoothing his hand over your hair. You nodded.

“Give me a season or two,” you replied. “I know I can always go back to it. But this... us... nothing is more important to me, Sid. I want to spend all of my days with you, too.”

With that, Sidney grasped your jaw and kissed you with a fervor that told of not only his passion for you but the relief he felt in hearing your statement.

“I love you,” he panted when he finally pulled his lips from yours. “Can I put the ring on you now?”

With a laugh, you joked, “Well, I suppose so.”

Sidney shook his head in amusement and pulled the ring from the box, sliding it onto your left hand. You wiggled your fingers and admired the perfect fit of the ring, not to mention its exceptional beauty.

“Wow,” you whispered, looking back to Sidney. You held the back of your hand up to him and teased, “A bunch of 1,000 game gifts and a fiancée all in one night. Not bad for you, eh?”

Sidney reached for your hand and left a long kiss on your knuckles.

“Not bad at all,” he answered earnestly.

[mihidecet]

Sbi&Co d&d AU: Fundy & Niki

AKA: Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 23!

SURPRISE!! As for @spout1nk and @awebo 's lovely requests, here is the chapter where we get to meet Fundy and Niki!!

This is also, once again, a fill for @the-only-gamer-gost 's list of prompts!! I got myself another free day aahahah

I do hope you'll like it! And as always, make sure you check out @whatimevendoinhere 's stunning drawings!!! They made art of Fundy and it is so good yall.

It starts like this: the whole gang is looking for a new job to tackle, with Techno, Tommy and Tubbo looking at the town's mission board and Wilbur and Phil needling the town's guard for more high profile tasks.

Half an hour later, a bored and disappointed trio meet up with a radiant Wilbur and an impressed Phil.

They have a job and the pay is five times higher than normal.

Apparently some dumbass has been running around the county, scamming nobles with fake artifacts and cursed precious objects. The nobles are mad, they want their coins back and the scammer in jail - or possibly worse -, and they are willing to pay an embarrassingly high amount of coin for it to be done quickly and quietly. Quietly being the highest requirement.

And that is how the SleepyBois start tracking this infamous scammer down.

First, they find all of the victims.

That alone takes them a while, because nobles are tricky to navigate and scorned nobles are even worse - and somehow these scammed nobles all seem to be not that good people, if the way they treat the adventurers trying to help them is any indication.

Still, one may assume that spending a lot of platinum coins on things that turn out to be fake and haunted might make you a bit … confrontational.

Also, they're going to make a lot of coins out of this job, so it's not like they're going to say anything.

Then, they buy a new, spotless map of the region with about a quarter of their collective coins - “Philza Greenwood we should have accepted the one from the kind old lady.” “You know that was cursed, we’re not doing this again.” - and start writing down every location hit.

It’s not that hard, once they put Tubbo to work, to find a handful of possible towns their target is going to hit.

It's honestly impressive how quickly he's able to narrow their options down, sending Techno and Wilbur out for recon missions to specific locations, guiding the whole team in a weirdly familiar way; straightforward and decisive like Techno, gentle and responsible like Phil, switching between the two attitudes as easy as he breathes.

Wilbur's only seen him like this when he works on his creations before, and it's amazing how quickly he gets over the initial sheepishness and steps into his role.

Everything is good and wonderful and he fits perfectly into the team, and this is just another proof of it.

The only bad thing about the whole situation is how bloody smug Tommy is, since it had been his idea to let Tubbo handle the planning - the kid can gloat, Wilbur's got to give him that, even if he is right in doing that.

Ever since the two childhood best friends had reunited, Tommy has been … more. Not in a bad way - no matter how much Techno jokingly groans about it -, but it's evident how much there was something weighing on the kid's mind before this.

But right now it's not really the best time to think about this.

A couple of nights ago, Tubbo had narrowed the list of possible new noble families that were going to be hit down to a single name. An old timey, very strict and reclusive family, now mainly composed of two grandparents and an impressive array of disowned young adventurers, and workers of all types. Reasons for disowning were many and varied and all a bit ridiculous.

Apparently having a bad temper and even worse record of mistreating everyone around you was the common denominator for all the people being targeted, alongside having an extremely absurd amount of coin.

Phil knows, he's seen it in Wilbur's eyes the moment Tubbo told everyone his deductions, that the tiefling would be more than happy with just letting the scammer go with a slap on the wrist. Everyone is slowly leaning towards that, Phil himself is too, but he's not really going to mention that yet, especially as they're all gearing up to stalk the scammer back to their hideout.

Especially since they can't really let this chance go: the fact that Tubbo was able to narrow their options down to a single family means that if this isn't it, they'll have to start from scratch.

When they leave the tavern, packed light and ready for the expected stealth, it's a couple of hours before dawn.

Everyone is thankfully able to see in the dark - even Tubbo, who is a human like Tommy, since he used his knowledge of glass-making and arcane enchantments to forge himself some night vision goggles - and they move quickly in the shadows, their silhouettes hidden even more due to one of Phil's spells.

This is also the first time Tubbo's bees aren't making any sound - apparently their buzzing is purely aesthetic.

Reaching the family's manor is not hard nor it takes longer than expected, which is quite unusual considering their experiences. Once they reach their destination, they hide near the entrance then Techno vanishes - probably gone inside the main gates to see if their target has already arrived.

About fifteen excruciating minutes later, Techno reappears, one hand already on Tommy's mouth to prevent him from yelping in surprise and reveal their position. The fact that he is perfectly correct in his assumption doesn't prevent him from receiving a swift kick to the shin.

"He's inside. Seems human, dressed like a scammer would be dressed. Or a very extravagant seller. Showing off a floating statue." Techno relies the information as he rubs the now sore spot on his leg, side eyeing a very offended Tommy while Tubbo is red faced almost to the point of tears as he desperately tries not to burst out laughing.

"Good job." Phil confirms, trying very hard to stay focused on the task - this all is extremely useful information, both in case of a possible fight breaking out and because in all the time they've been searching for the scammer, they've had nothing but mixed information from their targets.

One time it's a sweet looking cleric, another time they're a buff half orc, then it's a tiefling with a missing horn- every time something new, but the only constants have been the extravagant clothing choices and them being a magic user.

Wilbur punches the air with gusto, conveying silently what everyone is more or less feeling, and then they resign themselves to some uncertain amount of time of patiently and quietly waiting.

Phil has a spell to hide them again ready for whenever they hear somebody getting close.

Techno takes the time to meditate.

Wilbur is tapping a finger against his leg with his eyes closed, so he's probably writing a song in his mind.

Tubbo is taking notes on his notebook, planning another upgrade for his crossbow.

Tommy is about to vibrate out of his skin.

Everything according to plan.

Then, finally, Phil hears footsteps approaching the gates.

He casts his spell, shadows elongating from the trees they are hiding in, wrapping around them, covering them, fake greenery taking form in front of them- and everyone is instantly on edge.

"Are you sure you don't want a totem? They're good luck! They'll protect you against evil spirits - those old crooks must be beacons for them!" A quick paced voice reached their ears, and Techno's dagger is already out.

A much quieter voice answers - only Phil manages to catch the irritated negative answer, but everyone hears the gates being slammed shut.

There's more footsteps, then their target enters most of their views.

The man - probably? - takes some steps, back straight and shoulders moving with a light chuckle - when his eyes stray towards them.

He blinks once, twice, then his eyes switch colour.

He stops in his tracks.

Raises a hand and gives a quick wave.

"Uhm … cya!" And then he disappears, vanishing into thin air.

Techno curses loudly next to Tommy.

"Wilbur-"

The tiefling stands up and his eyes turn pure black as he raises a hand towards the place where he disappeared, muttering a quick song under his breath before calling out:

"Tubbo!"

A bolt from the kid's crossbow flies in the direction Wilbur's pointing at a split second later.

It flies, but doesn't strike true, barely grazing the scammer's jacket as the man moves out of its way. Right into Techno's thrown dagger which hits him right in the side.

There's a loud, weirdly pitched "shit!" coming from the empty air in the space in front of them, then nothing but the sound of someone fleeing as silently as they can.

Instead of following suit, like one would expect, the rest of the group turns towards Techno, who's holding his dagger - now back into his hand - and mouthing a prayer against the stained blade.

There's a light humm coming from nowhere and everywhere that echoes in Techno's mind for a moment, then he opens his eyes.

"So, do you have him?" Tommy asks, feeling the urge to pursue their target itching under his skin.

"Yup, I've got him. Nice job with the crossbow, Tubbo." Techno answers, shooting a small smile to his short companion, who shakes his weapon proudly.

"It's quite easy to shoot in order to make people move a certain direction, you know, once you know what to do!"

Tracking down the scammer is quite easy now that Techno has cast his tracking spell on him.

They wait for a moment, reconvene, make sure they have everything they need and then they start moving.

They don't have to walk much, as Techno lets them know that their target has stopped moving and they're getting closer extremely quickly.

In the end, it's a small, cute looking wooden house that they reach. It seems small and well kept, with clean windows and bright flowers on the outside. It's a bit hidden amongst a thicker part of the forest, but it gets enough light to be comfortably illuminated.

Wilbur figures the scammer ran and hid here, in hope of either having them lose his tracks or to maybe use a civilian as human shield.

Phil gestures towards the house, to which Techno answers with a decisive nod, so the elf approaches the door and knocks.

"Hello?" A feminine, accented voice answers from behind the door.

"Hi, I'm very sorry to disturb you, we're a group of adventurers looking for a runaway criminal, have you perhaps seen anyone suspicious running around?" There's a beat of silence, then a long, drawn out humm.

"I'm very sorry but I don't think I can help you with that? I was busy baking inside, I haven't seen anyone." The voice answers back, seemingly sheepish and apologetic.

Wilbur takes a step forward, shooting a glance towards a suspicious looking Techno.

"Our apologies, but would you mind letting us rest inside your abode for a little while? We've been out all night looking for clues, and we will pay you for your kindness."

After a slightly longer than expected pause, the sound of keys jingling reachea the team's ears.

"Oh, yes, of course. It's a bit small here, but- We can make it fit."

Phil knows enough Celestial to recognise the accent in the woman's voice; seeing her almost aethereal being open the door cements in Phil's mind the fact that yes, the person in front of him is of Celstial descent - that, and the dusting of silver and golden freckles across her face.

"Oh my, there- there's a lot of you."

Phil gives a sheepish smile, an apology ready on his lips - she is hiding their target, for some reason, but that doesn't mean he's going to be rude about it - but Tommy is already striding towards the entrance.

"We'll be good and squeeze together, promise!" He exclaims, quickly hitting Wilbur in the side with his elbow as he passes him.

The tiefling shoots him a murderous glare, which instantly disappears and turns into a kind smile the instant he realises that the aasimar woman is looking at him questioningly.

"Are you all part of the same group?" She asks as they shuffle in. The house is slightly bigger than expected, with everything looking both very clean and very lived in - books left open on a table, a chair that hasn't been set back, a blanket thrown on an armchair instead of being folded properly. It's homely.

There are a couple of colourful looking birds flying around the place, and they instantly flock to Phil the moment he enters the kitchen - following the woman's instructions. To be fair, there are plenty animals hanging out in the whole house: he's sure he heard a squirrel running in the corridor, and there were a couple of tortoises in the living room.

And then, on the window sill next to the kitchen table there is a fox, sleeping curled up under the sun. Techno, on edge from the tracking and the oncoming social interactions, really envies the tranquil animal.

"Is there anything you need? Something to drink, maybe? I was making some bread, so-" the woman starts, taking out a still smoking loaf. Everyone but Phil is instantly glowing: how often are you offered freshly baked bread? And mostly for free? That really is something special, that must be surely cherished.

And yet, Phil is not looking at the woman - who is still yet to introduce herself - but at the fox. Still sleeping peacefully, after they'd opened a single eye at the sound of strangers entering the room.

"That is very kind of you, miss …?" Wilbur asks, eyes constantly switching between the offered food and the stranger's face.

"Oh, you can call me Niki."

Phil moves closer to the fox with a small smile, one bird still perched on his shoulder, and extends a hand slowly, hoping not to startle the animal.

The fox blinks slowly at the fingers floating right in front of their eyes, then huffs and moves their head so that Phil can start giving them little scratches, tail swishing lazily - all this, while the rest of the team does a round of introductions.

"Niki, your fox is adorable." Phil comments after a moment, while the others are eagerly helping out Niki in finding a knife to cut slices of bread with and honey, which apparently she makes herself.

"Ah yeah, thank you. His name is Fungi." She answers with a small smile, making Phil chuckle. The fox's tail keeps swishing from side to side, probably to convey his appreciation of the continuous pets he's receiving, but one of his front legs seems to not be making any movement. A quick, focused, look confirms his suspicions.

"Oh dear, he seems hurt. Let me heal him for you." Phil comments, worry colouring his tone, as he focuses his intent into the palm of his hand, lightly resting on the injured limb.

As his magic knits back muscle and tissue and blod cells, Phil watches intently as the stab wound shrinks and then disappears. Then, he picks the fox up, cradling him in his arms as Niki gets closer, a look of deep worry on her face - one of the first true emotions she's shown since they got there, Phil notices, which only serves to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, thank you so much, I'm so very glad, he just keeps getting into messes!"

There's a moment of pause, then Phil starts scratching the fox's chin - his tail starts wagging noticeably quicker.

"Did you know foxes are known for their cunning, but they're actually pretty dumb?" Phil starts, prompting everyone to turn towards him in shock and deep confusion.

Phil merely chuckles.

"You agree, right, little guy? I can see it in your eyes, there's nothing going on in that little brain of yours, right?" He teases, cooing at the little animal before- in a mix of slightly disturbing deformations and a blink-and-you-miss-it transformation - the fox in his arms suddenly enlarges, his limbs elongating and face rounding out.

Now, this would have probably come as a big surprise to akl but instead it looks quite funny because the moment the small fox becomes a human sized man with for ears, all the instantly added weight crashes into Phil and sends them crashing down to the ground.

But since they've all gotten used to a skinchanger moving from their human form to their animal one, one way or another, all that remains is the hilarouns scene of a laughing out loud Phil sprawled on the ground with their red faced, extremely irritated target kneeling on top of him.

"Fuck you, man! That was so mean!"

For a moment everyone is just staring at each other, trying to understand what has happened, until when Techno speaks up.

"Well I guess we found our scammer."

[starwarsimagines1105]

Soulmates O-WK

A/N Soulmate AU in which Jedi can only have attachments if they have soulmates

Warning: Slightly vulgar language

~~

You walked into the club you worked at, already counting the seconds until your shift was over. Most nights you worked as a bartender but tonight you worked as a waitress since you needed an extra shift and that’s all the manager could give you. Walking through the crowded room, you were stared at but you kept going. You hated waitressing, people always took your job as a reason that they should be able to touch you.

You walked into the staff room and took off your jacket, revealing your uniform, a tight, low-cut blouse. You also traded your comfortable boots for black stilettos all female waitresses were forced to wear. As you walked out, you felt a strange pull towards the entrance of the club but you ignored it. You approached the bar, seeing your favorite coworker. “Hey, Y/N!” Va’Jar greeted you. Noticing your attire he gave you a sympathetic look. “Waitressing tonight?”

“Yup,” you sighed, “let’s hope I don’t break an ankle.”

He chuckled, “Can you bring these to table five?” he asked, pointing at what looked like a bachelorette party. You nodded, grabbing the tray full of martinis and cosmos. “Oh, and Y/N?” he called, making you turn back to him. “There seems to be a Jedi here, Chalvak at the end of the bar just served one with a beard.”

“Oh, thank you, Va’Jar,” you said quietly. Your soulmark was a Jedi symbol, so naturally, you assumed your soulmate was either a Jedi or obsessed with them. Everyone knew Jedi weren’t supposed to have any attachments and usually the unlucky people who had Jedi as soulmates went missing. No one knew what happened to them but you, and everyone else, assumed they were killed or imprisoned so their mates weren’t distracted.

Walking through the crowded room, a woman covered in weird clothing passed you, later followed by a Jedi with short hair except for a braid behind his ear and a short ponytail at the back of his head. As he passed you held your breath. He didn’t seem to notice you or be particularly drawn to you so you sighed in relief.

You walked back to the bar with your now empty tray. Suddenly you saw the wave of a blue lightsaber out of the corner of your eye. Dropping your tray in surprise, it clattered, drawing the bearded Jedi’s attention to you. Your heart stopped, he’s your soulmate. Your soulmate passed the woman from earlier to the other Jedi. He approached you, where you stood frozen in fear. “Please don’t leave,” he begged, “I must deal with this prisoner but I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

You nodded, which seemed to be confirmation enough for him to walk back over to his friend. Once they left, you quickly headed to the back, grabbing your coat and heading towards the back exit. As you tried to leave Va’Jar stepped in front of the door. “Y/N, what are you doing? This is your soulmate, you’re just going to walk away from him?”

“Well, what else can I do? Think about it, every known mate of a Jedi disappears and Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments. They’re going to kill me or ship me off to a different planet far away,” you reasoned. Seeing your point, Va’Jar stepped out of the way. “Thank you,” you said, walking towards the door he once blocked. Before you stepped out, you turned back and hugged him.

“I’ll miss you,” he said. “Good luck avoiding your soulmate.”

You gave a slight, sad laugh at the hopeless irony of it all. “I’ll miss you too.”

-

Obi-Wan’s POV

Walking back into the club, I couldn’t feel my soulmate’s presence anymore. I scanned the room for a girl with H/C hair but I couldn’t find her. I assumed she worked here, considering she had been holding a tray and was wearing the same skimpy outfit as about a dozen other girls here.

Walking over to the end of the bar where most of the other waitresses seemed to be flocking to, I saw a humanoid man but with snake like skin. “Excuse me, there was a waitress here with H/C hair and E/C eyes, do you know where she is?”

Continuing to shake and mix drinks he answered, “Look, if you’re looking to screw her, she’s not a prostitute.”

“Oh, believe me, that’s not my intention. Can you at least tell me her name?” I didn’t know what to say. If Jedi found their soulmates, they weren’t supposed to tell other, non-Jedi. For the sake of their soulmate’s safety and to make sure they weren’t exploited. “I believe she’s my soulmate,” I broke the rule.

“I still can’t tell you where or who she is.”

Sighing, I decided to use the force. “You will tell me who that girl was.”

A blank look crossed over his face. “Her name is Y/N,” he said in an empty tone.

“Where did she go?” I continued to manipulate his mind.

“I don’t know, she left through the back exit, saying she was escaping.”

“Why,” I continued to press forward.

“She fears Jedis kill their mates.”

Cursing, I let go of the hold I had on his mind, running towards the back exit. I threw open the door, but I had no clue where she went. There was no way for me to track her. The best I could do was search everywhere. My heart felt like it was breaking. My own soulmate didn’t want me. I rolled up my sleeve, looking sadly at the system of stars. I found the coordinates by matching the map on my forearm to the archives of the Jedi Temple. I had pinpointed the location as Tampidor, which I assumed was her native planet. I had visited once, trying to find her but I ultimately failed. With no other options, I decided to return there to begin my search for her.

Making my way to the Senate Building where Senator Amidala was staying, I pulled out my communicator and requested a meeting with the council. By the time I got back to Padmé’s quarters, the council was ready to meet. Using R2-D2, the council was projected in front of me. “Obi-Wan, this meeting you called, why? Much anguish I sense in you,” Yoda spoke.

“I believe I have found my soulmate,” I reported. When a Jedi found their soulmate, they had to be reported to the council. “However, she fled, and I’m requesting time off to search for her.”

“We can’t allow that,” Master Windu spoke up, “you are needed by Anakin and the Republic. Besides, she ran away for a reason. Why would you want someone who doesn’t love you?”

“I believe she is afraid. She thinks we will kill her for being my soulmate,” I reasoned.

“Most unfortunate, that is,” Yoda sympathized. “Search for her, you cannot. On Courscant, needed, you are.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” I said in disappointment. I turned off the hologram, turning to the window in disappointment. Looking out into the galaxy, I couldn’t help but wonder where exactly she was. My mind went back to her, her H/L, H/C hair I wanted to run my fingers through. Those E/C eyes I could stare into forever. And the thing I wanted most was her lips, oh makers how I wanted to kiss those lips.

-

I stood in the center of the Jedi chambers, listening to Yoda tell me of my next assignment. “Disturbances, there have been, on a planet in the outer rim. Go there, you will, and resolve such conflicts. Where you will go to is, Tampidor.”

My head snapped up, Tampidor. It had been two years since my mate slipped through my fingers, I was determined to make sure it didn’t happen again. “I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity, Masters,” I bowed graciously.

“Needed are not, thanks. Best suited, you are, for this task,” Yoda said graciously with a smile. As much as having a soulmate was seen as an interruption, whenever a soulmate was found was a celebration. Despite the fact that we all knew having attachments could be a Jedi’s downfall, we all sometimes felt the loneliness. So those without soulmates were typically happy for those with them since they knew they’d always feel that slight ache of loneliness and were glad to see their friends happy.

I nodded again, walking out of the council chambers in excitement. I swiftly began packing what I need, eagerly making my way to a ship. Passing one of the pilots, he stopped me. “I heard you’re going to Tampidor, good luck.”

“Thank you,” I beamed, continuing to my ship.

~~

Part 2 

Taglist

@algentforthewin @fanartcollectorwriter @randomfangirl7

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 21 - Dearly Departed

Title: Irreverent Pt. 21 - Dearly Departed Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: R Words: 2934

Irreverent Series Masterlist

"You're leaving?" It was Derek who had managed to speak first. The rest of you were still processing what Hotch had said.

"I have been given a temporary assignment in Pakistan by the Director and have been told I have minimal choice in the matter. In the interim, Morgan will be Unit Chief." That's what he'd said. You were pretty sure you'd heard him correctly. On their own each of those words held meaning. But strung together like that and coming from Hotch, they might as well have been gibberish as far as you were concerned.

He looked upset at having to leave. He doesn't want to. You tried telling yourself that. But this was also Hotch. You'd seen him stand up to Strauss on countless occasions for the better of the team. So why was he just going along with this? Why was he abandoning you while you were in the middle of the search for Doyle? What about Emily? What about the team? What about you?

You looked around and saw your thoughts in everyone's mind. Penelope still looked struck. Derek seemed more pissed off than anything else. Spencer looked broken - he'd had it the worst with Emily's death. You knew JJ had been with him a lot the past few days. Even Rossi seemed upset. You wondered if Hotch had bothered telling him first on his own or if this was intended to be dropped on everyone all at once.

You could feel the stillness in your body. You weren't sure what you felt yet. Upset? Abandoned? Angry? All of the above? Hotch was clutching the papers that were undoubtedly his marching orders, tightly in his hand.

"What about Jack, Aaron?" It was Rossi who asked that.

You should move. Say something. But what?

"I've arranged for him to stay with Jess while I'm away. He should be alright there."

JJ was still gone too…Hotch was leaving. You looked around at the rest of the team seated at the table and you could feel Derek shouldering the full weight of what Hotch was asking of him.

You felt Hotch's eyes on you. You still hadn't spoken. What was there to say?

*------------*

You'd kept in touch with Clyde Easter after you guys had released him from detainment. At first you'd reached out to him to tell him about Emily - you felt like he should know. He'd come to the funeral and the two of you had spoken briefly. Before he left, he'd tucked a card with a different number on it in your hand.

The two of you had been corresponding for some months now as he worked Doyle from the Interpol angle. With Hotch gone, Derek had wanted to ramp up the search for Doyle but he'd been shut down by Strauss citing jurisdiction. You were forced to move underground. After months of nothing, Clyde had gotten solid proof that Doyle was moving and there might be a window of opportunity coming up. It was time to bring Derek in.

*------------*

"So let me get this straight, after Strauss shut it down, you took it upon yourself to open communication with Interpol to continue investigating Doyle?" You'd called Rossi and Derek over to your house under the ruse of dinner, feeling it would be safest. After dinner the three of you had sat at your dining room table over drinks, when you'd decided to reveal the true nature of the invite.

"Yes," you replied, standing to grab the file from the back of your hidden wall safe. "Here's everything I have on Doyle. Per Clyde," you note the look Rossi and Derek gave one another when you referred to Easter by his first name, "Doyle has operations underway but he has a visibility issue, forcing him underground for the most part. However, he has a meeting scheduled with his stakeholders for which he has to be present. That's our window of opportunity."

"And you trust Easter?" Rossi had left looking through the file you'd put in front of them to Derek. He chose to watch you instead.

"No, but he has nothing to gain by lying to us about this. He's still on Doyle's list and he would much rather we go after him than have Doyle barging through his front door."

"You should've told us, Y/N." Derek had flipped through the file and confirmed what you'd relayed to them.

"Look, you can choose to be pissed at me for not reading you in earlier, or you can help me go after Doyle." You weren't about to be guilted into feeling bad about how you went about this.

"Help you?" Derek raised his eyebrows at your word choice.

"I'm doing this with or without you."

He scoffed and finished his drink. "Yeah, you and what army?"

"I won't fight with you Derek. You want to be pissed, go be pissed. Break something and get it out. But don't act like you don't want to go after Doyle. You're not upset I did this. You're upset you didn't."

His shoulders tensed, feeling the brunt of your retort. You thought he might lash out at you again, but he seemed to be coming to terms with the situation much faster than you had anticipated.

"We still need to find where the meeting is going to happen."

"All we need in order to do that, is leverage over the right person. I have someone in mind," you responded. You'd thought this through. To the end.

"We need to call Aaron."

*------------*

He'd grown a beard. He was back after seven months and that was the first thing you noticed. What anyone noticed really. Besides that he looked tan and more rugged than usual, though that could be chalked up to the lack of a suit. He was dressed like a civilian. Which made sense. He wasn't SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief. That title was still Derek's. As far as you knew, he was simply SSA Aaron Hotchner, temporarily in Pakistan running a joint task force. If the definition of temporarily had been swapped out with indefinitely, that is.

"Sir, the beard suits you," Penelope had told him in greeting.

"Thank you Garcia." Those were the first words you'd heard from him in seven months.

You hadn't gotten up to greet him. You'd looked up in his direction when he entered and smiled, stifling seven months' worth of anger tight inside. It didn't pass your notice that Spencer hadn't stood up either. At least someone else was also sick of taking the high road. You needed that kind of camaraderie.

"Morgan read me in before I arrived. If you're ready, we can talk through the plan to obtain the meeting location and see how it should be executed." Funny how quickly he fell back into the role of Unit Chief. As if he hadn't absconded the throne.

"It's handled. I'm running point on it. You're welcome to join the others in the van or listen in from here with Garcia."  Your voice came out a little harsher than you'd intended.

He looked a little surprised but quickly recovered and nodded.

*------------*

"Subject is approaching." Spencer's voice came through the earpiece you had on. You were seated at a restaurant downtown, your hands folded in front of you on the white linen tablecloth. You remembered this place from one of the first times your father had visited you whilst you were doing your training at Quantico. He had come to talk you out of it but hadn't been able to resist taking you to a nice meal.

"Hello sister."

Dominic had arrived with his permanently cocky smirk firmly in place. He took off his coat and sat down across from you, unbuttoning the bottom button on his jacket. A waiter arrived to bring him a drink menu. You'd been nursing yours for some time now. After he had ordered, he looked right at you. He was trying to mimic your father's infamous staredowns. It fell flat coming from him. Maybe you had to actually be afraid for it to have its desired affect.

"So, you've finally come to your senses, have you?" He leaned back in his chair as the waiter quickly dropped his drink off.

"How are Katie and Amara?"

His brow furrowed slightly before he answered. "Katie is fine, she sends her regards. Amara is seven now. She's started second grade."

You smiled. It had been some time since you saw your niece. "That's a good age."

"Yeah, she's cute. She made a family tree for class, you know. Made sure to put you on it. Julian too."

"That's sweet," you answered, stirring your drink with the straw provided. "You love Amara, don't you Dom?"

There was a pause before he replied, his brow furrowed more if that were possible. "She's my daughter Y/N. Of course I love her."

"She's your daughter. You wouldn't want any harm to come to her."

His shoulders tensed immediately as he leaned in closely to you across the table. "What the fuck are you trying to say?"

"Just that it is regretful when children get hurt because they become pawns in their parents' wars."

He was still leaning across the table and his next words came out dangerously low. "You think you can just come in here and threaten me? Threaten my family? And you'll get away with it?"

"You have two options Dom. Tell me where Valhalla is meeting his stakeholders."

"Or?"

"I'm sorry, I misspoke. You only have one option. That was it."

"And if I don't comply?"

"There are US Marshalls waiting to escort you home so that you can grab your wife and daughter and pack any personal belongings. They'll take care of you."

"You didn't say what happens if I don't comply."

You looked at him sitting across from you in his expensive suit. Being almost fifteen years older than you, Dominic used to intimidate you. He was never the brother that spoiled you. When you'd been born he'd been a spoiled teenager used to bullying and taking his misplaced anger out on Julian. But your father wouldn't have stood for anyone laying a hand on you (Except him apparently, you thought, thinking back to your last encounter with your father.), so Dominic had tortured you in other ways.

You fixed Dominic with a small smile geared to unnerve him, before answering his question. "Papa used to say that I was the pretty one. Julian was his artist. But you Dom, you were always the smart one, right?"

You stood and retrieved a $100 bill from your pocket and placed it under the drink glass.

"You have fifteen minutes. I'll be outside. Clock's ticking."

*------------*

Hotch and Derek stood next to you as the Marshalls helped your brother into the back of the dark SUV across the street.

"You threatened a child in there, Y/N." His voice was low, and yet still carried the full force of his accusation.

You felt the roiling anger bubbling to the top. He had no right to tell you how to handle this. "I won't make excuses for how I choose to fix the mess you ran away from," your rebuke was at the tip of your tongue and thrown at him before he could prepare for the rally. With that, you turned and left, leaving him to watch you walk back to the van.

*------------*

The following day, Hotch had asked the team to come to the conference room first thing in the morning. When you had walked in, you saw JJ standing in a corner talking to Hotch. You'd smiled at her despite being confused as to why she was there. Once everyone was seated Hotch stood at the front of the room. JJ was standing too. Why was she standing? Why was she here?

With all eyes focused on him, Hotch began speaking. "Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team."

Your mind went faster than he could speak. JJ was there. Seven months ago. When he left. When Emily died. Seven months ago he made a decision. JJ is here. She was at the hospital. Why had she been at the hospital that day?

"She's alive," you expelled, pushing up and away from the table and towards the back of the room, furthest from Hotch and the door, your realization propelling you to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the two people at the front of the room.

"What?" Spencer looked at you as you had interrupted Hotch's speech before it had even started.

"She's alive. Emily's alive. That's it right? That's why we're all here. That's why JJ is here and why she was at the hospital that night. Emily's alive." Your mouth was on autopilot as you spoke. The words had left your mouth before you'd truly understood what they meant yourself. It just…fit. It made sense.

"Y/N, we buried Emily. She's dead." Derek stood to move towards you, as if you were having a mental break.

You ignored him. You only looked at Hotch who had stopped speaking as soon as you'd stood up. Both him and JJ were looking at you in what could only be described as horror. Why they were horrified you didn't know. If anything you should be horrified. What does it say about me that I'm not even horrified at this. It's almost as if you'd seen the lies coming.

"Tell them." Your eyes bored into Hotch's. It was a credit to him that he hadn't looked away yet.

"Yes."

His confirmation was accompanied by the click clacking of familiar heels outside the conference room and then the door opened and there she was. Emily Prentiss. Back from the dead.

Penelope recovered first, leaping up to go hug Emily. She looked well, you noted. She was walking around the room. She'd hugged Hotch and JJ next. Now she'd moved on to Spencer who looked like he should be sedated. She was apologizing to everyone. Derek could barely bring himself to wrap his arms around her. Rossi recovered remarkably. He pulled her in for a hug and even kissed both her cheeks, causing her to laugh. You hadn't heard that laugh in seven months.

She was walking towards you. You felt yourself physically recoil.

"Y/N." JJ was using her mom voice. The voice that told you to be fair and kind and sharing is caring.

"Don't JJ." You turned away from Emily who was standing closest to you, to face the front again where Hotch and JJ stood. The only two people who had known. Who had watched the rest of you fall apart and allowed it to happen. And instead of sticking around to watch the fallout, they'd both been conveniently far away.

"How are we supposed to trust you? Either of you?"

"Y/N, that's not fair." It's the first time Emily had spoken directly to you in seven months.

"You were dead. But he was here. He saw what it did to us and then he just left and the whole time! He knew! He knew how it wrecked us." You voice fluctuated throughout and you were breathing as if you'd just run a marathon.

There was silence and then Derek was standing in front of you, shielding you from the rest. He tucked the strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear and leaned in to hold you so he could speak and not be heard. "Let's do this later. Eye on the prize, yeah?"

For him, you let it go. You owed him that. Not them.

*------------*

Hotch watched Morgan hold you and the visual was a gut punch.

No one else had said anything. But you were never quite that easy. You'd never once not shared exactly how you felt. Likely a testament to having stifled how you felt for years. After you'd confronted your father it was an awakening. You no longer held your punches and while it had been something Hotch had admired in the past, right now in this moment, when those punches were directed at him, he had to admit there was a downside. Even still, he couldn't help himself from being impressed. This was why he loved you. He no longer actively denied the fact.

Your words hurt more than he let on. He had prepared for Morgan to be pissed and for Reid to fall apart. From you he had hoped for a hug hello for both himself and Emily.

But then he had to remind himself of seven months ago. The hospital had been the last time you'd let him hold you. After that you'd been gone. There hadn't been any light behind your smiles. You hadn't confided in him about how much you missed Emily. Well you'd have to be around to have heard that wouldn't you. His guilty conscience had taken your side and was doing an excellent job beating him up in your silence since Derek had talked you down.

He couldn't deny that he was extremely worried about you. He'd talked to Derek after the Marshalls had picked up your brother but Derek had brushed him off, saying you were doing what had to be done to keep afloat. He wondered if Derek was right. You were treading water to stay afloat because he'd taken the life raft right from under you.

He worried how long you could keep going before the force of the waves drowned you.

[theonlygamergost]

Mcytubers playing Among us! - 1 / 2

So uhhh… This was supposed to be a random prompt to get over a supposed “writing block” but I ended up taking it seriously. Also, I know this group of people never played all together, but I don’t care UwU

This is an interactive story! At the end there will be a poll for you to vote, what are you voting for? Read the story and find out yourself!

(Cw! Jschlatt) Warning: It’s among us mate, mention of dead bodies and swearing, what do you expect

Walking down to storage the game started, Techno was a crewmate.

Filling up the gas tank was the first task, Jschlatt went into admin with Tommy while Dave opened the wires cabinet. As he made sure not to overflow the gasoline, Shelby and Scott were standing at the trash shoot, as they finished, they walked up to him, “Hey Techno want to come to electrical? I saw Shelby do trash so she’s safe” Techno nodded and followed the two friends, he was more comfortable having four people going, but he did see her do trash, so if he did die, oh well.

He started the electrical download just as the lights went off, great.

“I’ll go get it!” Shelby exclaimed, Scott hummed and let her go ahead while sticking near Techno, his teal suit was barely visible in his field of view as a gory slash and the noise of something dropping could be heard from the other side of the wall.

“SHELBY!!!” Techno finished downloading just as Scott ran towards the light and-

A BODY WAS FOUND!

Techno and Scott got teleported next to each other in the cafeteria, both of them looked around just to be relieved by the sight of the woman they thought was dead, in fact, she was the one who called the body.

“I was in the back of electrical with Techno and Scott, I went to turn on the lights but I couldn’t see where the body was or who walked in” The only one missing was Dave.

Techno spoke up, “Last time I saw Dave was in storage doing wires” Wilbur agreed, “Where was everyone?”

Schlatt and Tommy were walking down to electrical together while Phil and Fundy were between Oxygen and Asteroids. All paired up and far away from the crime scene.

“I was in medbay!” Tubbo exclaimed, “There is a vent in medbay that leads to electrical” Fundy pointed out, “ There is no way they vented, Techno was doing download, and that panel is on the vent, plus how could they pass through Techno me and Shelby and then kill Dave without no one seeing them?” Scott made a point, so they had no suspicions. The time was about to end so they all agreed to skip…  but something wasn’t right, it’s just that Techno couldn’t figure out what.

Scott and Shelby went to the asteroids while Phil went down, Techno knew that the two friends were safe, so going with them was the best option, but he had two tasks in admin and Fundy vouched for Phil, so he went in admin with him.

“Here to do card swipe?” The man in the light green suit smiled behind the transparent visor, “And upload” Techno added as he started it, after two attempts, Phil got the card swipe and walked to the other side of admin table, “Two in navigations, one in reactor, one in cams and two in electrical… one is missing” Techno walked to the card reader and failed a few attempts before succeeding, “I feel like someone died… let’s go check out electrical just in case, you coming mate?” He didn’t have anything there, but he followed him.

They entered electrical to find Tubbo and Will, one doing download and one just standing there, they greeted each other and Phil told them his worry while opening the panel on the far right, an oxygen crisis was called right after.“Oh O2, let’s go Techno” Wilbur gestured at Techno to follow him, he followed.

As they ran to admin, a red suit was concentrated on a task, “Tommy why the fuck are you doing wires? Come do O2!” Tommy shrugged, “Nah, you guys got it” closing the wires panel, he went in the direction they just came by.

“That’s sus…” Wilbur whispered, it was barely audible since the alarm was pretty loud.

They entered admin and Wilbur did O2, as they were leaving to do the second one-

A BODY WAS FOUND!

“WHO DARED KILL PHILZA MINECRAFT?!?!?” Tommy slammed his fist on the meeting table, Tubbo, who was next to him, jumped at the sudden motion.

“You did Tommy” Wilbur was looking straight at him, “Going to electrical while 02 is going off is something only an imposter would do” Techno felt bad for leaving Phil alone with Tubbo in- wait.

“I- I- I didn’t do anything! You know me Big dubs I would never kill Philza Minecraft!!!” As Will was about to talk back, Techno touched his arm, “Tommy did go to electrical but didn’t we leave Tubbo and Phil together in there?” The attention moved on the yellow suit, “Well yes! But I left right after you guys did-” he tried to explain, “Actually, where were you Tubbo? I didn’t see you the whole game” Scott asked, Shelby nodded.

“I- uh… I’m in bottom storage! That’s why you guys didn’t see me!” Tommy got closer to Tubbo, “I would have seen you pass if you said that you left right after Will and Techno! VOTE HIM OUT!!!”

Tommy voted instantly, the rest of the crew hesitated,” That doesn’t clear you Tommy, I’m still not convinced… Wait- Fundy’s dead too!” His spot at the table was empty, Scott made an observation “If we vote on seven and we get it wrong they just need a double kill… “ The had fifteen seconds left, “Ok then, everyone skip, let’s just keep an eye on the children, they might both be impostors” Will skipped vote and so did Shelby and Scott, “Why can't it be you, Wilbur? I last saw Fundy with you on right side… “ Schlatt pointed at Wilbur as the room became dark, the last thing before they went back to their tasks was Wilbur flipping the tables, “ Funny enough Jschlatt, I could say the same thing-”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The round had been going on for too long, Techno had finished all of his tasks on the left side, he missed bottom reactor and medbay scan, but for now, he was filling the reactor. Shelby and Scott have been together the whole round, he walked into them twice, the first time in navigation, the second time a few seconds ago when they were heading to cams. He left the empty gas can next to the machine just as lights went down.

Since he was next to electrical, he took the corridor and entered the worst room of the entire map, flicking the lights on, a metallic squeak came from the back of the room. He walked around the lights panel to find Tubbo’s yellow suit kneeled on the ground, he snapped his head to see the pink suit as-

A BODY WAS FOUND!

“I left Shelby in cams, I did the one-two-three thing, and lights went down as soon as I saw Tubbo coming down from top reactor! He killed her and vented! I heard the sound” Shlatt backed him up, saying that Tubbo went left from cafeteria last time he had seen him, “ I trust Scott’s word, but I don’t believe you Shlatt, an impostor would jump on the blame-train to show themselves innocent” They had a small staredown, it was getting tense so Techno spoke up, “I can confirm that it was Tubbo, I did lights and heard the vent open, Tubbo was standing right on top of it” Tommy cheered as he called himself “innocent” and that voting Tubbo would make justice for Phil, Wilbur looked at him weird while everyone voted.

Everyone apart from Shlatt, “So we know that Tubbo is 100% impostor, so the suspects for second impostors are Tommy and Wilbur right?” Wilbur stuttered, “Wah- what makes you say that Big J? If I’m on the sus list, you are too”

Tubbo was ejected

Techno went straight to medbay, Tommy followed him, “HEY BIG T! You have scan big man?” he nodded, he would have preferred no one watching him scan then Tommy watching him scan, but be had a gut feeling that Tommy wasn’t the impostor, so he stepped on the scanner-

EMERGENCY MEETING!

Wilbur had called a meeting, as soon as they teleported at the table, he pointed a finger at Tommy, “Tommy is the most sus one out of all of us! Let’s vote him out just in case both of them were impostors” Scott hovered over the vote button, thought about it, and voted, Schlatt voted too “I’m ok with that, but I still think that you are an impostor Wilbur Soot” they all voted while Tommy yelled whines and excuses, Techno looked over at the boy in the red suit. he wasn’t sure if voting him was a good idea, but if he didn’t vote him the others would get suspicious, so he went with the flow.

“Let’s all stick together ok! We can win by tasks” Scott proposed, Wilbur and Schlatt had one more task, so did Techno, hopefully the ghosts finished the remaining one quickly.

TommyInnit was ejected

Both Shlatt and Scott looked at Wilbur when they were back at the cafeteria, “Wasn’t it your idea Mister Soot to vote Tommy off in case they were both impostors?” Schlatt walked closer to Wilbur, “You can’t blame me for sussing someone who ran away from a crisis and found a body! If anything I should be asking you why you were alone most of the time!”

“Boys please calm down and let’s go do my task” Scott sighed, “You’re the only one I trust here Techno, what tasks do you have left?” Scott started walking towards storage, “I only have medscan” Wilbur and Schlatt were not looking at each other, the impostor was one of them, so it probably wasn’t nice to know that the traitor was walking peacefully next to you while faking his innocent attitude.

Scott did shields and Wilbur entered admin to swipe his card while the rest waited outside, the green bar went up one last time while they were walking into medbay, it looked like only one task was missing, “You have to believe me guys when I tell you that I have the vials, Wilbur was lucky that a ghost did his task and he got to walk it off! It took him way too much to scan the card” Schlatt walked next to the scan and activated the vials, Wilbur barked back, “Yeah yeah sure, you are just salty we are going to win!” Techo stepped on the scan as the green laser went up and down, the others couldn’t see it since visual tasks were off, but the final decision was between Wilbur and Schlatt.

As the room went quiet he realized what was that feeling he had, he knew what felt wrong in the first round! That meant he had to be the impostor...correct?

The lights started to dim down, “Oh no!” Scott exclaimed as he tried to make a mad dash for the scanner, but as soon as the room went dark-

A BODY WAS FOUND!

Techno didn’t see anything, it was a fifty/fifty, or so it seemed. Techno was leaning towards one player, but he was nervous about making a mistake, he could only hear what they had to say before taking the losing or winning step.

~~~~~~~~~~

Who will Techno vote out? YOU DECIDE!!!

This link will take you to a poll! The winner will get voted out and I’ll reveal who was the impostor!!!

Find out who was the impostor on the second part!!!

[thirsty-x1]

Ice Cream Lick | Han Seungwoo

Request:

Hey! I really love all your fics♡ so... I notice your request are open! Can i request one? :") its smut with Seungwoo. Can it be like he got triggered bcs the girl is eating an ice cream? Lol thankyou in advance!

↬ Pairing: Seungwoo x gn!reader.

↬ Genre: Smut.

↬ Warnings: explicit language, semi-exhibition, oral sex, slight face fucking, cum swallowing.

↬ Word Count: 1.5k

It was nice to see them all like this, although it meant you had to work quite a lot. Their hair was a mess, some making it obvious that had barely gotten any sleep by the bags under their eyes, others nervously sweating at the idea of going out into the stage, but they were all natural and that had a certain charm in your mind. Or maybe that was just the stylist part in you speaking.

There was still an hour left and given how tired they seemed, the staff had agreed on giving them a little break and getting some ice cream so that they could fight the heat a little. Their smiles were priceless as each got their own, choosing whatever flavor suited them the most, except for Dohyon that got close to you and offered to give you his ice cream.

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t really eat it.” His words slightly hurt you, trying to decline his offer with your hands.

“You can eat this, sweetie, it won’t make that big of a difference and it’s a nice treat.”

Seungyoun laughed at your reply. “He would eat it if there weren’t two cups of ramen resting on his stomach right now.” Dohyon eyes got big, like a deer in highlights.

“It wasn’t two cups!”

“Right.” Hangyul agreed, careful to not drop his cone. “It was three.”

Everyone was laughing except for the victim that was blushing profusely, pushing the ice cream into your hands as he prepared to get scolded by his manager. With the whole sitcom happening, it was half way into becoming a melted pool of sweetness, so you just started licking it hurriedly, including the bits that were sliding down your fingers.

As you kept eating the ice cream, you went back to paying attention to the boys: Eunsang sharing a bite of his with Dohyon and Dongpyo reprimanding him for it, Junho smearing some into Minhee’s face, Wooseok elegantly holding the tiny spoon to eat it while Yohan made fun of him and Seungyoun, Hyeongjun and Hangyul starting a competition to see which one of them could finish it first without getting a brain freeze.

All of them were laughing and enjoying themselves, all of them except for Seungwoo, his stare completely fixed on you, although it looked like he was a bit lost. He tended to do so, you had come to realize that whenever he started thinking, his eyebrows would raise slightly and wouldn’t blink for a minute until someone called him out for it, which lead to some awkward situations. However, it didn’t seem to be like that this time, since his eyes followed each one of your movements, sucking on his bottom lip as he ate another bit of his own ice cream, cheeks tinting red as he finally made eye contact with you.

You got distracted as one of the members of the staff called you to specify which make up was going to be done today, confirming the final details. There was only a bit more than half an hour left until they had to get out so all of them started to get ready, but when you looked out for your client of the day… he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Yohan, have you seen Seungwoo? I still need to do his hair and finish his make up.”

“Uh, I think I saw him getting into the changing room? Something wrong with his clothes.”

After thanking him you walked there, knocking on the door a few times but without getting any reply, so you knocked again, this time asking.

“Seungwoo? It’s me, is everything alright?”

“Ah, yes! Nothing to worry about, the clothes are just… a bit tight…”

You furrowed your brows. “We checked the sizes before though, did you grab Seungyoun’s by mistake or something?”

“I d-don’t really think so… I’ll be out in a minute! Just–” Through his rambling you finished your ice cream quickly to free your hands.

“Seungwoo, there is only thirty minutes until the performance starts so just let me in and I’ll fix it in ten minutes tops, yes? This is my job.”

He seemed to doubt a bit before letting you in, hurrying to close the door the second you got in and pressed his forehead to the wall. You waited a few minutes before growing frustrated, asking him where it felt tight but he simply dismissed you with a wave of his hand until you turned him around, checking on his jacket and shirt before your eyes fell to the bulge in his pants.

“I-I’m sorry, I really tried to make it go but I couldn’t so I came here to, well, do something about it, I can’t go out like this…” You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to think fast. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s normal, it happens all the time.”

His played with his fingers, looking to the ground. “That’s not why I’m apologizing… it was when I saw you eating the i-ice cream and it just happened.”

“Oh.” Was there anything you could say in this situation? “Can you masturbate?”

The way his eyes started shaking and his face became completely red gave him away, getting a sigh out of you as you fixed your hair so that it wouldn’t bother you, fingers fast to unbutton his pants before dropping to your knees.

“W-what are you doing–”

“It will be faster like this and there isn’t much time…” As soon as you looked up, he twitched again. “Is this fine with you?”

“Y-yes…”

“Try to keep it low, not like the rest are very far away.” You went back at the task at hand, pulling down the pants along with his underwear just enough to take out his already hard cock.

“Of course I’ll keep it low, why wouldn’t I–!”

The sharp intake of breath as you engulfed his length was somewhat rewarding to you, proceeding to bob your head and take more of him, trying to keep track of the time. After making sure you had lubed him up correctly, you pulled him off your mouth, your hand stroking the base as your tongue teased the tip of his member, the taste of his precum mixing with the previous ice cream and resulting in a rather disgusting taste. You looked up at him only to find a gone Seungwoo, his head thrown back and his mouth agape.

“Are you okay?”

He looked down on you, bucking his hips at the view. “It’s cold.”

It wasn’t the reply you weren’t expecting but it made you laugh, the slight vibration sending shivers down his spine while his fingers tangled on your hair although he didn’t do anything at all, letting you control the pace. You went down on him again, hollowing your cheeks and gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, evoking a choked out whimper from him.

“I told you to be quiet.” The whispers against the underside of his shaft made him shudder, getting shy as he noticed you checking the time. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“It just feels too good…” He grabbed a hold of your head, his gaze turning slightly darker. “Can I? I’m close.”

Seeing him like this was beyond your expectations, all of a sudden feeling the leader vibes that the rest of the guys would always talk about. His frame seeming bigger, squaring up his shoulders, his jaw pointing upwards, his whole aura making you feel so small. With a tiny nod you gave him permission, relaxing your jaw as he rolled his hips, enjoying the cold feeling of the ice cream and the warmth of your mouth before he started thrusting, fucking your face at an almost rough pace. Your chest was starting to hurt a bit from the effort of holding back your gags, his brows furrowing each time he would hear the choking sound before he throbbed, spilling his seed on your tongue, leaving you no other option than swallowing each of his spurts with a bit of difficulty.

“Fuck…” Your coughs brought him back quickly. “I’m so sorry, sorry, I thought that it was the best way to not make a whole mess.”

“You… you really should jerk off more often, that was too much.” Your voice was slightly hoarse from the previous abuse, quickly getting up and signaling him to tuck his softening member in. “Now let’s go, your hair is a complete mess from you passing your hands through it.”

Seungwoo smiled a little seeing you try to make yourself look presentable again, his fingers going to fix your hair a bit, his thumb grazing against the corner of your mouth to clean a bit of his cum left, unsure of making his next movement… slipping his finger past your swollen lips, an approving hum leaving him as he felt your tongue swirl against his pad. He rushed to get out, afraid of getting hard again and sat on one of the chairs in front of the mirror, silently threatening the mocking smile that Seungyoun gave him.

“Ah, y/n… I think I also have some wardrobe malfunctions.”

“I’m not in charge of styling you.” You slapped the back of his head at his to giggle as you started to groom Seungwoo, pulling on his hair to erase the goofy smirk on his face.

I love the idea of sucking Seungwoo off. What a good boy he would be despite not being able to shut up. Also support him joining Victon because it’s not the end of the world and he needs support more than anything right now, otherwise I’ll whoop your ass and not in the nice way.

~Nani

| Masterlist |

[nose-bandaid]

bloom ✿ pt.1 — daisies

Kino (Hyunggu) x (female) Reader | flower shop AU

february 6th daises — innocence, purity, and new beginnings

introduction | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | epilogue

=====

“Yes... yes, we’ll be able to deliver on Friday. So which flowers did you want?” You did your best to keep your tone as polite as possible and listened to the muffled voice list the various flowers they wanted. When you initially picked up the phone, you expected that it would be an easy task to complete — handling calls were a frequent part of your job. The customers usually knew what they wanted and for the most part, were pleasant to work with. However, for some reason, this specific customer was prepared to chew you out before you could even say hello. Six minutes and about a million skeptical questions and insults later, you were finally able to get to the actual ordering part of the process. But that didn’t stop the pounding in your head as you filled out the order sheet.

Pink Roses... Baby’s Breath... Snap Dragons — your heart froze for a moment. 

We’re out of snap dragons, aren’t we. 

You shuffled through some papers to confirm your suspicions and yep, the next order wasn’t due until two weeks from now. Already anticipating the grouchy response you were about to receive, you braced yourself before daring to speak into the receiver again.

“I’m really sorry, but we seem to be out of snap dragons at the moment and the next order won’t come in time for Friday...”

You expected some shouting, or even some cursing, but instead you received the most passive-aggressive tone you’ve ever heard, as they asked you to clarify what you meant. And honestly, that was probably worse than how the shouting would’ve been.

“We do have larkspurs though,” You offered desperately. As much as you wanted to hang up on them right then and there, you couldn’t afford to lose the order, or even worse, a customer. “They’re really similar to snap dragons and they’re just as beautiful, I can promise you that.”

While you tried your best to convince the customer to go with the alternate flowers, a hand tapping on the table you were leaning on caught your attention.

“Excuse me! Can I have some help choosing some flowers?” You looked up from the papers to glance at the old man requesting for you assistance and quickly assured him that you’ll get to that once you were finished with the call. He let out a quiet huff, but said nothing and walked off to wait at the bouquets. As your eyes followed his retreating figure, the splitting headache only got worse when you thought of all the requests and tasks you had to complete. It was just one of those days, every single thing just had to go wrong and you dreaded every passing minute. Being the only person manning the store that day also didn’t help at all.

After a few more minutes of trying to negotiate with the upset customer, you managed to finally convince them to agree with your offer (thankfully) and did you best to shake off all the negative feelings holding you down before approaching the old man. You were grateful that he was at least reasonable to work with, along with the other customers that came your way, and filling out their requests were a breeze. But before you even had the chance let out a sigh of relief, a loud CRASH — unmistakably the sound of a vase falling to the ground —  made you flinch, and your shoulders slumped once again.

You followed the sound of a child crying to see a little girl in the middle of a heap of dirt, obviously devastated over the fact that she was the cause of the accident. Her mother, recognizing her daughter’s voice, quickly appeared at the scene, concern written all over her face. But the moment she understood the situation, she immediately grabbed her daughter’s hand and ran off, exiting the store in a flash. You stood in your place in complete shock, not fully registering what just happened in front of you. The abandoned flowers that were once in the mother’s hands slowly rolled off the table she dropped them on, quietly adding even more to the mess. You turned to the other customers who simply stared back and you let out yet another sigh, finally accepting the fact that you were ultimately responsible for dealing with the mess on your own. 

As you went to grab the dustpan from the back, you silently cursed your coworker for backing out on their shift on the one day you could’ve used some help with. Typically, the store was quite peaceful and you could easily manage a shift all on your own, but now that Valentine’s day was around the corner, you were bombarded with work left and right.

The store stirred back to life once you came back out and began collecting the shards of the broken vase, people muttering to each other and feebly shuffling away to distract themselves with other things. The line at the register had also practically doubled in size since the last time you were able to get behind the counter and your stomach filled itself with stress at the sight of it. There was no way you could handle this on your own.

Stupid kid, stupid snap dragons, stupid vase, stupid line... you thought bitterly as you swept the scattered dirt into a pile to take care of later.

“Do you need some help?”

Out of habit, you almost replied with an “I’ll be with you in a minute!”, but you looked up in surprise when you realized that the voice was actually offering you help. A boy smiled at you and held his hands out to grab the broom and dustpan, but you refused, backing away slightly.

“Oh, no it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I was just planning on getting rid of the dangerous stuff first and deal with the rest later.”

He simply took another step closer to you. “I insist, really, you seem like you could use some help right now.”

You hesitated for a moment, eyes wavering between the kind stranger and the line at the register, which was becoming more and more irritated every time you looked their way. Perhaps just once, you could accept someone else’s help? As long as he swept the dirt and only did that, then you wouldn’t feel to guilty about it. Giving him a small nod, you held out the tools and hastily relayed a few instructions before rushing back to the cash. You swiftly worked through each customer, trying to reduce the amount of time you kept him working. Once in a while you would sneak a peak at him to see how he’s doing and he seemed perfectly content, scooping up the dirt and then leaving it in the old bucket just like how you told him to. He even put the deserted flowers back to their original place on the shelves without you telling him to, and your heart melted at that. You know that it was a fairly simple task to do, but you still felt bad about having to rely on a stranger to help you manage your own job. By the time you finished handling the overwhelming number of requests thrown at you, it was only you and they boy left in the store.

When you approached him, he tucked the phone he was playing with into his bag and started to tell you about how he completed the task just like how you told him to. You cut him off with a multitude of thanks, which he laughed off.

“Don’t have to worry about it, I wanted to help.”

“And I appreciate it a lot, but I still feel bad... is there anything I can treat you with?” You insisted, “If you’re here for some flowers I can give you some sort of discount.”

He looked around thoughtfully and placed his hand on a small bouquet of daises. “I was actually thinking about getting these ones, what do you think?”

“Daises are certainly a popular flower, but what exactly is the occasion?” You asked. “I think I need to know that before I can help you.”

“Why,” he gestured to his outfit, which consisted of a long coat covering a plain white tee tucked into his sunflower-printed pants. You also took note of the small flower accessories that he had decorated all over, from the flower hanging from his bag to the ones dangling from his ears. “It’s for my outfits of course! I thought that having some real flowers would make it look even better. If not, I guess they could always decorate my room.”

“Hmm... is that so? Then I think daisies would be a really good option, they seem to suit you. I would say sunflowers too, though they’re a little too big to use as accessories.” You both laughed when you pointed out the large sunflowers nearby. “Your pants are cute though.”

“Thank you,” The boy glanced down at your name tag before gazing into your eyes once again. “Y/n.”

“You’re welcome.” You nodded and paused for a moment before continuing. “May I know your name as well? I can’t say I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Yeah! My name is Hyunggu, I just found about the shop a few days ago and I thought I’d check it out.” He replied, following you to the counter.

“Well it’s always nice to have another customer.” You replied as you scanned the small bouquet and handed it to him. “Here, just take it, it’s on me. I know I’ve already said it a million times, but thanks for all the help back there. It means a lot to finally have something good happen to me on such a bad day.”

He smiled back at you, “It was no problem at all, and I’ll be back again for sure, someday — so I hope to see you soon!”

“I’m here for most days, so yes, I’ll look forward to seeing you again, Hyunggu.”

You waved each other goodbye and he left, the door making its usual chime whenever it opened. The store was at last, empty, and you could finally take a breather and wrap your head around the events of the day. Checking the clock, you were also happy to see that you had just enough time to sneak in a quick lunch before the next wave of customers was bound to come.

But first things first, you had to go deal with the bucket filled with the vase fragments and soil that Hyunggu taken care of. When you hefted it up with its rusty handle, you heard something soft fall to the ground and looked curiously at the small flower keychain that landed near your feet.

Wait a minute... isn’t that Hyunggu’s? It looks like the one he had hanging from his bag. You thought to yourself.

You picked it up from the ground and upon closer inspection, gathered that it was in fact, his keychain, and you giggled when you realized that the flower was a daisy, just like the ones he bought.

This guy... what’s up with him and flowers? He must really like them.

Not knowing how you could possibly get in touch with him anytime soon, you decided to keep it with you until you saw him again, and continued cleaning up the mess, feeling much happier than you were before. You didn’t know what it was about him, but the thought of how kind he was gave you enough energy to get through the rest of the day. You gently washed the keychain to get rid of the dirt that caught onto the fabric and then hung it on the corkboard behind the register. The small flower fit right into the theme of the board, as if it was designed for it, which made you smile. Giving yourself a small nod of approval, you carried on with the last few tasks you had to finish before lunch, all while humming some of your favourite tunes to yourself.

Despite everything that happened, today was a good day.

=====

part two will come out soon ! please look forward to it:)

~ tiny

[sometimes-i-right]

Was digging through my notes and found this discarded scene from Mand’alor bal Kaysh Vod’ika. Obi-Wan’s verd’goten was originally a single chapter featuring a hunt on Mandalore, but I scrapped that in favor of the Xanatos hunt published on AO3. Of course that decision was made after I had already written 3k words, so enjoy the scrapped scene after the break. (The original arc also involved a completely original mission where Obi-Wan crossed paths with Luminara and her master. I may use bits and pieces of that mission in a future arc.)

This chapter originally had another 500 or so words where Obi-Wan is adopted by a strill puppy. I think those words got deleted, since the only evidence is a pro/con list and the single “protect” emotion from the strill parent.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure what he expected Mandalore to look like, but it wasn't this. Large swathes of the southern hemisphere had been bombarded from space, leaving enormous puckered black scars across a golden desert. The desert was relatively new, or so Jango said, a result of the bombardment destroying the natural ecosystem and leaving the area uninhabitable without sophisticated environmental domes.

The northern hemisphere had been miraculously spared - and that alone had probably kept the planet capable of supporting humanoid life - leaving a glimpse of the Mandalore of old. Forests and mountains blanketed the area, making it difficult to carve out enough space for a single clan, let alone a city or proper landing pad.

Jango guided Jaster's Legacy in for a lopsided landing between an evergreen forest and the start of yet another mountain range, a feat Obi-Wan was glad he didn't have to perform. "Wayii," he exclaimed softly upon exiting the ship, eyebrows rising in awe at the way the Legacy was perched atop three boulders like a giant bird of prey.

"It just takes practice," Jango assured, voice modulator hiding most of the amusement Obi-Wan could feel from him. "Now, your verd'goten," he started and Obi-Wan snapped his attention over. "Traditionally, the two of us would disappear into the wilderness while the rest of Clan Fett tried to catch and defeat you. Seeing as that's not an option, we'll have to test your warrior skills another way."

Obi-Wan swallowed his nerves and nodded seriously.

"In these forests are a number of dangerous predators. Your task is to hunt a strill," he stated and Obi-Wan tilted his head in question. "They're an apex predator native to these forests. Highly intelligent, mammalian, with an unmistakable stench and six legs. Tend to pounce from high trees," he warned, grinning when Obi-Wan nervously glanced at the tree line.

Those were some very tall trees.

"I'll be with you to make sure you don't die, but this is your hunt," Jango finished. "Be sure to take whatever you need from the ship."

"I don't suppose there's a strill tracker?" Obi-Wan quipped before studying the forest. He had taken the basic survival courses all Initiates took. He had the Force. If things went to absolute bathashit, he had Jango.

He could do this.

He set off into the forest with a light pack, a single blaster, and a survival knife. He had contemplated grabbing more supplies - enough provisions for a week, more weapons, a full temporary shelter and bedroll - but had ultimately decided against it. This was a test. He wouldn't take the easy way out.

The forest was eerie and peaceful at the same time. Insects chirped and screamed all around him, blocking out the softer padding sounds of small prey animals and his own two feet. Branches snapped and shook from the breeze and various creatures going about their lives. The scent of pine and rotting foliage sat heavy in his lungs.

He trudged on.

The sun filtered through the sturdy veshok trees and warmed patches of undergrowth. Obi-Wan paused in one, absorbing the heat and breathing out his tension. Breathed in peace, and exhaled his uncertainty. Inhaled fresh air and exhaled his nerves.

He stretched out his senses.

Jango stopped fifty yards away, preternaturally still in the way all predators were. He was calm, patient, warm, but ready to spring into action at the slightest signal. His own senses - and likely his sensors - were on high alert, searching for any indication that Obi-Wan needed his help.

Obi-Wan would not need his help. Not for this. He would make Jango proud.

A rapid heartbeat and softly padding feet off to one side, a flicker of life just as wary and alert as Obi-Wan was. He brushed against that dim light, identifying it as a small herbivore. A prey animal, calculating in its own simple way whether it wanted to flee or continue munching the sweet vorpan berries.

Another flicker of life overhead, this one sleeping. A good thing, too, since there was an aura of danger and barely leashed violence tucked behind those brown wings. Obi-Wan would not put it past this particular creature to attack, and possibly kill, humans if it felt the desire. He sent a soft sleep suggestion to it and warily turned his attention elsewhere, though part of him kept it firmly in mind.

Something nudged his arm, and Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open. A cold black nose attached to a long triangular face nudged his arm again, and Obi-Wan huffed a soft laugh. He slowly, carefully reached up to pet the shatual's head and scratch the base of the wide antlers, gaze flickering over the herd that had decided to come meet him.

"Hello there," he greeted quietly, belatedly realizing he had been projecting peace into the Force in his attempts to keep the predator bird overhead asleep. No wonder the herd had come up to him. "You're a brave little fellow, aren't you?"

Jango shifted, and the shatual herd stiffened, heads all swiveling to stare at the Mandalorian. Obi-Wan jerked back to avoid getting clocked by his new friend's bony crown.

The largest shatual made a guttural sound, and Obi-Wan scrambled away as the herd abruptly fled.

A mix of exasperation, disbelief, and humor prompted Obi-Wan to turn, a bemused if chiding look on his face. "Thanks for that," he snarked, staring pointedly at the blaster Jango had drawn.

"This happen a lot?" Jango asked evenly as he stowed the weapon.

"Not generally. I think I was projecting and they got curious," Obi-Wan admitted. "We should move on. I think that's a shriek-hawk overhead, which means a strill wouldn't be welcome here."

There was a brief pause as Jango consulted his HUD. "Good eye," he confirmed.

Obi-Wan smiled as he wandered deeper into the woods, the Force guiding his steps.

 They stalked through the forest for hours, Obi-Wan picking out what plants he thought were safe for foraging and Jango verifying their safety. Whether that was cheating, Obi-Wan didn't care to examine too closely. He knew how to test whether a plant was edible. Using Jango's knowledge simply kept the man from worrying at Obi-Wan's naturally small appetite.

There were no repeats of the shatual herd incident, though Obi-Wan may have used a small Force suggestion to lure a rabbit for latemeal. He only felt mildly guilty about using the Force in such a way as Jango helped him field dress and roast the animal.

Camp was a simple affair; a pile of dry leaves, a small fire, and a blanket to keep the morning dew off. Jango didn't even bother with the blanket, relying instead on his beskar'gam to keep him warm and dry. Part of Obi-Wan was jealous, the rest of him knew he would get his own suit soon.

The next day came bright and early, complete with Obi-Wan gasping from a half-forgotten nightmare and Jango groaning about a night on the hard ground. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and would have thrown a pillow if he had one; the ground was not that much harder than the shared blanket pile they were experimenting with on the Legacy.

They wandered onwards, Obi-Wan following the vague currents of the Force as best he could. It was difficult to tell where exactly he was meant to go. The Living Force had never been his strong suit, and the Force felt especially elusive in this old, scarred forest. This was a place teeming with life tempered by a looming expectation of danger; these were survivors, determined to eke out a living among the jagged rocks and scraggly trees and the heavy weight of death.

He shivered as he crested another boulder.

The vague feeling of alarm and the sound of rustling trees alerted him to animals fleeing something. He turned, stretching his senses out.

A breeze ruffled his hair, and Obi-Wan nearly gagged at the stench it carried. Like rotting meat and Vos's training tunics and unwashed bodies all mixed together. He hastily switched to breathing through his mouth, and nearly gagged again as he realized he could taste the stink.

He glanced back at Jango, a disgusted look on his face. 'Is that what I think it is?'

Amusement spiked, and Jango inclined his head. 'Yes.'

Obi-Wan scowled and crept towards the strill, drawing both his vibroblade and blaster. He reached out with the Force, recognizing a spark of animal intelligence just ahead, mind bright with happiness and victory at a successful kill.

The strill was just as ugly as it smelled. Short gray fur bristled across its flappy skin as it tore into the downed shatual. Its front four legs held the shatual in place as it systemically tore the beast into shreds, blood and viscera spreading from the corpse in a gory puddle.

Obi-Wan swallowed roughly and raised his blaster.

Something - the wind, maybe - alerted the predator of his presence as its head snapped up, snarling. The Force barely had time to flare in warning before the strill pounced, fangs and claws extended.

Obi-Wan shouted in surprise and thrust one hand out, catching the strill with the Force, pushing it back, and buying him precious seconds to scramble to his feet.

The strill snarled as it landed, prowling around him in a wide arc. Obi-Wan raised his blaster and aimed for the creature's center of mass, Force at the ready for any unexpected surprises. The Force trilled right as the strill leapt, and Obi-Wan twisted to one side, blaster landing a fiery score across the loose skin of the strill's underbelly.

He cursed under his breath. That would only make the animal angrier.

The strill snarled as it landed and immediately bounded up a nearby tree. Obi-Wan shifted closer to the shatual body, tracking the strill as it jumped from tree to tree around him.

He dove to one side as the strill fell almost on top of him, blaster snapping out three quick bolts. The strill whimpered as it landed, and Obi-Wan frowned as he realized he had only caught one of the six legs instead of the animal's vulnerable chest.

It would hurt, but it wouldn't incapacitate.

Apparently it hurt enough, as the strill picked up its injured leg and fled into the forest. Obi-Wan grit his teeth and followed, eyes scanning everywhere for disturbed foliage and blood.

Despite the injury, the strill was fast, quickly disappearing among the veshok trees. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, searching for that combination of intelligence and anger/hurt/fear/hunger that was the strill among similar animal minds.

He scowled as he felt the strill escape to the edge of his awareness. If he were better with the Force - if he were a real Jedi - he would be able to feel it out from across the planet. He picked up the pace, using the Force to vault himself over a downed tree and enhance his speed.

But it was no good. The strill was clever and knew the forest better than Obi-Wan did. He drew to a stop, panting, as he recognized that his target had escaped.

As he caught his breath, he realized Jango was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, reaching out with the Force for the familiar presence, but only finding the relatively dull glimmers of animals instead. He reached for his commlink and paused.

He wasn't asking for help. He wouldn't. Not for this.

He could do this. Jango thought he could do this, so he could do this. He would not let Jango down.

He flipped a switch on the device allowing it to broadcast his location, and tucked it back in his belt pouch. Whether Jango needed the tracking signal or not, it settled something deep inside knowing Jango would absolutely be able to find him.

And if the strill did kill him, at least Jango would be able to find his corpse.

With that cheery thought, Obi-Wan carefully examined his surroundings. There, off to the side and high in the trees, were what looked like claw marks, and lower on the trunk were a few spatters of blood.

He followed those signs for some distance, trusting the Force to keep him mostly pointed in the right direction and his own eyes the rest of the way, and emerged in a small rocky clearing. He scoured the lichen covered rock for the telltale blood spots he had been following, and headed back into the forest.

As he came upon a small rocky clearing, he was forced to admit the strill was far more clever than he had given credit. He drew his knife, marked the false trail, and tried a different path.

The third time he entered the small rocky clearing, Jango was waiting for him.

"Not a word," Obi-Wan demanded, finally locating what he hoped was the real trail.

Jango didn't move, but he also didn't say a word, so Obi-Wan counted that as a win. He determinedly ignored whatever emotions Jango was bleeding into the Force.

The third path led him into the foothills of a mountain and down into a shallow stream. He scowled at the cheery water feature, just knowing the strill had used that to well and truly lose him.

"Do you have a plan?" Jango asked as he drew close.

Obi-Wan sighed, releasing his frustration to the Force, and took a seat on a conveniently flat rock. "We weren't taught more than basic tracking skills," Obi-Wan admitted, "but I did spend a lot of time hiding from and chasing down my friends in the creche. Whenever someone got really good at hiding, we could generally locate them if we meditated and really focused, so I'm going to give that a shot."

"Does that work for anyone?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "The better you know who you're searching for, the easier it gets. I got a decent feel for the strill while we were fighting, so with some luck I should be able to find it. At least, I should, as long as it hasn't gone too far away," which they both knew was unlikely given the strill's injury.

Jango didn't have anything to say to that, so Obi-Wan closed his eyes and drew the Force around him. Energy swelled, and Obi-Wan concentrated, dragging his attention away from Jango's bright light to pick through the dimmer threads surrounding them.

His attention slid to a knot of threads vaguely resembling his target and a herd of shatuale. The strill-thread watched closely, its focus on the runt-thread at the back of the herd with the gimp leg, as the herd gathered at a sizeable bush. The runt dropped its head to gather some berries, and the strill pounced, air catching the gliding skin between its legs and depositing the predator's claws on the shatual's neck.

The shatuale-threads panicked, bolted, and fled, leaving the strill-thread and the dying shatual-thread behind but not forgotten. As Obi-Wan watched, the shatual-thread frayed and split, the pieces carried away on some indiscernible breeze to tangle themselves with the shatuale herd and the strill ripping strips out of an empty shell.

And those scattered threads suddenly contracted, bright and solid and demanding, dragging the herd and the strill-thread, now frayed in places, together. He watched as the mess of threads collided and tangled, forming some knotted mess he could hardly pick apart before it suddenly dispersed, leaving only a few frayed remains behind.

He frowned at the unhelpful vision. Something - the Force? - frowned right back.

He prodded at the frayed remains and felt a flash of very animal alarm/protect/hunt in return.

He kept that thread firmly in mind as he carefully eased himself from the Force.

"Find something?" Jango asked evenly, though after his latest deep meditation the man might as well have been screaming his worry, curiosity, and fascination to the galaxy for all he was masking the emotions.

"I think so," Obi-Wan answered, rising to his feet and nearly tumbling to the ground as his vision temporarily blacked out. "Whoa. How long was I out?"

"Four hours," Jango answered, stowing the blaster he had been cleaning. He fished a nutribar from one of his numerous pouches and threw it at Obi-Wan. "Eat and drink. The water is safe."

Obi-Wan scowled but obediently bit down on the dry bar before chasing it with water and venturing back into the forest. The strill-thread felt different outside that plane of deep meditation, but he had a direction to follow and he wasn't about to let it slip away again.

He almost wished he had waited to finish the nutribar before chasing the strill. His mouth felt sandy, and he hadn't thought to fill a canteen before leaving the stream behind.

The strill-thread remained steady in his mind, and he couldn't help the slight increase in pace as he caught the first pungent whiff of the beast. He cloaked himself in the Force as if he were hiding from Quin and approached slowly, senses straining for any sign the strill knew he was approaching.

He heard growling and an answering whuff just ahead. He ducked down, drawing his blaster and checking the Force. Jango was still several meters away, and it felt like the strill was distracted by a sizeable herd of angry shatuale.

Angry herbivores. That was not something he would have expected.

The lead shatual ducked its head, antlers pointed straight at the strill, and whuffed another warning. The strill growled and darted forwards, forward paws raised to slash.

Obi-Wan could only watch as the shatual charged, caught the strill in the points of its antlers, and tossed it aside like trash. The other shatuale dropped their heads and followed suit, hooves trampling the strill into the dirt. The lead shatual stopped long enough to study its target, whuffed and pawed at the ground, and tossed its head in victory as the strill whined pathetically.

He sat stunned for a moment, not sure what he was supposed to do as the shatuale proudly left the area. He was supposed to hunt the strill, but a herd of prey animals came and did the deed for him. Did it count if he tracked it, fought it, and ultimately didn't kill it?

But no, the poor animal wasn't dead yet.

He could feel the creature's pain, see how it struggled to breathe around a crushed ribcage. Its limbs were shattered in multiple locations, the grey fur already matted with blood where its thick skin had burst. The shatuale hadn't killed the strill, but there was no way the strill would survive much longer.

He felt a swell of pity for the thing as he approached. There was no way he could help it; even if he had enough bacta on him (which he definitely didn't), the creature would sooner kill him than let him approach.

He met the animal's gold eyes, unfocused and cloudy though they were, and tried to press peace and comfort on its mind. Something stirred and weakly nudged against his mind, leaving an impression of pain/sad/hungry.

The strill released a wet whine and blood burbled past its lips. Obi-Wan closed his eyes in mourning, pressed a suggestion to sleep on the rapidly weakening creature, and shot it clean between the eyes.

It really was a mercy this time.

He rose to his feet as he heard Jango approach. "I killed it, but a herd of shatuale did most of the work first," he blurted out, stowing his blaster.

Jango came to stop next to him, staring down at the corpse before turning his helmeted face towards him. "That's okay," Jango said. "I told you before, the verd'goten is traditionally a hunt between clan members. This was a test to see how advanced your survival and fighting skills were, and based on what I've seen, you're more than skilled enough." He smiled behind the helmet, one hand resting proudly on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Congratulations, verd."

Verd. Soldier. Warrior.

Jango's smile became tender as he squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, vod."

Obi-Wan beamed.

[cherriontop]

Worth the Hassle

This is my Valentine’s Day fic written for @starker-valentines​ and my story goes to @starkerkeyz​ I apologize for how late this is, but I hope you can enjoy it!

Prompt:  Peter is excited for valentine's because it's his first with a BF, Tony tries to be excited but is reminded of his past failures as a BF. Peter comforts him when he finds out

I changed the prompt a little bit (mostly because of my own failure to read) Mostly Tony’s been hurt in the past and no longer likes Valentine’s Day. 

Warnings: Peter’s age is unspecified, mentions of past cheating (not between Peter and Tony)

               “So. . .” Peter started as he plopped down on the couch beside Tony, careful not to jostle the laptop perched in the other man’s lap. Tony doesn’t even glance up, fingers flying on the keyboard. Peter purses his lips, letting his fingers walk across Tony’s shoulder, anything to draw the man’s attention. “When are you going to ask me?”

               It takes Tony a moment, but he does pause, tilting his head towards his boyfriend with an amused smile. “I can’t read your mind, princess.” He chuckles softly as Peter pouts some more, then makes a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes with a smile. “Ask you what, darlin’?”

               A brilliant smile popped back onto Peter’s face, his cheeks swelling with sweetness. “Are you going to ask me to be your Valentine? It’s only two days away!” Almost immediately, the smile drops off Tony’s face, and he straightens, squaring his shoulders.

               “Pete-“ he starts, avoiding the boy’s eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, but this holiday just isn’t a good day for me. Do you think that maybe we could, I don’t know, just pretend it doesn’t exist?” He scratches the back of his neck, and Peter feels his heart sink. His first Valentine’s day with a boyfriend and Tony doesn’t want to celebrate?

               “Yeah, sure,” he answers, plastering on a fake smile. He doesn’t miss the way Tony’s shoulders sag a little with obvious relief. “Don’t worry about it.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the man’s head, then stood. “I’m going to go make something for dinner.”

               Tony hums and returns back to his work, not even noticing Peter’s sadness.

~~

               “My first Valentine’s day with a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want to even go out for dinner,” Peter complained, dropping his head down against Ned’s sheets. His best friend was currently putting together the latest Lego Star Wars set he’d gotten, and Peter was meant to be helping him. Instead, he was sprawled on the bed, watching the ceiling as if it had all the answers to his problems.

               “Did you ask him why he didn’t want to celebrate?”

               Peter turned his head towards the other boy, chewing on his lip. “No, but the way he said it made it feel like it was better not to ask. But what’s so horrible about a holiday that focuses on appreciating your lover?”

               “Well maybe you could ask one of his friends. There’s got to be a reason he doesn’t like it.” Ned shrugged like it was no big deal, connecting two more pieces. Peter released his lip as he pondered his friends words. Who could he ask? He didn’t want to ask Pepper because she and Tony seem to have a strained relationship. They always seemed to be dancing around one another, like they knew they were awkward but couldn’t tell anyone.

               He thought briefly about asking Steve, but he and Tony had a falling out recently over Steve’s new boyfriend, Bucky. Peter wasn’t sure what the issue was, but he figured that he’d use Steve as a last resort. He didn’t want words getting to Tony that he was hitting it up with his old friend. Tony wasn’t the kind of person to ban him from seeing anyone, but Peter didn’t want to start anything unnecessary.

               Rhodey seemed to be Peter’s next best option. He’d known Tony for years, so surely he would know what Tony’s deal with Valentine’s day was. And if he didn’t, he would be able to point Peter towards someone who would know.

               “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Ned,” Peter answered, rolling over onto his stomach to look at his friend. Ned didn’t even look up, sorting through the pieces in search for the one he needed.

               “Yeah, yeah. Just come help me. I can’t build this all on my own.”

~~

               Getting Rhodey alone was a task alone, and Peter was so distracted with it he almost missed his chance. They were at some kind of event, Tony insisting that they needed to make an appearance for the press, and he’d been focused on Rhodey in the background, waiting for him to go to the bathroom. Just moments before the man did, Tony tugged on his hand, looking concerned.

               “Sweetheart, are you alright?” He asked softly, letting his arm slide around Peter’s waist, more of a comfort than anything. “I know you’re not a big fan of these things, but it’s important I show my face for important Stark Industry events.” Peter smiles at his boyfriend, a genuine curve of his lips, and he leans close to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek.

               “I know, and I’m alright,” he promised, nearly missing when Rhodey excused himself to go to the bathroom. “Just a little distracted by how much I need to use the bathroom.”

               Tony barked out a laugh, his eyes glimmering with joy. “Baby, you’ve already gone twice since we got here. How much have you had to drink?” Peter rolled his eyes with a playful smile, then leaned up to kiss Tony again before he slipped away. He weaved through the crowd, trying not to spill any drinks or step on any toes, eyes zeroed in on the man entering the bathroom.

               Peter didn’t realize until he was pushing the door open that the bathroom was probably not the ideal place to talk.

               By then, though, it was too late and Peter really needed to talk to him. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and Peter would be miserable if he didn’t know why Tony hated it so much. Peter lingered by the sinks, waiting patiently for his friend to be done. He nodded pleasantly at the other men coming and going, trying not to feel too out of place.

               Finally, Rhodey came out of the stall, and if he was surprised to see Peter, he didn’t show it. “Hey, kid. Waiting for Tony?”

               “No, actually, I was waiting for you. Can we talk?”

               The door opened again, and Peter’s eyes darted to the man entering, making a beeline for the stall. He turned back to Rhodey, watching him wash his hands. “I don’t know if anyone ever told you this, but the men’s bathroom isn’t really the best place for a private conversation,” he admonished gently, drying his hands.

               Peter’s cheeks colored, and he fought against the urge to stare at his shoes. “I-I know that, but it’s just so hard getting you alone without Tony there.”

               “C’mon, kid.” Rhodey settled his hand on Peter’s shoulder, steering him out of the bathroom and towards the stairs. “Let’s go outside. It’s a lot more private out there.” Peter spares a glance back at Tony, but the man is surrounded by other people. Peter doesn’t think he’ll miss him if he’s gone for half an hour.

               The evening air is cool against Peter’s cheeks, but the suit around his body keeps him warm. He mentally thanks his boyfriend for forcing him to wear it that night. Rhodey nods to people passing, and Peter just feels like a small child, trailing along after the man. They head to the well kept garden, which is thankfully empty. Rhodey finds a metal bench and sits, watching Peter expectantly.

               Peter takes a seat next to the other man, his stomach suddenly tying itself in knots. What if Rhodey thought this was dumb? What if he didn’t know anything? What if there was no reason for why Tony didn’t like this Holiday? What if-

               “Well?” Rhodey has no problem interrupting Peter’s thoughts, crossing his arms over his chest in a relaxed manner. Peter’s cheeks heat but he sits up straighter.

               “Why doesn’t Tony like Valentine’s Day?”

               Rhodey snorts, leaning back against the bench. “Kid, you brought me all the way out here to ask me that? What are we, in middle school? Why can’t you just ask Tony yourself? He doesn’t normally like to talk about his exes, but he’s so hung up over you I’m sure he wouldn’t be able to deny you a thing. Though I guess I thought the same about Pepper and here we are.”

               Peter lifted his head in interest, his suspicions confirmed. “They dated?”

               “Pete, they were a whirlwind of a couple. They both love each other very much, but a romantic relationship was not what they needed. I’ve never seen anyone crash and burn as much as they did. Such a shame they can barely look one another in the eye now.” Rhodey shook his head, then stretched his arms out. “They’ve gotten better, though. Working in such close proximity does that.”

               Peter let it sit in his mind for a few moments before he allowed himself to speak. “Is that why Tony hates Valentine’s Day? Because he loved Pepper so much?”

               Rhodey paused, mulling the question over as he stared at the different colored flowers. “Nah, I don’t think that’s the reason he hates it. There’s many reasons, and Pepper might be one of them, sure, but he wasn’t too keen on the holiday even when he was with her. And you know her, she isn’t too big on holidays, either.”

               Rhodey seemed to think it over some more, eyes darting over to look at Peter. “I suppose he could hate the holiday because of Megan. He was with her before Pepper, and he found her in the bed with some other guy on Valentine’s day. He wasn’t super into her, but being cheated on is pretty awful no matter what. And then there was Stephanie the year before, and she broke up with him on Valentine’s Day. And before that was Amy, who exploited him for his money during the holiday and gave him a cheap belt in exchange. I guess Tony just hasn’t had any luck with his partners on Valentine’s Day.”

               Peter frowned, anger stirring in his gut. How dare these women ruin a special holiday for Tony? Peter doesn’t have much dating experience, but Tony is the sweetest and most thoughtful person he’s ever met. He can’t imagine cheating on him or taking advantage of him.

               “Okay, thanks Rhodey. I know what I have to do.” Peter stood up from the bench, knowing they’d been gone long enough that Tony was probably waiting for them. Rhodey stands up, and he slings his arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him into his side.

               “Of course. Just don’t be surprised if he doesn’t react the way you want him to. He’s only human.”

               Together, they head back upstairs, and once they enter the room, they slink to opposite sides. Peter slides back up to Tony, and the man gives him a fond smile, wrapping his arm around Peter’s waist as he presses a kiss to his temple. “Where’d you go, darling?” He asked, concern laced in his voice.

               Peter looks up into Tony’s deep eyes and his heart beats faster. He doesn’t know how the women looked at him like this and still managed to hurt Tony. “Just needed some fresh air.” The answer is enough for him, though, because he drops it, going back to talking to the other attendees. Peter just melts into his boyfriend’s side, a plan forming in his head.

~~

               Peter’s plan is going to shit. He’d asked Rhodey to get Tony to meet him in the park at 1, and it was only twenty minutes until one now. Peter was meant to be there first with all kinds of baked goods and gifts, but the kitchen was a mess, and all he had to say for it was a burnt pie. There was no time to start over, and even if there was, Peter had used up all the ingredients. The other dishes he’d attempted to make had gone much the same, and all he had to offer was an underbaked cupcake. Just one, though. He’d accidentally dropped all the others on the floor.

               He cursed as he tossed the pie in the trash, running his messy hands through his hair. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t show up to the picnic without any food. The only option he had left was to get some takeout and pick it up on the way over. Hopefully Tony would appreciate the thought and the effort and not what Peter was actually preparing.

               With his mind made up, Peter rushed to order some pizza, throwing in a side of breadsticks. Then he went for the gifts he’d bought Tony. Tony was a billionaire, which made him hard to buy for, but it was more the thought that Peter wanted to express. He’d bought a huge teddy bear, a bouquet of roses, a box of chocolate, and a nice watch because Tony refused to buy himself a new one. It was bound to break any day, and Peter wanted to be prepared so Tony wouldn’t have to go without one.

               Luckily, he’d left them in the car, so he didn’t even need to pack up as he raced to pick up the pizza. Tony would be getting to the park at any moment, and Peter didn’t want to be late to the date he’d set up.

               He spent longer than he’d planned to in the pizza parlor because they’d messed up his order and forgotten the breadsticks. He didn’t have time to wait for them to make them. He accepted his pizza and hurried back to his car. God, this whole plan was turning into one big disaster. He’d know better next year to plan in advance, so that he wasn’t running around at the last minute. He just hoped there would be a next year. If he didn’t woo Tony over with this flop of a Valentine’s date, Tony would still be against the holiday.

               He was late to the park, and he already had three texts from Rhodey asking where he was. He threw open the backseat, and to his horror, the teddy bear toppled out, right into the puddle of mud beneath it. Peter tried to snag it before it could touch the ground, but it was too late. The entire left side was caked with mud. He couldn’t give that to Tony.

               Panicked, Peter shoved it back into the car. No time to worry about it now. He grabbed the box of chocolates, lifting the lid to peek at the contents. He wanted to cry when he saw that the sun had melted every single chocolate, making a mess of the inside.

               At least he had the flowers.

               He grabbed the bouquet carefully, cradling them as he searched the rest of the bags for the watch. They were empty. He ground out loud, lightly banging his head against the seat. He must have left the watch at the store. God, what a disaster this was all turning out to be. How could he just present Tony with pizza and flowers? This was going to make the holiday even worse for his boyfriend. He was going to hate it.

               With that in mind, he trudged towards where he’d asked the other men to meet. His spirits were low and his nerves were curling in his stomach He was going to be added to the list of awful Valentine’s Days. He should just give up now before Tony can see how poorly everything is-

        ��      “Watch out!”

               Peter barely has a second to look up before he was plowed over by an excited dog chasing a frisbee. He toppled to the side, outstretching the box of pizza but he was unable to save the flowers. He landed right on them, crushing them and the crinkly wrapping.

               Two girls were by his side in an instant, helping him up. “I’m so sorry!” The girl on his left exclaimed, brushing off his shirt. The other girl was dusting off his back. “We didn’t even see you there.”

               Peter wanted to cry and scream from frustration, but he just shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, I should have been paying attention.” He sighed, looking at the smushed flowers in his hand.

               “Oh no! Your flowers!”

               Peter glanced up at the girl when she spoke, then gave her a small smile. “Here, you can have them. They’re not much use to me anymore.” He handed over the flowers, and without even saying goodbye, he walked away. At least he had the pizza. At least he had the pizza.

               Tony and Rhodey were waiting by the blanket Peter had set out. Tony was sprawled out on it, watching a couple kids play tag. Rhodey was pacing in a small circle, looking mildly annoyed. Peter glanced at his watch and winced. He was fifteen minutes late.

               “Hey, guys,” he called once he was close enough. Both men turned to look at him, and Tony’s face only went more puzzled. “Thanks for bringing him here, Rhodey.” The man in question nodded, and without further pleasantries, he was gone. Tony sat up on the blanket, making room for Peter to plop down beside him. “I brought pizza. Happy Valentine’s day, even though you don’t like the holiday.”

               Tony took the pizza from Peter silently, popping the lid. “Pete?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Did you have a sudden urge for Hawaiian pizza?”

               Peter’s mouth dropped open with surprise, and he leaned over to peek in the box. Sure enough, he spotted the pineapple lying on top. He groaned and dropped down against the blanket. “Of course it’s wrong. Why wouldn’t it be? This day truly is a disaster.” He pressed his hands over his face, not sure if he was mad, embarrassed, or sad. Possibly all three. “Absolutely nothing has gone according to plan.”

               He felt more than heard Tony lay beside him, and then his hands were removed. His boyfriend’s amused eyes found his as Tony cradled his hands to his chest. “You had a plan, huh? Tell me about it.”

               With a sigh, Peter rolled onto his side to face Tony, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Well I know you’ve had a hard time with this holiday. People haven’t been that great to you. So I wanted to show you that you could enjoy the holiday. That it could be good. But nothing worked out. I was planning on cooking for you and having a nice picnic, but I can’t actually cook and everything turned out wrong. So then I ordered us pizza with breadsticks because I know you love them, but I ordered pepperoni, not Hawaiian.

               “And then I got here late and I had this huge teddy bear for you that fell into the mud. And your box of chocolates all melted in the car. And even the flowers were destroyed. And I know you’re a billionaire and you don’t actually need a gift, but it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m thinking you probably have never even gotten the stereotypical gifts, which is a staple for the holiday, by the way. I just wanted to give you a reason to like this day, but I messed that one up.”

               Peter had been so busy ranting that he hadn’t realized Tony had gone silent. But when he glanced up, he could see the way Tony’s eyes were misting up. “Tony?”

               “You did all this for me?” The man asked, voice deep and gruff.

               “Well yeah,” Peter answered, squeezing Tony’s hands. “Of course I did. You’re my boyfriend and I love you. You deserve to have someone do things for you.”

               Silence settled over them for a moment before Tony murmured a “come here, baby,” and pulled Peter in for a hard kiss. Relief flooded through Peter, and he melted against Tony’s chest, finally feeling like he can relax.

               “I don’t think I’ve loved anyone more than I love you right here, right now, Peter Parker,” Tony whispered against his lips, kissing him another time before he let himself continue. “I should have known things would be different with you. You’re not like any of the others. God, look at all the trouble you put in for me. No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”

               Peter’s eyes softened, and he lifted a hand to cradle Tony’s cheek. “You’re worth everything.”

               Tony wipes at his eyes and sits up, taking a deep breath. “Well, you’ve convinced me. This day isn’t wretched. Now how about we go get something to actually eat?”

               Peter laughs, leaning up on his elbows. “Sure. Not like we’re going to eat this pizza anyway.” Tony offers him a hand, and even after they’re both on their feet, Tony doesn’t let go. Peter lays his head on Tony’s shoulder as they walk, a smile on his face.

               “So, you tried cooking for me?”

               Peter’s face went red, and he was glad his boyfriend couldn’t see. “I don’t know if I’d call it cooking,” he explained slowly, earning a bark of laughter. The sound raised his spirits, and he couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he poked Tony in the side. “Hey, you laugh now, but you won’t be when you see the state of your kitchen.”

[mayquita]

The Art of (Fake)Dating - (3/5)

I still can't believe I managed to finish this chapter in such a short space of time, at least for my standards. Anyway, I can't seem to stop writing this story even though I got like a million other things to do. But when you get a stroke of inspiration you should take advantage of it, right? @shardminds​ this is for you, darling. :) Thank you, everyone, for all your comments, notes, likes, kudos and reviews.

(This is unbeta'd, so I apologize in advance for the many mistakes and nonsense)

Summary: When Emma agrees to be Killian’s fake girlfriend she expects it to be a one-time thing. However, and despite getting an enemy in the form of an overprotective brother, she ends up becoming an expert in the art of fake dating even though she can’t stand her fake boyfriend, at least at the beginning.

Ao3 / FFNet / Part 1 Part 2

// 

The Art of (Fake) Dating - Part 3

Liam took his time to prepare the hot drinks, keeping himself in a stubborn silence broken only by the sounds caused by his task, so Emma had no choice but to wait sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. This awkward silence, far from making her feel uncomfortable, allowed her to at least regain her composure and meditate on what had happened since she had accepted this stupid plan.

She had never found herself in such a surreal situation, about to be lectured by her fake boyfriend's brother on Thanksgiving night and after having witnessed a performance in which said fake boyfriend pretended to have sex with her with the sole purpose of bothering his brother. It was almost like being part of a hilarious scene from a typical romcom.

Okay, the scene might not be funny, at least Liam's serious expression while preparing the hot chocolate showed it, but that didn't stop the beginning of a chuckle from bubbling in the back of her throat, so she had to press hard her lips together to hold back the incipient laughter.

"How do you prefer your chocolate, lass?" When Liam turned his head to address her, she made an effort to keep her back straight and a neutral expression on her face.

"With whipped cream and cinnamon if that's ok, thank you."

After uttering what seemed like a sound of approval, Liam returned his attention to the stove, ignoring her presence again. It was obvious that he didn't know her at all if he thought that with that attitude he was going to make her nervous. It was rather the opposite, with each passing minute she gained more self-confidence. You wanna play? Let's play, buddy.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Liam took a seat next to her while he handed her a steaming mug. Still, he kept his silence, focusing his attention instead on the mug between his hands. His expression was quite cryptic, though, so Emma couldn't tell if Liam was reluctant about how to approach the issue he wanted to deal with her or if, on the contrary, he intended to intimidate her in some way. She suspected that the latter option would be the most likely, so Emma convinced herself that it didn't matter what Liam could hold against her. He was no one to her, she was just playing her role in a farce. None of this was real.

While she waited, Emma took a sip of her drink. Damn it, it's delicious. She kept her lips sealed, though. It wasn't like she had any intention to compliment him, especially when she hadn't yet managed to figure him out. After the second sip, the hot liquid sliding down her throat seemed to have its effect, pushing her to act. She already was so done with the waiting.

"Is this like a protective big brother talk where you want to make sure I'm good enough for Killian?"

Liam clicked his tongue, placed his mug on the counter and finally — finally — looked her straight in the eye before answering. "No, because I already know you're not good enough."

Whoa! Straight to the point. Good, at least he had already shown his cards. Now it was Emma's turn to continue playing. She also put the mug on the counter and then she crossed her arms over her chest and slightly raised her chin in a defiant attitude. "Oh, so now I'm not good enough for your little brother. Enlighten me, please." Emma hoped she had endowed her words with enough sarcasm for him to notice.

The change in Liam's expression was immediate. His features hardened as he also crossed his arms over his chest and kept his gaze fixed on her. "I've taken care of my brother since we were both just children and I can assure you that I will continue to do so until my last breath. So that means than I care about anything that might affect Killian in one way or another."

Liam paused for a moment, but since Emma remained silent, he continued speaking, somewhat maintaining a defensive attitude. "I have no idea how much you know about Killian's past, but at least I suppose you do know about his accident. He gave you some explanation about the loss of his hand, I take it?"

"I do know about his accident," Emma replied in a calm tone.

It was true, she didn't know all the details, but she did know about the most important thing, that in that accident that happened sadly on Killian's birthday more than five years ago he had not only lost his hand, but also his fiancée. And she knew all this not because Killian had confessed to her —their relationship wasn't that close after all— but because of other circumstances that, she really preferred not to remember at this moment, although she suspected that they would somehow come out at some point during this conversation.

"And do you also know that, before the accident, Killian had aspirations, projects, and a promising future? And that all that was truncated not only by the accident but by his subsequent decisions?"

Emma's face must have revealed the confusion she was feeling because Liam's lips moved drawing a smirk of little authenticity behind it. "Of course you don't know. Well, let me enlighten you. Despite my insistence that he move here to Boston, to allow us to help him, he decided to move to a bloody town in the middle of nowhere and start working as a simple bartender in that dreadful bar. Even its name, The Rabbit Hole, suits the town."

The way he said the last words, almost like spitting them out with disdain, caused her blood to start boiling in her veins, but she remained silent, biting hard the inside of her cheek to try to hold back any possible reply. Emma also reminded herself that none of this was real and that nothing Liam could tell was going to affect her. She knew from experience that sometimes it was better to wait for the right moment and not act impulsively, so she simply raised an eyebrow in a defiant attitude, before asking, "and this is where I come in, I take it?"

Before continuing, Liam narrowed his eyes, as if studying her. After the brief scrutiny under which she remained impassive, he finally offered Emma some juicy detail directly related to her.

"It's funny because when Killian confessed to me a few weeks ago that he had started dating someone I had the hope, at least for a moment, that whoever the chosen girl was, she would talk some sense into him and would get him out of that hole, quite literally if you know what I mean." Liam let out a humorless chuckle at his own pun. Emma instead, had to make an effort to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. "But then he confirmed that it was you and all my hopes went to hell."

This time Emma couldn't help but huff as she shook her head. "You don't even know me."

"Oh, but I do know enough. No offense, lass, but, honestly, what would you think of a person who hated my brother from the beginning for no apparent reason? Someone whose feelings changed magically to the point of suddenly deciding to start dating him? How is someone like you, with no family, no aspirations, without a future, supposed to help my brother?"

Okay, she had had enough. Emma didn't need this kind of gratuitous crap in her life. Just when she was intending to get up, Liam reached up his arm, palm forward. "One last thing, if you allow me. It seems obvious that my brother fancies you for some strange reason, so I suggest you, if you care in the least for Killian, you should do what is necessary to keep him from being stuck in that life without a future. You should push him towards us, his family, who can really help him."

Emma considered for a moment to ignore him completely, go up to her (their) bedroom, grab her belongings and get out of there like a bat out of hell. But Liam had managed to piss her off enough for him to earn a few retorts at his level.

"Are you done?" Only when he nodded sulkily, did she continue. "Good, because it's my turn now. And you better get settled, because this is going to take a while." Emma silently gloated over the fact that Liam's grumpy expression continued to accentuate. And this is just the beginning, buddy.

"Well, we better start now to finish as soon as possible." He threw at her in a challenging tone.

Oh man, how she was going to enjoy this unexpected situation.

Maybe if all this were real, if Liam was her actual boyfriend's brother, she would think twice before acting, but given the unwarranted situation she found herself in, she really had nothing to lose.

"Okay. Here we go. First. It's commendable that you've taken care of your brother since you were kids. I guess it's something families do, but how would I know?" Emma shrugged, her lips drawing an exaggerated pout. "As you well indicated before, I have no family. I've never had one, in fact." Emma added to give even more drama to her speech, ignoring the pang in her heart after uttering those last words and focusing on the matter at hand, holding her finger up to stop any attempt at reply by Liam. "However, Killian is a grown-ass man, capable of making his own decisions. He doesn't really need you or anyone else."

"If you aren't able to see that he does need help..."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't ask for your opinion." She hastened to cut him off. Although Liam kept a challenging attitude, he must have thought better and pressed his lips together into a grim line. "If it is not too much trouble I'd like to continue, because this absurd situation is giving me a headache and I'd like to go to sleep. Yes, with your brother next to me. It's what happens when you got a boyfriend, you get to sleep in the same bed and sometimes you have an extremely good time in it."

A furious red tinged his cheeks, causing her to almost step out of her role and burst out laughing. At least he kept silent, so, after taking a deep breath, she continued. "We agree on that, but you know what? I don't remember seeing you in Storybrooke on the days when he needed you the most."

"That's because he continues to push us away." Liam hissed, clearly upset, but she ignored him.

"Oh, it's so easy from your privileged position to decide how another person should live his life." She waved her hand to encompass the entire house in a way to emphasize her words. "But in the difficult moments, on those dates, and you and I know what specific days I am referring to, those who have come to Killian's aid have been his coworkers, his friends, the people who care about him back in Storybrooke. Where were you, Liam, on Killian's last birthday? Certainly not in Storybrooke."

"He doesn't want us there." He snapped, but she might have hit a nerve because his defiant attitude had deflated considerably. Emma almost felt sorry for him, because all his bravado seemed to have left him, but then she remembered all the hurtful words he had thrown at her face and any hint of pity disappeared. 

"And it doesn't surprise you? I wouldn't want someone like that by my side either, someone who thinks he has the right not only to decide for me but to question my own decisions, no matter how close that person was."

"I just want what's best for my brother." Liam insisted, regaining part of his confidence.

"I know it, and you've already made it clear that I'm not good enough for him. Which brings me to the next point. You don't know me, but wherever this relationship takes us, it's up to him as much as me. You don't get a say in this." 

"I did not intend to interfere in your relationship, lass, but to get an ally in you." It was a poor justification, neither his voice nor his expression were convincing and they both knew it.

Shaking her head, Emma finally got up ready to leave the kitchen but before, she turned back to him wearing what she expected was a triumphant expression. "It's a bit unfair, don't you think? Your brother and I have only been together for a few months but you've decided to blame me for something you haven't achieved in the past five years." Emma was surprised that her voice didn't even tremble when she released such a lie.

To his credit, Liam seemed uncomfortable, his elusive gaze and his clenched jaw at least indicated so. She had one more thing to say, though.  "One last piece of advice, if you allow me. Maybe you should rethink your strategy towards Killian. But who am I to offer advice? I am nobody, right? " This time Emma could not help a hint of bitterness in her voice, but she recovered quickly to give the final blow. "The chocolate was delicious, by the way. And now if you'll excuse me, I suddenly felt like waking up your brother and showing him how much I want him, so you better be prepared for any unusual noise. Good night."

This time Emma did go out of the kitchen leaving Liam, who seemed partially defeated, all alone. At least she had managed to leave him without arguments. She should consider it as a triumph, right? In fact, that was how she felt, like a winner. Their argument had meant such an adrenaline rush that she felt her whole body vibrating, a surge of energy gripping her as she climbed the stairs up to her bedroom.

That determination weakened as she approached her destiny, being replaced by a mixture of feelings. Emma was so mad at Killian for putting her in this situation that she was tempted to wake him up and send him to sleep in his car, the one he so much had insisted on driving. But there was another feeling struggling to emerge, guilt.

Somehow Liam's words had gotten deep into her. She shouldn't feel guilty, they were just acquaintances after all, although that didn't stop her from having witnessed some of his low moments. Except for the momentary assistance in his few episodes of grief, she had done nothing to help him overcome his loss.

After letting out a deep sigh, Emma shook all those turbulent thoughts away and focused on her most immediate concern, how to face her encounter with Killian after the intense talk with his brother.

When she entered the bedroom she realized that she could delay that concern at least until the next morning, as she found Killian sound asleep. 

She was so upset with him... But when she saw him there looking even younger with a placid expression on his face while he slept, she didn't have the courage to wake him up to yell at him, so she couldn't do anything but sneak into bed, trusting that he didn't notice her presence.

The moment she laid down, she felt a strong arm around her waist pulling her back towards a solid body. "Go to sleep," Killian mumbled against her ear as he tightened the hold of his arm on her waist. 

Emma remained still for a few seconds, not even daring to breathe, her heart beating frantically in her chest. The whirlwind of emotions was so intense that she felt a bit overwhelmed, but when she noticed his breath caressing her skin and the warmth emanating from his body against hers, she gave up. After taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to melt under his touch as she grabbed the left arm wrapped around her and held his stump between her breasts. That was how she finally fell asleep.

//

When Emma woke up the next morning she was alone in bed. Her brain needed a few seconds to start working, so she allowed herself a few seconds huddled under the covers, surrounded by the sensations her senses captured.

The light that filtered through a slit between the curtains caused Emma to blink a couple of times until her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the bedroom. She reached out her arm to find a cold and empty space on the other side of the bed, so she deduced that Killian had woken up a while ago. She still wasn't sure if she felt relieved or irritated by that fact.

What her ears caught next, muffled voices coming from somewhere on the ground floor, caused her to want to curl up again and bury herself under the covers. Although Emma tried to prick up her ears, she was only able to identify the owners of those voices, the Jones Brothers, and some rambling words that seemed to indicate that they were not having a calm conversation.

A heavy sigh escaped between her lips, as she squeezed her eyes with one hand, the reminder of her previous conversation with Liam finally coming to her mind and causing an even less desire to leave the shelter offered by the bed.

In the end, curiosity overcame her, so, although reticent, she sat up and walked stealthily to the door. She poked her head through the slit, glancing up and down, finding that the coast was clear. The voices could be heard more clearly from that position but the sounds still came muffled, so Emma had to make an effort to capture anything that revealed the subject they were talking about.

My girlfriend, how dare you? she is so full of herself... Emma was able to understand a handful of words perfectly, getting to clear up any doubt about the reason for their discussion. So the secret conversation was no longer a secret. She let out a huff of annoyance as she turned back to the bedroom and grabbed her box of toiletries and fresh clothes, then headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

When Emma left the bathroom a few minutes later, she found that the discussion wasn't over yet. She would even say that the argument had become more heated. Doubting whether it was convenient for her to make an appearance or not, she finally decided that it was more reasonable if she returned to the bedroom and waited there. She had definitely had enough fighting with people she barely knew.

Emma had been in her bedroom for less than two minutes when a soft knock on the door caused her heart to jump until it almost popped out off her chest.

"Emma? Are you awake?"

A sigh of relief escaped from her mouth when she detected that it was Elsa the one on the other side of the door. "Yes, come in."

Whatever she thought she would find was certainly not Elsa with a contrite expression. She walked reluctantly to stand right in front of Emma, a light pink hue adorning her cheeks, her eyes cast down to the floor. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Elsa seemed to regain her composure, as she finally looked into Emma's eyes, her lips drawing an apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, Emma, for everything. And I don't mean only the discussion you had yesterday with my husband but also that Killian has heard about it because of me. He caught us a while ago arguing in the kitchen."

"It's okay. I'm fine." Emma assured her with more certainty than she really felt.

"No, it's not okay. Look, can we talk? It won't be a lecture, I promise." Emma simply nodded and then they sat on the bed, side by side.

"I'm so sorry about what happened yesterday with Liam. His behavior is inexcusable, no doubt, but, you know, he cares too much, about everything." Emma was tempted to reply but Elsa continued talking. "Don't get me wrong, I'm so mad at him that he's going to sleep on the couch for the next few days. But, we really care about Killian. Maybe we put it the wrong way, but we do intend to offer him any help that he decides to take."

"Okay, I get it. But, honestly, that's a family issue. I still don't understand why your husband took it against me. I don't know, maybe, although it's still too early to value it, our relationship eventually turns out to be just a passing thing and you would be worrying about nothing." Emma realized at that moment that her speech was the closest she had been to being honest with them. The expression of disbelief that crossed Elsa's face indicated that such a possibility was something she hadn't considered.

"Do you know that you're the first girl he brings home after the accident? I don't want to put any pressure on you, you obviously don't deserve it, but I have a feeling that your relationship may become quite serious and, although my husband may have a strange way to show it, we cannot be happier in that regard."

Emma couldn't help letting out a laugh of surprise. "A strange way to show it, we agree on that." She shook her head in disbelief but continued smiling until Elsa did the same. Emma decided then that she liked Elsa, even she would probably place her as her favorite person in the house except for the children, of course — She still hadn't decided if she was still mad at Killian. Meanwhile, he would continue below Elsa on that mental list of hers.

Just as the conversation began to become interesting, the bedroom door opened abruptly giving way to an angry Killian. "We're leaving, Swan." He simply snapped without even looking her in the eye as he headed toward his travel bag and began to throw things inside in a careless way.

When Emma glanced sideways at Elsa, she met her new friend wearing a panic expression, which led her to act. Rising from the bed, she walked with determined steps toward Killian and grabbed his arm gently, forcing him to stop with his task.

"No."

"What?" He addressed her with the confusion marked on his face, his eyes flickering quickly between hers.

"We're not leaving. Not yet anyway. I need my daily dose of caffeine to function properly, so Elsa and I are going to look for breakfast somewhere out of here." Emma looked for Elsa's approval who nodded vigorously. "And in the meantime, you're going down again and you're gonna fix things with your brother. We're not leaving for Storybrooke until you two have solved whatever it is that makes you behave like two obstinate teenagers."

"Are you kidding right now?" His voice trailed off when Emma gave him a silent warning through her gaze. Killian simply pursed his lips and kept silent. After glancing at his sister-in-law he let out a heavy sigh and dropped his arms in defeat. "Fine, but I want an extra-large coffee. Something tells me I'm going to need the additional caffeine." 

A strange sensation had taken hold of her since she had woken up, making her act in a more determined way than usual in her, more confident, and above all a little bold. Only in that way would she explain what she did next before he left the room again.

"Killian, wait." Without thinking twice, she pulled him toward her and pressed her lips against his. The simple contact caused her knees to weaken and the butterflies in her stomach to flutter furiously, as a wave of memories washed over her.

After that brief initial moment, though, she realized that he wasn't responding at all to the unexpected kiss, so the flutter in her stomach was replaced by a sense of disappointment. Luckily, that feeling lasted just a split second. After that brief pause of shock, he kissed her back, hard, as he wrapped her with his arms. Such was the spiral of emotions dancing inside her that she almost got carried away but a glimmer of lucidity appeared in her mind, making her realize where they were. Showing off unusual willpower, she pulled away from him just a few inches, their foreheads pressed together as she whispered against his lips, "easy tiger, we got company."

Killian didn't seem to care, though, because he captured her lips once more before finally pulling away. This time it was he who murmured, his warm breath caressing her lips and causing her head to spin.

"See you later, love." He then turned around and disappeared through the door, leaving behind a stunned Emma, unable to decide if the kiss had simply been part of their performance or if it had been something real. She obviously knew the answer as to herself, there was no point in denying it when her lips still tingled craving for more. But she wasn't sure she wanted to know what Killian had really felt. Certainly, his expression also seemed somewhat astonished, although she couldn't say whether if it was in a good or bad way.

At least the delighted expression that appeared on Elsa's face seemed to indicate that she had totally bought their stellar performance. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

//

Half an hour later Emma and Elsa were back home carrying several cups of coffee to go and a box of delicious pastries. That short space of time had served to reinforce Emma's previous impression towards Elsa, so much that she wouldn't have minded spending more time with her, but honestly, both were afraid of how the stubborn Jones brothers would have faced their time alone. Luckily the kids had stayed in their care so Elsa hoped they would have been able to behave civilly.

When they entered the living room they were pleasantly surprised to find a fairly quiet picture. Killian was on the ground playing with his nephews while Liam took pictures of the scene, both sporting calm but guarded expressions.

The moment Killian's eyes fell on her, he hurried to get up and walk towards her, wrapping her in a tight embrace before kissing her again. This time it was a gentle kiss, but with the ability to take her breath away. Only when they heard Liam clearing his throat did they separate. 

Once recovered from the incredible sensation of his lips on hers, Emma dared to look sideways at Liam, who wore a more relaxed expression, no sign of animosity towards her, to her relief. Emma could even detect the hint of a smile. Good.

They moved to the kitchen where they enjoyed a peaceful breakfast, everyone having a lively conversation sprinkled by the sporadic remarks of the two little boys who kept hovering around giving signs of overflowing energy. Once they finished, Elsa hurried to take the children out of the kitchen, leaving Emma alone with the two brothers. 

That was when Liam finally dared to address her.

"I'd like to apologize for my poor behavior yesterday, lass. It was totally out of place, and for that I'm sorry." Both his voice and his expression seemed genuine, so Emma couldn't do anything but shrug her shoulders before responding tentatively.

"It's okay."

In other circumstances, if all this had been real, that little attempt at apology wouldn't have been enough for Emma. In fact, she would probably have crossed him out of her life maybe forever. But she reminded herself once again that she was simply a part of a farce, so it made no sense to hold a grudge towards a person she probably wouldn't have to deal with anymore.

She was wrong.

"As a way to make amends we've decided to invite you guys to come over for Christmas, if that's fine with you, of course." Emma's eyes widened in surprise, and then she turned her gaze subtly to Killian, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

So the farce was going to last a little longer after all. It's okay, I like a challenge, she convinced herself mentally before responding.

"If Killian is fine with it, I'll be fine as well." She offered, which seemed to be enough since Liam finally — finally — smiled at her.

"Good."

//

They stayed at the Jones' house for another hour, which they spent in peace, although it was evident that the tension hadn't completely abandoned them, so Emma felt relieved when they finally left the house and got into Killian's car.

They traveled in silence during the first minutes, until Emma could no longer resist it.

"I should be so mad at you, Jones. You knew perfectly well that something like that could happen and you still decided to bring me." She reproached him in a tone perhaps harsher than she intended.

"I'm sorry lass, I really thought he wouldn't dare. But in my defense, I did warn you." He was right. The apologetic smile that appeared on his lips and the way his eyes glowed were too distracting. Her anger melted away under his charms without her being able to do anything to stop it. Bastard.

"So Christmas, huh? Have you thought of any new plans to continue bothering your brother? Something like adding some other sound, human perhaps, to make our performance more credible?" She wasn't flirting, right? She was totally doing it. Dammit!

For all answer, Killian burst out laughing. It was a deep and somewhat contagious laugh because a few seconds later she was accompanying him, letting the laughter act in a liberating way, dragging away any trace of the previous tension. 

Once the laughs subsided, he glanced at her with a mischievous expression on his face. "Sorry to tell you, Swan, but apparently our performance was a bit scandalous. They haven't invited us to spend the night."

"Seriously?" She asked pretending to feel upset while her lips drew an exaggerated pout, earning a new laugh from Killian.

"But they have invited us to spend New Year's Day." He hurried to reply between chuckles.

"We have the New Year's Eve party at the Rabbit Hole though." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion while looking at him.

"Aye, that's why they invited us the following day."

"So we're going to continue with the fake dating."

Killian's eyes bored into hers for an instant before his gaze turned back to the road. "You don't have to do anything, love, but we make quite the team, so I'm in if you're still in."

Emma ignored the butterflies fluttering in her belly and focused on something safe, their farce. "You know this is going to cost you much more than a switch of shifts, buddy. But, in a way, I will have my reward when we show up at your brother's house with a hangover and feeling miserable on New Year's Day."

"And even if we aren't allowed to spend the night there, we always have the possibility of making out on the couch, or in the kitchen..."

"Keep dreaming, buddy."

"Always." 

The way Killian winked at her had no effect on her. None at all. The burning sensation that spread through her body was nothing more than the result of the heat inside the vehicle. That was the only reason.

This time, Killian wouldn't be the only one who would dream about it. Both her first experience of unforgettable sex with him ant the two previous kisses had left her wanting more. Sadly, she had no choice but to settle for improving the art of fake dating. At least for the moment. 

One thing was certain, though. She was no longer sure why she couldn't stand Killian in the first place. In fact, she might have started to like him a little. Just a little tiny bit.

//

Thanks for reading :)

[lettersfromthepandemic]

Letter One - Of Pandemic Times; May 25th 2020

Dear Future Generations,

Chances are you are searching through our Digital archive to learn about the Pandemic of 2020 for a history report. I’ll bet your text books paint a perfectly hind-sighted picture of what truly happened on earth when Covid 19 swept across it. 

From where I sit now, things are not so clear. It’s been two months since we’ve entered lockdown and the best we know is that a vaccine will bring this to and end. Realistically, it will be years before the world is safe to visit human beings again and the reality is that for many of us, it will never be the same.

My first letter is a long one. I thought of this while I was dancing in the rain after a thunderstorm. You see, no one walks outside when it rains. I found my freedom in the dripping of water from the clouds. My neighbors think I am nuts. But I laugh it off. The warm summer rain forces everyone inside and I can walk the streets in peace, barefoot and wet without coming across a soul.

I live in America, in a large city. This pandemic has been terrifying. For all the reasons I loved living here before this started; they are now the reasons it is scary. I’ve lost everything I love about being here. I’ve never questioned my choices of city living. Without all the culture, education and entertainment options open. With my industry completely shut down and without work - there is no reason for me to be here. Take that all away and Covid times have got me thinking of buying a house in a small town in the middle of nowhere and starting over.

There is no escape from people. We are packed in too tightly. The sidewalks are too small for walks without bumping into someone. There is no way to control your neighbor and everyone deals with the fear and preparations of keeping safe differently. There is no space to breathe without someone walking through it. A large part of the population won’t wear masks.

You’ll learn as you read different perspectives, how different the experience is for each person living through this time in history.

That’s exactly why I am writing to you today. I want you to know what the journalists, governments and history books won’t tell you. What the social media feeds will fail to demonstrate. I want you to know how it feels to be here. Now, in this time. In hopes that this message in a bottle finds you in a better world.

In America, it’s a politically divisive time. While it’s worth mentioning that I am a feminist that believes in social justice and equality. I can tell you that the fall out from our politics has divided us sharply. The last big fight for equal rights is happening as we evolve and the disenfranchised voice is becoming louder. Still, it is not fast enough. In my lifetime I went from reading and watching mostly cis, white, heterosexual male stories to seeing America begin to more fully represent its peoples. There are more women in Congress now than there ever was. We have a shot at seeing a female president in my life time.

This is no where near the representation we’d like to see, but it's a start. This movement has unearthed the underbelly of racist, sexist, privileged people who are rising up in opposition. They require sharp education, myself included, at reconciling and acknowledging privilege to undo the hurt of our beginnings. These peoples think they are starting to be “oppressed,’ as they become the minority. But they use that word and don’t understand what it means. It’s a time of reckoning for our countries beginnings. Progress has been too slow for the mistakes we made directly keeping down slaves, indigenous peoples and immigrants that didn’t come from a white European country. Colonization and the effects thereof are everlasting. Even hundreds of years later.

That tension feeds our media. They, the media, stoke the fires into great sweeping rage and dissension for the price of advertising dollars. Social media has allowed one to curate information that suits a point of view. There is no longer debate. Academics are pitted against “common sense.” Pick a side and draw a line in the sand. Choose your battle ground.

This backdrop, is the stage to which this pandemic is played out in America. The division is not helpful when in crisis we need unity. Our Covid numbers continue to rise sharply. American capitalism fails when the lower class can’t or won’t work. So they are putting us back to work, knowing that we will be sacrificing lives.

This truth is sharply debated by many but I believe history will show it to be true. We know this virus will spread easily until we have a vaccine and yet we are sending people back to work with bandaids on gaping wounds. We are scared. We are fighting over why a person should wear a mask. We are uncertain of our futures and we are watching our structures crumble underneath us.

That said, it’s been a hundred years since the last pandemic swept the earth. Our advances have allowed us to work from home and digitally connect. Technology, I have no doubt saves many lives.

I wonder what will save your life in the next hundred years. Studying history, it seems we have a new virus or plague that rotates through the populations within that time. You’d think we would have been better prepared. It will come to light that our government knew this risk was imminent. Perhaps you are writing your report on that very thing. We knew. We did nothing. I wish I could report to you that we prepared all we could but it is not the truth. We chose to ignore that risk and carry on. Our experts have been warning us for years. I live in a time where we question our experts and don’t believe them. All that enlightenment and learning and still, our people fight science.  

Granted, planning for every scenario of apocalyptic doom would be impossible. But I believe us to be smart intelligent creatures capable of evolving ourselves and therefore think the greater of us. Most of us were busy building our lives distracted. We elected leaders to prepare and protect society. They did not. While blame is not useful to move forward. I hope that from where you sit, society feels more responsibility for each other. At this time in humanity, our populations are booming. Our “media,” only reports the bad stuff but the truth is we were, up until this point, living in the most peaceful time in human history. You wouldn’t know it by reading one of our newspapers. We haven’t evolved past our fascination with the darker parts of life on this rock. Blood, discord, disaster and fear sell advertising and products.

Even for all our faults, we are making progress as a species. Its a lovely optimism to adopt. But alas, I am also a realist. Our dark sides are ever present at work too.

The pandemic of 2020 has heightened our inequalities. They existed before this, but today they are even more present. In America, we are calling our essential workers “heroes.” In reality, they are only called that because we are sacrificing them to the virus for the “good of society.” Our food producers, housing and healthcare professions are under a great deal of strain.

Our meat production plants are currently struggling to operate as many factories and plants that have been in operation since this began are now having large parts of the population become sick. In America, our poverty stricken populations are often the ones on the front lines serving others and at the highest risk.

I can tell you that I feel powerless to stop this machine but I want to. I’d like to find ways to fight this injustice and demand better for our people. Before all this, I was lobbying for universal healthcare in our country and free college education for everyone. This pandemic has only confirmed the need to work together and provide for one another. Though we fight over what that looks like. I know in our hearts, we want to do better.

I’ve only spoken to three humans in person from a distance, once in 78 days. Everything else is digital. Currently, I have enough budget to have all my essentials delivered. That privilege affords me other luxuries too. I can control who I see and who I don’t. This control is something that I do not take for granted. Though quarantine is hard, I’m not forced to interact with others at the moment. I’ve adapted my work to this new reality and am working at every angle to keep dollars coming in the door.

Even so. Emotionally, we are a mess. It’s a wild ride of feelings from one moment to the next. The quiet safety of our homes lulls us into a dull reality. We limit our news. We limit reading about the virus. It has forced us to live more in the moment and focus on the tasks in front of us rather than too far ahead. With so much uncertainty, that has helped with the stress.

I recite these things to myself to soothe my weary soul: We are smart. We are capable. We have survived this before. We can solve our own issues. We can do better. We will do better. I am smart. I am capable. I have survived hard times. I can solve my own issues. I can do better. I will do better. It is my daily prayer. It doesn’t always help.

I wonder what life is like for others as I stare out my window every day. I miss the outside and bird watch more than I ever have. Digital life is helpful for survival but often feels empty. As excited as I get for interaction, I often close the laptop after a meeting and feel sad. This reality has me questioning everything.

I hope from your position in the future, we figured this out. That my faith is humans has merit. For now, it all feels so uncertain. The numbers are still climbing. While we have people recovering there are many that are suffering terribly.

I don’t understand why our country isn’t in mourning. Perhaps the numbers are too big to fathom. I cry almost every day reading the death tolls. The news hurts. I mourn each addition without knowing them but only for the few seconds I can allow before dusting myself off and getting back to my own work. I worry about the stacking of issues we’ve ignored as climate change heats us up. In a pandemic the natural disasters make life even harder and we are seeing that play out already. Floods, tornados, fires, storms and drought all adding up to challenge our lives. We too chose to ignore them.

I vote for reform on climate change at every chance I get. I’d like you to know that many of us are trying. We also know it’s a problem and that if we don’t invest in the future of our planet, that it will become your problem too. This issue hasn’t hit its match point. Too many people are still worried about day to day living. That keeps us from being able to plan ahead. A theme of our demise. 

It’s the privileged who have the time and resources to work on prevention. These are the hearts and minds we need to work on changing. They are the hardest to change. Once a person has more than they need, I think the fear of loosing it forces them to ignore others. At least, that is how I summarize the issue.

Myself, I came from humble roots and spent many of my formative years in poverty. I understand what it means to have nothing. I also have the peace of knowing that even in my poverty, I had happiness. Perhaps this has kept me sane during the pandemic. Knowing I can survive.

As the summer heats us up in America, I worry what lies ahead. We are itching for a release and I fear Covid will spread faster come fall. I write to you in hope. That you are reading this from a place that is safe. Where we survived and we did it with less loss than the previous pandemic.

What follows will be a collection of letters. Stories. Tales from the times. It is all the more important to make sure that the voice of our past is human. In my time, the text books didn’t teach that. We send you this time capsule. Please learn what we didn’t. I trust you will.

[everlarkficexchange]

Unmasked ~ Two

Written by: M

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the second chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~ Chapter Two ~~

The rains cease long enough. The air clears, fresh and warm. A beautiful spring day beckons through the windows and so I take the daily post into the garden to read.

It sours the gardens for me as I read through the letters and I soon regret my decision. Father appears to have taken a gamble on our crop this year. Ordering seed for a few herbs that while in high demand, do not fare in overly wet years. I have spent days now requesting guidance and information on how best to proceed with this crop and the answers have finally begun to return to me.

I make a note to discuss options for draining the north field a little more with our steward. The north field sits on the highest elevation on our farm. It would be best suited for the planting, but we will have to be swift if we are to prepare the field in time.

All of that business is time consuming and stressful, however it is surmountable. A task to be taken care of, nothing more. It is the final letter which I open with trepidation. A missive from one Rory Hawthorne, esq.

Esteemed Sir,

With regret, I must delay my visit to your estates. My older brother Gale remains abroad however, our intentions stand firm. While I am sure your farm is indeed a gem, we simply cannot spare the time to oversee it as our own ventures of fortune have turned most lucrative. As soon as I am able, I will pay visit, assess the properties with our man, and then auction the farm to the highest bidder. Half of the funds shall then transfer to your daughters and wife, as discussed.

With great respect,

Rory Hawthorne, esq.

My eyes sting with indignation. Tis bad enough that I cannot inherit the land my father and I have cultivated and nurtured. No, the louts who will inherit plan to auction it from under our feet at the first opportunity. True, they promise half the profits to us – but only half! An entire lifetime of love and devotion to this land and her people to only receive half. To be forced to split the proceeds with a stranger who has never known my home. It infuriates me. I’ve no way of knowing if Gale and Rory Hawthorne can be trusted. They may be cousins, but they are no real kin of mine. To speak of our business as though our father is already dead and buried when his heart yet beats!

I glance up towards the windows, wondering what my mother does now. She once told me that father remodeled half of the home simply so that her windows would overlook the gardens. I thought it romantic at the time, now I think it a terrible extravagance. I pocket the letter from Rory Hawthorne and walk towards the stable. I am not dressed for riding, but sometimes brushing Sagitarria’s coat helps to calm me.

She whickers and greets me, her great brown eyes soft as I rub her nose and whisper to her. I spill all my fears and worries, thank her for listening and then retrieve a brush. “May I enter?”

With a toss of her head, she invites me in and I smile as I set to work. The cadence of the strokes brings clarity. I allow my thoughts to wander, hoping that once they have roamed through my mind and I call them back to order, I will have some sense of them.

“Miss Everdeen?” I sigh at the interruption.

“Here, Charles.”

“You’ve a visitor.” I pause and think a moment.

“We were not expecting company.”

“No, Miss. She says she’ll go if it’s a bad time. I tried to say it was, what with the Mister laid up such as he is, but Mrs. Sae insisted she stay. Set her up in the drawing room.”

“The drawing room?” I hand Charles the brush and ask him to finish with Sagittaria as I hurry back to the house, wondering at Sae’s treatment of our guest. I spot a hired carriage retreating back up the lane and hasten inside, halting in the doorway to the drawing room as a lovely woman dressed in a dark grey travel habit removes a hat and veil, her blond hair in a beautiful twist. Sae sits upon the floor, playing with a child no more than two or three years old. A soft cry escapes me and the woman turns to me, confirming what I already know.

“Katniss,” she says, her voice wavering slightly.

“Madge,” I say and we move to one another, arms embracing tightly. “It has been years.”

“Too long, dear friend. Far too long,” she agrees. With a loud sigh, she steps back and takes my hands in hers. “You are just as I remember you.”

“Stubborn, covered in dirt, and unmarried?” She laughs at this and tears seem to gather in her eyes.

“How I’ve missed you! But I cannot stay. Sae has just told me of your misfortunes. I cannot impose.”

“Nonsense!” I shout as Sae protests as well.

“I told you the Misses wouldn’t stand to have you leaving. I’ll see to your rooms now, and take this precious little berry with me.” Sae lumbers up to her feet and scoops the child into her arms. “Don’t know if we’ve linens fine enough for a countess–”

“Oh don’t. Sae, please,” Madge insists, cringing and folding her hands together. “Please do not call me Countess. I would much rather be Miss Margaret all over again.”

Sae shrugs and the child giggles. I cannot help but reach for her and take her into my arms, cooing at her and examining her perfect strawberry blonde curls.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, darling! You must be Maysilee.” The child babbles back to me and plants sticky hands on my cheeks, her blue eyes bright and alert. “We’ll have you a fine horsewoman and running wild over the hills in no time. Your Aunt Maysilee would have been proud to see you bear her name.”

“I’ll give this one a bath too, while I’m about it,” Sae says with a smile. “It’ll be nice to have babies running about the house again.”

I swallow back a retort at that, too happy to have my friend back to rise to Sae’s bait just yet. When she leaves us, I turn back to Madge and an unfortunate silence falls over us. Without her child and Sae’s bluster, it seems that I do not know what to say to my oldest, dearest friend. We knew each other so well, having grown up as neighbors and confidantes. Inseparable to the point that I knew where she and Prim had hidden one day when disaster struck our families.

“I truly am sorry, Katniss. Your father…” she stops and swallows. I take her hand in mine and she wipes at her tears. “I did not shed a tear for the earl’s death. Not a single tear. And now I am glad of it. I saved them for someone more worthy.”

“Papa’s not dead yet,” I remind her and she nods.

“I know. It’s just that I know how hard this must be for you. Shouldering everything as you always do when you are needed.”

“And what of you? You seem…desperate. And a widow for what? Only a year now?”

“Yes. A little over a year now. And I am desperate,” Madge confesses with a nod, and another tear slips free. “I shall stop crying for myself now, though. The earl’s family wanted nothing to do with me after his death. His son – the Earl now – resented me, I think. That his father would seek another bride after his own mother passed. Maysilee was never wanted by anyone but myself. I could not bring myself to exist on their charity a second longer. A year was far too much. It was only a matter of time before they turned us out and – look at me. Barely an hour in your home and already I have unpacked all my troubles at your doorstep.”

“We are friends, Madge. It is not your fault you had a wretched husband and suffered his wretched family.” I wind an arm around her waist and turn her towards the door with me. “Let’s see if we can find Mary to draw a bath for you, a clean dress, and then we can talk more.”

The busy servants for the next half hour as they see to the needs of our guests rouses my mother from her rooms. I have a moment of hope as she holds Maysilee for a short time, but then a shadow seems to pass over her face and she thrusts the child into Prim’s arms before rushing back into my father’s room, slamming the door behind her.

“I had nowhere else to go,” Madge whispers that evening under the bustle around us. I know this, and yet I am glad that she came. It may mean two more mouths to feed, but Madge has not much changed since last I saw her. She may be more quiet and reserved now, older and grown into a mother. She is grace and beauty, but she was always those things and much more. Quiet, kind, and brave. I know this has not changed about her when I find her in the kitchens, assisting with the dinner preparations, wiping her hand on an apron before clutching my hand in hers and squeezing. “But I will not be a burden to you,” she promises.

I spend the next few days overseeing the draining of the north field and reacquainting myself with my friend. With a few false starts and stutters, we quickly discover that our friendship remains preserved. I wonder at her life the past five years as a countess, and remain patient. When she is ready to share more details, I shall be ready to listen.

My father’s condition changes little. Mother begins to exercise his limbs with help from several of the stable grooms. I watch from the door one afternoon and cannot continue. Unable to see my father manipulated like a puppet, I saddle my own horse and tear through the fields to the crest of the north field to watch the sunset instead.

One day, I return from the north field, trousers covered in mud up to my knees and a deep scowl on my face, lost in thoughts of auctions and futures. Angry at a world that claims to revere its ladies only to leave them with nothing and no hope when their husbands perish. Were it up to me, I would never wed, I decide. Not that anyone would have me anyways. The marks on my back have assured that. Unmarried or not, however, I am left with very few ways to care for those I love.

I must do something. Doctor Aurelius paid another visit and reminded me that my father could pass from this world from the coma at any time, without warning, or that he could awaken only to perish then. My mother is little help. She prefers to cling to the thin hope that he will awaken and resume his life that day as though nothing happened. I, however, cannot afford that luxury if merely because she chooses to hold to it, leaving me to see to our needs.

The point is, there will come a time when we will no longer be able to rely on my father to provide for us. Then what? Who then would I take my mother and sister to and beg shelter as Madge asked of me?

That is an uncharitable thought. Madge has been a great help and a comfort to me since she arrived several days ago and I would like to think I have been so to her as well. We are friends, after all. Unfortunately, friendships and love do not provide a roof or sustenance.

The one obvious solution is one that I detest. Marriage.

I did not always despise the idea of marriage. Perhaps as a young girl I even looked forward to it and dreamt of it. I can’t rightly recall. All I do know is that ever since the fire, marriage has been neither a priority nor a simple option for me. I absently scratch at my back, although the scars have long since healed and ceased itching, save for days when it is hot and hard work leads to me to perspire a great deal.

As if the world has decided to taunt me, thinking of my scarring leads me down a path of thought I have tried ardently to avoid. I catch myself now that I’m awake. It is the night that is my thoughts’ enemy lately. Cleared of unwanted thoughts, I stomp mud from my boots and climb the steps only to find yet another pair of uninvited visitors in my hall. I hope they are not expecting dinner.

“Katniss, this is Miss Delilah Cartwright and her brother, Elijah,” Madge tells me.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Everdeen! I’ve heard so much about you,” Miss Cartwright effuses and I stare at her. She’s dressed simply, an apron over her dark blue dress and her blonde curls tucked under a cap. A few riotous strands escape and fall around her plump face. She curtsies and I notice marks on her hands. Calluses. And then several trunks behind her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. Rather rudely, I realize and shake my head to clear it of thoughts. “Apologies. I am tired and rather muddy.”

“I can see that,” Miss Cartwright says and giggles a little. Madge bites her lip and motions towards the parlor.

“Miss Cartwright, why don’t you and your brother set up your wares in the parlor while Miss Everdeen freshens up?”

“I don’t understand,” I hiss at Madge as she guides me towards the stairs. “Who are they and what do they want?”

“Here. Prim read it by accident. I didn’t understand, but she said that you would,” Madge presses a letter into my hands and smiles. “I am looking forward to a chat and perhaps some cocoa tonight. It’s a little chilly this evening.”

With that, she vanishes into the parlor, leaving me to trudge upstairs with my letter. I unfold it and scowl at the already broken seal over the direction.

Miss Everdeen Everdeen Farm Estate Seam and Shire Southeast Panem

It would be easy for Prim to mistake it for herself with the absence of any letter to denote our given names, however as soon as I read the first few lines, the invasion of my privacy bothers me.

Miss Everdeen,

Forgive the tardiness. My urgent business did not turn so well, however, that is no excuse for my leaving you so callously missing a serviceable boot. Delilah is one of the best cobblers in the area where I was a boy. She will see to your needs. I have already paid for her services and wares. At least one pair of boots to replace the pair I am responsible for destroying, and perhaps a pair of dancing shoes should you feel the desire to dance over this letter in indignant rage. I shall think of you scowling as you do so. Please consider it repayment for my less than gentlemanly behavior.

~ Peeta ~

It’s as though my thoughts of him while walking conjured his letter and these visitors. I change and clean up as best I can before hurrying back down to the parlor to find that Madge has served our guests tea. An assortment of fabrics and leathers spread across the worn sofas and my cheeks heat at the embarrassment of having such fine materials covering the signs of our recent financial struggles. Everdeen is and always has been a profitable farm. The past few years, the margin of profits narrowed a great deal and I sometimes wonder if it is the fault of two daughters of marrying age hanging still about the halls. I, at the least, should have been wed and gone by now.

“Miss Everdeen!” Miss Cartwright sets aside her tea and stands abruptly when she sees me. “Please. Take your time perusing the options.”

I wander the room and fight my mounting annoyance. He tossed me about like chatel, bruised me, embarrassed me, and then left me unceremoniously on the front steps missing a boot. I should not feel bad accepting a gift such as this and yet for some reason, it bothers me. Perhaps because he could have left me struggling alone in the mud, and despite the rough treatment, Peeta and his man Joe in truth did a great service for me. I am left in their debt and yet he sends presents.

“If you’ll tell me what sort of boot Peeta is replacing for you, I can better determine the leather I will need,” she says.

The use of his given name, and more so the confusing feelings elicited in me at her use of it, gives me pause. I ignore her eyes on me, as though assessing who I am. It occurs to me that perhaps she is a sweetheart of Peeta’s, although I find it difficult to believe a man of his wealth would court a tradeswoman. He could have a lady, easily. Perhaps marry into a title. I wonder what this girl is to him or if it truly is that he respects her skills, nothing more.

They must be quite close after all, I think as I examine another leather that is more yellow than brown and quickly reject it, for him to send her so far to make a few pairs of shoes.

Now I truly am angry and decide that I will absolutely take a pair of boots as compensation for his treatment of me. Perhaps two.

“Riding boots,” I tell her and finger a fine sheet of dark brown leather. Soft, supple, and yet thick. “They were well molded to my feet,” I try to explain my attachment to them. I feel silly and can’t place why. Almost ill to my stomach and I review what I ate today to determine if something there might be the culprit.

“What you have in your hands then might work quite well,” Miss Cartwright tells me and then produces a book containing drawings of different boot styles. My head spins a bit and I point to one. “Oh those are lovely! And quite comfortable, I am told. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll get your measurements.“

“How far did you travel, Miss Cartwright?” Madge asks as I sit.

“Oh please, call me Delly. Everyone does so!” She insists and Delly sets to work. Her fingers touch many of the same places Peeta’s did and I find myself blushing at the memory of his touch. Her’s is efficient and not nearly as gentle, by comparison. How did I think him a brute again? “Peeta and I were children together in East Panem. Lovely place! Have you been there?”

“I can’t say that either of us have,” Madge says for both of us.

“Oh well, it’s a good few days of travel from here,” Delly explains as she works and my head spins. “It’s been quite fun getting to travel and see some of the country and Peeta’s been a darling, paying for our expenses. I tease him that he quite owes us now that he’s rich and we’re not. Mr. Mellark’s not nearly so generous, but Peeta’s never been one to ignore the needs of a –” she stops herself and laughs nervously, glancing at Madge’s dress in muted colors of late mourning but clearly of fine fabrics. My silk stockings beneath her hands and the finest leathers. “My mouth escaped me just then.”

She purses her lips together after that and restricts herself to discussion of the wares. Once she has the beginnings of two pairs of boots and one pair of slippers, she insists that she will be able to finish them by the end of the week if I’m available for another fitting then. I tell her that I am, and see her and her brother to the door.

“I think perhaps her brother is mute,” Madge reflects as we watch the pair climb into a worn cart pulled by two old nags.

“Perhaps.”

“Alright, Katniss. I’ve waited long enough. Tell me about this Peeta Mellark.”

We walk in the garden, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine and I relay the story with a few flourishes. She laughs at the image I paint of me covered in mud and both our cheeks pinken as I mention his examination of my ankle or the manner in which I rode his horse in front of him.

“I did not expect to hear from him again, and I did not know his surname until Miss Cartwright let it slip,” I finish.

“Really?”

“Really,” I say and smile at her. “Do you know the name?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I didn’t have much time in society, with the babies.”

“Babies?” Madge purses her lips and turns back towards the house. It is almost dinner time anyways and I am famished so I follow, waiting for an answer.

“I lost two before Maysilee. One before it was grown much. The other was a boy. Stillborn.”

“Oh Madge,” I say and pull her into an embrace. She only allows a quick one this time, the excitement over a piece of the mystery being solved having caught up to her.

“We should ask your mother if she knows the name Mellark.” I cringe at that, but Madge is determined and somehow, after dinner, convinces Mother to join us in her personal parlor. Prim plays some music for a few moments while Madge sews and Mother plays with Maysilee until I think I see hints of the woman I know and love so much. It makes me realize how much I miss her and I’m not surprised when Madge eases into asking me about my new boots.

“New boots?” Mother asks, her curiosity caught as Maysilee climbs into her lap and I retell the story with less detail this time. Mother does not need to know that the thought of Peeta’s fingers on my leg still sends strange tinglings through my skin or that I have perhaps had a few impure dreams about his touch.

“Did you say Mellark?” she asks at the end of the telling. I nod and she sighs. “I had a beau with that family name once. Reginald Mellark. He’s now a Marquis with a number of sons himself, I believe. Fabulously wealthy family and stunningly handsome,” she smirks at me a little at this. “He was a divine dance partner and quite the catch. He pursued me and my parents were quite happy to see me wed to him. We were expected to be The match of the year. Most others thought I would not be able to resist his charms.”

Madge chuckles at this and I sit stiff as Prim leans into me.

“What happened, Mother?” she asks breathlessly. I, however, find this conversation a tad disrespectful with my father bedridden in the next room over.

“Well Reginald was handsome but could be a tad ruthless. Your father…well your father was the better man. I did not care for wealth or titles. Kent Everdeen had something that made him a far richer man. A good heart and a good soul. I always did prefer a gentler touch anyways.”

We all blush at the implications my mother speaks now. Shimmers of a phantom touch circle my ankle and I shift it further beneath my skirts. Ridiculous.

“It was a small scandal when I accepted his proposal over Reginald’s. Reginald insisted I would come to regret my choice. He was…entirely wrong. I have never once regretted it.”

I melt a little at my mother’s soft words. Prim sighs and Madge bows her head, toying with her fingernails and I wonder if she regrets her choice to marry the man her parents chose for her instead of searching for a love match as my mother did.

Handsome but a tad ruthless. The description fits Peeta in a way. He admitted to being rough and ungentlemanly with me, after all. Prim’s thought seem to follow a similar vein as she turns to me with a sly smile on her face. “I wonder if your Peeta is one of Sir Reginald the Ruthless’ sons?”

“It is possible,” my mother says and stands, setting Maysilee on her feet to toddle to her mother. “Be careful what gifts you accept from that man, Katniss. You’ve no way of knowing what conditions come attached to them.”

It’s the closest to my mother acting as her normal self that we’ve had in quite some time. Which perhaps is why it hurts so much when she leaves us then to return to my father’s side.

I do not sleep well that night. I am caught in dreams that merge and twist together. A burning mansion. Crops that wither and die in their fields. Gaunt faces and cruel faces. An open, empty grave and quiet sobs. A door slams in my face and mud sucks at my limbs. When I wake, I am unable to separate the pieces of my dreams. All I know is that I have avoided this decision far too long. At first, the planting provided an easy excuse for my lack of action, but I now know that I cannot delay any longer. If I am to secure a future for my family, I must act now before Father slips from this world, leaving us unprotected.

Rising with the sun, I was and dress in a fine yellow morning gown and march to breakfast, glad to see that all three of the women and the one child who now somehow rely on me are gathered to hear my announcement.

“I’m leaving tomorrow for town. I will be back with a husband for the harvest.”

To be continued…

[sacrilegiovs]

(  josefine  frida  pettersen  ,  cisfemale  ,  she  /  her  ,  fire  emblem  :  three  houses  )  *  &.  i  know  it  must  be  scary  for  you  ,  edelgard  von  hresvelg  ,  after  not  surviving  the  takeover  .  to  turn  into  someone  like  edelle  hjördis  ,  a  twenty-four  year-old  code  enforcement  officer  at  city  hall  ,  right  here  in  castle  town  .  just  remember  that  you  are  as  ambitious  as  you  are  relentless  ,  and  to  be  wary  ,  be  safe  ,  be  true  to  who  you  are  :  neutral  through  and  through  .

hi  demons  it  me  ,  a  piece  of  garbage  !  this  is  ,  uh  ,  VERY  spoiler  heavy  so  …  i’m  sorry  ab  that  JSDHFNDJDHC  here’s  a  pinterest  board  for  edelgard  tho  bc  i  luv  my  daughter  !! 

TW.  food  /  drinks  ,  blood  (  pinterest  )  +  child  abuse  &  death ment.  /  trauma  (  intro  )  .

BEFORE  CASTLE  TOWN  .

edelgard  von  hresvelg  .  the  fourth  daughter  of  the  emperor  and  out  of  all  her  siblings  she  was  the  only  one  born  with  a  (  minor  )  crest  of  seiros  .

however  when  she  was  nine  ,  edie  and  her  mother  were  taken  by  her  uncle  to  the  holy  kingdom  of  faerghus  .  unbeknownst  to  her  back  home  ,  the  insurrection  of  the  seven  was  taking  place  —  reducing  her  father  to  nothing  more  than  a  political  puppet  .  her  own  uncle  was  one  of  the  key  conspirators  .  though  her  mother  eventually  married  the  king  of  faerghus  ,  edelgard  continued  to  live  with  her  uncle  .  during  her  time  in  the  kingdom  ,  edelgard  befriended  dimitri  and  the  two  spent  a  lot  of  time  together  ,  unaware  they  were  step-siblings  .  soon  after  she  turned  twelve  ,  edelgard  returned  to  the  empire  …  without  her  mother  .

then  shit  got  real  .

imagine  going  home  after  three  years  only  to  find  that  your  father  has  been  stripped  of  his  power  .  imagine  going  home  after  three  years  only  to  be  subjected  to  painful  experiments  with  your  ten  siblings  .  the  adrestian  nobles  supported  the  crest  experimentation  performed  by  those  who  slither  in  the  dark  ,  no  matter  the  cost  of  it  .  it  wasn’t  them  or  their  heirs  ,  so  why  should  they  have  qualms  ,  right  ?  now  ,  imagine  your  father  ,  who  was  rendered  practically  powerless  ,  objecting  and  trying  to  stop  it  with  all  he  had  left  …  but  ultimately  being  unable  to  do  anything  besides  sit  back  and  watch  this  relentless  torture  of  his  children  .

all  in  the  name  of  crests  .

most  of  her  siblings  were  driven  mad  or  died  from  exhaustion  .  in  the  end  ,  edelgard  was  the  only  one  to  survive  and  retain  the  sanity  that  had  been  lost  by  many  other  hresvelg  siblings  .  because  of  her  success  ,  she  bore  a  second  crest  now  .  the  crest  of  flames  ,  and  a  major  one  at  that  .  due  to  the  stress  that  having  two  crests  brought  ,  her  natural  brown  hair  turned  a  silvery  tone  .

and  her  view  of  crests  ,  the  church  of  seiros  ,  and  the  caste  system  of  fódlan  were  altered  forever  .

she  arrived  at  garreg  mach  monastery  to  complete  her  education  when  she  was  seventeen  ,  and  was  resolved  to  reclaim  what  her  father  had  lost  .  her  admittance  marked  the  first  time  in  ages  since  a  member  of  the  hresvelg  family  sent  a  member  to  the  officer's  academy  .  she  would  soon  become  the  house  leader  of  the  black  eagles  .

sometime  before  meeting  byleth  ,  edelgard  took  on  the  guise  of  the  flame  emperor  ,  and  her  suit  used  agarthan  technology  to  heavily  distort  her  voice  for  protection  purposes  .  believing  that  she  would  have  a  straightforward  time  unifying  fódlan  without  the  future  leaders  of  the  kingdom  and  the  alliance  in  her  way  ,  she  hired  bandits  to  assassinate  dimitri  and  claude  ,  respectively  .

a  quick  deviation  from  background  telling  .  to  be  honest  i  feel  as  if  this  act  in  particular  highlights  just  how  young  and  ,  ultimately  ,  inexperienced  edelgard  really  is  —  because  she’s  so  quick  to  put  an  assassination  attempt  on  the  table  .  how  she  made  a  seemingly  solid  enough  plan  ,  yet  despite  everything  ,  it  still  failed  .  we  have  to  remember  the  fact  she  was  a  teenager  in  the  beginning  .  a  child  .  yes  ,  one  willing  to  commit  murder  because  she  saw  it  as  the  most  viable  option  ,  but  a  child  nonetheless  .  however  ,  it  also  showcased  how  ruthless  she  can  be  .  ruthless  in  the  sense  that  she  won’t  stop  at  anything  to  get  from  point  a  to  point  b  .  in  edelgard’s  case  ,  she  felt  her  goals  were  far  greater  than  her  own  personal  feelings  .  towards  dimitri  ,  towards  claude  ,  towards  …  well  ,  everyone  (  as  we  see  during  the  conflict  of  the  holy  tomb  ,  specifically  during  the  black  eagles  run  .  she  didn’t  want  to  fight  her  friends  ,  but  she  wasn’t  above  giving  the  order  to  kill  anyone  who  tried  to  stop  them  .  she  was  already  resigned  to  the  notion  that  ,  in  order  to  fulfill  her  chosen  path  ,  she  needed  to  do  things  she  didn’t  necessarily  want  to  do  .  )

ok  ,  back  to  your  regularly  scheduled  programming  .

as  mentioned  ,  she  needed  to  strategize  in  ways  that  she  may  not  have  enjoyed  .  teaming  up  with  those  who  slither  in  the  dark  ,  irregardless  of  her  own  hatred  and  disdain  for  them  ,  was  a  huge  one  .  they  had  a  common  enemy  :  the  church  of  seiros  .  and  as  they  say  ,  the  enemy  of  my  enemy  is  my  friend  .  with  full  intention  of  turning  on  them  once  her  war  against  the  church  was  over  ,  edelgard  allied  herself  with  the  very  people  who  were  responsible  for  her  trauma  .  for  the  greater  good  ,  she  undoubtedly  told  herself  .  it  had  to  be  done  .  in  my  own  personal  view  of  edelgard  ,  she’s  pragmatist  .  meaning  the  church  /  crests  /  caste  system  were  the  focal  point  of  her  takedown  ,  and  what  she  may  logically  be  able  to  achieve  .  she  could  only  wage  one  war  at  a  time  .  plus  ,  with  TWSITD  believing  she  is  an  ally  ,  in  theory  it  would  be  much  easier  to  get  to  them  …  opposed  to  if  they  were  still  completely  in  the  shadows  .

equality  through  force  .  it  might  not  be  the  best  choice  ,  but  it  was  a  choice  that  edelgard  considered  long  and  hard  .  it’s  pretty  implied  that  edelgard  believed  in  meritocracy  ;  none  of  that  birthright  bullshit  that  the  caste  system  brought  upon  fódlan  .  and  certainly  no  more  crests  dictating  who  and  who  wasn’t  a  suitable  leader  (  a  prime  example  being  miklan  :  she  outright  expressed  sympathy  towards  him  ,  even  called  him  an  impressive  leader  ,  despite  not  having  a  crest  of  his  own  .  )

now  i  would  like  to  point  something  out  .  actually  ,  a  few  things  .  i  recall  most  clearly  in  silver  snow  ,  it  was  said  that  edelgard  DEMANDED  that  her  father  relinquished  the  emperor  position  to  her  ,  when  in  fact  ,  that  wasn’t  necessarily  correct  .  we  can  see  her  coronation  as  emperor  if  byleth  chose  to  go  with  her  when  they  had  high  enough  support  .  if  anything  ,  her  father  appeared  to  be  understanding  when  she  convinced  him  .  however  despite  the  obvious  antagonistic  viewpoint  characters  had  on  her  in  silver  snow  ,  the  only  route  she  was  clear-cut  painted  as  a  true  villain  …  was  azure  moon  .  the  same  route  it  was  confirmed  she  had  many  long  thoughts  and  presumably  discussions  about  how  to  proceed  with  her  plans  ,  before  she  settled  upon  throwing  the  entirety  of  fódlan  into  a  war  .  her  declaration  of  war  against  the  church  of  seiros  and  all  its  allies  was  not  a  whim  .  does  that  make  it  right  ?  no  ,  i  don’t  believe  she  was  right  for  pulling  everyone  into  that  chaos  .  but  whether  she  was  right  in  the  way  she  went  about  it  or  not  ,  she  wasn’t  entirely  wrong  either  .  the  church  wasn’t  an  innocent  party  !  edelgard  only  had  half  truths  ,  which  can  be  just  as  dangerous  as  knowing  everything  or  nothing  at  all  ,  if  not  more  .

but  that  all  being  said  ,  i  am  pulling  edelgard  from  crimson  flower  .  because  regardless  of  her  actions  ,  i  still  didn’t  feel  it  was  right  to  paint  her  solely  as  the  villain  when  she  wasn’t  the  only  one  who  made  severe  mistakes  .  we  have  seen  she  is  capable  of  expressing  guilt  and  remorse  for  her  actions  .  however  unlike  most  ,  edelgard  knows  she  cannot  waver  from  the  bloody  path  she  picked  .  it  goes  back  to  what  i  said  earlier  ,  of  her  being  resigned  to  the  fact  .  personal  feelings  needed  to  be  pushed  aside  in  matters  of  war  ,  especially  this  far  into  things  .  for  her  to  give  up  would  mean  all  this  bloodshed  was  for  nothing  .  she  couldn’t  do  that  .  not  just  for  her  own  ideals  ,  but  for  fódlan  itself  .  even  speaking  beyond  unification  under  adrestia  rule  ,  it  would  have  been  worse  for  her  to  say  ‘  okay  no  more  war  ’  without  any  resolvement  ,  and  for  things  to  ‘  go  back  to  the  way  they  were  ’  despite  that  not  being  a  logical  reality  ...  it  would  make  everything  cheap  ,  like  it  never  mattered  to  begin  with  .  no  ,  she  intended  to  see  her  plans  out  even  if  it  killed  her  .

she  dug  her  grave  and  she  was  fully  prepared  to  lie  in  it  .

in  crimson  flower  ,  she  was  lucky  to  survive  it  ,  and  i  would  call  the  war  a  pyrrhic  victory  in  any  case  .

after  byleth  abandoned  the  church  to  stay  with  her  ,  edelgard  organized  her  former  classmates  into  an  elite  task  force  that  was  known  as  the  black  eagle  strike  force  (  although  BEST  ,  black  eagle  strike  team  ,  was  right  there  …  an  opportunity  missed  ,  i  suppose  )  .  despite  all  her  efforts  ,  they  spent  the  next  five  years  locked  in  a  bitter  stalemate  with  the  kingdom  and  the  alliance  .  though  with  byleth’s  return  and  aid  ,  she  was  able  to  swiftly  conquer  the  leicester  alliance  .  instead  of  killing  her  old  friend  ,  edelgard  spared  claude  and  forced  him  to  go  into  exile  .

after  beating  back  an  attempt  by  the  church  to  retake  garreg  mach  ,  edelgard  began  military  operations  against  faerghus  in  earnest  .  she  first  conquered  arianrhod  ,  a  fortress  on  the  western  border  between  adrestia  and  faerghus  .  afterwards  ,  she  began  a  direct  march  for  fhirdiad  .  dimitri  and  rhea  moved  to  intercept  her  at  the  tailtean  plains  ,  but  rhea  was  driven  off  and  dimitri  was  slain  in  battle  *  —  an  execution  by  her  own  hands  .

the  group  finally  arrived  in  fhirdiad  ,  and  rhea  ordered  the  city  burned  to  the  ground  in  order  to  slow  them  down  and  transforms  into  her  ultimate  form  ,  the  immaculate  one  .  edelgard  ,  byleth  ,  and  the  black  eagle  strike  force  engaged  her  in  battle  .  ultimately  ,  the  empire  emerged  victorious  and  rhea  was  slain  .  with  all  of  fódlan  under  adrestia's  dominion  ,  edelgard  finally  began  the  reforms  she  always  wanted  to  bring  to  the  nobility  and  the  crest  system  ,  and  began  a  silent  war  against  those  who  slither  in  the  dark  .  *

(  *  -  basically  just  copypasta  from  her  wiki  because  i  didn’t  feel  like  rewriting  it  JDHBSFCBHDHN  )

AFTER  CASTLE  TOWN  .

the  memories  of  edelle  hjördis  are  different  .  edelgard  von  hresvelg  doesn’t  exist  ,  and  there’s  no  reason  for  edelle  to  believe  otherwise  …  right  ?

the  only  child  of  a  well-known  politician  ,  edelle  is  expected  to  follow  his  footsteps  .  and  she  did  ,  sort  of  .  it’s  on  a  smaller  scale  for  now  ,  working  as  a  code  enforcement  officer  at  city  hall  —  she  says  it’s  a  stepping  stone  ,  solidifying  groundwork  for  the  bigger  leagues  .  if  she  ever  gets  there  .  code  enforcement  isn’t  easy  in  any  capacity  ,  and  it  renders  her  particularly  busy  .

everything  is  fine  .

yet  she  can’t  help  feeling  like  there  are  missing  pieces  .  like  maybe  somewhere  ,  somehow  ,  she  has  siblings  in  some  form  .  like  a  hidden  family  that  her  father  keeps  secret  from  her  and  prying  eyes  of  public  media  .  maybe  it’s  all  loneliness  carved  from  parental  absence  .  a  scenario  created  in  her  mind  to  ease  her  from  the  gnawing  feeling  of  solitude  .  that  must  be  it  —  there’s  no  other  explanation  .

everything  is  alright  .

there’s  this  dream  that  haunts  her  so  frequently  .  perhaps  if  she  finds  a  name  to  the  face  ,  she  can  lay  him  to  rest  properly  .  there’s  an  indescribable  sorrow  that  follows  the  execution  of  this  man  —  one  she  doesn’t  understand  ,  one  she  doesn’t  know  if  she  even  wants  to  understand  —  but  it’s  one  she  can’t  seem  to  shake  .  it’s  persistent  and  makes  its  presence  known  in  her  mind  ,  and  all  she  wants  is  for  it  to  vanish  .  farewell  ,  king  of  delusion  .  she  remembers  saying  those  words  (  was  it  truly  her  ?  )  in  this  vision  .  she  doesn’t  know  how  it  can  be  real  ,  it’s  impossible  ,  but  it’s  as  if  her  hands  were  sticky  with  metaphorical  blood  that  never  leaves  .  her  stomach  churns  in  response  if  she  thinks  too  much  of  it  ,  so  she  tries  to  ignore  it  .  it  doesn’t  easily  work  ,  but  she  has  to  try  .

she  remembers  taking  classes  at  castle  town  university  as  a  political  science  major  .  in  rare  moments  ,  she  found  herself  doodling  little  portraits  of  people  —  not  that  they  were  really  any  good  ,  or  that  she  even  showed  anyone  .  but  if  someone  looked  at  the  back  of  her  notebooks  ,  they  can  surely  find  a  badly  drawn  figure  or  two  .

she  doesn’t  know  what  this  weird  crown  is  that  she  randomly  has  ??  unbeknownst  to  her  ,  it  was  her  —  edelgard’s  —  crown  as  adrestia’s  emperor  .  she  just  …  had  it  one  day  ,  and  that  was  that  .  it’s  hidden  in  her  closet  at  home  ,  as  she’s  unsure  of  what  to  do  with  it  .  curiosity  bested  her  a  few  times  and  yes  ,  she  has  tried  it  on  for  size  .  it  fits  almost  too  perfectly  ,  like  it  was  meant  for  her  .  there’s  something  missing  .  there’s  always  something  missing  .  edelle  can  never  figure  out  what  ,  though  .

all  in  all  ,  despite  the  differences  ,  edelle  is  still  as  ambitious  and  relentless  at  achieving  her  goals  as  edelgard  was  .  only  thing  is  ,  she  doesn’t  realize  the  extent  of  it  .  stubborn  until  the  very  end  ,  edelle  can  be  described  as  a  workaholic  for  the  most  part  ,  but  there  are  peaceful  moments  where  she  takes  time  for  herself  and  those  who  manage  to  get  close  to  her  .

uh  idk  what  else  to  write  so  that’s  it  for  now  .  we’ll  see  what  happens  in  the  future  .

FUN  FACTS  .

edelle’s  birthday  is  june  22nd  ,  aka  canonly  edelgard’s  birthday  (  22nd  of  the  garland  moon  )  ,  which  makes  her  a  cancer  sun  .  as  a  cancer  rising  and  water  sign  sun  in  general  ,  myself  ,  i’m  really  not  surprised  .  this  is  kinda  self  drag  lol  but  water  signs  are  notorious  for  being  manipulative  and  knowing  when  to  use  the  cards  to  their  advantage  ,  and  that’s  exactly  what  edelgard  does  .

although  this  being  said  and  being  the  astrology  heaux  i  am  ,  if  i  had  to  assign  her  moon  +  rising  signs  ,  i  would  probably  say  capricorn  moon  (  show  a  lot  of  initiative  ,  in  it  to  win  it  .  do  not  want  to  feed  into  another’s  beliefs  about  victim-hood  .  can  excel  in  things  that  require  cold  blood  and  seriousness  .  )  and  scorpio  rising  (  likely  to  experience  life  as  a  constant  series  of  obstacles  or  crises  .  confronting  darkness  in  the  outside  world  through  facing  extreme  situations  .  others  may  find  you  somewhat  inscrutable  ,  mysterious  or  just  hard  to  read  ;  likely  to  play  your  cards  close  to  your  chest  .  )

she’s  still  5ft  2in  ..  we  love  the  shorties  in  this  house  ,  ok  !

unlike  edelgard  whose  hair  was  originally  brown  ,  edelle  always  had  her  signature  white  hair  .  although  ..  she  does  have  a  slightly  “  goddess  green  ”  tint  if  you  look  at  her  character  portraits  closely  .  personally  i  believe  it’s  due  to  her  crest  of  flames  ,  since  the  color  is  vaguely  reminiscent  of  sothis-byleth  .

the  mention  of  her  drawing  little  pictures  of  people  comes  from  the  fact  she  drew  a  portrait  of  byleth  in  crimson  flower  ,,,

nightmares  by  all  time  low  was  another  song  i  had  in  mind  for  edelgard  ,  i  won’t  even  lie  ...

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo square: Self-Sacrifice

Fandom: Marvel, Iron Man Characters: Tony Stark, James Rhodes Tags: MIT Era, College, Friendship, Protective Rhodey, Tony Needs A Hug, Alcoholism Words: 3.773

Summary: “Sometimes I don’t want to be sober ever again,” Tony says quietly. “It’s easier like that.”

What a world they live in, Rhodey thinks, that he has to teach Tony Stark about love.

---

Tony is so vibrant, so used to hiding behind glittering masks, that it is impossible for the casual observer to notice when something is wrong with him. Rhodey is not that anymore. For a year now, they have been best friends. Still, the cracks in Tony’s composure show themselves only gradually.

The first thing Boston’s students learned about Tony Stark is that he is young and rich and smart enough to leave them all in the dust. The second is that he is the life of every party, unmatched in his ability to drink and please any crowd. Rhodey is disgusted by that right up until he is worried.

The trick, Rhodey eventually learns, is to keep Tony distracted, to turn the alcohol into nothing more than an afterthought – and to throw out the people who only want to use Tony. Which, admittedly, is a Sisyphean task at college.

Coincidentally, the first time Rhodey wonders whether Tony is not hiding more cracks than previously thought is during a party.

By the time Rhodey arrives, everybody is already drunk. He stands in the foyer, letting the pounding music wash over him, making his skin vibrate as if it has a life of its own, and wonders whether it would not be better to call it a night. Arriving late means to put in twice the effort to have fun.

He has no time to come to a decision, though, because that is when Tony finds him. His eyes are as wild as his hair, and his clothes are in disarray, buttoned up wrong and with lipstick stains adorning his collar.

“Platypus,” he calls, his lips fitting clumsily around the newest nickname in an embarrassingly long line of them. “I saved a bottle for you somewhere.”

A bottle could mean everything from bear to the most expensive whiskey the store around the corner has to offer. Sometimes, it does not seem that Tony discriminates between what he pours down his throat as long as he has a bottleneck to hold in his hand.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Rhodey shouts back over the music. “Maybe get a glass of water for you too.”

Suddenly, Tony is much too close, pressing himself against Rhodey’s chest in a clumsy attempt of an embrace. When he backs away, it is only far enough that he can look up better at Rhodey.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Rhodey.” Eyes growing brighter, he adds, “Let’s just not be ourselves tonight.”

With that, he grips Rhodey’s hand and pulls him off deeper into the house.

“Wait,” Rhodey says, “what do you mean by that?”

It is such a strange phrasing that something cold unfurls behind Rhodey’s sternum. He is not yet drunk so he cannot make sense of a drunk’s words. Perhaps the surroundings alone have him not sober enough either to decipher Tony.

He is pretty sure either the music or Tony’s ability to ignore everything he does not want to hear drown out his words. Surprisingly, Tony turns briefly back to him.

“What I said,” Tony replies cheekily. The way his eyes glisten and how wide they are, Rhodey thinks it might be not just alcohol running through his friend’s system. “Come on. This is our night.”

The night for what? Senseless revelry with a side dish of abandoning their selves?

“What are you drinking?” Rhodey questions, planting himself firmly in the foyer so that Tony tugs uselessly at his hand. “Did you take anything from anyone?”

It would not have been the first time – to experiment or to relieve stress, come on, Rhodey, you’re not that boring when it comes to building robots.

In front of him, Tony rolls his eyes, which somehow makes him lose balance. Rhodey steadies him without having to think about it.

“I’m not on drugs,” Tony says slowly, enunciating each word as if that is a ridiculous notion, as if there is no reason to worry about him. Ever. “I’m just not Tony Stark tonight. You should try it, Platypus. Lift those lips. Dance with me.”

Confused, Rhodey lets himself be pulled into half a twirl before he regains control of his senses and stops. He wants to say something, wants to dissect Tony’s statement, but Tony, sighing dramatically, lets go of him.

Too late to hold him back, Rhodey has to watch Tony disappear into the moving mass of drunk students filling the house. When he attempts to follow, the bodies form a wall before him, seemingly impossible to part. For the moment, Rhodey does not remembers how to navigate places like this.

He needs to find Tony, needs to talk to him about this. It might have been just a throw-away comment, but added to the more-than-usual unhinged behaviour, Rhodey feels like he should worry.

A drink does sound right now, though. Just one to get his thoughts flowing again. Tony will likely only talk to him when he comes to him smiling, and he is sure he will not be able to do that sober.

Shaking his head, Rhodey makes his way to the kitchen. The next morning, he barely remembers that they talked about anything that night.

 ---

Tony in a suit always looks like a completely different person. The clothes are immaculate and tailored to Tony’s exact size. Considering that Rhodey is used to Tony wearing over-sized sweaters with his hair sticking up wildly, sitting barefoot on the ground, working on whatever new project his crazy mind has come up with, seeing this slick and controlled version of him is like stumbling over a stranger in their dorm.

Even worse is the reluctance Rhodey feels at the prospect of coming in. Tony is his best friend, but he is also inhabiting two very different worlds and Rhodey only fits into one of them.

When Tony notices him, he looks up with a smile so very different from his usual blinding grins. Looking like this, Tony never shows much emotion.

“What’s going on?” Rhodey asks as he finally steps into the room. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

“Obie called,” Tony answers, his tone precise, polished. “They need me for a press conference.”

Those happen sometimes but rarely. Usually, Howard and Stane are happy to let Tony be as long as he does not cause too much bad press. Rhodey does not remember any of that happening lately, and yet Tony’s expression is grimmer than usual when he gets called away for these things.

“Don’t you have people for that?”

Rhodey has met the frazzled woman in charge of PR for Stark Industries once when she was briefing Tony on what to say and how to say it. Rhodey would not want to change places with her, especially not since she has to coach Tony Stark on things he has known for longer than she has had the job.

“It helps if I go out there and play the genius kid every once in a while,” Tony says in a flat voice. He is checking his tie’s knot in the mirror, calloused hands running over the smooth cloth. It is already perfect, which means that Tony is stalling.

“When do you need to leave?” Rhodey asks, stepping closer to keep Tony from ruining the knot again.

Looking up at him, Tony’s small smile turns wry. “Ten minutes ago.”

That is all the confirmation Rhodey needs. “What’s wrong?” he asks and pulls Tony towards the bed, pushing him down to sit on the mattress.

As much as Tony likes designing things, he does not seem to like Stark Industries very much. Perhaps that is just about his father, though.

Tony raises his hand as if to run it through his hair but remembers at the last moment that he should not mess it up. Instead, he rubs the bridge of his nose. Then he glares at his hand as if it is responsible for the nervous gesture.

“I’m just not myself out there,” Tony says with a shrug, somehow making this sound nonchalant. “Sometimes it’s hard to get back to that.”

Rhodey thinks he knows what Tony means. If a camera is trained on him, all of Tony’s smiles become wider but more artificial, never reaching his eyes. He gestures less but more sharply, does not let himself be caught in talking about something he actually likes.

“I guess being yourself is not an option then?” Rhodey asks, despite knowing the answer. Despite them being best friends, Rhodey is still getting blocked by Tony’s masks and deflections every now and then. He is not going to let strangers get a peek at himself.

Tony snorts without much amusement. “I doubt Obie meant for me to make things worse.”

That sits wrong with Rhodey, it always does when Tony talks about himself with disdain. He has not yet found an effective cure for that, however.

“You’re not a bad person, Tones,” Rhodey says, wishing he could make Tony believe how much he means that.

“You only think that because I’ve conditioned you to like me by brining you the good coffee instead of the grovel from downstairs,” Tony replies dryly. A little bit more life returns into his features, making Rhodey inwardly congratulate himself.

He still remains serious. “You can’t buy my good opinion of you with coffee.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Tony gets up, face smoothing over again. “One day you’ll wake up and wonder what you’ve been thinking.”

Rendered speechless, Rhodey cannot do anything but stare for a long moment, trying to find the kind of argument that not even Tony Stark can brush away and turn against himself.

“That’s nonsense,” bursts over Rhodey’s lips with none of the eloquence he has been grasping for. Being faced with this Tony, Rhodey feels utterly helpless. “I’m not in for the money or the coffee or anything else. Just for you.”

For a second, it looks like Tony’s expression is going to crumble, like they can have a real conversation about this. Then a car honks twice, causing Tony to be replaced by Stark, unreadable and sharp-edged enough to cut anyone getting too close.

“And who’s that?” Tony asks, flippant and careless. Turning towards the door, he smooths down his suit. It is obvious he does not intent to give Rhodey the time to answer. “Gotta go. See you tonight. Probably.”

“Definitely,” Rhodey corrects with determination. He is worries by this sudden turn in their conversation and by how easily Tony hides himself away. “We’re going to have a talk about this.”

Tony flashes him a grin, as bright as it is false. “Definitely.”

Then, without another word, he strides out of the door, leaving Rhodey behind with his thoughts.

The next time they see each other, Tony is already drunk. He lost his jacket somewhere but is still wearing his good shirt, wrinkled now and with unidentifiable stains on it. He is dancing with abandon in a stranger’s dorm room, seemingly noticing nothing of his surroundings.

The whole dorm appears to be present, riled up by a surprise party nobody knew they needed tonight. It could all be a coincidence that the night Rhodey wanted to talk about something serious, everybody is up and drunk, filling the air with chaos. When his eyes meet Tony’s, there is no mistaking the flicker of guilt on his face, though. Nor can it be called anything other than avoidance, the way Tony seems to slip through Rhodey’s fingers every time they come even remotely close to each other.

They do not talk that night, nor any of the following ones because Tony keeps himself busy with project and extra credits. He probably thinks he is being subtle about it. He is not, but Rhodey gets the message anyway. Tony does not want to talk and Rhodey will not push him into it.

Neither will he forget about it.

 ---

Their apartment is dark when Rhodey comes home. That in itself is not really surprising and Rhodey would not think anything about it if he had not gone by the lab on the way here after Tony has missed all of their classes this day. The latter is not really uncommon, but he is usually found working those days, never noticing how much time passes by while concentrating on his projects. Sometimes, Rhodey envies Tony’s ability to focus so completely on one thing, never coming up for air until it is done. Mostly, though, is means more work for him.

“Tony?” he calls as he pulls the door close behind him.

There is no answer, but that does not have to mean anything. Turning on the light, Rhodey walks into their apartment. In the kitchen, he finds an assortment of bottles on their counter, some half-empty, some tipped over. All of them, without exception, are expensive and contain alcohol.

Tony was home then. As much as the Stark Mansion can be described as home. Rhodey has never been there, has only seen pictures and listened to Tony’s stories about it, but that is enough for him to dislike it intensely. Mostly, he does not like the person it turns Tony into.

Hastening his steps, Rhodey walks down the hallway to Tony’s room. He knocks but does not wait for an answer. Tony and alcohol is not a good mixture. He can drain bottle after bottle and never show any signs of being drunk – but only if he has to perform. Afterwards, when they are home, Tony usually crashes and only Rhodey is there to catch him.

The room is dark too, but the light from the hallway is enough to illuminate Tony’s figure, sitting on the ground, back to the bed, clinging to a bottle, never looking up at the intrusion.

“Go away,” Tony says. His voice is hoarse, quiet. If it is supposed to be a demand, Tony does not have the energy to actually turn it into one.

Rhodey ignores it anyway. “I think you’ve had enough.” He steps into the room but does not go directly towards Tony.

He has learned the hard way that, sometimes, Tony might speak and interact with him without actually registering his presence, causing him to flinch at sudden movements or at simply realizing that Rhodey has come too close. That is a hard thing to know about his best friend, but where it might have put him off once, it only makes Rhodey’s protectiveness worse.

“Go,” Tony repeats sharper. “I’m not myself tonight.” He blinks up at Rhodey and manages to hold his cold expression for barely a breath before he crumbles. Dropping his gaze, he pulls the bottle closer to himself. “Or wait, maybe I am. Maybe this is all I am.”

For a long moment, Rhodey is at a loss. True enough, Tony does not look like himself. There is nothing of the sharp edges of Tony Stark in him, full of confidence and smirks and brilliance, and nothing of the softness of Tones, vibrating with slightly manic energy, heart full of kindness. There is a shapeless tiredness to him now, misery given form.

Going closer, Rhodey crouches. He keeps all of his movements slow. “Tony,” he says as firmly as he manages, “look at me.”

Tony shakes his head, focusing on the bottle with all the intent he seems able to muster. Without warning, Rhodey reaches out and pulls the bottle from Tony’s grip. They struggle for a minute, both locked to the cool glass. Then Rhodey takes his free hand to gently pry Tony’s fingers loose, Tony gives in with a sigh.

When he puts the bottle behind him, out of Tony’s reach, Rhodey has to fight to urge to take a swig himself. It looks like there is a difficult conversation ahead of them, and as much as Rhodey might want some liquid courage for it, one of them should have a clear a head for it.

“You should go, Rhodey,” Tony says before Rhodey had a chance to think of how to begin. “I’m not good for you. Howard said that. I ruin everything I touch. Don’t let me ruin you.”

Familiar anger uncurls in Rhodey’s chest. Every mention of Howard Stark tends to irritate him, but the combination of the conviction in Tony’s voice and the general situation has Rhodey skipping right past that into feeling murderous.

“You won’t ruin me,” Rhodey says slowly, needing Tony to understand that before he can ask any questions. “You’ve made my life so much brighter. That’s what you do with everything.”

Something tears itself from Tony’s throat that is probably supposed to be laughter. It comes out warbled, making the hairs in Rhodey’s neck stand up like the sound of nails on a blackboard would.

“Don’t lie to me,” Tony spats, sounding upset.

“I don’t,” Rhodey counters immediately. He feels very much out of depth. “I promised you that, remember? First semester? I told you I’d never be one of those people who’d lie to get into your good graces. We’re friends.”

If possible, Tony’s expression gets even sourer at the mention of friendship. “You deserve so much better.”

“Funny, because I think that should be my decision,” Rhodey replies, perhaps harsher than necessary, but it gets Tony to listen. His eyes are wide and dark when he trains them on Rhodey, but he returns the gaze unflinchingly. “And I want to keep my best friend, even if he sometimes drinks himself through his father’s liquor cabinet and has serious self-worth issues.”

Tony’s hand spasms, gripping tight around thing air. He opens his mouth as if to ask for his bottle back but thinks better of it after one glance at Rhodey’s expression. Instead, his shoulders slump further.  

“It’s not an issue if it’s true,” Tony mutters under his breath, grimacing at the sound of his own voice.

Rhodey scoffs. “That doesn’t even make sense.” Since there is no use to discussing that now – he has tried before, a dozen times – he gets to his feet, offering his hand to Tony. “Here, let me help you up, and then I’ll get you to bed.”

Likely trying to swat the hand away, Tony misses by several inches. “I don’t –”

“Shh, Tony, you’re drunk,” Rhodey cuts him off. Grabbing Tony’s hand himself, he pulls him up and deposits him on the mattress. “The alcohol makes you feel more miserable than you are. We’ll talk once you’ve sobered up.”

Rhodey crouches down again to pull Tony’s shoes off. When Tony expectedly tries to kick him, he dodges the weak attempt easily. Tony likes being cared for even less than being told he is wrong about something, especially himself.

“Sometimes I don’t want to be sober ever again,” Tony says quietly. “It’s easier like that.”

Judging on Tony’s tone and the way he stares up at the ceiling, Rhodey is almost certain he was not supposed to hear that. That does not stop him from coming up and sitting down next to Tony on the bed.

“It’s not,” he argues vehemently, wishing any of his words would actually register with Tony the way they are meant. “You’re Tony Stark. You don’t hide. If things are bad, you’ll make them better.”

That is what Rhodey has likes about Tony from the beginning, even when he was still just the rich, white kid treating MIT like his personal playground. No matter what problem is put before Tony, he finds a way to solve it, to make any broken thing work, and better than ever before.

Which is why Rhodey wants to find whoever messed up Tony’s self-confidence and ruin theirs. More than ever when Tony says, in an impossibly small voice, “I can’t.”

Toning down his temper, Rhodey argues, “Oh, you can. If you think you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me until you can.” Much gentler, he adds, “I’ll be there for you.”

Tony is silent for a long moment. His breathing is loud as if he has to consciously remind himself that his lungs need air. He stares down at his lap until he pulls up his feet, making himself small. With visible effort, he looks up.

“You’re my best friend, Rhodey.”

The seriousness of that remark breaks Rhodey’s heart a little because it is still lacking confidence, ends almost as a question.

“And you’re mine,” Rhodey replies firmly, leaving no doubt that he means it. “Don’t you forget that.”

“I don’t,” Tony answers quickly, then bites his lower lip. His eyes stray from Rhodey again, making him look embarrassed. “I mean, I’m myself with you. I never am anywhere else. So – thank you?”

This is not the first time Tony has said something like that. I’m not myself out there. Let’s not be ourselves for once. I’m not myself tonight. Rhodey has noticed it before, but never has it come with such an urgency, like time is running out.

“You don’t owe the world anything, Tones, and I happen to love who you are,” Rhodey says, looking at Tony until he looks back. Deciding that Tony does not look so spooked anymore that bodily contact will make things worse, Rhodey reaches out and outs his hand over Tony’s, which is gripping his knees. “We’ll work on that, promise?”

A small grin pulls at Tony’s lips. It is lopsided and does not quite reach his eyes, but Rhodey decides to count it as a good sign anyway.

“You shouldn’t let drunk people promise anything,” Tony says. He is obviously deflecting, but his lids are drooping and the tension is bleeding out of him, making him slump into Rhodey’s side.

“I’ll ask you again in the morning,” Rhodey offers, making it almost into a threat. “But let me warn you now, I won’t accept no as an answer.”

Giving up the fight to stay upright, Tony melts completely into Rhodey, letting his head fall against Rhodey’s shoulder.

“I love you, Rhodey,” he mutters, stumbling a bit over the words. Rhodey knows that is not because he does not mean them, but because he is unused to saying them.

“I know,” Rhodey says, smiling down at his best friend. “We just need to get you to love yourself a little too.”

What a world they live in, Rhodey thinks, that he has to teach Tony Stark about love. That is a task that could take his entire life, he is aware of that. There is no doubt in his mind, however, that it will be worth it. The things Tony creates when he is driven by guilt are magnificent. Rhodey can hardly imagine how much brighter the world will be once Tony starts shaping it with love.

[celestialvinyl]

like real people do -- part two. [brian may]

read part one here. 

a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE! sorry it’s taken soooo long to add on to this, but i didn’t really know where to go for a little while and i love brian so much and just didn’t want to make anyone unhappy??? anyways, here it is! please enjoy it -- but only if you want to. okay, i’m gonna stop rambling now. 

word count: 4.1k, i think?

warnings: some swearing, a poop joke?, thoughts of wax throwing themselves into a fire, and general sleepiness. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”

A scoff came somewhere from the direction where Elton stood. Brian was pretty sure it was him, but Freddie held the same expression nearby, so he couldn’t be sure. Sharon and Melina were in agreement so often, Brian wasn’t sure where one of them stopped and the other started. “I thought you said this wasn’t a joking manner.” He sighed while pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead. A migraine was quickly coming on from this discussion, and he didn’t know how long he could take everyone going against him. Then there was the question of where the headache was coming from, too. “If we’re going to be serious, then let’s be serious, alright?”

“Fine, you want to be serious?” Roger shot back. As he leaned against one of the many pillars from the museum, he stared at his friend with something between pity and a real anger. This discussion had been going on for too long now, simply put. It should have been a cut and dry sort of thing, but the languid looks Brian was giving when you were brought up was too much for anyone to take. Especially considering this was a conversation about you. “Tell her you like her.”

Brian stood still for a moment; he could see everyone waiting for him to respond — but there wasn’t much to say. “I can’t.”

“And why not?” Roger wanted to scream. He was sure his friend had a good reason to stay quiet — and no one would be upset that he did so. However, holding these sort of conversations on the nights you were away were getting to be too much. Brian needed to stop being so indecisive and say something before Roger threw himself into a fire and let himself melt away. Brian’s lonely pining and desperate attachment to some girl that knew he existed in this particular form was uninteresting, to say the least. However, this discussion seemed to believe differently as it always veered towards you and Brian’s feelings towards you. As Roger met Brian’s state, he responded.  

“Because I don’t want to scare her off.”

“Your feelings for her definitely won’t scare her off,” John piped up. He couldn’t outright say anything because he promised you he wouldn’t. (Keeping promises was about all the man had in terms of morality, since he wasn’t quite sure where he stood on that plane, but he was destined to keep them.) John figured he would assure Brian anyways.

“But he’s got a pretty reasonable point.” Paul puts in. From his spot balancing on a glass case, he’s tuned in and out of the conversation. “When it comes to scaring her off.” Partially selfish (and selfless in the same regard), he didn’t want to imagine nights without your presence. Nights like these, when you chose to get some rest instead of running around with everyone, were often so boring.

“He won’t.” Roger fought. “She definitely likes him.”

“You should have seen her when she decided she was going to ring Bri out when he kept trying to leave her alone.” Freddie rolled his eyes. “She was practically rabid.”

Brian thought back to the night and just how much he felt the guilt as he watched you come into the astronomy, wing with pain written all over your face. You felt betrayed, he knew that much in the moment. But he hadn’t known how badly you would feel about him leaving you alone until you said it. And then he felt like a horrible person. He had felt like a horrible person for weeks now. “Because she was upset at me.” Brian tried to explained. He’d be upset if a friend just abandoned him like he had done. “I was a bad friend, and she knew.”

“He’s hopeless,” George mused. The feather in his hat sagged as he set his face into his hands. The bright color of his salmon suit did nothing to brighten the mood of the group. “He’s got about as much sense in him as a bird with a little brain.”

“You have to tell her, just to out us out of our misery.” Roger tried, one last time.  

“And it’s not like you don’t want to.” Ringo chimed in.

The subway was slow — it had to be. You were always on the platform by 7:30, and the train car would arrive a little while afterwords. It was a pattern you could depend upon in the world you were working with, where seemingly non-sensical things came out at you when you weren’t expecting. This pattern never failed — until this morning. You were looking down at your watch to find that the 7:40 had already passed. You did you best to calm a raising heartbeat, but all you could think about was how of course this would happen.

Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed so late last night? It had been a lot of work with Freddie and Roger about something for today, and you probably should have left before 3 — but with everything happening today, what were you supposed to do?

When the car finally arrived at 7:46, you hopped on and found a seat as you waited for the doors to close. They shut at 7:49, and opened once more at the destination at 7:59. You rushed out and up the stairs to the “fresh” air London brought — the light nearly blinding you in the process. You had to squint and keep moving if you were going to get to work within ten minutes. (Calling the Curator seemed pointless, since it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than give an excuse). Eventually, your feet scurried up the steps of the museum’s huge stone staircase and you could hear a bell tower sounding it’s ‘fifteen minutes past’ marker. Every pang of the bell sent a little more dread through your body. You did your best to scramble through the door before the last gong sounded.

The Curator watched you run past her office — of which the door was always open. Her eyes followed your rushing by with a little bit of an interested gaze as you headed to the offices underneath the museum. They tended to be a little stuffy, but at least they had those windows near the ceiling. Providing a little view to the few inches above the ground was nice to look at when the days dredged on sometimes. Although, you had to make sure to keep the windows closed when it rained, — far too worried about your work to take any risks. That meant you kept them closed a lot.

As you set down your things and checked your watch one last time — you noted it was only eleven minutes past 8. You could let out a sigh of relief. Your first meeting wasn’t for another few hours. The most important part of your day was only a couple of hours away, and you weren’t sure if you were even going to be able to keep yourself awake that long. Caffeine was the first thing you needed to do for the day, quickly followed by organizing the presentation — for the new addition to the contemporary artists section.  

While the coffee brewed on the other end of the hallway, you smiled to yourself. Knowing everything came to life at night presented you with an odd opportunity, to say the least. To say you felt a little like God would be sacrilegious — but true all the same. Investors wanted more of the musicians; you couldn’t say no. It was half excitement for picking out who would be next, and half understanding that the investors knew that’s what brought people in — surprisingly. The meeting was just to narrow down the options of what would rope people in, which included the likes of the Stones and The Police. There was only room for one new spot to add on though, and you didn’t know if you’d be able to pick. Then again, that’s what the investors were for.

A knock at the door left you turning your head to find the Curator. She took a step in, always so kind and gentle. You weren’t sure why — it was hard to get to where she was without fighting a little bit. As you offered her a cup of coffee, which she denied, you started talking to fill the empty space. “I’m sorry I was late. The tube train took off a few seconds too soon. I’ll be better about it next time.”

She waved it off. “Oh, it’s alright. I came down to make sure you were ready for meeting.”

You nodded. Of course you were.

Roger and Freddie had been kind enough to help you generate a list a few nights previously, while Brian sat close to you and provided some support — which included physical when you got too tired to keep yourself upright. His shoulder had been soft while you fought Roger on whether or not to include Sid Vicious on the shortlist. (“Nobody considers him the pinnacle of British music,” you had reminded him.)  

“Alright, good.” She didn’t need much more than a confirmation, and you watched her gracefully move back upstairs towards her office. Conversations with her were always this way — concise and to the point. There were probably more important things for her to do than to hover over you. Actually, it wasn’t even a probably. You knew there were more important places and things for her, just like yourself. You steeled yourself, reminding to focus on your few tasks at hand. Even as fatigue was starting to wash over you after the adrenaline rush of the morning, you pushed yourself and got to work…after a quick sip of coffee.

The day had passed by quicker than you imagined, and you didn’t really know what happened sometime around five. The meeting had gone well, and you guessed you dozed off when the work day was over. You did remeber there being a light breeze as you awoke; when your eyes fluttered open and you discovered the window above your desk still open, you could let out a sigh. With a gentle push off the desk, your arms reached out to close the damned thing. It felt nice stretching them from a postion other than holding your head off the desk.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were cold.”

A yelp came from you as your eyes darted over to where the voice had come from. Brian sat, a couple of your files from work dangling out of his hand as he watched you; you were pretty sure they were the files from the meeting. How long had he been there? You wondered. Hopefully, not long; you couldn’t bare to think of him hearing you snore.

“It’s alright.” Your hands came up to your lips, which were slightly chapped and a little cold — or maybe that was your hand. Actually, your whole body felt cold since you had decided to leave the window open so many hours ago. As you searched for your watch somewhere among the pile of things on your desk, Brian watched with a silent serenity that you could feel radiating from him. How the hell was he always like this? You could practically feel yourself buzzing as you tried to wake up, but he seemed like a rock against the waves you made.

Where was the damn thing? “Are you looking for something?” He still seemed to be skimming through your papers while he watched you rush around your desk. You thought he looked a little amused, with the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.  

“Just my watch,” you said.

He chuckled a little, lifting his hand to point to your wrist. As you followed his point, you quickly realized you had never even taken it off. Again, what the hell was wrong with you? First the subway this morning, then the snooze-fest in the afternoon, and now this? At least the meeting hadn’t gone this bad. As you checked the time and found it a little after seven, you forced yourself to take a breath and calm down a little. You still had all night to spend with everyone if you wanted. “Thanks,” you supplemented.

“The meeting went well?” Brian could tell from the smile on your face alone that it had gone better than you had hoped, and he figured you’d tell him all about it within time. He hugged your papers a little tighter, before setting them down, putting them in a neat pile on your desk. “Did you sleep well?”

“The nap? Yeah, it was alright.”

“Actually — last night? Did you get any sleep?”

You tried to remember what last night had even brought in your post-nap haze, but instead found that the only thing that came to mind was your head hitting the pillow beneath you sometime after 3. The alarm rang what seemed like a few seconds later. A shrug would have to suffice instead of a long-winded answer about how you thought you were surviving well on little sleep, with the occasional off-night. Maybe you should have a conversation with him instead about getting more sleep sometime. It wasn’t something for right now. “I got enough.” In an effort to aid any of Brian’s worry, you added, “I feel fine — if that’s what you’re asking.”

“As long as you’re feeling okay.”

He moved his line of sight towards the door, and you followed it. Right. There were things to do for the night, and you could start to feel the anticipation growing in your chest. You wondered if you were ever going to get used to all of this? Seeing someone like Freddie or McCartney nightly was too much to really think about, and to have someone as brilliant as Brian by your side? You still wondered if you were dreaming. Then you thought about how cliche the thought was, and banished it from your head. The climb upstairs and out of what you called the dungeons was quiet, aided only by yours and Brian’s light footsteps. There wasn’t much of a need to talk between the two of you; you’d figured out weeks ago that just having him by your side was enough. As the two of you walked into the main corridor, you spotted a head of curls much shorter than your companion’s and a sort of blossoming happened somewhere in your chest from admiration.

The security guard, Joe, greeted you with a big smile. “So, you have an excuse for tonight?” His voice boomed through the main lobby, bouncing off the walls made of beautiful marble and stone. You grinned, and felt your feet moving a little faster to get to the familiar face — the other human of the group.

“Not really,” you admitted. “But you know what’s going on now, so I don’t need one.”

“True. True. Hey — will you give this to Bowie?” He handed over a small book, nothing more than a light read.

“Did he ask for this?” You countered, taking the book from his hand and feeling your hand brush over his. Joe’s cheeks blushed a light shade of pink, but it wasn’t as though you noticed. Your eyes were trained on the little book, before stuffing it in your bag and making sure you’d find him later that night. “I’ll remind him to ask me instead.”

Joe was a funny character, who would much rather have found a passive place in the background — strolling through the halls all evening or in the control room watching from afar.  He wasn’t as fond of interacting with the legends, and you figured it had something to do with the fact this wasn’t exactly the most natural of circumstances. However, he was anything but rude. He was kind and considerate, especially to those he worked with (including yourself), and you were happy to call him a friend. Ever since the night when he walked in on you having an arm wrestling match with George Michael, and the subsequent hours spent walking him around and explaining everything, you two had been close. Shared trauma, you guessed. There was always a little ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ when you saw him, and he alway found time to chat you up when you were slipping into one of the exhibits after hours. You’d be waiting for someone, and he’d ask kindly what the guys were all like. How could you not give him an answer?

Joe nodded as a sign of greeting to Brian before heading off to his post for the night. Once he was out of sight and ear-range, your tall companion turned to you.

“I didn’t know you were close with the night guard.” Brian mused. You smiled up at him.

“Yeah, it’s nice having someone else who goes through the same process as you do — when you discover all this.”

“It’s a bit of a shock, I’m sure.” The two of you were headed down one of the quieter hallways, towards the astronomy exhibit and the Egyptian art. Everyone else normally congregated on the west wing of the museum, where you’d greet them each evening if they hadn’t already split up. You guessed Brian didn’t want to be around everyone else just quite yet.  

“Probably one for you, too!” You giggled as a response. “Suddenly you’re alive and you don’t have to go through all the years of pooping in your own diaper.”

He chuckled so softly, you swore your heart melted. Brian had a habit of laughing and letting his eyes flutter slightly, you had noticed. The act made him exude the softest of personalties, which worked so well with everything else about him — a juxtaposition to his job. How did a well mannered man become so synonymous with rock and roll? (Well, pop-rock in the later years.) Then there were nights when you would walk in him having a row with Deaky and you’d remember exactly why he worked so well with the title. There were the little smiles when he heard one of Queen’s songs on the radio station as you tried to finish a little work some nights, too. A man who prided himself on his work so much couldn’t be anything other than a rockstar, you guessed.

“Aren’t we all glad I didn’t have to go through any diapers?” He joked, bringing you back to the present.

“That would be such a hefty job — and a gross one too.” Your nose wrinkled up at the thought, and his followed suit. When you locked eyes, the both of you couldn’t help but chuckle a little it. You added in an after thought, “I would change them for you — but only if you asked.”

“Do you do that for all your good friends?”  

“Who said you were a good friend?”

Brian knew it was a joke, and he did his best to continue on with it. “Oh, am I not? Does Joe outrank me?” Maybe that wasn’t the right way to continue it, though. He always did his best to hide whatever he felt towards the night guard — something between an admiration for the effortlessness that he exuded when he spoke you you, and a hint of jealousy when Brian’s eyes would land on your amused expression.

“Some days.”

That definitely didn’t help whatever he was feeling, and he couldn’t help himself as he blurted out: “Do you like Joe?”

The two of you paused outside of the Egyptian art. He was joking, right? The quick blink of your mind that had you wondering why he would be asking that question so seriously left you as a flash of something red hot went through your whole body. “What if I did?” Altogether, not your best response — you needed to know the answer regardless.

The worst part was that he seemed so genuine in his statement, blinking at you with those eyes that just made you melt, when he replied. “Well, then — you should ask him out?” The heat coursing through your body was replaced almost instantly with something icier, like a dagger slicing through you. Why would he say such a thing? Did he know the feelings you did so well to hide away?

“Yeah, you think so?” He knew, he had to. Brian knew that you two would never work out, so here he was trying to push you onto someone else. You weren’t sure when your desolation turned into a sick vengeance; your emotions were so out of wack that you weren’t sure if you’d be able to pinpoint it.  

“Only if you like him.” Brian was quick to snap back. If there was any blood to run to his cheeks, he’d be blushing as he tried to hold everything down. Why were you so stubborn about this? Why couldn’t you just accept or deny what the two of you had, and just put Brian out of his misery. He was already forced to stay inside this damn building every night, and now he had to watch the one person he liked walk off with some other breathing person? “You don’t have to go out with anyone you don’t want to.”

“Well, I don’t want to.” You shot back, and Brian’s features scrunched up.

“Alright.” He was far from the normally calm man you enjoyed spending time with. Instead replaced with an agitated and annoyed man, Brian had his arms crossed over his chest and an expression you couldn’t quite piece together with how fast your head was whirling. Weren’t you just joking about poop a minute ago? A question about a guy you didn’t even like shouldn’t have set you off — because as nice as Joe was….he wasn’t Brian.

“I want to go out with you.”

Silence.

You weren’t sure why it slipped out, or why you felt as though you needed a moment of honesty in the middle of a fight. Was this a fight? You could remember your parents telling you honesty was always the best policy, but then you did stupid things like this and you had to wonder how well they thought through their logic.

“‘m sorry?”  Brian felt as though he was short circuiting. His head tiled in a questioning sort of manner. He would have to check and make sure that there was no part of him that was an animatronic like those silly things from Disneyland — the Pirates. (Sometimes he wondered. Being made out of wax in the 21st century had to have come with some kind of gimmick.) His choice of words weren’t the best, but he didn’t know how to act gentlemanly when you had gone on and said that.

Your shoulders sunk. So, this all for naught, huh? “Nevermind.” You waved him off, looking anywhere but at the man in front of you. Maybe you were looking for an exit; you weren’t quite sure. “Forget I said it.”

“No,” he struggled. His hands reached out for you, grabbing your wrist gently. He wasn’t going to let you get away so easily as though he could see your frantic eyes looking for somewhere else to be. “I don’t want to.”

“Brian—”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to ask you out?” He gave up. A humorless laugh fell from his lips. “God, it seems like forever.”

“Really?” The disbelief was beginning to settle, and you in turn could feel your heart soaring. The end of whatever this was was in sight, and a bright light seemed to be shining towards you. Brian guided you there with his words.

“Of course.”

In the thick silence that followed, you weren’t sure how to continue or get to that light completely. How could you just spill out the words that had tumbled out, and then expect everything to continue on like normal? “I don’t know how long I’ve liked you,” you admitted. “It just sort of happened somewhere along the way.” Maybe it was the night in the stars exhibit — or maybe it was something more mundane in moments that followed?

“I think I’ve always kind of liked you.” He admitted back.

Maybe honesty was the best policy.

Your smile blossomed like the flowers in spring, bright and vibrant and easy to adore. Brian’s smile was better though; his was like a whole field of flowers waiting to have others admire them. The way his lips parted to reveal those pearly whites left your stomach doing flips. “Oh, really?”

“Probably.” His hands went to find your own, fingers lacing together. There was that quiet again, effortless in it’s tranquility — aided by the smile adorning Brian’s face. It didn’t last long, however, because soon Brian was in a little fit of quiet giggles. It was effortless to follow, and you soon descended into the same giddiness he felt. He moved closer, and his forehead rested against your own. “I guess there’s really only one thing left to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Ask you on a date, of course.”