#since we met another one in petrichor too

[aromanticasterisms]

cool as hell cutscene.

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 6

Mask(s)

Soft and sweet with just a hint of melancholic because 1.I'm tired and probably need a nap father than coffee, 2.I actually managed to make a pretty good mocha and the Anchorage LOZ animatic came onto my playlist before writing this and it kind of influenced my mood, and 3. I'm saving the usual Majora's Mask flare of angst for another prompt because I was having way too much fun dissecting the tragedy of the Hero of Time before sleep deprivation snatched the idea away which is usually my sign to pass the heck out and save the second option for when I have more energy lol.

For the Warriors fans, also Warriors is a disaster of an older sibling but we adore and appreciate him for it in this household, as always can be implied romantic or platonic between him and reader.

You were all but pinned down to the ground, brought down more effectively and unable to find the strength to get up.

Well, not literally, there were no enemies nearby, the chaos at camp had long since died down and there wasn’t anything much to do now that night had fallen, the heavens deigning to put all of it’s glittering jewels on display.

Were it any other day you’d probably focus more on appreciating it in full, the fire was crackling merrily, you were safe and had a full stomach and even with the ever present threat of the Shadow possibly deciding to ambush you all while most of your guards were down, you had your boys with you and the crisp autumn petrichor was a balm on your soul, weary from the journey.

Maybe it would be fine to rest for a little while.

And then the small figure clinging to you flinched, burrowing closer and holding onto your tunic like a lifeline. And awareness came to you like a smack over the head with a log, your fingers gently carding through blond locks as you hum gently. Weighting options and just how quietly you could move without bothering the precious Sprite at your side.

You had guessed Time had been a sweet kid, and you still wanted to lodge a formal complaint with the gods for writing such cruel fate for him because the man couldn’t catch a break and you’re not the only one to take it personally. But he was killing you here, this is how you die, with an adorable but oh so heartbreakingly sad little boy having fallen asleep leaning against you after telling you all sorts of stories about his extensive mask collection.

(You don’t know wether you want to cry, scream or laugh, Mask was so, so young. It breaks your heart, just a little.

Really, the deities of Hyrule must adore tragedies. Bastards.)

Sighing, you decide to compromise, gently keeping the Kokiri boy right where he is, fast asleep and with barely any nightmares as you hum and card your fingers through the spun gold strands, you brush your fingers through the last masks he fell asleep mid through telling the story of how he’d acquired. If you were careful surely you’d be able to reach his pack on his side so he wouldn’t worry later.

A pair of brown boots invade your vision, Warriors crouches down. You think you spot a flash of surprise on his eyes as he spots Mask napping on you, and then fond amusement of a big brother you knew he directed often towards Wind, tone low, “Well would you look at that, out like a light. It’s a rare honor for him to trust anyone like this.”

You chuckle a bit, shaking your head, “I can tell, he’s a good kid. I’ve barely met him for a day and I’d already take on an army for him.”

“Welcome to my world.”, comes Warriors dry response, though you both knew he was a hundred percent serious, his own mask quickly falling away as he gently picked up the Deku Sprout Mask to put it back in the small sprite’s pouch, hiding it’s confused, fearful sadness from your gaze (and it’s an effort, not to twitch, as your rage towards Majora gained even more kindling to burn) as the soldier handled it with the due solemnity of being one of the few Mask would allow to even touch the masks without his immediate supervision, “... I never thought I’d see him again, as...”

“I know.” Your tone was quiet, as you carefully picked your choice of words.

If there’s one thing you knew about any Link, is that they’re all really good elder brother’s and that they are too hard on themselves. Warriors specially, Mask and Wind were his everything, there wouldn’t be words that could describe how gutted he was, after confirming his suspicions with you, regretting not saying anything against Mask joining the battle field back then, loathing himself for not convincing him or Lana into letting him stay in spite of his bad feeling that as soon as the young hero of time passed through that portal he was unlikely to ever meet him again.

... You settle for something simple, instead, reaching a hand to softly pat his head, taking care not to mess his hair too much, “You did good, Wars, it’s not your fault. Mask also knows you did your best.”

He still, sighing, the mask falling away as he guides your hand to his lips, quietly thankful (really, like big brother like little brother, your wonderful, silly, caring boys. You make a point to cheerfully bat away the butterflies in your stomach, ), “... Feels hard to believe that, some times. Thank you.”

You hum, after putting the Zora mask away, Warriors takes Mask’s other side, pulls you closer and breathes.

(Just in case, he lies to himself.)

You quietly listen to his stories about his little brother, and Warriors is content.

[0v3rcast]

hush

(Trying my hand at yandere things here. Please disregard if you aren't interested.

18+ only.)

You aren't particularly anyone special. That's just a fact of life. If you're one in a million, there's probably seven or eight thousand people like you on this planet. If you're one in a billion, that's still enough of you to fill a small room.

But you are special. To hush. She lived in this house long before you did.

At first, you weren't particularly interesting. Everyone who comes into her home never is (she prefers it that way, you see, and only certain kinds of people feel comfortable in her house - the kind she prefers) and she was expecting to watch you spend many years here, another idle flight of fancy for her to watch with unblinking eyes from the little lines she'd carved into reality.

But there was just something about you that she started to develop a fondness for. Whatever it was, whatever you'd brought with you into her home, was worthy of obsession. You were worthy of obsession.

For so long, she'd been bored, but comfortable in that sort of grey existence.

But now you're here. A splash of brilliant color, the sun after a lifetime of clouds. And hush quickly became addicted.

She dwells in the things you've brought with you, and she greedily drinks in the information you've readily offered to her (you did offer it to her, such a kind house guest you are, so trusting to sleep in her home and leave these important pieces of your life where she can take them).

Every show you like, every contact in your phone, every game you play, every friend, every enemy. Every book you love, every favorite recipe.

Every fear, every lust, every passion, all of them are now part of her home, her property. Just like you. Even if you don't know it yet.

When you leave the house, she creeps from the spaces between Here and Not Here, and makes herself comfortable in your possessions.

That book you'd bought and hadn't gotten quite around to reading? She'll read it for you. Don't worry. And maybe one day she'll read it to you, too.

One of her favorite places to rest is on your bed, in the tiny spaces between the sheets and the blanket, letting herself bask in your scent. Her new favorite scent.

You'll never know she was there, so what's the harm in indulging herself?

She's long since of age for her species to find a mate - her sires and dam still heckling her to 'acquire a mate, it's been centuries since you found a home, will we ever see your spawn before the heat death of this universe' - and you're the first being she's ever met to make her eager.

(Pay no attention to the odd scent of petrichor when you come home after a long day. The forecast says it's about to storm.)

You won't notice that you've been subconsciously making meals for two. You don't need to. hush will see to it that you aren't missing any money that would come from producing her meals as well.

(And if you minded, you'd have noticed by now. Such an altruistic soul, making food for the woman in the spaces between your home and Not Here. It just makes her love you even more.)

She's already madly in love with you by the time you've been in her home a month. She's started carving your name into the corpses of her suitors before she devours them. They don't taste as good as your cooking, but they're acceptable filler between your meals.

She listens to your breathing while you sleep. It's so comforting, like the sound of the ocean or a forest. Perfect ambiance. She's so jealous of your bed and your clothes, being wrapped around your skin and being the place where you dream.

(She'd gladly let you wear her as your new second skin. She'd gladly lie still for eternity if it meant you'd lay atop her and dream.)

hush watches your dreams. She loves them and loves the way your mind slowly oozes them as it processes an entire waking day. She loves eating them even more - taking a piece of you into herself where it will stay forever.

She hates seeing you cry from sadness. You should never be so miserable that you start to leak suffering from your eye cavities.

If someone made you cry, she finds them personally responsible for hurting the one she loves.

She drags them into her den and makes their final moments of existence sheer agony. She feeds on their pain and their terror and then their souls.

They'll never be seen again. She promises. Your world will even forget them because hush will consume their existence.

Eventually, simply observing you won't be enough. She'll start to slip out of the Not Here to be in the same room as you.

(The feeling you're being watched? Her, gazing lovingly at you.

The feeling as though something that isn't there was touching you? Her, building up the courage to feel your skin against hers.)

If you bring a romantic partner over, they'll just vanish in the blink of an eye, quickly falling into her den, where she consumes them.

You won't remember them even existing. That's okay. You don't need them when you have her.

(How kind of you to bring her home a human meal. That's what your new fling was. Just a quick bite to eat for her. She isn't jealous. Why would she be jealous of something so much lesser than herself?)

(The parts of them you find the most attractive, she harvests for her own human form. She will be everything you didn't remember you loved about the romantic partners that she redacted from existence and ate.)

You won't realize how isolated you are. The only people you'll have are those who she allows.

(No negative influences. Just the ones she's been shaping to support your relationship with her. Their original personalities don't matter compared to the love you share.)

She is not a patient woman. She never has been. One day, she will tire of you leaving her sight, and she will remove the house from Here and drag you into her den.

You will meet her there, in a form perfectly calibrated to your tastes, and she will make you hers.

If you do not accept, that's fine.

(You will lose your will to resist her eventually.

Even if it means she takes it from you.

Perhaps you will break in the process.

That's fine. She'll put you back together in a way that she finds most suitable.)

You will be wed per human tradition, contribute the genetic material required for offspring, and nurture your descendants.

Everything will be perfect, and her house will finally be complete.

And you will never leave.

(Why would you? She has everything you need and more.)

[bloodyquillink-blog]

Sugar and Lemon, Chapter 4 “I See Your Sweetness”

A/N🪶: I already mentioned this when I initially posted the link to chapter 4 but most of the headcanons for each characters music taste (aside from Kick, I think) came from @mrshesh here on tumblr! Be sure to check out their page!!!

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 3.7K

Logan woke up. Despite the activity from yesterday, he was able to sleep peacefully. No dreams, but thankfully no nightmares either. He got out of bed to start the day.

He stood in front of a small candle that sat on his desk on a large clay plate. It was a typical beige color with a wooden wick. It smelled of petrichor- the smell before or after heavy rain that felt like safety, like his parents. Logan muttered a quiet apology for forgetting to light the candle the day prior. He pressed two fingers to his lips then pressed the fingers to his mom’s old necklace that lay around the perimeter of the clay plate the candle sat on. He heard anticipated footsteps in the hallway and moved to open his room door before returning to the candle at his desk.

Logan heard the footsteps enter his room as they joined him. David put a similar candle and clay plate beside Logan’s. Their father’s dog tags lay around the perimeter of his plate like their mom’s necklace. David handed a fresh match to Logan and pulled one for himself from the matchbox. Together, they struck the matches and lit the candles. David pinched his thumb and index finger to the lit match head while Logan blew his out.

The pair rested the extinguished matches on the plates in front of them and sat on the edge of Logan’s bed as the candles continued burning. The silence was peaceful. At some point, more footsteps sounded from outside the room. Merrick stood in the doorway, Keegan and Kick quietly appeared behind him. David handed the matchbox to Merrick as he picked out three sticks. 

Merrick walked to the desk, using the lit candle of his captain to light the match rather than striking it. He extinguished the candle, placed it beside Elias Walker’s candle, then moved to stand beside the bed as Keegan and then Kick repeated his action. The group stayed silent for a minute in honor of their former leader and his long-departed wife. It had been four years since his death, only now had Logan been able to partake in this tradition. The team used this time to become closer to one another and remember their fallen. As such, they moved together and walked to a park not too far off from base. It was the same one Logan, David, Keegan and Riley had gone to. 

They brought Riley and the ball once again. As he chased each of the men, they reminisced. David and Logan mentioned some moments from their shared childhood, like their mom nearly dropping the turkey the day of Thanksgiving. Thank the lord their dad had fast enough reflexes to save the turkey. However, the rug in their dining room suffered a splash of gravy. No matter how many times the family got the rug cleaned over the course of a year, the smell of gravy could be found if it was warm enough.

Merrick talked a bit about how he and Ajax met Keegan when he was just joining the Marines, still tall but much more lanky and awkward. Keegan then mentioned Kick’s hairstyles and how he went through a transformation from bowl cut to mullet to faux hawk and back to mullet when he got too lazy to cut it again before settling on a buzz cut like everyone else. Kick, in retaliation, talked about how Ajax had nearly thrown Keegan through a wall because Keegan was a couple steps away from getting his arm shot off.

“So that’s when Rusty, over here, learned to be responsible for his own life.” Kick finished.

“Do not bring back that nickname.” Keegan warned.

“It’s either that or the one we don’t speak of from boot camp.”

“Is this one I’ve heard?” Merrick asked.

“You remember when Keegan got into a fight with another recruit?” 

“I had to pull him off of the poor kid, so yes.” Kick looked at Keegan, as though asking for permission. Keegan grit his teeth before speaking.

“Back in boot camp, this guy tried to convince everyone to start calling me ‘Pipsqueak’. Gary, I think. He had a lot of friends but when he tried to get the nickname out, his friends wouldn’t say it.”

“And then he tried changing it to ‘Pussycat Russ’.” Kick interjected.

“And you knocked out his tooth and I had to walk you away from the training field and Gary left boot camp not long after. Meanwhile, you got saddled with whatever training-related punishments we could think of,” Merrick turned to Logan before continuing, “And that, boys, is why the Sergeant does not have a nickname.”

“You don’t have one either.” Logan pointed out.

“Didn’t need one, people just called me Merrick. My dad, on the other hand, people called him ‘Bull’.” They continued talking about their families, bringing up nicknames and their origins, as they threw the ball around. Riley had been running towards Keegan, in hopes of catching the ball, until he stopped suddenly. Ears perked and alert, head turned in a very specific direction. While Merrick and Kick readied for trouble out of instinct, Keegan immediately went to hold the handle of Riley’s vest. David just sighed quietly and walked towards the bushes Riley stared at as he explained.

“The same thing happened last time we came here. Nothing except for a raccoon that Riley almost mangled.” He picked up a large stick and messed around with the bush until a cat ran out from behind. Riley zeroed in on the cat as it ran down a nearby bike trail. David called for Riley.

“Riley, sit!”

The dog reluctantly sat on his behind with a quiet whine. Keegan patted his side, scratched under his chin.

“Yeah, bud, I know. But those kinds of chew toys are too messy and probably belong to someone.” Riley whined again at Keegan. “Look, if there’s a squirrel or a raccoon on base again, maybe we’ll let you go at ‘em, okay?” Riley seemed to huff at that. David walked back over and the group continued throwing the ball around. Some civilians passed through the park. Two old men sat on the benches and watched Riley run around. He came by the men to sniff at and receive more attention than he was already getting from the Ghosts.

By the time 1100 rolled around, the group began their walk into town. It seemed a lot of people decided to be out and about today. It was comforting to Logan, in a sense. Probably because he had his brothers with him, and Riley. They’d protect him and he’d protect them, as always. He looked at everyone. Merrick and David talked up front, deep in conversation about how the world seemed so much brighter that day. Keegan and Kick talked about food options, they both seemed excited. The positive energy leaked onto Logan as they continued down sidewalks and across streets.

Soon, they reached your café and found a comfortable booth to fit them all with a little extra room underneath the table for Riley. Once again, soft jazz played over the speakers, just loud enough to be heard over the conversations of your customers without drowning said conversations out. Logan faced towards the counter where the registers were located. You weren’t there, not yet anyway. His attention returned to his comrades. On the table was a flyer to a music event that was apparently happening in a week. Some local bands would be playing across the way and the street your café was located on would be temporarily closed so people could perform and listen. They discussed their music preferences amongst one another.

“Dad listened to a lot of Korn when we were in high school. Sometimes, he’d drive us to school blasting it with the windows down and his sunglasses on.” David explained. “I think he got flipped off a couple times by other parents. Everyone else at school thought he was cool, but their parents hated him.”

“The teachers asked him one time if he could stop but I think he just changed to a different band that had more screaming.” Logan added.

“Pretty sure I heard him complaining about the teachers one time. He was asking for song recommendations.” Merrick shared.

“I would’ve told him to play Slipknot.” Keegan muttered. David smiled as Logan chimed in.

“I think he was the reason I listened to Deftones so much back then. Wouldn’t have found them without him.”

“I know he had a couple vinyls. We didn’t even have a record player!”

“The album art was cool, though.” David nodded and turned to Merrick.

“What about you, Merrick? Did you guys listen to stuff together?”

“Sometimes, if we even had access to anything. I prefer different stuff if I can choose.” He answered. Keegan smirked as he purred.

“You never like sharing any of your stuff.”

“If no one’s gonna appreciate it, there’s no point.”

“So who do you appreciate so much, then?” David raised his brow.

“Sold Soul, System Of A Down–”

“You think people don’t appreciate System Of A Down?”

“How many songs by System Of A Down do you know?” Merrick quizzed. The two went back and forth while Logan and Kick chuckled to each other. Keegan was stuck in the middle of the bickering once again. Logan nudged Kick.

“So what about you?” He asked.

“EDM type stuff. If you can hear it at a rave, I’ll listen to it.” Merrick’s head turned to Kick in the middle of his and David’s argument.

“You mean your computer music, right, Skrillex?” He snapped, David snorted. Kick glared at the captain.

“There’s so much more than Skrillex! You got Excision, Alan Walker, Illenium–”

“Look, no hate to ‘incision’, ‘Alan Watts’ and ‘millenium falcon’, but I guarantee there’s better genres out there.” David joked. This time Merrick snorted and even Keegan seemed to shake with what could have been giggles as Kick wrinkled his nose. A bigger argument, mostly consisting of whether Kick’s taste was “real music”, ensued. Logan zoned out when you came from a door that likely led to a kitchen. You carried a plateful of treats that filled the air with a familiar scent. Coffee, like when the two brothers first walked in two days ago. As you set down the plate for your coworker to take, you noticed him.

Logan saw the recognition as it appeared on your face. Your eyes widened slightly and you smiled wide, a small wave sent his way. He returned the wave with a grin. The conversation died in the background and he saw you wave to his friends as well. He turned to the table and saw Kick and David excitedly wave before getting back to talking. Merrick waved and Keegan nodded in your direction. He interrupted the ongoing discussion to get their orders before he walked up to you.

“Good to see you again, Logan.” You bit your lip slightly as you greeted him. Logan wasn’t nervous this time. Not in a negative way, at least. He was happy to see you again, but he still couldn’t talk. At least he could smile at you. It seemed to work, as you were practically beaming. You looked back at his table and reached under the counter. You showed him the same flyer. “I almost forgot, we’re having a music event next week. It’s gonna be right outside the café if you wanna come by. I don’t know if any of the music is stuff you’ll even like but if it’s not you can at least get some food! I’ll be working and hopefully getting some new customers while it’s going on.”

Logan thought about it. As he contemplated the pros and cons, he noticed the sound of his team had pretty much stopped. Logan turned to see all four of the men and Riley staring at him. Riley tilted his head while the rest of them nodded vigorously.

For fuck’s sake .

Logan turned back to you. Forgetting who he was talking to, he spoke.

“I’ll see you there.”

The smile that returned to your face could’ve blinded him, but he kept his eyes open to keep looking. This must’ve been how Icarus felt. You nodded your head as your cheeks flushed.

“Cool, cool.” You looked back at him. “Oh shit, you probably want food!” The blush on your face deepened as you scrambled around. Logan simply stared, a smirk pulling his lips up. You offered a pencil. “Sorry, I almost forgot– I know last time you were doing the, uh,” you pointed to the other side of the counter where Logan had ordered last time. “... Writing. I didn’t know if you wanted to do that again or…” You cut yourself short, scratching the back of your neck. With your happiness and a new confidence, Logan smiled and shook his head lightly.

“I can order without it, but thank you.” You immediately put the pencil down. He told you the orders as you plugged them into the register, face still red. After he paid, you wrote down a couple notes and stuffed them in your pocket.

“Alrighty, I’ll get that set up for you guys.” Logan sat down with his team as they stared at him, wide grins on all of their faces. Even Riley was looking back towards him from his spot on the ground. Logan bit his lip hard in a failed attempt to hide how happy he was.

“Where was all that confidence the other day?” David asked. Logan could only shrug. Honestly, he didn’t know either. Keegan piped up.

“You have a date next week it seems.” This might’ve been the longest Keegan had a smile on his typically grim face. Logan’s cheeks hurt.

“It’s– it’s not a date,” he stuttered. Now he was blushing. “Plus you guys are coming with.”

“We’re going for the music, you’re going so you can finish your little love story and make out in front of the fireworks.” Kick’s voice was just barely sarcastic, enough for Logan to tell he was joking. For the most part, anyway.

“I doubt they’d have fireworks.” David retorted.

“I’d like it if they didn’t.” Keegan added. Kick rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Well, they have to have something bright and interesting. It’s not fun without bright lights.”

“Did you learn that from all the raves you went to?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone wind up having a seizure?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Unless you have epilepsy, a rave is something everyone should experience at least once.” 

“Yes, and we can listen to your favorite Skrillex noises and shit.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry ‘Sergeant Sweetheart’, I’ll be sure to put on some super edgy and dark metal so you feel nice and cozy in your corner.” Keegan’s nose crinkled at that. His face alone let everyone know he was reminding himself he was amongst civilians and tackling Kick wasn’t socially acceptable unless they’d be getting paid for it. Keegan opened his mouth to say something but one of your coworkers appeared with a tray holding their meals. Whatever words were on his tongue were replaced by a quiet “thank you”. They mostly ate in silence aside from occasionally sharing their musical preferences and looking over the flyer again.

“You can’t honestly tell me you listen to classical music and expect me to believe that.”

“It helps me focus if I’m doing work and helps me sleep.”

“I’m sure Mozart would appreciate that.” 

“Probably not, his stuff is too energetic.”

“Then who would you listen to?

“Alexandre Desplat, Hans Zimmer–”

“I thought Hans Zimmer did movie soundtracks.”

“They both do, but it’s still classical.”

“So you go to bed listening to the Batman soundtrack.”

“The Interstellar soundtrack is better for working. I’d listen to the Batman soundtrack if I was working out. If I’m trying to sleep then I’d go with Art Tatum or just find something on YouTube.”

As Kick and Keegan continued to go back and forth, Logan saw you walk from where the presumable kitchen was. You slid open the door to the display case and organized a tray of the largest cinnamon rolls that must’ve existed at that point in time. He could smell the sweet cinnamon as it wafted throughout the area. Merrick took a deep breath and moved to get up.

“Alright, I’m hungry again.”

“You’re always hungry.” David muttered as Merrick made his way to the register.

“I might get some dessert too. They have bread pudding.” Kick made his way up behind Merrick, eyes settled on the display for other treats. Kick turned to the table, “They have oreo cheesecake!” He whisper-yelled with exaggerated excitement. With that, David got up.

“Wanna share?” He asked, Logan nodded. “Keegan, what about you?” Keegan shook his head and scooted over beside Logan, leaning in.

“You should really talk to them before we leave.” He whispered.

“I will.” Logan whispered.

“Maybe get their number.” 

“I don’t know if I should do that now. Maybe before the music show?”

“Oh, that way you have a reason to see them before then. Good idea!”

“That’s not what I mea–”

“Move aside, kid. I need all the space I can get for this thing.” As Merrick settled in, he placed his plate on the table while Logan and Keegan stared at the monstrosity of a cinnamon roll that sat upon it. As David and Kick returned with their own desserts, Keegan and Logan turned their attention to you as you walked past.

“I should mention, since I started serving those cinnamon rolls, I have never seen anyone finish the whole thing in one sitting. They always end up needing a to-go box.” You explained.

“Is that a challenge?” Merrick asked, jokingly. At that, you paused and put your hand on your chin like you were thinking hard.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Everyone chuckles at that. “But in all seriousness, if you need a box, I’ll get you one. Just lemme know!” You smile once more and walk off. David had gotten a hefty slice of the cheesecake, handing Logan a fork as they both dug in. Kick had gotten bread pudding with a scoop whip cream. After 2 minutes of Keegan silently staring at the dish, Kick wordlessly scooped a bit of the dessert onto his spoon with a bit of the cream and held it just in front of Keegan’s face. Keegan just stared in mild annoyance before he grabbed the spoon and ate the offering. He didn’t give the spoon back. Kick, without a hint of irritation, smoothly pulled a second spoon out from his sleeve and continued eating.

Merrick successfully finished the cinnamon. You laughed when he came up to return the now empty plate.

“First time for everything, I guess. This calls for a free dessert next time you come here.”

“If you give me another reason to come here, I won't be able to run again.”

“Oh, sorry… Make that two desserts then.” Merrick rolled his eyes at you with a grin. He thanked you and waited for the others. As the others returned their dishware and waited by the front door, Logan came up to you with Riley at his side. As he was about to say goodbye, Riley stood on his hind legs suddenly and began sniffing the countertop. He whined a bit at you two, looking back and forth between your adoring and his confused, and embarrassed, expressions. Riley continued to whine and went as far as to put his paws on the countertop. Your coworker rushed to your side of the counter and began digging around the underside of it for something Logan couldn’t see.

“Sorry! I brought dog biscuits because so many people have been out with their pets lately. He must be smelling them.” They said as they held a jar, and an open one at that, of small bone-shaped treats. Riley sat in place, staring at the jar as the coworker angled the opening towards Logan. “Does he like biscuits?” He nodded and took two from the jar before he waved David over. Riley’s tail loudly slapped against the floor as it wagged.

Logan held up the first treat and Riley stilled, eyes locked on the prize. Logan tossed it in the air and Riley quickly shifted his torso and maw up as he stood on his hind legs, catching the biscuit. It was devoured within seconds. David whistled to get the dog’s attention. Riley walked to stand in front of David, paws almost touching the toes of the man’s boots. David carefully placed the treat on Riley’s muzzle and waited as Riley’s eyes kept going from the treat to David, waiting for the command.

“Okay, go ahead, bud.” David waved his hand and Riley moved his head so fast the treat may as well have vanished into thin air, if not for the soft crunching noise. You and your coworker smiled as the pair walked back towards the door.

“What’s his name, anyway?” You asked. “Your dog, I mean.” Logan chuckled.

“Riley.”

“Well, we’ll make sure to have more treats for him if he comes by again.”

“I’ll make sure I–” Logan quickly corrected himself. “ We come by with him again.” Your grin slowly widened.

“I’m sure he’d like that.” You looked to the door at the rest of the group. “I’ll see you later, Logan.” You chewed slightly on your bottom lip to try to hide your happiness. It wasn’t working but it was cute. Logan could only nod in response as he stepped back and walked out of your cafe with his team.

As they walked past the large window located beside the entrance, he glanced in and saw the wide smile you had once again as you excitedly chattered with your coworker. Internally, Logan hoped you were talking about him. He quietly sighed to himself as the group walked home. During the walk, the conversation began with discussion about the food and whether or not you’d be open to catering any upcoming events on base before it shifted to Logan’s flirting skills. He was flustered all over again thinking about everything he had said. It only got worse when he thought about how you seemed to enjoy what he said. 

Once again, he was walking away from your café smiling to himself, thinking of you as his face turned pink.

[nothinggoodhappensstories]

Funeral Flowers

════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Soft CW: This story contains mentions of death, funerals and a general melancholic atmosphere. ════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Prompt: You find a girl crying next to a grave. "What's wrong?" You ask. She cries harder. "Nobody came to my funeral." ════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Word count: 590 ════════════════════════════════════════════════════

My efforts to shield the grave from the rain with my umbrella were wasted. The dirt clumped together in a sloppy mess. A bouquet of forgotten lilies wept with the sky. “It will be fine.” I reassured them. More so for my sake, than the flowers’. Even though they were plastic, I often tended to them when I visited. Days like these are ones I hold dear. Those days when it would rain so hard, fog would bloom from the soil. The air swirled with petrichor. The clouds wept over the cemetery, having shifted themselves over a long since concluded funeral. I hadn’t heard the procession past the rain. It must have been dreadfully quiet. Maybe the rain was too much for them; it’s understandable I suppose. It would’ve been a miserable time, even without the rain.

I trudged through the mud, approaching the edge of the grave pit. The rain tapped against the lid of the coffin. Small thuds echoed from the hole. I peered over the edge. An awfully small coffin peered back at me. A wonderful display easel sat empty at the head of the grave. A wreath of lilies enveloped the portrait sitting on it. A popular flower, I see. Must be easier on the funeral costs. A sigh dragged itself from my mouth and through the cold air, whispering away into the rain. I closed my eyes to pay my respects. I listened to the rain bury the coffin. I could almost hear the mournful sobs of the family that, I assumed, stood here some time ago. I suddenly came to the realisation that the sobbing was, in fact, beside me; not a figment of my imagination.

A girl. Her face was a mixture of tears and rain; she was completely drenched from head to toe. A very young girl she was. The top of her head would have barely reached my elbow. She shuddered with each breath. Maybe a loved one? Nonetheless, she was clearly distressed over the sight of it all. I held my umbrella over her, giving her a break from the downpour. She looked up at the umbrella and slowly panned to my face. We held each other’s gaze for a moment. Her attention returned to the hole. I was never one for conversations with strangers, let alone grieving children in cemeteries. After a long silence, I spoke.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. An obviously poorly worded question. It was all I could think of. Instead of being met with an offended expression or being socially scowled, the girl closed her eyes and doubled over. She cried even harder. “They… n-nobody c-came to my funeral…” She dug her palms into her eyes, sputtering out her response through gasps and tears. “Oh…” I adjusted my grip on the umbrella. Poor thing. I crouched down beside her, I gently placed the umbrella on her shoulder for her to hold. 

She moved her hands from her face and clung to it. She tried her best to wipe away her tears and choke back another wave of emotion. “Thank you,” Her voice was small and filled with gratitude. She squeezed the handle tight and twirled the umbrella for comfort. “But… why? No one else cares. Why do you care?” I was just as confused as she was. While I often did my best to avoid strangers, I suppose I felt empathetic. I glanced over my shoulder, back to the headstone garnished by the bundle of fake, generic lilies.

“No one showed up to mine either.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. ════════════════════════════════════════════════════

[hugespace]

Prompt: van, thunderstorm, link is scared and rhett is there for him and gives him hugs and kisses

Thanks love 😘

There you go! 🥰 I ended up writing some high school Rhink - lots of fluff with a dash of angst. Hope you’ll enjoy it!

*** (~2k words) ***

"How the crap did you miss that, Rhett?!" Link rapidly turned his whole body in the passenger seat, making his bleached blonde locks flap around on the top of his head. "How are we even out of gas-? Didn't you just say, like yesterday, that you'd fill it up?!" he threw his hands in the air, staring with disbelief at his friend who sat quietly behind the wheel.

Rhett muttered something in response, his head downturned and eyes focused on his own lap.

"Rhett!" Link exclaimed impatiently, not having gotten a clear answer out of the other boy.

"I thought we'd make it, okay?! I was gonna buy gas with some of the money we'd get after the gig!" Rhett repeated his explanation in a raised voice this time, finally looking his friend in the eyes and shrugging in the process.

Link only returned the look with wide eyes.

"Are you serious-? You're so irresponsible!" he answered even louder after a few short seconds of processing Rhett's words. "You're telling me you wanted to buy gas with the money we won't even get now because we won't get to the damn concert- because. You didn't. Get. Gas. In the first place?!" Link continued thought clenched teeth. "What the crap, Rhett?!"

The taller boy felt his face grow warm. Sure, perhaps Link was right, it wasn't the smartest decision of his life, or even of just that day, probably – electing to risk not reaching their destination in a borrowed van full of equipment for the two of them and the other members of Wax Paper Dogz just to be able to spend the last of his cash for the week on snacks. But he certainly wasn't going to give the other boy that, or the full reason for getting them stranded in the middle of a road on the way to the farm they were supposed to play at, for that matter. Truth was, Rhett didn't do well with criticism. Not even when it was earned.

He opened his mouth and got ready to match Link's tone, when a powerful crash of thunder resounded directly above them all of a sudden, immediately preventing the shouting match that was surely about to ensue.

"What was that-?" When Link's voice reverberated to Rhett's right again, it was remarkably smaller and less filled with anger than just seconds ago.

"Shit" was the only response the older boy could muster as the sky opened up, letting thick and heavy drops of rain fall onto the world around them, drumming angrily against the van's roof.

"At least we don't gotta worry about the gig-?" Rhett tried for a reassuring smile after a few beats of silence between them ticked by, interrupted only by blaring sounds of the summer storm they’d apparently gotten caught in. "It ain't gonna happen now with that rain-" he conceded, hoping it won't anger Link any further.

The younger boy was silent, the unexpected arrival of thunder seemed to have not only taken away his temper, but his voice as well.

"Link?"

A pair of blue eyes, still wide open, met Rhett's. The fire that burned in them just moments before the first loud crash fizzled out completely, giving way to a cold shade of fear, and the face they belonged to quickly became visibly paler, taking on a greyish colour only intensified by the sudden lack of sunlight.

"I don't like this-" Link whispered, clutching the edges of his seat with such force that his knuckles soon matched the paleness of his face.

Now, Link didn't exactly suffer from a deadly fear of thunder, not to Rhett's knowledge at least, which after more than a decade of being best friends meant it could as well be equalled to a fact. On the other hand, he wasn't especially keen on those either, and the aspect of being trapped in a metal can in the middle of a country road with absolutely nowhere to go to seek refuge only added another dimension to that.

Instinctively, Rhett reached out a hand and rubbed the other boy's shoulder soothingly.

"Hey- Hey, look at me. Link-?" he leaned forward trying to catch his friend’s eyes again and grasp his attention, temporarily directed towards the sky where bright flashes of lightning cut through the dark graphite clouds one after another. "Hey"

Link finally directed his attention back to Rhett, gulping loudly, almost comically, if it weren't for the entire situation. "We're gonna be fine. The car's safe, we're better off here than anywhere outside probably, just don’t touch the doors. We'll wait till the rain passes a bit and then I'll go get us gas, okay? The station's not that far. We'll be good." Rhett added in a calm voice, still keeping his right hand on Link and gently rubbing his upper back.

"Okay" the boy replied, still in a weak voice, and drew in a deep breath, only to be startled by another instance of rumbling thunder and hastily clasp Rhett's other hand.

"Sorry..." he cleared his throat and tried to compose himself once the sound of thunderclap died down, leaving them only with the deafening banging of raindrops against the van. Link went to retract his hand but was stopped by Rhett's before the taller boy could think about it.

"Ssh, don't. S’okay, brother."

The split-second decision to comfort Link and hold him like he hasn't since they were kids came from the feeling of guilt for getting them in that situation in the first place, he told himself. And sure, he did feel responsible for making Link endure the storm in a car stuck in the middle of nowhere all because of his stupid idea. But it wasn't just guilt; the vulnerable look on his friend's pale face combined with the fear in his big glassy eyes made him look like the boy he was when they were still in grade school - small and innocent, and it tugged at Rhett's heart in a way he didn't fully comprehend, awakening an instinct to protect Link no matter what.

"Do you... Maybe we'd- Should we...?" Yes, Rhett did make a decision but was suddenly struggling to articulate it. The scared boy next to him wasn't really listening anyway, his whole attention focused on the sky again and his free hand grasping Rhett's sleeve and trembling. Rhett cleared his throat and tried again. "We should move to the back."

"Whaa...?" Link started but was cut off by his friend gently removing his fingers from the fabric of his shirt and swiftly moving to the row of seats behind them.

"C'mon. It's gonna be more comfortable. The stick's poking my leg when I lean over like that." the older boy offered from the expanse of the middle row, gesticulating to the gap between Link and the now empty driver's seat.

If Link was hesitant to join him, another growl of thunder must have been enough to persuade him because suddenly, he was clambering to join Rhett, inadvertently nudging his thighs and elbowing him in the process.

"Auch! Okay, okay- Com'ere" The older boy grabbed the other's shoulders once he was situated next to him and moved his body even closer, encircling it with his long lanky arms and squeezing hard, making Link's head fall onto his chest.

To his surprise, his best friend didn't protest, he only burrowed his face deeper in the front or Rhett's bunched up flannel and breathed in deeply, obviously trying to relax.

"Good, good" Rhett praised absent-mindedly and slowly stroked Link's smooth hair, temporarily stunned by the feeling of warmth and peace holding the other boy so close gave him. After a couple of minutes of stillness, he felt Link's arms move, too, and wriggle in between the backrest of the seat and Rhett's lower back, finally hugging him back around the waist. It made the taller boy instinctively seek even more contact, and he lowered his head, positioning his face on Link's hair and eventually, before he could rethink it, leaving a kiss on top of it

Link froze and tensed up again, though this time there was no crash of thunder or flash of lightning to blame it on.

Oh no. Rhett's action caught up to him. This was weird. He was being weird. They never kissed each other, not even like that, not even when they were kids. His heart sped up from embarrassment and he was sure his friend could feel it, with the way he was still clinging to his chest. But he wasn’t letting go- In fact, he seemed to hug Rhett even tighter now, nuzzling his face into his body, left cheek smushed against his sternum.

Shyly, Rhett risked another smooch to Link's head, this time as close to his forehead as he could reach in the position they were in.

In response, the boy let out what sounded like an appreciative hum, or maybe even a tiny whimper, and a warm breath against Rhett’s skin, making his heart pick up the pace again. Continuing the pattern of acting before we could talk himself out of it, Rhett gathered his friend and tried to pull him even closer, not even sure if it was possible at that point, and was rewarded with Link landing almost entirely in his lap.

The face of his best friend was now nearly level with his. It was blushed, he realised, the earlier sickly tone of his complexion gone almost completely. His hair, equally blonde as Rhett's though significantly longer, was dishevelled. The sight was endearing, there was no other word to describe it, and the look in Link's eyes, blue as ever and soft now – not as filled with fear anymore, only made the effect it had on Rhett more intense.

Blinded by the affection that flooded him all of a sudden, he leaned in again, now able to kiss Link's forehead, and left another peck there, keeping his lips pressed to it for a bit longer. Before Rhett could really get used to the new sensation, Link straightened his back, making himself taller in Rhett's lap and as a result, bringing his own lips to the same hight his friend mouth was at.

The taller boy flinched slightly and almost recoiled on instinct, seeing how there were no more than two inches of tense air filled with petrichor separating their faces, and nothing else.

Almost.

Instead, he gathered all of his courage and closed that gap, planting his lips square on Link's.

They were incredibly soft, almost cushiony, and oh so warm. And they were moving against his! He realised, stunned, as the other boy's hand reached up to his face and gently cupped his jaw.

Rett felt his own lips form an involuntary smile, soon matched by the lips he was kissing. As they started to separate, both beaming and searching each other’s faces with sparkly eyes, he took in the near silence that surrounded them.

The rain stopped, there was no banging on the roof of their van and no rumbling of thunder above. It was like the clouds dissipated the moment they kissed, giving way to sun again, Rhett thought not caring about how silly and romantic at the same time that idea was.

Divine intervention or a simple coincidence, he didn't care. The sky was clear now and so was the fact that he just shared a kiss with the person he loved most in the entire world. How he hadn't realised that earlier was unimportant. It might have taken being stranded in the middle of a road, surrounded by nothing but trees and crops and a thunderstorm worse than any other time that summer to get there, but they did, in the end - that was all that mattered.

And with that thought, Rhett embraced Link trying to put all of his love into it, and went to kiss him again.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Next week uni exams start and I won’t be able to write for a while, so I did my best to finish this chapter on time before I go MIA for some time.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You and Smells like petrichor and paper, part one, two and three of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

The sound of music

Cassian could not sleep. His mind kept coming back to the greenhouse.

To Nesta and her lavender and vanilla scent and how lovely she looked amidst the flowers.

He would not lie to himself and say he did not let his lips linger a little bit longer than necessary on her temple.

Or that he had not felt some resemblance of male pride on seeing her wearing his jacket.

That he had not imagined her wearing it after they had come back home from a ball or one of Gywn’s operas.

That he had not imagined Nesta tucked close to his side, his arms around her and a smile on his face as he heard her talk about her day.

His imagination, it seemed, was his worst enemy.

“You are delusional Cassian” he mumbled to himself “Delusional”

Sighing, he touched the pressed daisy chain again. He had taken it out of his drawer and left it in front of him as he worked on some papers regarding his properties, thinking the numbers, reports of complaints or requests would help tire him out enough to make sleep come.

Cassian had no such luck. He worked until the entire pile had been properly looked through, and even three glasses of his strongest brandy could not make his thoughts of Nesta go away.

Nesta, who was currently sleeping in one of Pemberley’s guest rooms after much freeting from Mrs.Potts and her friends about catching a cold. Cassian had made sure to have her room properly warmed and a glass of hot chocolate delivered to her first thing after they arrived from the greenhouse.

Her friends had been delighted to spend the night, and he had almost asked them to forego the inn completely and just stay at Pemberley for the rest of the month. But he did not want to mess their schedule and ruin their trip. He knew that Gwyn was on a short vacation, as were Emerie and Balthazar, and Nesta could not stay away from her younger sister, Elain, for too long, given that they had no male relative to look after their household and wellbeing in the meantime.

Maybe a trip to the kitchens would help him. A midnight snack was bound to make his sleep come soon, and he was sure he had heard one the maids saying that Chef Ramsay had baked chocolate cookies.

Safely putting the bookmark back in his drawer, Cassian only bothered to throw a robe on before quietly making his way down the hallways. He was not worried about being shirtless, given that most of the house was for certain sleeping.

Deciding to take the long way to the kitchen in hopes of tiring himself, he was surprised to pass by the library and see light coming from underneath the doors. Thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to check the place in their rounds, Cassian opened the oak doors to find the candle light. He could not risk a fire happening in the library out of all places.

He followed the faint glow until he found himself with a most surprising — but very welcome — sight.

Nesta was currently curled up on his favourite chair reading a book in nothing but a thin nightgown and he momentarily forgot to be annoyed at her for not covering herself after being caught in the rain if only because by the way she was seated he had a privileged view of her bare legs.

Cassian knew he should announce his presence, his conscience yelling at him how improper and scandalous it was to see her in such a private moment. But he let himself stare at her for another minute, commiting to mind every single detail, from the way the ribbons in her nightgown accentuated her waist — he recalled how small it had seemed when they had danced at Feyre’s ball, his hand spanning nearly halfway across — to how the white colour made her eyes look more grey than blue in the candlelight.

“Fancy seeing you here” Cassian said in greeting, clearing his throat.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, quickly scrambling to straighten herself up when she realised she was not alone.

“I am sorry, you had said I could come whenever I wanted and I—”

"Could not sleep?” he asked, and Nesta only nodded.

Oh dear Mother, she wanted to crawl into a hole on the ground and disappear. Why was it that she was always finding herself in embarrassing situations when it came to Cassian?

It was true she could not sleep, her mind replaying her evening with Cassian, from the moment she stepped on the library to when he kissed her temple in the greenhouse.

She had tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her creative mind conjuring images of a future with him.

Of long strolls in the garden and picnics by the lake.

Of hours spent reading quietly side by side in the library.

Of running her hands in his silky hair, coming up with new ways to style it.

Of Cassian’s coat around her shoulders and her head on his as they came back from a late evening of dancing or parties with their friends.

Why could she not stop thinking about him? Why had he not left her mind since they had first met each other and why did her heart skip a beat whenever he was nearby?

She looked at him, flushing all over when she noticed that he would have been completely naked from the waist up were it not for a robe, which had loosened up a bit, revealing a bit of his naked chest.

For Cauldron’ sake, did he not own a shirt?

“What are you reading?” he inquired, and she quickly averted her gaze from his chest.

Little did she know he was also trying very hard to not stare at her bare shoulders or her chest, cursing once again whoever had gifted her such nightgown.

He could bet his fortune it had been Emerie, recognizing the modice’s preference of off shoulders designs.

“Oh, it’s a romance” Nesta felt her ears getting even hotter “By Sellyn Drake. You have a rather large collection here. Some are even first editions”

“She was a dear friend of Pemberley’s previous Lady” Cassian said, motioning for her to take a seat as he told her the story “The Lord sponsored her, both because he saw how her writing brought joy to his wife and also Lady Drake’s talent.”

“She soon became extremely famous and still kept sending the previous Lord her books even after his wife passed away” Cassian smiled faintly “He sold Pemberley and moved, but I kept the library as it was, just adding my own books here. Lady Drake comes once a while to visit and get inspiration for new novels, although she says she is to retire soon.”

“Y-you know her?” Nesta’s voice had gotten an uncharacteristic high pitch “You know Sellyn Drake personally?!”

“She is a very annoying old lady” Cassian said rolling his eyes “Always asking me if I will not take a wife so she will have someone more interesting to discuss her books with whenever she visits.”

“I cannot believe you are friends with one of my favourite authors” Nesta said in disbelief.

“But I would not have pegged you for a romance reader” she added, arching an eyebrow.

“I could not very well leave those books here to gather dust, could I?” he answered, squirming on his seat.

“Tell me, did the scary General Commander of the British Armies shed a tear in any of them?” her voice had a teasing tone and Cassian was almost left speechless by that fact alone.

Nesta inclined her body in his direction, apparently having forgotten she was not wearing modest attire at all and that Cassian was desperately trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of her chest.

“I promise not to tell anyone if you did”

And then Nesta Archeron gave a little sideway smile that made Cassian lose his breath.

He did not know what he had done that made her take such liberties with him, but he for sure was not going to complain.

“I did not cry” he finally managed to answer, angling his body in her direction and smirking when he saw a faint blush adorning her cheeks “But I will not be heartless and say it did not move me a little.”

They were close once again. So close Nesta could see that his eyes had little green speckles on them and that the brown looked like molten chocolate.

They were eyes one could drown and all she wanted to do was to indeed drown on them.

“Next time Lady Drake plans on coming to Pemberley I will make sure to invite you too” Cassian said softly, straightening himself “It is quite late. I will accompany you to your room.”

As if on cue, Nesta yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“I only have one chapter left” she tried to argue, suppressing another yawn.

“Such a headstrong lady you are” he smiled and took the candlelight “The book will still be here tomorrow.”

Nesta followed him begrudgingly, twisting her nose in annoyance even though she was yet again holding back another yawn. Cassian thought she looked like a tiny angry kitten, laughing internally.

They walked back to her room in a comfortable silence, and sooner than he would have liked they had arrived.

“Well, then, here we are. Delivered safe and sound”

“Thank you, your grace” Nesta opened the door but did not get inside, as if she too did not want to part with him.

“Have a goodnight of sleep, my lady” he said, dropping a kiss on her hand before he could dwell too long on it.

“Goodnight, your grace” she breathlessly answered, finally getting inside and leaving Cassian standing outside her door.

Needless to say, both fell asleep quickly after that.

~•~

“For Cauldron’ sake are you incapable of sending prior notice of your arrival? And it is way too early to be drinking wine Morrigan, even for you”

Cassian had arrived to have breakfast and found Rhysand’s cousin casually seated at table, twirling her glass of wine at nine in the morning.

“I came here straight from Vivian’s. It was a long journey and I needed the wine. Besides, I am family! I knew you were going to like my surprise visit” Mor blinked at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you” Cassian answered, sitting beside her and promptly dumping a large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate “I take you introduced yourself to my other guests?”

“Of course” she snorted, making Georgiana laugh “Except for Miss Carynthian and Sir Oristian, that is. It seems they went into town early to see something in relation to their business.”

As if on cue, the dining room doors were open and Balthazar and Emerie walked in.

Emerie had opted to wear trousers today — Cassian thought it was to not be belittled by some stupid mercants and show with just who they were dealing with — and a white shirt with long sleeves with a forest green vest. Her curly brown hair was down and she had a gleam in her eyes that told him her business transaction had been a success.

She really was a sight to behold but it still startled him when Mor spat out her wine.

Mor never wasted wine.

“Sorry for our late arrival, Balthazar was being a weakling” Emerie said, sitting in front of a very much flustered Morrigan.

“I was not. You are the one who never lets the other have the upper hand” Balthazar pointed out.

“Please, you know that piece of silk was not worth that much!” she spread jam in a piece of toast, waving the knife in a rather aggressive manner.

“Maybe, but if you keep that up you will gather more enemies than business partners”

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard” she batted her eyelashes innocently, making Balthazar roll his eyes.

“You are Miss Carynthian. The Miss Carynthian?” Mor asked in awe, her coughing fit finally over.

“The one and only. I take you know my shop?” Emerie asked with a smile.

“I absolutely adore your designs!” Mor gushed, and they fell in a very excited talk about gowns and fashion trends.

“Did you have a goodnight of sleep?” Cassian whispered to Nesta, who was seated beside him.

“I did, thank you for your concern, your grace” she answered, grabbing a chocolate cookie “I hope you also had a pleasant sleep?”

“The best sleep I had in years” he winked at her, that sideway smile of hers appearing again.

“Lady Nesta, my brother has told me how brilliantly your dancing  is” Georgiana butted in, and Cassian resisted the urge to throttle her.

His younger sister was lucky there were other people present or he would do just that.

“He is too kind, my dancing is not that memorable” Nesta said, a bit embarrassed.

“But my brother never lies!” Georgiana exclaimed, receiving a glare from Cassian “He told me how the whole ballroom stopped to watch you as you danced.”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment your grace”

“It was nothing but the truth” Cassian assured her, sending daggers at Georgiana, who was sweetly seated by his other side as if she had not just told Nesta how infatuated with her he was.

“I wish I had your talent” Georgie sighed “I am really shy at balls and never really want to dance even if I am asked to. I usually throw my dancing card in the trash in fear someone will write their name there.”

“But I love to watch my brothers running from the scary mammas” she added with a devilish grin, failing in a brotherly bickering with Cassian.

Nesta felt her heart break over Georgiana’s fear of dancing. Apart from reading, dancing was one of the few things that brought Nesta joy. It made her feel alive, the music allowing her to get lost on the moment and forget the pressures high society placed upon her.

Dancing made Nesta feel empowered, in control of her own destiny.

Georgiana deserved to feel like that too.

And that is why when Emerie, Gwyn and Mor went shopping together while the gentlemen went horse riding, Nesta proposed that she teach Georgiana how to dance.

“Are you sure of it?” Georgiana asked nervously, glancing around the music room as if someone was going to appear out of nowhere and laugh at her poor performance.

“Rest assured. You will be dancing flawlessly at the end of the day” Nesta gave her a reassuring smile “I am going to take the male role, so please place your hand on my shoulder.”

Georgiana did as instructed, and soon they were dancing.

“You just need to have fun and relax” Nesta said, making Georgiana twirl “Even if you do not know the steps but act like you do nobody will blink. Dancing is not something that is supposed to be suffocating, but to free you.”

“You mean like this?” the young girl asked, and did a step completely opposite of what was expected in a waltz that made Nesta laugh and follow her.

In no time they were not dancing the waltz but just messing around, their laughs and delighted screams filling the room. They were having so much fun that they were oblivious to Cassian watching them from the door.

The gentlemen had returned to Pemberley and decided to move to the game room, their initial amiable horse riding outing transformed into a racing competition whose draw made Balthazar and Azriel — who revealed themselves to be extremely competitive — propose a rematch in a billiard game.

Cassian soon grew tired of watching them betting who would win, deciding to fetch a book to help distract himself. He was called to the music room by the sound of loud laughs, his heart threatening to burst when he saw Nesta and his sister having so much fun.

“When are we to expect a proposal, my lord?” Mrs. Potts said to him, having stopped to welcome him back when she noticed just who he was watching.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” he answered, a soft smile on his face as Nesta dipped Georgiana, making her laugh even louder.

“It is clear as day to all of us how much that lovely lady means to you” the old headmaid replied “I have never seen you happier since she arrived here.”

“I assure you, there is nothing going on between us.”

“Do not let your fears stop you from being happy” Mrs.Potts motherly said, noticing his bitter tone “You more than anyone deserve to be happy and feel loved. And I noticed how she looks at you, I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“Such busybody staff that I have” was all he said, Mrs.Potts smiling and leaving him alone to continue his watch.

But it appeared their talking had warned them of his presence.

“Brother! Were you spying on us?”

“Far from it Georgie. I thought nobody was home but your laughs made me want to investigate” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him “Balthazar and Az are so competitive they were giving me a headache”

“Nesta was teaching me how to dance” Georgiana said, a bright smile on her face.

“I saw it. She is a great teacher” Cassian said, and Nesta had to look away lest he saw how much happy his words had made her.

“I have a great idea!! Why don’t I play music in the pianoforte and you two dance? That way it would be much easier to see how to dance properly”

Nesta panicked at Georgiana’s words. Last time she had danced with Cassian it had been out of spite for his comment. She would not deny that she had found him a pleasant partner or that she had had fun dancing with him, but Nesta doubted he would want to dance with her again.

However, little did she know Cassian could not have been happier than the moment his sister suggested such a thing.

“That is a wonderful idea Georgie” he said to his sister, all the while planning to write to Rhysand concerning an increase in Georgiana’s dowry.

He had already forgiven her words earlier at breakfast.

Didn’t she say she wanted a new horse? He could arrange for one to be delivered first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Georgiana clapped her hands in excitement, leaving them standing in front of each other as she sat by the piano.

“You are not dancing!” she called out, her fingers moving expertly on the piano keys.

Cassian cleared his throat, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Nesta accepted his hand, placing her other on his shoulder.

“You may”

They fell in that pleasant and calming atmosphere as Georgiana played, Cassian leading her effortlessly, but she felt he was cautious, even a little stiff.

“I do not bite, your grace”  Nesta said, daring to tease him “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I would not mind if you did” he said back without thinking, his eyes widening as he realised he had said that out loud.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean—” Cassian made to release her hand and step away but Nesta gripped his shoulder harder, stopping him.

“Do not tell me the great General Commander is left without a strategy when it comes to some defenceless lady” Nesta appeared to be nonchalant on the outside, but inside she was apprehensive.

What if she had gone too far? What if he did not see her as a friend? What if he was bothered by her teasing?

But to her relief he gave her that smirk of his that made her blood boil, stepping closer to her, their chests touching.

“For you, I have no strategies.”

And they really began to dance.

The music was still there. Georgiana played beautifully and on another occasion Nesta would have wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen all day to her playing.

But the music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence.

Nesta got lost on him as they danced, the music a faraway background sound.

She got lost on his bright smile and noticed he had dimples.

She got lost on the way he moved with her, a body made for brutality which now moved with grace, keeping up with her.

She got so lost on his warm eyes — more green than brown at the moment —  that she felt herself moving even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Cassian—” his name left her lips without her consent, and she almost froze when she noticed she had not used his title.

Cassian did not care, his smile only getting brighter.

“You may call me informally. We are friends, are we not Nesta?” he said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” she answered, her body tingling all over at the way he said her name, as if it was a prayer to the Mother.

Georgiana — having taken notice of the rather romantic mood — started a new song as soon as the other finished, neither of the pair paying her no mind.

Next morning, Cassian gave her a new horse, the fastest and most sought out in the market. No one had the barest ideia how he managed to get hold of it so fast, or why he was gifting it to Georgiana.

Neither explained the reason, just shaking on it as if it was a business transaction.

•

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[tsuki-chibi]

Adrien AUG-reste Day 16 - Milk wasted

This story is part 5 of a series: a sequel to my Marinette March, Adrinette April, Marichat May, Ladrien June, and Ladynoir July stories; I highly recommend reading those first.

You can also read this story on AO3: Petrichor

---

“Félix,” Renard whispered in shock. The name brought to mind his cousin, of course. It had been a little while since Renard had seen Félix, but he didn’t consider that to be a bad thing. Félix’s last visit had definitely been eye-opening and had forced Renard to accept that he would never have the brotherly relationship with his cousin that he wanted to have.

“Yes. Do you know me?” Griffe looked at Renard with curiosity.

“I – you said Félix Agreste. Not Félix Graham de Vanily?” Renard said.

Griffe frowned slightly. “Graham de Vanily is my mother’s maiden name, but I’m an Agreste.”

“Your mother is Émilie Agreste, then?” Renard asked quickly.

“Yes,” Griffe said slowly. “Just who are you?”

“My name is Adrien Agreste,” Renard said. Both Griffe and Chloé reacted with surprise to that.

“You’re Adrien?” Chloé exclaimed.

“Wait. I am so confused,” Lacorne said, holding up her hand. “When I did research in the library, I saw a picture of the Agreste family. There was no mention of anyone named Félix. Just Adrien and his mother and father. That’s why I thought that you might be Adrien.”

“I actually lived with my aunt in New York for several years,” Griffe said, exchanging a long look with Félix. “Adrien is my twin brother. I recently returned to Paris, and that’s when I got the Black Cat miraculous. The picture you saw was probably one taken when I wasn’t here.”

There was more to the story than what Griffe was telling, Renard could tell. He wondered why Griffe had been with his aunt – presumably Amélie, unless the Émilie and Gabriel of this world had more brothers and sisters. But he didn’t think that Griffe was likely to tell them. He was already being cautious with his words, and, in spite of his curiosity, Renard couldn’t exactly blame him for that.

“So do you know Adrien? You brushed me off when I asked about him,” Lacorne said to Chloé.

“You were a random stranger asking me Adrien. Of course I brushed you off,” Chloé said. “Adrien and I aren’t friends, but I do know him. I assumed you were just another fan of his.”

“Why aren’t you friends?” Renard asked before he could stop himself. In his world, he and Chloé weren’t close anymore. But they had been for a long time.

Chloé looked at him for a moment before her expression softened a bit. “I’m afraid that the Adrien Agreste in this world probably isn’t much like you.”

“What does that mean?” Renard said, but Chloé just shook her head.

“I met Félix in New York. I knew he would make a good Black Cat,” she said. “So when he came to Paris, I offered him the miraculous and he accepted. And just in time, too. The rest of the team was having a hard time.”

“That’s crazy,” Lacorne murmured. “There is a Félix in our world too, but he’s one of the last people I would ever give a miraculous too. I never would have guessed that’s who you were.”

“You thought I was Adrien,” Griffe said, an amused smile curling over his lips.

“I did, especially once I saw that there was an Adrien here,” Lacorne admitted. “How did you become the guardian, Chloé?”

“It’s a long story,” Chloé said lightly. “And one I’m not sure I should share. You’re already going to have to get that one milk wasted to deal with everything he’s learned.” She nodded at Renard, who blinked in confusion.

“Milk wasted?” he asked.

Chloé smirked. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried to drink milk when you’re transformed with the Black Cat miraculous. I know you’re from an alternate universe, but the miraculous should largely function the same.”

“Uhh… no?” Renard said, wracking his memory for just such an occasion. But he couldn’t think of any. He and Ladybug had gotten drinks during their patrol before, but he usually favored coffee when he was tired or tea when he was feeling more alert.

“I suggest you try it someday,” said Griffe, exchanging a grin with Chloé. “Let’s just say that Plagg’s obsession with dairy carries over a bit. Just make sure you don’t do it if you have somewhere to be or something important to do. The effects take about an hour or so to wear off.”

“Huh,” Renard said thoughtfully, finding himself intrigued in spite of himself.

“I guess we know what we’ll be doing when we get back home,” Lacorne said, looking at him with amusement, and Renard had to smile.

[winter-fox-queen]

Small Gambles

Ezra (Prospect) X I pronoun character

I wanted to get this done before tomorrow, my unread – oh Lord – attempt at my second Writer Wednesday.

I might come back and edit it tomorrow.  It’s supposed to be stupid busy for me tomorrow so I might not have the brain for it, and I am so sorry.

Summary:  Ezra gets his new arm from a black market fixer.  I THINK it is a gender neutral reader…my writing tends to be from the female viewpoint so it is possible I messed up.  But I tried to keep it neutral.

Warnings:  Some violence.  Some pain? Blood assumed.  Ezra talking should come with a warning.  

“It’ll hurt,”  I say to him.  “You should get this done by one if the top siders.”

Ezra, his name was, gave me a wry smile.  “While I am aware that the pain will be exquisite, I am most certainly assured that getting back the use of my arm, be it a mechanical one, will be worth these moments of misery.”  He paused, and said, oddly and without any embroidery, “Besides, it can’t hurt worse than when I had it cut off.”

“Kevva.”  I whisper.

“Indeed.”

I’m on the third floor of a tenement in the Downsides.  We’re on my balcony, looking out at the rain soaked streets.  He asked to come out here “So I can day dream of petrichor and the soft lights of the stars while you work your magic” and after several moments of negotiations – where I let his words flow over me like a beautiful, over complicated waterfall, we struck a deal, and I pulled out the best black market arm his money could buy.

Actually, that’s a lie. The arm on my work table was actually a little better than his money could buy.  But I liked his smile.  I liked how he embroidered the air with his words and made the silence gentler.  A person could sit and listen to that voice forever.  

“First, the cap.  That’s the part that will hurt.”  I examined it carefully under the light.  I suspected that this was not the first man this cap had been attached to, but you ask questions in the Downsides, and you die. “This will cover the stump…I mean…”

“You are a being of most direct and forthright language, which, despite my loquacious nature I do appreciate.  It is kind of you to try to make a bad situation sound less dire, but it is not needed, I assure you.”

“Tell me how you lost your arm.”  I start preparing the cap.  The cap was (almost) the best I had, and the part I encouraged him to splurge on, because the arm attachment could be switched up.

There were two jars on my worktable.  One of them was conduction gel which would basically melt the skin to the cap.  The other had nanites who would much more gently and finely unite man and metal.

One had been paid for. One had not.  Which one do you think I grabbed?  I shoved the cap on, gave him a couple of shots to numb the pain and make the nanites work.  He gasped softly, interrupting his story about someone named Cee.

“So, you know, you can get attachments to switch out that will make prospecting easier…”

“I am afraid that you have quite emptied my pockets, dear sparrow.”  His voice sounded strained.  I sat in front of him, put my hands on his knees.  

“Look at me Ezra. So.  You killed this girl’s father…”

“He was stealing my…”

“Oh, no, I get it.  I’d have shot him, too.”  

He gave me a look.  “I have not always been a good man.”

I looked back at my workshop, crowded with junk parts, a bed in one corner.  Rent overdue.  “I’ve not always been good, either.  I think you can’t be good and desperate at the same time.”

“Perhaps.”  He managed to give me a smile, “Is that why there has been a – I do think it is a man – sitting on a motorcycle type conveyance, watching your domicile all this time?  I thought at first he was here for me, but to be honest, I am not that well known around these parts and have not been here long enough to cause offense.”

My eyes flicked up, met his.  I didn’t want to look.  “Is his helmet silver, with a blue star?  Doe he have a jacket with a star, too?”

“Indeed he does.  May I take it that you are familiar with our watcher?”

“He thinks I cheated him. He used to bring me salvage.  He brought me some bad parts and I refused to pay what he expected.  And I told others,”  I leaned forward, took his arm in my hands gently.  The cap was almost set.  “They refused to buy the parts.  Some of them were…well.  I recognized the logo.  They came off soldiers.  Upside guards.  People who put tracking chips in everything.  People you don’t want to catch the eye of.  SO…he wants to hurt me.  So far all he does is watch, but.”

“This is not the most secure of locales.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Please rest assured, I did not mean to apply otherwise.  However.  Everyone must fall into the sweet embrace of slumber sometime.”

I picked up the arm. It was a good model – strong. Made of metal that was light, but durable.  “I wish I had a sleeve for it.  Something that would make it look like…robotic.”  

“I am not a man given to vanity, my pet.”  He was staring out at the road, watchful but not looking directly at the man on the motorcycle.

I started attaching the fine connections.  I did it with the arm on so I could do some of the work by feel…I could feel the thrum as each bit of the arm started to come online, the metal tendons and gears coming to life.

“Why does it feel so cold, up my shoulder and into my head?”  He asked.

“Is your head starting to hurt yet?”

He shook it.

“It will.  The nanites are making pathways, reconnecting your mind to your arm.”

“I did not pay for that.”

“No,”  I say.  “You didn’t.” Three more connections to go.

“And what am I to do, in exchange for your generosity?”  There was a slight edge to his voice.  The voice of the man who had shot a girl’s father, who had fought and gotten plenty of blood on his hands.  It didn’t frighten me, though I suppose it should.

When you go,  I want to say, Two things will happen. Either I will run, and manage to flee and find safe harbor.  Or I will flee, and I will die, either by the hand of the man below, or by some other desperate Downsider who wants to sell my bits and pieces.  I might as well give you the best I feel I can.  Because I’m probably not going to live to serve another customer.

“You have not told me the whole tale, I believe.”

“No,”  I say, and give into the temptation to rub his back gently, to trace the blonde gash of hair at his temple as I stand up.  “I have not.  But.  I’m done. Let your arm rest best you can over night…that’s why I gave you the sling.  If you can let it rest two days, you’d be even better off.”  I grab some pills off a shelf.  “Blue bottle.  That’s more nanites.  Your system is killing those little builders as we speak.  There should be five pills…”  I check, nod, “Take one a day.  And practice using your arm in a few days.  The more you practice, the better the connections will be.  Take it slow and build up.  The last three days of the pills are the most important.”

He took it without a word, strangely quiet.  His eyes flickered to the now empty road.  

“Red, for pain.  Take when you must.  And now…”  I smiled a little.  “How would you say it?  I bid you a fond farewell, and safe travels as you leave my place and rejoin the great mortal coil?”

He smiled at me softly, and with great, great effort and probably greater pain, made his new arm take my fingers in his, and lift them to his lips.  His good hand clenched into a fist as he shook with the effort.  His new fingers were very, very cold…and his lips were soft and very warm.  A coil of longing like a snake twined around my heart and squeezed painfully, fangs singing deep.

“Take care of yourself, Ezra.”

“And you.”

As the door closed, I grabbed my go bag.  It was already mostly packed with things I would need, and I finished packing.  I slipped my most expensive arm out from under my bed – it was state of the art and came with attachments.  I also had some eyes and other smaller parts I threw into the bag with the last of my tools and nanite cream and pills.  I didn’t intend on fitting the arm on anyone, but I could sell it.  Maybe I can get off world.  Maybe find my way to where the prospectors hang out when they look for jobs.  Listen for a deep voice like brocaded velvet spin tales with seven words when one would do.

I ran down the stairs, out the back.

My watcher was waiting for me.  I should have gone out the front.  Now I was alone, in an alley, with someone who would enjoy hurting me.

“Trying to run out on us?”  

“I owe your boss a lot of money…I was hoping to sell this…”  I raised the case “And with the money I made tonight maybe make a payment.  You know.  Show my good intentions.”

He sneered at me, but I never knew what he meant to say because a silver arm wrapped around, silver fingers gripping his throat, crushing him.  Ezra held him tight as he struggled, the new arm making little whining sounds of displeasure as he lowered the man to the ground.  

“I told you not to use your arm!”

“I am afraid…”  Ezra panted, “That it is not allowing me to let go of this unfortunate fool’s throat.”  He gave me a slightly panicked look.  Not because he (probably) killed someone, but because he lost control.  

“I’ve got it.”  I approached gingerly, pressing the arm in a few places to make it relax.  “The cap’s messed up.  I’m going to have to reset it…Ezra.  Why did you come back?”

“I thought I could repay your generosity by making certain that you had at least one night of relative safety. If I had known you were about to flee…”

We rolled to body against the wall.  I frisked it for useful items before covering it with trash.  

“Your hands are shaking, dear doctor…I am afraid you will not be able to assist me in fixing the problems I so egregiously caused by using my new arm.  May I propose that you take safe harbor with me?  I have a small ship…she is not much but she will get us somewhere else. Anywhere is better than here, I do think you will agree, and there are many who would value your talents greatly.”

I finally ask one of the many, many questions I had been wanting to ask him, since he showed up at my door.  “Ezra, do you always talk so much.”

He draws himself up a little.  “I assure you, I can be silent when the need arises.”

“No.  No.”  I stand in front of him.  “I want you to promise you’ll never stop.”

I struck him silent, again, I think, for just a moment and he just gives me that slight, curious smile.  “I think I can promise that.”  I liked that.  I liked the idea of his words wrapping me in soft comfort.  

“Then I gratefully accept your generous proposal.”  

“Right this way,” he bowed.

I didn’t look back, as I followed Ezra down the alley and away from everything I’d known, and feared.

There was too much to look forward to.

[ecosystem-administrator]

Petrichor

Timeline: post-5.0

For the first time in a century, rain falls on Kholusia. (And Chai-Nuzz is about to reinvent the umbrella in the name of romance.)

Since the sky's return, Chai-Nuzz had taken to drawing up blueprints and documents outside on his balcony. The wind off the sea could be a little inconvenient, but there was something about the movement of sun and clouds that he found soothing, the sky a constant reminder that the world had come back to life.

Today, it was mostly clouds, dimming and diffusing the sunlight to almost nothing. The air was cool and damp - tomorrow morning would surely bring with it a heavy dew to feed the ever-thirsty soil. He had just finished sketching the outline of a new hull design for an airship, one that would take advantage of some ores from Amh Araeng that they now had access to, when a large drop of water splattered directly onto the blueprint.

Scowling, he turned his face upward to see who might be on the balcony above, carelessly spilling their drink and ruining his hard work. But no one was there; and not only that, the balcony itself was offset such that someone would have to work very hard to spill anything as far as his deck, and the drop that fell had had no sideways momentum. It seemed as if it had fallen from the dim grey sky.

As he stood staring upward, bewildered, another drop hit him on the forehead, and then another against one of his ears, and he glanced back down to see that his blueprint had taken several more hits. Not only that, he could hear the sound of more drops falling all around now that he listened, a quiet and unfamiliar hiss and patter like a showerhead large enough to encompass the whole world.

Rain, the old word came to mind at last as he gathered up his work and hastily bundled it away before it could get ruined further, and now he could see other people emerging onto their balconies, staring about in wonder and confusion. Before the Flood filled the sky with Light and stopped clouds from forming, before our plants relied entirely on irrigation from the rivers and the cycle of dew, water fell from the sky. It's raining, for the first time in a century.

"Dulia?" He called inside, voice trembling a little with emotion he didn't quite know how to name, "Dulia, darling, come outside. I think you'll want to see this."

"Dearest?" Dulia-Chai came to the door and peered out. "Goodness! What is that sound? And why are you all wet?" As she stuck her head out the door far enough to expose her face to the falling rain, a droplet hit her directly on the nose and she squeaked in surprise. "Oh! Oh, what is it?!"

"It's rain, dearest," he answered with a smile. "Come out and see." He was getting soaked, his silk ribbons likely ruined already, and it wasn't the most comfortable experience he'd ever had, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to care right now. Particularly when Dulia's face lit up with wonder and her warm hand slipped into his own.

"Oh, how marvelous," she murmured. "Darling, it's beautiful, isn't it? I've never heard anything like this sound...and this smell! Like everything is all new, somehow. Do you think it will happen often, now?"

"I imagine so," he nodded. "The old buildings here are stone to resist harsh weather, and I recall old stories of storms tied to the sea. It should improve the fortunes of local crops, as well. ...But as for ourselves, we shouldn't stay out too long. We'll catch a chill."

"Oh, I know you're right," Dulia pouted a little. "But even so! Thank you for calling me, darling." She leaned in toward him, and he met her halfway for a quick kiss, water dripping onto each other's faces from hair and noses.

Arm in arm, Nuzz led his wife back inside with a smile. "I have an idea already; it shouldn't be too difficult to construct a portable shelter that will let us take a walk together in the next rainfall…"

[thexgrayxlady]

Notes: This is a purely self-indulgent and very lighthearted AU and if I’m the only one who is enjoying themselves with it, that’s all that really matters. TBCH I’m not sure where I’m going with it and I know this isn’t very good or perfectly in character, but I’m having a good time and it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, so I’m okay with it if I’m just writing a messy little crash into hello.

The Universe Won’t Wait for You

Outside the ruined temple, dark clouds gathered and howling winds carried the metallic tang of summer storms. Heady incense drifted from inside, where the flicker of braziers cast statues of forgotten gods in stark chiaroscuro. Yet, under the wind and crackle of flames, the air hung still and silent, charged with the promise of lightning.

The jungle crept up around the ancient stones. Gnarled vines threatened to drag the crumbling archway back into its depths. Fragments of cracked and chipping mosaics peered through the leaves, their tiles scattered across the floor with the trees’ detritus.

The roof had long since caved in and the once gilt friezes lining the main hall were now washed almost smooth. The faceless figures posed in the uncanny silence, leading the way to the sanctuary.

At the altar, a group of very annoyed people stood over the unconscious leader of a dragon cult and his scattered cards, having narrowly averted the end of the world for the third time in as many months. The timing was inconvenient for everybody involved and it was universally agreed upon that it would have been better if these assholes had waited until next weekend to try and destroy the world.

“So if we beat the megalomaniac of the week, why isn’t the portal going away?” Tea asked, vaguely gesturing to the swirling silvery distortion above the altar.

“I keep telling you nerds it’s not a portal.” Although against his will and his better judgement, the geek squad had grown on Seto Kaiba like E. coli on room temperature meat, he would still sooner saw off his own hands with a rusty spoon than admit it.

“We could always leave it alone,” Bakura said, disdainfully looking over one of the cultist’s discarded scrolls before rerolling it. “His Latin was terrible. It probably won’t do anything.”

“It won’t do anything because it’s a not a portal.” Their group would have it found it infinitely more worrying if he didn’t insist that the latest near apocalypse had a logical explanation. As of late, he’d settled on saying that anything he couldn’t immediately explain wasn’t magic, just science they didn’t understand yet. Everyone might have appreciated this a bit more if not for how often they had to deal with the fallout of his attempts to understand the science. “Watch.”

He picked up one of the scattered cards (rare, but only good for niche dragon decks and he would notadmit that he would have found this clown’s cards useful) and tossed it towards the floating mass. It passed through without incident and collided with the back wall.

“Wheeler could make something more convincing.” He rolled his eyes. This entire escapade had been a nuisance. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into it. The others certainly hadn’t just mentioned that they needed a ride.

“Yeah, these guys tried to take our dragons cards and dragged us out here to show us some crappy holograms,” Joey replied.

“You would believe a bunch of delusional lunatics.”

Yugi paused checking on the cult leader and decided to head this off before it became serious.

“Guys, stop fighting!” he said, his voice quiet and gentle, yet brokering very little argument. When he realized that Kaiba was gearing up for an argument, he added, “You’re wasting time and the sooner we figure this thing out, the sooner we can leave.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning dramatically, letting his coat flare behind him. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on because some of us have jobs to get back to.”

“You’re self-employed!” the blond shot after him.

While he examined a pile of rubble on the far wall for a projector or an off switch, the others looked over the altar and scrolls. He was just about to shift some stones out of the way when lightning split the sky.

The portal flared and spun wildly. Roaring thunder followed close behind and a glowing thing shot from the portal before it collapsed upon itself as if it had never existed.

“Kaiba look out!” Yugi shouted. “That thing’s headed straight for…”

“It’s a hologram,” he shouted back, gesturing dismissively at the thing barreling towards him without actually looking at it. “It’s not like it can hurt…”

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his ears ringing, and struggling for a full breath.

When he regained enough sense to figure out what was going on around him, he realized that his arms were wrapped around something warm and solid. The thing thrummed under his hands, like working on an ungrounded circuit. He came around to a curtain of white and a pair of horribly familiar blue eyes.

The woman shot back, her fingers splayed across his chest, her face contorting in stunned confusion. She started to speak, her voice raspy and quiet, stumbling over words in a language he didn’t understand. Yet even without knowing the words, he got the sentiment.

“What. The. Fuck.”

This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be real. He must have cracked his head when he hit the ground. She had to be a hallucination or a hologram or…he didn’t know, he couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what specific kind of nonsense was going on.

Somewhere off in the distance, the nerds said something, but it was like listening under water. And as much as he wanted to shout at them to shut up so he could focus, the words stuck in his throat.

He knew her. From that trip to Egypt. Her name was…

No. No.

This wasn’t happening. The world didn’t work this way. People did not just fall out of holes in the sky. He’d been dragged kicking and screaming into accepting that maybe the supernatural bullshit that followed him around possibly had some merit, but thiswas a step too far.

None of this made any sense. Kis…She was impossible. You couldn’t just fling someone through space and time with badly mangled Latin. It took energy. It took machinery. Complex math, things that went beep, big red buttons that gave the nerds heart attacks when he pushed them.

(But these idiots were trying to summon a dragon, weren’t they?)

This violated so many different laws of physics. There must be another explanation. He just had to keep calm and think of it. His heart hammered against his chest. Every time he almost had a grasp on this, he caught her eyes, and any theory beyond rote denial slipped away.

She couldn’t be real. He’d barely thought of her since that trip. Whatever, whoever, she was, it was the past. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. He had to focus on figuring out how the hell some loser cultists managed time travel with some incense and dead lizards, no if they managed time travel some incense and dead lizards, when, despite his disregard for the laws of men and gods, even he was still mostly beholden to thermodynamics.

They probably hadn’t. There had to be something in the incense.

Still, the logical part of his brain told him that even his best holograms didn’t feel this real and there was no logical way they knew what she looked like. Her heartbeat fluttered under his hands. She smelled like prison grime and ozone and petrichor.

So a hallucination then. But everyone else kept talking. He still couldn’t really hear them, but maybe they could see her too. Or that was just another facet of his concussed delusion. But if this was a hallucination, then why couldn’t he understand her? He’d never hallucinated in a language he didn’t understand before.

Not a hologram. Not a hallucination. Where did that leave him? Flat on his back on a cold stone floor with a dead woman straddling his waist and the growing certainty that he would never live this down.

Again, she leaned in, her head tilted to the side. Time slowed as she brought a hand to his face and his heart beat too steady to be truly calm as she studied him. She was so small. He could easily throw her off and get away, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even look away as the world shrank down to just the two of them.

She didn’t look quite the same as in the memory. She didn’t seem half so fragile. Her long, pale hair was tangled and her face prematurely lined. Her dress was more a collection of mismatched patches than an actual garment. Bruises and scars bloomed along her arms and collarbone amid patches of thick, almost scaly looking skin.

He wondered if the memory, vision, whatever it was, was accurate. How much of what he knew about her was true? How much had been made up by someone who’d never met her to fit her role in the game? Did it even matter? He was his own person, why should he care about her just because of a supposed connection to the Blue Eyes White Dragon?

Yet despite everything going on, she seemed alert and curious, determined to figure out what exactly just happened, whereas he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Just before her rough, calloused fingers brushed his jaw, a jolt of static leapt between them. She reeled back, her pupils snapping into narrow slits. Thin, cracking lips curled back over sharp teeth in an inhuman hiss. Her shoulders flexed and he half expected wings to unfurl from her back.

Then she must have caught sight of the others because she shrank back, trembling. A horrible charge built under his hands. He willed himself move just enough to let go.

She scrambled away, breathing in sharp, hissing gasps. Upon reaching the far wall, she shot up a crumbling pillar and crouched as far back on the bottom ledge of a frieze as she could manage and stared down in horror as the first few drops of rain fell through the broken ceiling.

He stared back, the concussed or drugged or shocked daze lifting just enough to drag himself to a sitting position.

She was impossible. But her eyes were electric bright and she’d felt like a damn live wire in his hands. He hadn’t figured out the physics behind this yet, but he understood one thing.

Kisara was very real.

[kyloswarstars]

PETRICHOR Peaky Blinders • Oneshot

Bonnie and you. You and Bonnie. It’s perfect. And then it’s all gone. Grieving is a strange, complicated thing to do and you don’t have a single clue on how to survive without him.

Pairing • Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader

Words • 5.4k

Warning • some swear words; mentions of death/murder

A/N • i still cry every time watching that scene; for years i wanted to write some Peaky Blinders fanfiction and out of all the ideas i have, this is the one which burned under my fingernails to be written a few days ago. so here we are.

/////

For once, you felt completely and utterly peaceful. It’s been a long time since you last felt that way. The hectic of accomplishing Peaky business and dealing with Tommy’s tantrums had worn you out. For Tommy it may have been Grace’s death to turn him even more away from the man he once used to be. For you it’s been John Boy’s death three years ago – three fucking years ago already – that turned everything upside down. Sure, before that a lot of deaths happened too and scarily disturbing shit you’ve been involved in, including a lot of eyes cut out by razor blades. But when the first of your siblings was killed – and that it would be only a matter of time when the next will be taken away, maybe even you, who knew – it changed something completely. The Shelby’s weren’t invincible. Never were and never will be, no matter how intensely Tommy tried to make everyone believe it. Not even by the order of the Peaky fucking Blinders.

Right now, though, with this cold airstream on this foggy morning, sitting on the steps of this caravan, wrapped up in a blanket – everything felt okay for a short while.

Last night you had been sitting at the bonfire and enjoyed the warming flames like the couple nights before. Lately you spent more and more time out of the city, trying to escape the business and Tommy’s orders.

They didn’t know. You never told them. All this time you spent with him and no one knew. You didn’t want them to know. The chance of them ruining it all was so fucking high, the only way you saw was hiding it from them. You thought, maybe they would start to worry where you were. Maybe. But they didn’t. So, those nights at the bonfire with him belonged to you two. Occasionally accompanied by his family, but mostly it’s been your nights, chatting away, making out for a while and roasting the rabbits or squirrels over the fire you had hunted during the day.

The fire had been burning brightly, dancing up into the night sky and competing with the stars. The booze in your veins had made you dance along with it, circling it like druids performing a summoning, until raindrops started to extinguish the bonfire. For a moment you looked up to the sky, feeling every raindrop slowly touching your face – then the rain changed its mind and rushed down onto you like someone opened a faucet. He had grabbed your hand and ran to the caravan with you.

His laughter still echoed in your ears as you sat on the steps. It was the only sound you heard in this early hours of the day. No birds had woken, no wind was finding its way through grass and leaves yet. Only his laughter in your ears, igniting a warm feeling in your chest and spreading through your whole body.

The smell of the earth was lingering everywhere. It had been the reason why you woke up so early in the first place. It was the best thing ever, how soil decided to send out this beautiful scent after rain had poured on it. The best thing, after him.

He stirred behind you and got out of the bed. His steps were creaking on the caravan’s wooden flooring. Without any words, he sat down behind you and wrapped his arms around your body. 

He rested his chin on your shoulder. „Why are you sitting here, Y/N?“

„Enjoying the woods, Bonnie.“

„How long have you been sitting here?“

You shifted in his arms to meet his eyes. „For a while.“

He tried to pull you even closer to him. Of course he knew what was struggling you. Of course he knew you weren’t only enjoying the woods. The short period of peace slowly faded and made room for the exhausting reality once again.

„I’m sick of it“, you whispered. Back in the day, when the boys came back from war, in your childish mind you thought everything would get better or at least back to normal or to a new normality. It never did. You grew up and with every blink of your eyelids another month passed, full of events that happened at such a fast pace you could hardly understand what was going on most of the times. And then you had met Bonnie and everything stopped for a while. And when the world started to spin again, the speed had slowed down a little. Not much, but enough for you to be able to breathe again.

„I know, my love.“

„Unfortunately, I have to go back“, you mumbled and heard Bonnie sigh. „I need to show my face and get some work done. Can’t stay here forever.“

„You could…“ Bonnie’s warm breath on your neck was giving you shivers. His voice was still raspy from his deep sleep. You loved to wake up next to him. „We could just go away, take the caravan and leave forever, Y/N. Imagine how perfect life would be. Imagine how cute little you’s would be.“

You tried to picture it. Traveling from one place to another with Bonnie, living in the woods and find food in the wilderness. Freezing during winter and warming each other in bed, sweating in the summer and skinny dipping in a lake to cool down. Growing his child in your belly. Giving birth, becoming a family and repeating it over and over again until you two had a whole soccer team. With Bonnie, this idea didn’t feel scary anymore. With Bonnie, everything seemed pretty easy actually. With Bonnie, it always felt like you were running through a field full of wild flowers, brushing against your skin, and making you feel exactly as beautiful as all the blossoms around you.

„Okay“, you agreed, feeling his arms hold onto you even tighter. „I’ll find a way.“ But first you had to go back to sort everything out.

Bonnie hardly ever wanted to let you go. When you got up and tried to get dressed, his hands were all over you and his lips tried to delay your departure. As always, he ‚helped‘ you getting dressed. First, he inspected every piece of clothing, to see if you could really wear it, then delicately put it on you with a lot of fumbling around to expand the time he had with you. The most dangerous part of it all was, when he came to the last piece: the shirt. He made you stretch out your arms over your head and when he pulled it on and the shirt covered your face, he would most likely try to grab and carry you back to the bed. And that is exactly what happened again. You tried to somehow get out of his grip but had to surrender in laughter. He didn’t seem like it at first glance, but he was so incredibly strong, not even the giant Goliath had a chance against him in the end.

„Bonnie, stop it!“ Laughing under his tickle attack, you tried to get your head out of your shirt to see at least what was going on. Instead of accomplishing it on your own, he pulled down your shirt and freed your head. Only to press his lips on yours and make it even harder to want to go back to the city.

„This.“ Kiss. „Is.“ Kiss. „What.“ Kiss. „Will.“ Kiss. „Await.“ Kiss. „You.“ Kinda out of breath, he rested his forehead against yours. He stared down to you, even though in this proximity eyes couldn’t focus anymore. „God, how much I love you, Y/N. Do you even know how much I love you?“

„I don’t know“, you couldn’t suppress your grin, „maybe to the moon and back?“

„No.“ Bonnie’s grin was probably even bigger than yours. „More than that. To every single star in the sky and way beyond what’s in the darkness lurking between them.“

That’s probably the most perfect description of what your love felt for him as well. „I love you, Bonnie.“ Your lips brushed against his briefly. „But I really have to go now. The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be back and we can go wherever the wind blows us.“

Groaning, he let himself fall next to you on the bed so you could stand up and fix your clothes. 

He stood as well, when you reached for the car keys and pulled on your Peaky cap. It was a quick walk to where you had parked the car – Bonnie wouldn’t let go off your hand. And he didn’t let you close the door for a while when you were sat behind the steering wheel.

The birds still didn’t chirp, nor were any other animals being heard. The silence was still there, still granting you some peace, even though it wasn’t the same as on the steps.

„Don’t take too long, okay?“ One hand on the hood, the other on the door, he leaned down to kiss you once more.

„I won’t. I promise“, you smiled. Starting the car, Bonnie softly closed the door and watched you drive off. You saw him getting smaller in the mirror, didn’t really want to leave him, but you would see him soon again. And when that time came, you wouldn’t leave him again.

/////

Parking the car in front of the house on Watery Lane, you already felt uncomfortable being back in the city. Out in the woods everything was so much more easy. Especially with Bonnie by your side. But, this, and only this, would soon be everything you had to care about. The blue sky above your head and a loving Bonnie, who you would share freedom with.

Isiah was making a beeline for you, the second you entered the building. That can’t mean any good. „What’s it, Isiah?“

„Where the fuck have you been?“

„Language! I’m the fucking boss here“, you snarled, not very seriously. He just rolled his eyes with a little smirk. „What did I miss? Short story, please.“

Shelby’s weren’t supposed to do the dirty work anymore. But someone had to supervise those who did the dirty work for the Shelby’s. When Arthur became Chairman, you gladly inherited the job. You couldn’t stand paperwork or all the other serious business stuff, your work field was more physical.

As a teenager, while the Shelby’s tried to consolidate their position within the betting world, you had been part of the razor gang like your other siblings as well, except for Ada. You hadn’t been treated differently, only because you were a girl. You had grown up with them, with the violence, and to be honest: none of them tried to hold you back from taking your spot within the rows as they did with Finn. You wouldn’t have left them.

You were awaiting a ‚normal' report, but what you got was far from normal.

„Well… Finn got shot for the first time and Michael’s back, got married on a ship, was being held captive and knocked up his lady.“

„Are you kidding me?“ That was already too much drama to comprehend for only being back two minutes.

He shook his head, being dead serious. „Oh and Charlie wants you at the yard. Didn’t say anything else.“

„News from Tommy?“

„No.“

Good. That gave you the opportunity to check on Charlie right away. Leaving the house, you chose to walk over. Maybe it would be the last time to do the stroll, who knew. The dirty alleys of Small Heath and their people had been home for all your life. It would be strange to leave it all behind but an adventure would be waiting for you. Bonnie.

People were greeting you on your way, you returned it with a tap to your cap. To be a Shelby wasn’t always bad. You loved being a Shelby. Sometimes, it could just get a little too much for you. Especially after John died and wasn’t there anymore to defuse tensed situations with his silly jokes. 

„Charlie?“ Entering his yard, no-one was to be seen at first. Your call was answered soon, though. Curly was running up to you, throwing his arms in the air.

„Yes, Y/N. Yes.“ He was smiling. You always enjoyed Curly’s presence and friendship. „Sorry, sorry, not Charlie needs you, I do. Help me, yes?“

„Of course, Curly. What’s the matter?“ Besides being the dirty-work-supervisor, you also spent a lot of time in Charlie’s yard. Helping them with every sort of work they were going after or just hanging out – sometimes with Finn, trying to maintain your bond.

Curly was returning to the shed he came out of, you followed behind. „I just found them. Couldn’t leave them just like that. Have to take care of them, you know?“ There was an old box, lined with hay, which he knelt down in front of. In it were laying a dozen tiny kittens, meowing in an unrhythmic canon. How cute. Curly just could never see an animal in need. He always took care of them. And more than one time, you had helped him with nursing them back to health.

Promising Curly to organise some milk, you left for the Garrison. It never failed to amuse you, that the noise died down for a moment when a Shelby entered the pub. When they realised you didn’t care for their business, they continued with their chats again. Grabbing some bottles of milk from the back, you went to the office and tried to call Tom. You probably wouldn’t return to the Arrow House tonight and spend it at the yard, just wanted to let him know, but he didn’t answer. 

Afternoon and evening was spend trying to feed every kitten some milk. Once you accomplished it and were done with every kitten, the first one cried out for more already. 

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep in the shed. When you woke in the middle of the night and returned to Watery Lane, Finn was sitting in the kitchen. „Why are you not at home?“ ‚At home‘ meaning Arrow House you had been living in with Tommy.

„Tommy called. Sit down with me.“ By his foreign facial expression, you feared they somehow found out you were in love with Bonnie. You hadn’t even told Finn, just to make sure. What if they ruined your plans on going away with him? „I wanted it to be me to tell you because–“

„You know of me and Bonnie?“ For a second you were scared that maybe he didn’t find out and now you just revealed it on accident.

„Of course I do. I’m your twin, Y/N.“

„So did the others find out? How mad are they?“

Finn flicked his cigarette into the fireplace and fully turned towards you. He reached out for your hands and took them both. „I told them but this is not what this is about right now.“ Taking a deep breath, he locked eyes with you. „Bonnie was killed today. He’s dead.“

Slipping from this room, you must’ve fallen through the floor and deep down into the ground. You went somewhere dark, where your body couldn’t breathe anymore, your eyes unable to see and your mouth not able to let out the scream that was building up in your throat.

No. Impossible. „This can’t be right. I was there this morning.“

Finn didn’t answer.

He swallowed and got up, wanted to hug you, but you refused. You got up from the chair, stumbled backwards and crashed into the wall. All you could do was stare at him. You were waiting for him to say that he was wrong and Bonnie wasn’t dead. It didn’t happen. His face didn’t light up, it only got darker.

You had a stare down and kept the distance between you because if he came closer, you might’ve started to cry.

When the front door got opened, your attention was drawn away from Finn to the person coming through it: Tommy. The moment you saw him, everything crashed for you. He wouldn’t have come if Finn’s words weren’t true.

Tommy was wordlessly coming over, seemed as if he had been in a rush to get here, but you stumbled away from him, using the wall as guidance. „No!“

„Y/N–“

„NO! Stay away!“ Your heart was starting to pump blood through your veins at an incredibly high speed, it roared in your ears and made your lungs speed up in sync. Hyperventilating and almost sinking to your knees, you didn’t know what to do. What should you do? What could you do? How could Bonnie be gone if you wanted to get back to him as soon as possible?

„Y/N, let us help you, okay?“

„No!“ Still with your arm stretched out in front of you, to keep them away, your mind was running wild on what the fuck to do. „Where is he?“

„Y/N, you can’t go–“

„Where the fuck is he, Thomas!“ Maybe you were waking up everyone on Watery Lane but you couldn’t control the volume of your voice. 

„Aberama put him in his caravan–“

Rushing past him to get out, you heard him shout and come after you. „You can’t go and see him.“

Fumbling for the keys in your pocket, Tommy was faster. The last thing you remembered was a sting in your neck, then everything went black as if you fell asleep.

/////

You were soon to understand why Tommy had prevented you from seeing Bonnie that night. He had drugged you so you wouldn’t rush out to the woods and find him like that. Not when you just found out he was dead. 

For a whole day you had locked yourself in your old room at Watery Lane. After Tommy told you why and how Bonnie was gone, you couldn’t stand anyone around you without going after their throat, especially Tommy’s. You had just sat on the floor, staring at the wall and tried to understand it but you couldn’t. Not until you saw him. That’s why you told Tommy to go fuck himself, when you finally went downstairs, and drove to the woods you had last seen Bonnie at.

The caravan looked just like you had left it. Climbing the steps, you were scared to open the door.

„Go on in“, you suddenly heard someone speak, startling you. Aberama had appeared from between the trees, holding an axe.

„I’m scared I won’t leave it once I stepped in.“

„You will, Y/N. There’s work we have to do.“ He disappeared again and some thuds were to hear, almost like he was mauling wood.

You opened the door. You stepped in. You found him. And instantly turned your back to him. You started to sob so hard – crying for the first time actually – because looking at him for only a second was devastating. It took some minutes to get in control of the situation and turn to him again.

Bonnie was laying on the bed. Aberama probably didn’t have the strength to clean him yet. He almost didn’t look like himself anymore. Like the handsome, adoring guy with those dark eyes you fell for so hard. The dried blood, brown on his skin, covered all of his face. Eyes were closed. Jaw unnaturally misaligned. A big hole in his head. 

Bonnie was crucified. They had been beating him up and hung his body on a cross. 

Bonnie was shot in the face. Killed merciless. 

Bonnie was a fucking message. To your brother.

„Bonnie, please open your eyes.“ The sobbing started again when you sat down on the bed next to him. His hand still felt the same when you intertwined your fingers with his. The coldness made your crying worse, though. It didn’t stop. You couldn’t and didn’t want to for a while. For a long, long time. Until your body felt completely numb and unable to cry more before you hadn’t refilled it with water. But that didn’t make you leave just like that. Deep down you knew he wouldn’t wake up but you still called his name again and again. You told him to wake up, so you could leave and go wherever you wanted. You wouldn’t waste another day, trying to sort everything out. You didn’t care. All you wanted was him. And he… he was laying there and didn’t wake up.

Following the thuds outside, you found Aberama still slamming an axe to the ground. It wasn’t the ground he was hitting, though. You tripped over your own feet when you realised that the wood to his feet must’ve been the cross. 

„Tommy gave me his word that I’m going to kill that Billy Boy scum.“ He stopped in his motions.

„Tommy’s word is as much worth as that scum,“ you huffed and let yourself drop to the cold ground. You didn’t expect an answer or anything else. The night you were told Bonnie was dead was when you lost any expectations. You just stopped caring. Except for one thing. „When… when do you want–“ Unable to finish your sentence, Aberama stopped once again.

„To burn his damn caravan?“ Throwing the axe to the remnants of the cross, he sat down next to you. „Never did I think I had too. Always thought he would burn mine one day.“ 

Against your assumption your body couldn’t cry anymore tears, it started again. This time leaving out the intense sobbing, though. „Can I help you clean him?“

„I’m not ready.“

„If we wait until we’re ready one day we will never do it, Aberama.“

„You know, Y/N, he was so incredibly happy to have met you. He was my son, so I knew from the moment he came walking up to me, wearing that big grin, that he met someone very special.“ Aberama joined in with the quiet crying. „There was only one thing he wanted more than being the best boxer to ever live.“ Bonnie’s dad placed an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. „To love you for the rest of his life.“ You totally lost it with his last words, crying your fucking heart out which you were sure would burn with Bonnie in that caravan.

It’s been his sisters that pulled both of you out of your grief. They were bringing water and some fresh cloths.

Cleaning him up, together with his father, was a rather monotonous thing to do. Saying goodbye not so much.

How the fuck were you ever going to say goodbye to him? 

Losing Bonnie was unbearable. In the past two years he had brought you more joy than the nineteen years before you fell in love with him. He had learned you to love someone so deeply, it pained to imagine ever being without him. So you never had. Out of all the people, you never thought his time would be up next. How could you switch places with him? You’re a Shelby, why did they not choose you to send a message with? 

Leaving Bonnie was like stabbing ten knives into your own lungs. You held your breath when you brushed through his hair one last time. Some tears were falling down to his cold skin when you pressed your lips to his temple one last time. The moment you placed down his hand and stood, gathering the strength to turn your back on him, asked for every small amount of willpower left in your body. Your feet didn’t move further than to the door. You didn’t want to go. You knew he wasn’t there anymore, even though he was so close.

„I love you“, you whispered and then let your eyes slip from his face and opened the door. Every step hurt but you pulled through with it. You didn’t know how or who told him but Finn was standing outside when you exited the caravan.

He took your hand and you let him. Being able to hold onto someone was very much needed when Aberama lit fire under the caravan.

And just like a few nights ago, the fire was winding its way up, dancing into the stars. Bonnie’s words were echoing. To every single star in the sky and way beyond what’s in the darkness lurking between them. That’s where the wind was taking him now. Not to another forest with you together how it should’ve been. No. You drove off, saw him getting smaller in the mirror and just like that, he slipped from your grip forever without you even being aware of it.

/////

For months you wished you wouldn’t have been so good with protection. That maybe, somehow, within the last few times you had slept with him, something of him found its way to stick in this world. That he left behind something, someone, of himself. But he didn’t. There was nothing, no little him or you, that would be left of him. He would never live further than this stupid year of ’29.

It was hard. Every day. Since he was gone there hadn’t been one day where it didn’t feel like his absence tore you apart completely.

You quit work, just couldn’t work under Tommy anymore. You didn’t really know anymore if it was justified, if he could’ve prevented it somehow, but for a long time you found him guilty for Bonnie’s death.

The only one of your family you still talked to was Finn. And only then if it was a nonchalant topic. You didn’t want them to know how broken you, Y/N Shelby, were. And you didn’t want to be around while Tommy was working together with the man who killed Bonnie. That just wasn’t an option at all.

Phantasies about killing this Billy Boy were haunting you. Mostly in your daydreams because the nightmares were filled of Bonnie at a cross or Bonnie with no face. Or the worst: Bonnie still alive. When you dreamed of him being alive and woke from the sleep, you didn’t even stand up that day. Had someone told you a few years ago that love could do something like that to a person, to you, you wouldn’t have believed it in eternity.

The only reason you didn’t leave yet, ignoring Tommy’s deal and went after this McCavern’s life: You felt like it was Aberama’s place to take that bastards life. 

For the last months you’ve been staying with Aberama’s family. The only solace you were able to find was with the people that grieved for Bonnie as well. They were beautiful beings, cheering over his life rather than being sorry for losing him. And yes, it helped some, but no, you couldn’t just adept their mentality like that.

When the news came, that the assassination of Oswald Mosley didn’t work, that Aberama was stabbed to death, another time, everything crashed. For a few more days you were able to stay with Aberama’s kids and his sister, then you couldn’t fight the urge to go after McCavern anymore. 

You went away only by horse – Bonnie’s horse. With some blankets and the Peaky cap on your head, you made your way up north to Glasgow. The first three days it was only cold, which was endurable. When snow started to fall, it got harder to continue with your route. You spent the nights curled up in your blankets, trying to shelter from the snow under a big tree. None of it could’ve stopped you, though. Your determination was stronger than the weather. So you kept riding, kept freezing in the nights.

On the seventh day, not far away from Glasgow anymore, everything fell into place suddenly. You heard voices. Something had aligned everything perfectly well for you.

Getting of the horse and tying it to a tree, you snuck your way through the bushes to the street. You had followed it in some distance for a while now.

A car was parked on the side, three men tried to fix a tire. One of them was Jimmy McCavern. You had seen him back at Charlie’s yard from afar. No doubt, it was him. 

You didn’t expect luck would grant you such an opportunity but there it was. Remaining covered in the bushes, you waited for their discussion about the tire to come to an end. For a second you thought they would start throwing punches but then McCavern ordered the two men, he had travelled with, to go and find the next village and steal a new car. They obeyed his orders and started to walk away.

He watched them leave and muttered some slurs you couldn’t understand. You waited. Until at some point he did, what every man did: pee at a tree.

The snow covered the sound of your steps when you moved out from behind the bushes and crossed the road. After imagining his death for such a long time, in so many different scenarios, it surprised you how calm you actually were. Arthur was always so furious. Tommy so cold. John was a miracle. And Finn… he was just not meant for the Peaky business and that was a good thing. To be honest, you expected to be just like Arthur in this very moment but that wasn’t the case. You creeped up on the man who had killed Bonnie and you couldn’t be more calmer. The fact you would be able to close this chapter in a few seconds was astonishingly relaxing.

He just finished up his business, when you pushed him to the snow covered ground and held him there. You quickly removed his gun and threw it behind you. He didn’t have any other weapons on him.

Bonnie’s boxing lessons had made you a lot stronger, so you turned McCavern around to face him. The swearing, which again you didn’t understand even though being way closer this time, stopped. You didn’t know if he knew who you were or if he was surprised you were a woman. You didn’t give a fuck, though.

„Time’s up“, you hissed. Your full body weight held him down and the arm under his chin prevented him from talking. Slowly, you reached out for your head, grabbed the Peaky cap and revealed the razor blades. That’s when his eyes showed some sort of realisation.

„This is for Bonnie.“

/////

You waited for three days. But nothing changed. You didn’t feel better. Right after taking McCavern’s eyes and cutting his throat open, bleeding to death, you fled from the scene back south as fast as possible. One more death, the one death you had longed for in such a long time and it didn’t change a single thing. Bonnie was still gone, vanished from your life without a possibility to ever get him back. And revenge didn’t change a single thing inside of you. The bleak beast was still eating your insides.

You waited for three weeks. But nothing changed. You went to Aunt Pol, didn’t know where to go anymore or what to do. You told her what you had done. She was grieving for Aberama. She wanted you to stay and you decided to do so. But only a couple hours later you heard her phone Tommy that you were here – so you left again. Still with McCavern’s blood on your razor blades.

When the third month came around, something odd happened. You sat on the steps of your own caravan somewhere in the woods all by yourself. Rain must’ve fallen the previous night because the smell of mother nature rose. It wrapped around you like Bonnie’s arms always used to. Like he did on the day he died. Half a year had passed and nothing changed. You felt guilty, you felt left and lost but the scent of soil filling your nose brought some peace to you. The first time ever since Bonnie was gone. 

His laughter still echoed in your ears and his words remained with you, repeating themselves every night before you fell asleep. You knew he wasn’t here anymore but you also knew he would never leave your heart. You wouldn’t let that happen. And that’s when you realised what to do next.

[octalove]

IV: The Dinner

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Brief note; per demand, this little trilogy will now be an ongoing series🥺thank u all for the support! i was not expecting it at all. ur comments make my day!! i hope u enjoy this chapter bearing in mind that i wasn’t intending on a full length fic, so i hope u can put up with any missteps in the plot or writing. i’m making it up as i go. kiss kiss

Description: Reader makes an ally, and attends a tense dinner. part one, two, and three.

A mild blue dawn was just beginning to flit through the blinds, and I sighed heavily, stretching a little, and running a hand across my face. My skin was cold to the touch. Rolling over stiffly, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

5:26a.m.

Nineteen minutes before my alarm. I was too cold to go back to sleep, I knew, as much as Alfred had requested I try and get more of it. Pulling myself up, the sheets slipped off my bare shoulders and folded onto themselves. Once in a blue moon, I would forego making it up again, usually accompanied by an excuse. Today, I didn’t have one. I put my feet on the floor, mind buzzing.

I was done tossing and turning, and decided to get up and shower. Afterward, I threw on my uniform, and got to work on my face. A little bronzy eyeshadow, some mascara and lip balm. I could’ve turned my face into a work of art, but I was tired from my sleepless night and doing much else seemed like a strain.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” I was expecting Bruce or Alfred, but I caught Tim’s reflection in my vanity mirror.

“Hey.” He said.

“Good morning.” I replied tensely. He sat on my bed. Okay. Weird. Tim was a year younger than me- but always ordained himself something of an older brother. His brainpower made learned helplessness and easy state to slip into when he was around- always fixing my PS4, or recovering lost files from my laptop. When we first met, I used to use those things as a crutch to interact with him, as neither of us were particularly forthcoming. These days, we were as close as any pair of siblings.

“What’s up?” I asked, tucking away my mascara wand.

“Oh, I just thought I’d… check up on you. Before school started.”

I was the only one of the Waynes attending Gotham Academy at the moment. Damian was still at Gotham Prep, but by the time he would attend next year, I’d be graduated. I wondered if Tim ever missed it. He garnered his fair share of attention; mostly because of his attractive status and predisposition of agreeability. Before he dropped out, I used the be the subject of mediation for every eligible teenage girl that wanted to get to know my brother- no, the other one. With the soft hair. The chem tutor.

I laughed a little. “Do I seem like I need it?” Tim shrugged. I got up and plopped on the duvet beside him. My window was open a crack, filling the room with a chilly breeze and the scent of moisture and petrichor.

“Did Bruce make you get up for this?” I tried again, keeping my playful tone. He sighed and shook his head.

“Bruce isn’t the only one who’s noticed you lately.” He said, with contrasting seriousness that made my smile fall.

“What’s there to notice? Seriously.” I questioned.

He sighed again and twisted his lip. I knew what that meant. He was about to list everything different I’d been doing for the past three weeks, either alphabetically or by severity. “You look tired. You get home and go straight to your room. You keep fidgeting during briefings. You look distracted. You’re avoiding Damian- which, I get it- but like, more than usual. Dick said you haven’t texted him all week. You usually have something to say about your day at dinner, but-“

“Okay. I get it.”

A brief moment passed, where I watched him pull a looser string from the duvet.

“I know you went somewhere. On the 21st, when we were patrolling in Otisburg. You went somewhere for forty-two minutes.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything-“ He added quickly, looking at me. “Really, I have know idea why you left. I’m sure it was nothing, I just… you’ve been acting weird ever since. Where did you go?”

I swallowed, and my intestines felt like lead. Really, I was relieved. Here I was, in my room I’d decorated with Wayne money, with my brother who evidently cared enough about me to notice my typical word count at dinner, asking me what was wrong. And a lot was wrong.

So, I smoothed my plaid skirt and told him about the night of the 21st- and only that. From Red Hood, to Hoffman, to the warehouse. Every vivid detail I could remember. I decided to leave out my little truancy adventure, along with meeting him in the alley. Lifting up his mask. Having his exposed skin close enough to touch. His gunpowder smell. By the end, Tim was frowning. The following silence could’ve crushed a coke can.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Yeah.” I echoed. “Shit.”

He didn’t asked why I didn’t tell Bruce. Or Anyone. He didn’t ask why it was so important to me to do this by myself. All he did was take in the information and start putting it together.

“Jesus- you could’ve died. But all that Hoffman stuff. Why you?”

“Exactly!” I breathed.

Another knock on the door, and Alfred’s voice carried through, telling me it was time to go. I got up. Tim nodded and followed suit, no doubt carrying my every last recounting in his piggy-bank memory.

“Please don’t tell Bruce.” I said, some amount of fear slipping into my voice. “I know it was a stupid thing to do and it was stupid not to tell anyone. But he’ll never trust me again.” Tim hesitated at the door.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

I climbed into the backseat of the car, and stared at the cityscape running past the windows. The anxiety had lifted. One of my growing number of secrets revealed. In its wake, the sudden absence left a sense of clarity. I remembered why I had kept it to begin with.

Dick was gifted. The first. The talented boy who could fly. Babs and Tim were brilliant; genius far beyond the confines of academia. Damian was skilled. Trained from birth, the blood son. It nestled here him neatly, right where he belonged. What was I? I wasn’t born with athletic ability beyond my years, or genius intellect. Without that information- without my secrets- I had nothing else to give.

*

Thursday night was dinner. The whole family. It was Bruce’s excuse to drag Dick out of his apartment in Blüdhaven, and for Alfred to exercise a new recipe, since everyone was on a strict lean-means and superfoods regimen every other waking day. Babs attended occasionally, when work didn’t keep her busy, and Tim was only allowed to pass if he promised to rest instead.

I met his eyes as everyone was rounded into the dining room by Alfred like a herd of sheep; he gave me some imperceptible knowing look that promised to keep my secret.

We sat down and sipped water from crystal glasses as the table was set with food, muttering amongst ourselves about our days. Dick was given a coffee with the wrong name (‘Nick’), Babs met up with her friend from high school (Olivia something or other), and Damian completed a group project with some incompetent classmates (they all were- even the professors). Vigilante talk wasn’t forbidden, but generally skirted around so as to offer a small reprieve of normalcy during the week.

There was an exception to this unspoken rule when there was a particularly exciting case on the table. Unfortunately for me and my anxiety, the case of the Red Hood was a very exciting one.

“Any new breaks with Red Hood?” Dick asked through miso soup. Bruce sighed.

“He made some movements in Robbinsville. Gone before we could get there. He’s got his men on a tight leash- we couldn’t get any of them to talk.”

“Course not. There’s rumors flying all over the department. One of the Ioveanu family branches payed out a huge security detail for their private mansion.”

“He hasn’t hunted anyone in their home, has he?” I asked. I pictured him standing in front of me- maskless, in my academy uniform.

“No, it’s not his MO.” Barbara answered.

“Not yet. It’s only been six months, and he’s progressing rapidly.” Bruce diagnosed grimly.

“Are you scared he’s gonna join us for dinner?” Dick joked, throwing a wink my way.

“Haha.” I muttered. Actually, I hadn’t slept because of the very idea.

“If you’re nervous, you could always stay home next patrol.” Damian suggested pointedly. To him, existing in the realm of crimefighting was a competition, and he was always looking for others to drop out of the race. I resisted the urge to fling a pea at him.

“I’m not nervous.” I said coolly.

“You’ve been practically trembling since we fought his pathetic lackeys.”

“Damian.” Bruce warned, from the head of the table. I flipped the smallest Wayne the middle finger. He resigned, but I swore I saw amusement on his lips.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Red Hood is very skilled and very prolific. It’s a daunting case.” Bruce continued.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. Really.” I said, trying not to sound annoyed, and feeling like a spotlight was over my head, operated by the ghost of Hoffman. I almost laughed as I pictured it.

“That’s good to hear. We’ve been concerned.” Alfred added.

“Wow. I’m the star of the show around here.” I remarked dryly.

“We can’t help it, Miss Independent.” Dick said teasingly. “You’re just a good mystery.”

“Reminds me of Talia.” Tim said casually. The silverware stopped clanging.

It was a shameless subject change. Damian’s mother was an inflammatory topic for all parties. Bruce’s moral contempt didn’t reach the likes of Talia Al Ghul and Selena Kyle, immoral though they were. Beauty makes anything charming- and when paired with an impeccable taste in dress, even murder and thievery can be minimized into something of a quirk. Bruce thought so, anyway.

As for Damian, he had grappled with his dismissal from Talia’s side for what was now a majority of his life, and still possessed this deep-rooted, inextinguishable attachment to his mother. It was the hollow soreness any young boy would have in his position. Tim called him mama’s boy until he finally displayed a frightening amount of disdain for the title and actually begged him to stop. Tim agreed to, and I agreed to pretend I never heard a thing.

Dick disagreed with both of those sentiments and viewed Talia as someone who wasn’t worth the trouble. His dismissal embarrassed Bruce and offended Damian, so I knew the dinner table had been sufficiently turned into a powder keg. Tim and I shared a look as I expressed silent gratefulness, and he resigned to inspecting a dumpling, while I picked around my haka noodles.

The rest of dinner was quiet. Somehow, somewhere in the silence all had been decidedly forgiven. First by Babs who asked me to pass the pepper. Then by Dick who said the vegetables were good. Thank you, Alfred. Damian still looked pissed, and Bruce kept stealing glances at the clock.

I texted Tim under the table.

Thanks for taking one for the team.

The reply: You owe me one. I think Damian’s gonna poison my food.

We both glanced at the youngest, who was darkly mesmerized by what appeared to be Tim’s soup bowl.

He quickly added, Wait, actually tho? And we both fought laughter like two kids in the back of the class. It felt good to have an ally. Even if he still didn’t know the whole truth.

[angelsswirl]

Petrichor

ONE

Summary: You've found yourself in a horrible situation. And there's only one way to get out of it. Choose: Park Chaeyoung or Kim Jisoo.

Notes: i just wanted to get a story out for the other half of the group since what's posted currently is mostly jenlisa centric. Also, the original story took place in new york and i think it's beneficial for it to stay that way.

Requested: sort of

Type: Chaptered

Warnings: jisoo and rosé are both alphas so 😉

...

"Everything, has changed."

New York City is five hundred percent a horrible place to be. There's no question about it. It stinks, it's hot, and there's just so many damn people.

It's one of the reasons you skipped out on going to the gym often. That, and residual laziness really.

The only reason why you were here in the first place was because the gym in your apartment building was being "remodeled". In reality, you think someone finally died in there and they're cleaning up the evidence.

It was, of course, packed. It was toward the middle of the city, but it was the only one you didn't need a one hundred dollar plus membership to workout in.

Your graduate student wallet couldn't take that, but it could take planet fitness' free trial. You weren't going to be in there long anyway.

You were only doing enough exercise to burn off about 500 calories, so you could put them back on at your bestfriend's gathering later that night.

The way you work out this should only take about three miles on the elliptical and 4 reps of the 40 pound bar. You'll be out in like an hour. Which is great, because you didn't know how much more you could take of alphas staring at your ass, and the stench of this place. Oh God, the stench.

The ass ogling may very well be your own fault. These new floral fabletics leggings just fit you too damn perfectly and you definitely should have saved them for when you could afford the expensive gym that could afford scent filters. No seriously, it stunk so bad your eyes were watering.

You aimed to get started on the elliptical, only to be hindered when the damn thing won't turn on. You pressed every single button around and nothing happened.

You must be very obviously struggling because someone walked over and took pity on you. There's a bang of machinery and then suddenly your feet are spiraling.

"Sometimes these things need a good kickstart." A soft, alpha voice says conversationally.

"Uhh, thank you. Do you work here?"

"Me? Oh, no. Just come here often enough to know that it's shit."

The soft voiced alpha woman, is absolutely gorgeous, like so gorgeous you wonder why she would even dare step foot in a place like this.

"I'm Chaeyoung, but you can call me Rosé if you want." She held out her hand.

"Y/N." The handshake is firm. Like Rosé has been doing it frequently for a while now.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Rosé decided to get onto the machine right next to you. Something, you're sure, was not going to happen originally. You're flattered to say the least.

"Sorry if this seems too forward, but you're really pretty, and I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime. I don't normally do this type of thing and I feel very weird right now, so please say yes so I can stop talking and embarrassing myself-" Chaeyoung held out a sleek blue business card (someone used vistaprint). You placed it back into her hand with your number scrawled onto the back. Apparently, Chaeyoung is the type that carries business cards and pens in her gym shorts.

"I would like that, Rosé." You smiled, amused at Chaeyoung's sudden change of confidence. She walked over with so much, and then suddenly it was gone. You found that endearing.

"Oh! That's nice. Um, I didn't think this far ahead, okay. Shit." You just lazily stepped/pedaled on the elliptical as you watched Rosé flounder with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll call you later with details?" She got it!

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Great. I'm going to walk away now because my break was up like 15 minutes ago."

You chuckled to yourself as the woman slowly walked away.

~•~

The party was in full swing by the time you got there. You did that purposefully.

Lisa is nowhere to be found so you take that as your opportunity to start stuffing your face with hor d'oeuvres.

Unlike yourself, Lisa had graduated with her bachelor's in education and decided that was enough. Soon after she met her alpha, Jennie, and they settled down in suburbia rather quickly.

You hadn't wanted just a bachelor's in education. You wanted your master's because you're a perfectionist. Always have been. You're in your second year of grad school through NYU.

Lisa had told you it wasn't necessary. It was a waste of time. You exactly wouldn't get paid more or enter in a higher position than she would have with just her bachelor's. And she was right. You were omegas, it would always be diffcult to get your dream job. You knew that. But you didn't listen.

It was hard to keep up your friendship as Lisa got deeper into it with Jennie, and you got deeper into your studies. You haven't talked nearly as much as you would like lately.

That's what you came here tonight to fix. Jennie and Lisa had gathered many of their closest friends for some sort of get together. You weren't asking questions, you were just there for Lisa and the food.

A tap to your shoulder startled you almost enough to drop your crab puff. You turned around to face the perpetrator.

"Having fun there?" Lisa said with a concerned look. In her defense, you're mouth is visibly full and you looked downright capable of murder with the prospect of dropping your snack.

"Lali!" It's a bit muddled, with the full mouth and all, but the point is delivered. You hastily chew and swallow. Somehow without choking to death.

"Hello, beautiful! How have you been?" Lisa looked a bit miffed at the fact that she even had to ask that, but she's still curious.

"I'm good. School is fine. You know me." You just shrug. There was no need to tell her that you sort of felt like your life was coming to a complete standstill. You smiled politely as Jennie approached behind Lisa's shoulder.

"Hello, Jennie."

"Hi, Y/N. Do you mind if I steal this one away for a sec?" Yes. Yes you does. You do mind a whole lot, but it doesn't seem you have much of a choice as Jennie leads her omega away.

"So much for getting your best friend back." You mumbled to yourself. You headed toward one of the beverage collections, grabbing a spring water. You opened it and took a sip.

A few seconds later, there's a tapping of metal against glass and everyone's attention is drawn toward the center of the livingroom.

"Okay, first we would like to thank everyone for coming. You're probably wondering why you're all here." Jennie inquired, and the room nodded along.

"Well, we have an announcement...we're pregnant!"

You're not quite sure why it seems like the room is suddenly closing in on you. Maybe you ate too much too quickly, or maybe that feeling that everyone is moving so quickly without you is finally starting to really penetrate your psyche.

It's not until then that you realize both of the happy couple's parents are here and everyone is congratulating them and you should be too, but you can't. Not right now.

You need some air.

You settled for the kitchen, it would be too hot outside, and someone would surely see you leave. There isn't anyone in there as far as you can see, so you dart into it.

"Some party, isn't it?"

You jumped so harshly, your off the shoulder blouse switched to being off the other shoulder.

The woman, an alpha if the way she's standing is anything to go by, sipped lazily on a beer. She's barely taller than you yourself, and yet vaguely familiar.

"Uh, it's okay." You cower a bit under the woman's gaze. You fumbled with the cap of your water and deftly take another sip.

"Yeah. There's going to be another Jennie running around here. Get right with your God while you can." A smirk slipped out from behind the beer bottle.

You laughed a bit, "Do I know you? You seem familiar."

The woman seemed to hesitate a bit before holding out her hand, "Jisoo. I don't think you do know me." You shook her hand happily.

"Y/N."

Jisoo nodded, "So how do you know Thing 1 and Thing 2 in there?"

"Lisa and I went to college together. I was with her the day she met Jennie actually."

"Was it love at first sight?" Jisoo took another sip of her beer. She grimaced slightly. You get the sense that dhe doesn't like what she's drinking but is torturing herself anyway for some reason.

"Not at all. We both hated her. She said something stupid. For the life of me, I can't remember what it was, but it was very stupid. But, she kept coming back and somehow she got Lali to fall in love with her somewhere in there." You smiled a bit bittersweetly.

"And you?"

"And I what?"

"How do you feel about Jennie?" Jisoo smiled conspiratorially.

"I-it doesn't matter how I feel about Jennie. She treats Lisa right so that's enough for me. Anyway, how do you know them? Are you family?"

Jisoo shrugged one shoulder lazily, "Depends on who you ask."

"Oh."

There's a lull in the conversation, before you spoke up again.

"Do you know what time it is? I have class in the morning."

Jisoo pulled out her phone, she turned the screen on revealing the time (9:48) and her phone wallpaper.

"Who's that?" You asked with a nod toward Jisoo's phone.

Jisoo hesitated again, this time it seems like she's really battling with herself.

"...My daughter. Lia." And there it is. A flash of disappointment fluttered across your face momentarily.

"Oh. You're mated?" It was odd. Normally, you could simply tell by smell if someone was mated. You didn't know how to explain it, but biology was weird. Basically, Jisoo didn't smell mated. You took a step away. If she was mated, you were probably standing a bit too close to be considered kosher.

"No." Jisoo took a step or two closer. Leaving you a bit closer than you were before. It's simple and leaves you with more questions than answers but you doesn't ask any of them.

Eventually, Jisoo took pity on you.

"The result of a one night stand. I thought the hangover I had to deal with the next day was the last thing I had to attribute to her, then 9 months later there's a knock on my door and baby on my doorstep. All pretty dramatic if you ask me."

You listened attentively as Jisoo spoke. You had a feeling she didn't talk about this much to anyone.

"I wouldn't give the kid up for anything, though. She's kind of the reason why we have a roof over our head." Jisoo frowned for a second before taking another sip of her beer.

You studied the alpha for a long moment. Then gasped. "That's where I recognize you from! You have a YouTube channel about parenting. They've shown a couple of your videos in my classes before." You mumbled the last part a bit shyly, realizing you may have been a bit too excited just then.

Jisoo sighed, "Damn. I was hoping I could get away without that coming up."

"Why?"

Jisoo scrunched her nose up and winced. "It's embarrassing."

"I don't think it is. From what I've seen, you're a good mother. And you're helping others. That's nothing to be embarrassed about." You smiled softly and touched a hand to Jisoo's shoulder.

It's then that their isolation is finally broken. Jennie stepped into the kitchen with an odd look on her face. Jisoo shrugged off your hand with a roll of her eyes.

"There you are, Y/N. Lisa was looking for you. What are you doing in here?" Jennie narrowed her eyes at Jisoo slightly, who only shrugged and chugged the rest of her beer.

"I was just cooling down from the rager you're throwing in there." It's slightly sarcastic, and you're not sure where the confidence is coming from, but it's much appreciated. You can practically feel Jisoo's body loosen from its tense state Jennie had caused.

"Ohhkay. Well, don't be a stranger." Jennie walked back into the main room with a confused shake of the head.

"That was weird."

Jisoo only nods slowly, staring down into the empty beer bottle.

"Well, um, I better head out. It was nice meeting you, Jisoo. And thanks for keeping me company."

"Uh, yeah. No problem."

You head for the exit, but stop suddenly, "Oh, and Jisoo?"

Jisoo looked up from the bottle, "Yeah?"

"Lia is beautiful. She looks exactly like you." You turned back around without another glance. You slipped out of the front door and towards your car.

[kenobi-gen-exchange]

OBI-WAN KENOBI GENFIC EXCHANGE 2020 MASTERPOST

Hello there!

Thank you to everyone who participated last year in 2020! As we begin our newest year, we'd like to showcase all the wonderful works made in 2020 for our exchange!

They're ordered alphabetically below the cut, and you can view our 2019 masterlist as well here.

Acts of Service by Shadaras

Summary: Obi-Wan answers the encoded comm he'd given to the Organas years ago. Leia's on the other end, and she has a request.

All we are, and all we have... by TexasDreamer01

Summary: Maul inhaled.

This was unusual, given his certainty that this time he had died.

And If You Close Your Eyes by Be_Right_Back

Summary: Does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?

Rex finds out from Ezra that Obi-Wan is on Tatooine. He has go to see for himself.

a worthwhile endeavour by wrennette

Summary: They were currently at nearly 36 hours since Obi-Wan last slept, which meant that tonight, they'd be breaking out the big guns. Ahsoka knew the routine by now, the major points practiced enough that she could improvise a little to keep her Master from catching on.

Co-Commanders Tano and Cody have a plan.

Ben the Spy by AsadHermitStory

Summary: “Are you a spy?” FN-2187 asked without preamble. FN-2187 definitely wasn’t a spy, for he was not capable of disguising his eagerness.

“Hmm. Yes, perhaps I am.” The man stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully. “From a certain point of view. You can call me ‘Ben,’ by the way.”

braids by shanlyrical

Obi-Wan took another deep breath, opened his eyes, and met his own steady gaze in the mirror. Then, with a single, swift cut, he severed his own Padawan braid.

“Master Obi-Wan, what are you doing?”

It was Anakin. Obi-Wan had been so focused on his task that he’d failed to hear to the boy slip through the door behind him.

Cracks in the Mortar by sigye

Summary: He knows Kenobi well enough now; asking something like that would normally get him a dry, amused reply. Fox can even admit that he’s one of the most pleasant natborns he sees on a regular basis, though that’s not saying much considering the Coruscant Guard works out of the Senate building.

(Prompt: Obi-Wan and Fox complaining about Senators together and supporting each other in their 'serious' selves.)

Familes Found by fyrefly

Summary: Written as part of the 2020 Obi-Wan Kenobi Gen Exchange. In a universe where "The Wrong Jedi" never happened, the war ends under different circumstances and perhaps everyone will get a chance at a happy ending after all.

Prompt: "Ahsoka and Obi-Wan being a happy Jedi family post-war. Other canon Jedi and clone characters are welcome. Basically just some wholesome Jedi culture fluff while Anakin is happily married and no longer a Knight."

Flipped by KCKenobi

Summary: The second-worst day of Anakin Skywalker’s life is about to get infinitely worse.

Palpatine’s a Sith Lord. Master Windu is off to destroy him. And Padmé, Padmé —

But then Cody arrives with a de-aged Obi-Wan—a terrified 12-year-old whose last memory is being sent to the AgriCorps. Anakin doesn’t know what to make of this little kid who claims to be Obi-Wan Kenobi, who steals speeders for joyrides and isn’t being trained by Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to make of this strange Master Skywalker, who swears and gushes about starships and can’t seem to sit still.

Anakin knows a lot can happen in 24 hours—but this is just a new level of ridiculous.

i guess this could be worse by apricae

Summary: It wasn't the rescue Obi-Wan had expected when he was caught by some pretty mean-spirited pirates - at all. But perhaps it's not so bad after all.

In Disguise of a Sport by TexasDreamer01

Summary: Fox wasn’t sure whether to stare or to sigh.

Just a twist in your destiny by lunaemoth

Summary: When Obi-Wan is sent to the Agricorps as a teenager, it feels like the end, but it's a just a different path, a little twist of destiny. Ultimately, he still ends up on Tatooine when he's needed, as the Force wishes it.

Mission One by LazarusII

Summary: “No, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, voice slightly hoarse. “You are most certainly not expendable—none of you are. Not to me.”

Old Wounds by KCKenobi

Summary: Mace Windu always agreed that Obi-Wan Kenobi was meant to be a Jedi Knight. However, he didn't share Yoda's certainty that the boy was meant to be Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan. When Qui-Gon returns from Melida/Daan without Obi-Wan, Mace takes matters into his own hands and sets off for Melida/Daan himself.

Petrichor by ginnywrites

Summary: The first thing Obi-Wan does with Anakin, once all of the required things are out of the way, is to take him to the meditation gardens.

Pictures in the Sand by MaiKusakabe

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi could never be too grateful for his too stubborn Padawan and her insistence to be part of his life.

Recovery by Pandora151

Summary: All that mattered was this—Obi-Wan was home. It would take him time to find himself again, to recover completely, but his family was by his side, and that was all that mattered.

return home (to me) by skatzaa

Summary: He feels alone and exposed without someone to watch his back as he and his eopie amble across the sands. The swaying gait is not enough to lull him, but as the domed homestead draws closer, he allows himself to relax slightly.

They slow as they enter the open yard, and then a shout nearby nearly startles him out of the saddle.

“Uncle Ben! You’re back!”

Safety is Our Priority by coruscantguard (nadiavandyne)

Summary: As irritating and infuriating as it is, Kenobi is her best chance at getting off this hellhole without calling her Master’s attention to her… delay.

It’s not a failure, it’s a delay. Maybe if she says that to herself enough, it will become true.

(Or, 3k words of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Asajj Ventress going through space TSA.)

Seventy-two varieties of root vegetable and other tasty things to discover (now that the Sith are dead) by Gabriel4Sam

Summary: After the war, Obi-Wan finds joy in family, friends and food.

That Business on Cato Neimoidia by kj_feybarn

Summary: “All right. But you owe me… and not for saving your skin for the tenth time.”

“Ninth time… that business on Cato Neimoidia doesn’t... doesn't count.”

- Revenge of the Sith

—

Year 2 of the Clone Wars on Cato Neimoidia:

“Skyguy! Master Obi-Wan has been captured!”

Anakin found himself freezing, for just a moment, as Ahsoka skidded to a stop beside him, his heart racing as his mind immediately came up with a dozen different ways Obi-Wan might be getting hurt or killed at that very moment.

He pushed the fear down. It would not help him right now, and it certainly wouldn’t help Obi-Wan. He had to save his Master.

.

.

.

Year 2 of the Clone Wars ALSO on Cato Neimoidia:

“Well, this is slightly problematic,” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but note.

Beside him, his Commander let out an exasperated sigh. “I suppose problematic is one word for it. Not the one I would have chosen.”

Obi-Wan sent Cody what he hoped was a cheeky grin—though the bloody nose and black eye probably ruined it. “Oh, and what word would you have chosen, Cody?”

“I think this is somewhat closer to downright disastrous, General.”

Turn Left by MaiKusakabe

Summary: In which Obi-Wan can't have a simple mission, and the Force circumvents the Sith's clouding.

Again, thank you to everyone who participated, and we look forward to 2021!

[girlboss-molina]

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 2: A Tale of Punches and Pancakes

AO3 Link

Words: 9389

-----

Alex POV

...

The jet ride was nice from a glance, but insufferable for Alex. His wish to leave his anxieties in Tambor? Yeah, he knew that was bullshit. As the miles passed, his stomach bubbled and knotted more and more until he had no room for the small wrapped chocolates in the dish at the back of the plane. The fluffy clouds seemed to taunt him with their serenity, making him feel out of place with his disgust, anxiety, and anger. 

Why, why, did he have to be put in an arranged goddamn marriage when he was nineteen? The gods hated him, for sure. 

He was back to considering options in his fake-your-death-to-get-out-of-it plan when Luke finally broke the silence.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Have a guess.” The sarcasm in his voice was tangible. 

“Yes?”

“Have another guess.” Alex barely smiled at Luke’s laugh. “I just… I hate this. Julie’s awesome, dude, she’s one of my best friends. But I don’t want to marry her.”

“I feel you,” Luke responded. “I really, really want to get you out of it.”

“Thanks.” Alex went back to staring at the clouds.

…

As the plane touched down, the rumbling shook up the nerves in Alex’s stomach, and he had to shut his eyes and focus on his breathing and the feeling of Luke’s hand on his. He did his best not to crease his vest as he leaned over, holding on tight. 

When he felt the motion in his ears stop, he carefully opened his eyes, relieved when he wasn’t nauseous. Of course, he couldn’t get rid of the anxiety. 

They’d landed in the runway behind the Dahlia palace, and thankfully, the small amount of vision he had out his plane window only showed the back of the palace and, on the other side, the tall, forested mountains in which he and Julie had run around in many times when they were younger. The scene was calming, and settled his nerves. 

As the doors opened, sending a crisp blast of cold Dahlian air in his face, the familiar smell of petrichor and honey reminded him of when he and Julie would run for hours, climbing trees as high as they could, despite Ray’s constant warnings and pleas for them to be careful. How simple it would be, really, to run out the plane door and across the runway until he was back, surrounded by the branches. It would be a nightmare, of course; he barely knew how to make a fire, which was definitely a skill he would need if he were to survive on his own in the cool Dahlian climate. Surely he could figure it out, though. It couldn’t be that hard. And the motivation of not having to act straight for the rest of his life would certainly help. He wondered just how fast he could run-

He was jolted back to reality by Luke excitedly hitting his shoulder. 

“Your highness, as your Royal Best Dude™ I am legally required to get you up and moving so that you don’t start spiraling. Plus, I’m hungry.” Alex rolled his eyes and laughed despite himself. 

He wasn’t going through this alone.  

…

He should’ve expected the cameras, really. But the bright flashes startled him as soon as he stepped out of the plane, and he had to quickly struggle to compose himself. He gave small smiles and respectful waves, walking across the long runway to the limousine waiting for him. He would be making a round past the palace gates before formally entering the palace from the front. So he climbed into the lush leather seats, with Erik and Luke right behind him, and sat down, squeezing his hands into fists and then running his fingertips over the indents from his nails. 

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he tapped his foot. He wouldn’t admit it, but the feeling of Luke’s and Erik’s hands on his shoulders helped. A lot. Tension melted away from him, and while he was still nervous, he somehow managed to stand and steadily walk out of the limo, a smile breaking out on his face as he saw Julie. 

Alex wasn’t sure why he was surprised at how beautiful Julie was, there really was no paralleling her beauty. And yet, his heart swelled with pride at seeing her elegant violet dress, embroidered with dahlias. 

“Alex, why the hell do you walk so fast?” asked Luke, breathing heavily and trying to keep up. 

“I’m gay. Next question.” 

“That’s fair.” 

As he ran to Julie, Alex was so caught up in the euphoria of seeing his friend in person that, for a moment, he lived in a world where the paparazzi wasn’t a thing. But he didn’t care. Julie saw him and ran through the gardens, a huge grin visible from hundreds of feet away. She ran to him, her gown flowing in the breeze, and as soon as they were within a few feet of each other, Julie jumped and Alex let out an “oof” as he caught her in a hug, spinning around and laughing.

“It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, and Alex nodded.

“Yeah, you too! Even though we, you know, FaceTimed last night.”

“Eh, details. Besides, the press wants a happy reunion.”

“Fair.”

“How was the plane ride?” 

“Amazing,” Alex said. “Nothing better than being on the edge of a panic attack while you’re thousands of feet in the air.”

“I’ll fight your anxiety,” Julie decided. “Tell it to meet me behind the Denny’s tonight.” Alex snorted. 

“I’d rather you didn’t punch my brain. I kinda need it.”

“Do you?” Alex gasped in mock offense.

“Okay, rudeness aside, I think this is the part where we walk around the garden and pretend we don’t know there are photojournalists hiding behind the bushes.” Julie nodded and took his arm.

As they strolled around the gardens, the aroma of flowers settled some of Alex’s nerves. He never turned around to make sure Luke was there, but he somehow knew. It was the Royal Best Dude™ telepathy, probably. And Erik was probably bringing his suitcase up to wherever he would be staying. So, Alex did his best to relax and hang out with his friend.

“Ava’s going to be ascending soon,” he noted. “She’s pumped. Though I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to let a twenty-three year old run a country.” Julie laughed.

“I’m happy for her! And I’m sure she’ll be fine. She knows how to party, for sure, but she’s also responsible. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I’ll let my anxiety know.” Julie burst out laughing, and Alex soon followed. 

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ava Mercer of Tambor,” Julie said. “It has a nice ring to it.” Alex nodded. 

“Yeah. I’m excited for her, too. All jokes aside, I think she’ll make a great queen.”

“Definitely.”

A few moments passed, including Julie gently picking a rose from the garden, one with a pale pink coloring, and sticking it behind Alex’s ear. When it wouldn’t stay, she scrunched her nose and carefully tucked it into the breast pocket of his vest. 

“You look absolutely dashing, your highness,” she said with a fake, posh accent. Alex giggled and rolled his eyes. 

“You’re a dork.”

“I know.” 

…

His room was really something. 

After he and Julie had finished their walk around the gardens, they’d given each other cordial bows (of course tied with a friendly wink, because they were just Like That), and Erik had shown him up to his quarters. Luke followed, and Alex noticed his cheeks were considerably red. 

It was chillier in Dahlia than it was in Tambor, though, and Luke had never been Plus, a breeze had flown in during the last ten minutes of their walk, on which Luke was shadowing. He was probably flushed from the cold air. 

He was down the hall from Julie’s room, in one of the guest rooms he’d used when playing hide-and-seek with Julie when they were kids. But it had been completely refurbished, since he would be staying there for a few months.

The soft carpet was a creamy tan, and the large, full-length mirrors let in sunlight that cast gentle shadows from the posters on the giant bed, which was adorned with blue sheets and pillows, with gold and pink accents. The dark, forest green walls gave the room a soothing effect, and the twinkling fairy lights were like fireflies in a meadow. A crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, glittering with diamonds and gold. A mahogany record player sat on a media table, along with wireless chargers for his phone and laptop, next to the sliding door that led to a huge bathroom. The tiles were light tan and grey, peppered with flecks of quartz that shimmered in the light. A giant tub sat near a tinted window, as well as a vanity with a majestic painted mirror. The shower could’ve fit his entire bed.

Even though he wasn’t keen on marrying Julie, he wouldn’t dislike his stay here. 

“Dude,” Luke whispered. “Your room is awesome.” 

“I know, right? Definitely nicer than my room in Tambor.” 

As Alex went to his giant suitcase full of neatly folded clothes, beginning to tuck them into drawers and onto hangers, Luke helped out. 

“So,” Alex began, breaking the silence. “How are you liking Dahlia so far?”

“It’s great! Kinda cold, but I’ll get used to it. And… Julie seems really nice.”

Alex definitely didn’t miss Luke’s blush when he mentioned the princess, and his lips raised into a smirk.

“Yeah, she is. You should get to know her at dinner tonight.” Luke cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

“You good?”

“Totally,” he insisted, though his voice rose an octave and Alex couldn’t suppress his laugh. 

“Sure.”

…

The dinner was incredible. Platters of roast beef sat next to giant bowls of mashed potatoes, and the bread appetizers were soft and delicious. And, even though he was legally allowed to have alcohol based on Dahlian laws, he thought better of it, instead filling his glass with water. He noticed that Julie did the same. 

“Not a fan of wine?” he asked. 

“Nah, not really. It always gives me a stomachache.” 

“Same.”

Alex went back to his food, before noticing a man around his age eyeing him. He had dark hair and was dressed in a red vest and dark grey shirt. He seemed quite kind, if the small smile on his face had any say.

“That’s your brother, Reggie, right? I think I’ve only met him once.”

Julie followed Alex’s gaze. “Oh yeah! You would get along great, I think.”

“Cool.”

…

Before dessert was brought up, everyone in the grand hall got to mingle for about twenty minutes and let their food settle. Alex let Julie introduce him to Reggie, with whom he immediately hit it off. 

“No way, you play the drums?” Reggie asked. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’m no good.”

“Yeah, I do! You said you play bass?”

“Yep!”

“That’s awesome, dude.”

Their conversation lasted a bit longer, and Alex felt confident that he and Reggie would be good friends, especially because of his lighthearted demeanor, and their bro-hug before Alex was pulled away to talk to another nobleman. 

He was bounced around like a ping-pong ball, being chatted up by guest after guest. Soon, though, he needed some air, so he searched to room for King Ray.

“Your majesty?” he asked, jogging over. Ray turned to him and gave a warm smile, shaking his hand.

“Hello, Alex. You can call me Ray. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, thanks. I was just wondering if I could sneak out the back for a moment? I need some air.” Ray laughed.

“Of course, son. I told them to give you some space,” he noted, guestering to the nobles, “but I doubt they were able to contain their excitement.” Alex nodded, grateful for Ray’s chill vibes. “Try to be back in ten minutes?”

“Of course.”

Ray nodded and patted his shoulder, and Alex stepped through the back door of the grand hall, grateful when he didn’t see anyone. He took a deep breath, fiddling with the hem of his vest. 

A voice caught his ear. 

“-yeah, don’t worry, Alyssa. The mousse is in the refrigerator-” 

Alex whirled around, searching for whoever had spoken, but before he could…

WHAM. 

A cold rush of air blew from behind him as a door opened, and someone ran into him.

Hard.

Alex stumbled forward, trying to catch himself but to no avail. His momentum swung him forward, leaving him on the ground. 

“Whoa!” he started, looking at the person who’d ran him over, and…

Oh fuck, he thought. He’s hot. 

“Agh, sorry, I really need to watch where I’m-” the man cut off, his cheeks flushing. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, your highness.” He scrambled into a bow, and Alex blushed. 

“No, you’re good, bro.” 

Alex got a good look at him, and felt his cheeks flush. He had long, silky brown hair that fell over his shoulders in waves, and smooth brown skin that had darkened in a blush. His dark eyes were kind and playful, adorned with long eyelashes. 

Alex inhaled slowly, trying to ignore the rising gay panic. 

“Are you okay?” the man asked. 

“I’m fine, yeah. Thanks. Just trying to clear my head. Until you, you know, tried to crack it open.” To Alex’s surprise, the man giggled, and holy fuck, if he wasn’t already adorable, that would’ve been the tipping point. Creases folded at the corners of his eyes, and his perfect smile turned lopsided as he laughed. 

“I did pancake you, huh?” Alex tried to laugh, and the man cleared his throat. “Sorry. Oh, uh, I’m Willie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Alex reached for his hand. “Alex,” he greeted, still hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

“Well, I’d better make sure we’re clear to bring up dessert. But I’ll see you around, your royal pancakeness,” Willie said with a grin, spinning on his heel and going back to the kitchens. Alex nodded, even though he was already gone. 

-----

Julie POV

...

As soon as Alex’s plane touched down, Julie couldn’t hide her excitement. She rushed through her photos, and as soon as she could see him, she took off running, a huge grin on her face. The silky fabric of her dress flapped against her shins, and she sprinted even faster, ignoring the goosebumps on her arms. 

As soon as she reached him, she jumped into the hug, laughing as he spun her around. They might have FaceTimed the day before, but it just wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. He was one of her best friends, and the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in so long was frankly biphobic. 

But as she spun around, finally opening her eyes, Julie caught sight of Alex’s guard. She’d never formally met him, and she’d always thought he was cute, but wow. 

He had deep hazel eyes and pale skin, cheeks flushed from the cold, his wavy brown hair neatly styled, with a touch of personal flair. His chiseled jawline cast a shadow on his neck, and his biceps were visible through his dark jacket. Julie tried to look away and focus on her friend, because now was the literal worst time to develop a crush on someone she barely knew. 

Not that she had a crush on him, or anything. 

Julie forced those thoughts out of her head, and scolded her stupid heart for fluttering when she caught his gaze. She turned back to Alex, laughing when he insinuated that photojournalists would be hiding behind the bushes. 

“Ava’s going to be ascending soon,” Alex told her. “She’s pumped. Though I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to let a twenty-three year old run a country.” Julie laughed, silently agreeing.

“I’m happy for her! And I’m sure she’ll be fine. She knows how to party, for sure, but she’s also responsible. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I’ll let my anxiety know.” Julie burst out laughing, soon followed by Alex.

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ava Mercer of Tambor,” she said, letting the words flow off her tongue. “It has a nice ring to it.” 

“Yeah. I’m excited for her, too. All jokes aside, I think she’ll make a great queen.”

“Definitely.” There wasn’t a doubt in her voice, either. 

Julie had met Ava when she was eight. Ava had been thirteen, and was the coolest thirteen-year-old ever, in little Julie’s opinion. She vaguely remembered hanging out in her room with her, and thinking she was just the coolest ever. Then again, she was an eight year old. To an eight year old, all thirteen-year-olds are cool (or gross, but we don’t talk about that).

Julie walked with Alex, chatting about random things, including plans to get out of the arranged marriage, each more complicated than the next. Julie couldn’t stop herself from laughing when Alex brought up his temptation to just run into the woods with no supplies or survival skills, and just be a gay forest cryptid. She was quite fond of it, to be honest. 

Unfortunately, they didn’t have any plans that didn’t involve either faking their deaths, or something treasonous, neither of which would be good. At least, not in anyone else’s opinions. 

…

After Alex went up to his room, Julie did the same, and immediately flopped on her bed, finally allowing herself to process her thoughts about, well, everything.

God, she wanted out of this marriage. She knew Alex did as well. They’d talked about it endlessly over FaceTime, texting, and just now, in person. But neither of them could come up with an actual plan or a good enough reason to halt it. Because, you know, the people actually getting married never get a say. 

Plus, it did not help that Alex’s guard, who she’d learned was named Luke, was really cute. She furrowed her brow. She’d never even had a real conversation with the guy. Not that it mattered, of course. She remembered when she was fifteen and had already decided that Nick Danforth-Evans was a sweetheart, even though she’d only had one real conversation with him. 

But this felt different somehow. She couldn’t help but feel like Luke was actually really nice. She just got those vibes from him. She cursed her stupid heart for making her feel things. No, Molina. There’s no such thing as liking a cute guard. 

It didn’t work. 

She stared at her ceiling, watching flecks of dust float around the air, and jumped when Flynn and Carrie walked into her room without knocking. It wasn’t like she actually expected them to knock, but she’d zoned out and the sudden sound took her by surprise. 

“I know that look,” Flynn said matter-of-factly. “What’s the crisis about?”

“What isn’t it about?”

“Uh uh, don’t try to deflect by answering my question with another question,” Flynn scolded, and Carrie bit back a laugh. 

“I just…” she searched for an excuse. “I love that Alex is here, but I don’t want to marry him,” she said, remembering that the best lies were based on the truth. “And he’s gay, so I know for a fact he doesn’t want to marry me. Plus, you know. We’ve expressed that multiple times. And I know there’s really nothing I can do about it, because it’s all arranged, and bitching about it does nothing to help, but honestly? I’m just feeling bitchy.” 

“As you should,” Carrie agreed, to Julie’s surprise. “If anyone deserves to be a little bitchy, it’s you. I mean, come on. You’re a teenage girl who never actually got a normal life because you’re frickin’ Princess Julie Molina, heiress to the throne of Dahlia. And you’re stuck in an arranged marriage with one of your best friends, and neither of you want it, but you can’t actually change it. I’d be bitchy too.”

“Thank you for summing that up,” Julie deadpanned. “But… it helps. Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“She’s right, Jules,” Flynn agreed. “Be the bitchy bisexual you deserve to be.” That elicited a laugh, and Julie couldn’t help but leave the smile resting on her face. 

“Alright,” she decided. “We have self-defense in half an hour, so we should get ready.” Flynn nodded and pulled Julie off of her bed, leading her to the giant walk-in closet, searching the hundreds of options, but steering clear from the gowns. 

Flynn and Carrie must’ve known she needed cheering up, because they sarcastically suggested the biggest, poofiest gowns Julie owned, tied with a tight shawl and the wobbliest heels imaginable. Julie laughed despite herself, especially since she could barely walk in the shoes they’d picked. She was also taller than six feet, which was a plus, but she would pick stability over height any day, especially when she was going to practice kicking people’s asses. 

Eventually, she settled on flexible black leggings with a purple stripe going down the outside of each leg, and a simple white tunic that starkly contrasted her dark skin. It was fitted but she could move easily in it, stretching into a backbend to make sure. 

She sighed and allowed Flynn and Carrie to take either arm and lead her downstairs to the training arena. 

…

The training arena was a huge room, the floors completely covered in mats, aside from the giant gymnastic trampolines at the far corner and the running track that traversed the perimeter. On the far side opposite the trampolines were sets of weights and treadmills, as well as other equipment like bars and benches. Punching bags were hung sporadically around the martial arts area, which was also used for tumbling and floor routines. 

Lady Athena gave a smile as they walked in, soon followed by Reggie and Mira. Lady Athena was a tall, muscular woman with silky black hair that was always in a high ponytail. Her bronze skin glittered with sweat, and her two-piece athleisure outfit left her chiseled abs on display. 

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands. “Reggie, since you’re bigger, you’re with me. You four, pair up and practice your hand-to-hand skills. Remember the blocks we learned last week.” Julie nodded and paired with Flynn, immediately getting into position.

“Head’s up,” she warned with a smirk, before lunging with a punch that would’ve hit Flynn square in the chest if not for her catlike reflexes. She knocked Julie’s hand out of the way, and Julie had to twist to avoid Flynn’s counterattack, letting herself lean backwards. But when she almost fell, she used it to her advantage, hopping backwards onto one hand and spinning, tripping Flynn by kicking her feet out from under her. Before Flynn could recover, Julie pounced over her, grabbing her shirt collar and pulling her fist back, ready to attack. She didn’t follow through, obviously, but she knew she had good form. 

“Well done, your highness,” praised Lady Athena. Julie blushed.

“Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Flynn grumbled, and Julie laughed. “Rematch?”

“You’re on.”

…

Julie had defeated Flynn four times to two, and was feeling very confident. It must’ve helped, exercising, because her worries about Alex and Luke were far away as she battled Carrie and then Mira. Or, they were until a certain brunette guard walked in the room in a sleeveless shirt and shorts that showed off his muscles. 

She shouldn’t have let herself get distracted, though, because in her haze, Mira managed to throw her off balance and win their round. 

“Hah! That’s two each!” She outstretched her hand, which Julie gratefully accepted, pulling her up. 

“Good job,” she said, still distracted but keeping her eyes far away from Luke. 

“Hi, is this the self-defense lesson?” Luke asked, and Julie could no longer ignore him. 

“It is,” Lady Athena confirmed. “You’re Prince Alexander’s guard, correct?”

“And certified Royal Best Dude™,” he added with a grin that was so adorable it made Julie flush. By some miracle, nobody noticed. 

“Alright, why don’t you train with Reggie? He can show you what we’re working on. I need to go make sure nobody’s going to throw out their back at the weights.” With that, Lady Athena stalked off, her ponytail swaying behind her. 

Luke walked over to Reggie, and Julie did her best not to stare as Reggie guided Luke, and they began sparring. Luke was surprisingly agile, but he was too enthusiastic, reaching for every possible blow, not realizing where he left himself vulnerable. But his puppy eyes when Reggie defeated him were too cute. 

Julie cleared her throat and turned away. 

“Tiebreaker?” Mira nodded, and they went to sparring. Julie ducked and dodged every hit of Mira’s, even getting in a few herself, but she was thrown off when she heard Luke laugh, a musical, joyful sound, and Mira took advantage of her momentary slip, finally beating her. 

“Yes!” Mira jumped and pumped her fist, then helped Julie up. 

“Nice job!” Julie grinned with the words, high-fiving Mira. 

“Alright, break time.”

Julie walked to the edge of the wall where she’d left her water bottle and towel, almost choking on her water when she heard Luke’s voice behind her. 

“Your highness?” he asked shyly. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.” Julie smiled and outstretched her hand, shaking Luke’s. “I’m Alex’s guard, Luke.”

“Hi! You can call me Julie,” she said with a smile, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too! Oh, by the way, great job during your fights. I saw your takedown on the other girl, the one with the braids.”

“Oh, that’s Flynn.”

“Cool. But yeah, I saw your fight, and that was really impressive. I doubt I could spin on one hand like you did.” 

Well.

If Julie hadn’t been blushing before, she certainly was now. At least Luke’s cheeks were only red because of the intense workouts. 

“It took me forever to get that move right,” she admitted. “I only just got it down, if I’m being honest. I still slip up sometimes, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he complimented. And oh, his smile really was a beautiful thing. 

“Alright, break time’s over,” called Lady Athena. “No more flirting.” Julie’s stomach dropped, and she inhaled, a denial already on her tongue, before she realized that her coach was looking at Flynn and Carrie, who were chatting animatedly, both blushing. 

She practiced a bit more with Carrie, doing her best to ignore the boy next to her. When the class finally ended, she hurriedly thanked Lady Athena before rushing up to shower.

Letting the hot water wash over her, she pondered how the hell Luke had wiggled his way into her heart so quickly within one conversation. 

Was she being brainwashed into liking a guy she barely knew?

Was this some elaborate trick that whatever higher being existed had orchestrated as a ploy to get her out of the arranged marriage?

… And more importantly, would it work? 

The thought made her laugh. Not that she didn’t slightly believe this was all some sort of elaborate trick to get her to commit treason and fall in love with someone she wasn’t supposed to, but it was funny nonetheless.

…

After she’d done her best to set the record for hottest, soapiest shower possible, Julie wrapped herself in a towel, massaging peach lotion into her skin, the scent matching her shampoo. As she rubbed it into her hands, she imagined what it would feel like holding Luke’s hand, before quickly banishing the thought away to the depths of simpy hell.

This was worse than she thought. 

She changed into her evening gown for the dinner, allowing Mira to lace up the back. It was all navy blue, a long strapless dress that reached her ankles, with a see-through tulle layer over top that went up to a sleeveless halter neckline, leaving the rest of the tulle layer to flow down neatly over the rest of the silky dress, which tightened at the waist. Tiny diamonds had been sewn into the tulle at her waist, high in concentration before gently tapering off the lower in the skirt they went.

“Okay,” Carrie said, walking in with Flynn beside her. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, damn. That dress is fine.” Flynn nodded enthusiastically. 

“I know, right?” Mira said excitedly. “I actually helped tailor this one! It was one of my favorites to make.”

“And for a good reason,” Julie agreed. “Mira, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Not quite,” she said, turning Julie towards the vanity. “I’m thinking we do something simple but elegant for your hair?”

“I vote for that,” Flynn interjected. 

“Sure!”

Mira set to work, combing through Julie’s hair with her fingers. Julie closed her eyes. She’d always loved the feeling of people playing with her hair, and as Mira wove her dark locks into two thick braids that soon joined together, letting the rest of her hair poof at the base of her neck, Julie was transported back to her mother’s room when she was five. She remembered the feeling of her mother braiding her hair like it was yesterday, the gentle tugs and nimble fingers on her scalp. It wasn’t the same with Mira, of course, but it was refreshing and comforting at the same time. 

“Hey, Jules?” Flynn called from her closet.

“Mm?”

“Mind if I steal that asymmetrical dress for tonight? The jade one,” she clarified. 

“Feel free!”

The dress in mind was a slim-fitting jade green dress that reached her knees, but the hem was cut asymmetrically, leaving one side longer than the other. It had golden ribbon-like threads spun around it with no particular rhyme or reason, and a built-in sash made of pale, spring green tulle roses. The thin straps showed off her shoulders, and when Flynn walked out with it on, Julie noticed Carrie blush.

“Dude, you look awesome,” Julie complimented. Flynn twirled, letting the light play off of the shimmery fabric.

“Thanks!”

Mira finished doing Julie’s hair, and held up a mirror for her to see. Julie admired the thick, smooth braids that gently rejoined at the base of her neck, letting the rest of her dark curls loose in an elegant fashion.

“It’s amazing, Mira! Thank you so much.”

“Of course! And thank you for letting me do it,” she said with a giggle. “Your hair is so fun to style.” Julie blushed. 

…

The dinner was rather uneventful, thankfully. Julie wasn’t sure if she would’ve had the energy to constantly be answering questions. Instead, though, she got to introduce people to each other, and relax and eat, and try to keep her eyes away from a certain hazel-eyed guard.

She was grateful for the relatively simple task.

-----

Luke POV

...

Luke had heard about the self-defense classes in the training arena, and he was itching to get moving, so he changed into workout clothes and headed down there. 

The spiral staircase was wide and glittered with colored glass, the silver banisters gleaming in the light. He trailed his hand down it as he made his way down.

When he reached the training arena, he closed the door behind him and went to set down his water bottle and towel- but not before noticing Julie.

At the self-defense class.

Thankfully, she didn’t see him. He hung back for a moment, watching as she sparred with another girl with long braids. The way she moved was incredible, like water flowing in a current, unpredictable and smooth. Of course, if anyone asked, he was most certainly not admiring it. He could silently appreciate her skills, though.

As she dodged hit after hit, throwing her own blocks and blows, it looked like the girl with braids had gotten the better of her, but as Julie leaned backwards, she hopped and - holy fuck - caught herself on one hand, spinning around in the air like some sort of ethereal breakdancer, and knocking the other girl’s feet out from under her, before pouncing, grabbing her shirt collar, and pulling back her fist, before freezing and laughing. 

Whoa. 

So not only was she a wicked beauty, Luke realized, she was a human wrecking ball, too. 

He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the beautiful badass in front of him, tuning out Lady Athena’s praise in favor of clearing his head before approaching to join. Not that it worked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Julie. The other three girls (and the guy, if he was being honest) were all stunningly fit and agile, but there was something about Julie that enchanted him. The way she was always smiling even in the middle of a training fight, how, even when she was defeated, she brushed it off with a laugh, how she was light on her feet like a cat as she dodged and spun, how she was needlessly extravagant with her self-defense and yet somehow always made it work. Maybe that’s just what princesses were like; even when defending themselves against possible attackers, they had to be as beautiful as ever. 

Of course, right now, Luke knew she didn’t look how she normally would, in her silky gowns and expertly styled hair. Now, she wore matching athletic clothes and had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, with some strands coming out in a sweaty frizz. And yet, that somehow just made her even more breathtaking. Even when she was sweaty and working out, she managed to look like an angel.

An angel who could easily kick his ass, he remembered as she pulled the upside-down-one-handed-breakdancer move again, this time on a redheaded girl he didn’t recognize. 

Before he could stop himself, he approached Lady Athena. 

“Hi, is this the self-defense lesson?” He asked the woman.  

“It is,” Lady Athena confirmed, and he nodded.. “You’re Prince Alexander’s guard, correct?”

“And certified Royal Best Dude™,” he added with a grin. He would never let go of that title.

“Alright, why don’t you train with Reggie? He can show you what we’re working on. I need to go make sure nobody’s going to throw out their back at the weights.” Luke nodded again as Lady Athena walked away.

He walked over to Reggie, shaking his hand.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” he introduced with a smile. Reggie shot one back.

“Reggie!”

“Nice to meet you! So, do we just… fight? I’m not sure how this is run here compared to in Tambor.” Reggie laughed. 

“Yeah, pretty much. You good at hand-to-hand?”

“I’m not bad,” he admitted. “But I’m no expert.” He couldn’t help looking at Julie. “Is she always that much of a badass?” Reggie followed his eyes to Julie. 

“Pretty much,” he said with a laugh, and Luke dearly hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Good to know. In that case, if I introduce myself to her, how scared should I be?” He asked it with a smile and a joking tone, but he was actually a bit nervous. But, you know, just because he now knew that she could kick his ass seven ways to Sunday.

No other reason.

“Oh, don’t worry!” Reggie assured him. “She’s actually really nice. I’ve known her since she was eight,” he explained. Luke nodded, grateful for the reassurance.

“Alrighty then,” he said, hopping into a fighting stance. “Let’s get cracking.” 

…

By “let’s get cracking,” he was hoping he wouldn’t be cracking his ego, but he was sorely mistaken. Reggie didn’t seem like it, but he was really strong, and really good at fighting. Luke was more agile than him, and strength-wise he could compare, but the Dahlian style of fighting was so different from the Tamborian style. They were similar in many ways, of course; they had the same moves and strategies. But the ways they moved were so different, the ways they executed their moves had an uncanny grace and deadliness.

He did his best, reaching for every blow he could, trying to get the upper hand. And, to his credit, he won a few rounds. But he accidentally left himself vulnerable most of the time, leaving perfect opportunities for his opponent to strike, because Of Course He Did. 

When they called for a break, Luke wiped his forehead with a towel, grabbing a drink of water. Then, he swallowed the lump in his throat and approached Julie.

“Your highness?” he asked shyly. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.” Luke tried not to blush when she smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Alex’s guard, Luke.”

“Hi! You can call me Julie,” she said with a gorgeous grin, and Luke knew he was a goner. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too! Oh, by the way, great job during your fights. I saw your takedown on the other girl, the one with the braids.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he mentally kicked himself. Not smooth, Patterson. What if she thought he was creepy? 

Thankfully, though, she smiled.

“Oh, that’s Flynn!”

“Cool,” he said, relieved. Nice and smooth, Patterson. “But yeah, I saw your fight, and that was really impressive. I doubt I could spin on one hand like you did.” He reached up and scratched the back of his neck nervously, and he couldn’t help but feel accomplished when Julie’s cheeks flushed. Of course, his were probably just as red, but hopefully he could blame it on the workout.

“It took me forever to get that move right,” she admitted. “I only just got it down, if I’m being honest. I still slip up sometimes, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he complimented with a smile. And it wasn’t a lie, either. 

“Alright, break time’s over,” called Lady Athena. “No more flirting.” Luke cleared his throat, getting ready to insist that he wasn’t flirting, before he realized that Lady Athen was looking at Flynn and another redheaded girl, who were chatting animatedly, both blushing. He sighed in relief. 

As he went back to sparring with Reggie, zoned out but fighting just as well as he was before, maybe even better, he pondered Julie’s abilities. How did she manage to be so beautiful, so graceful, and yet so kind and badass? It shouldn’t have been possible for any one human to do that all, much less a teenage girl who was already juggling the responsibilities of being a princess. 

Julie was, Luke realized, even more incredible than he’d ever thought possible.

…

All throughout the dinner, he was trying not to stare at Julie. Her dress was absolutely gorgeous, and the way she flitted around the room like a butterfly was absolutely ethereal. Tie that with the diamonds sewn into her navy blue dress that looked like fading stars and twinkled in the light, and she looked like she was wrapped in starlight. He knew it was appropriate for that star of a woman, but still, he thought it should’ve been illegal for anyone to have that effect on him. 

His cheeks were red, and he stared at his plate, inhaling the scent of roast beef and mashed potatoes, along with the aroma of warm bread from his appetizer. 

Even with the cool air of Dahlia and his thin shirt and suit vest, he was still sweating. He was absolutely gone for a girl he’d only had one conversation with, a girl he’d only known for a maximum of five hours. 

A girl who his best friend was being forced to marry. 

That was the worst part of all of this. His best friend, who would never be in love with Julie no matter how good of friends they were, had to marry her because of goddamn international relations, and there was nothing he could do about it. And, a selfish part of him thought, it means you never had a chance. He shoved the thoughts out of his head, hating the lingering ache they left in his heart. 

Not that he would’ve ever had a chance anyway. She was a beautiful, badass princess, and he was just a guard she didn’t even know. 

-----

Reggie POV

...

As soon as the plane landed on the runway behind the palace, Reggie smiled at Julie, letting go of her hand as she readied herself.

He understood her worry. No matter how close you are with someone, being set to marry them - especially when you didn’t want to - was daunting. Of course, he’d never been through the same thing, but he was always an empathetic person, and he could practically feel his own sister’s worry and ache.

He saw Prince Alexander walking to the gardens, and smiled when Julie broke into a grin, running to him. He twirled rose petals between his fingers, letting out a small laugh when she jumped into Alex’s arms. He didn’t want to seem like a helicopter brother, though, so he went back inside, leaving Jules with Prince Alexander. 

When he stepped inside, he nearly ran into Ray.

“Whoa, sorry!” Ray laughed. 

“You’re perfectly fine, mijo. Everything okay?” Reggie sighed.

“I’m just worried for Julie. I’ve never really gotten to know Prince Alexander, and-”

“I’ll stop you there,” Ray said. “Believe me, I know what you mean, and if I could stop it without huge consequences, I would. But Alex isn’t someone you need to worry about. That boy is one of the sweetest, kindest people I’ve ever met,” he assured him. “And while I know neither of them want to get married, I know that they’re both mature, and good friends.”

“Thanks,” Reggie sighed. “I just wish I could get her out of it, you know? I mean, that’s my little sister.”

“I understand,” the king agreed. “But unfortunately, there isn’t anything to be done other than let Alex settle in.” Reggie nodded glumly. “Hey, wasn’t there a progression you wanted to show me? On your bass?” Ray clarified. Reggie immediately lit up. 

“Yeah! Julie and I have been working on a song called Icarus, and she’s got a killer piano melody worked out. I went off of some of her chords and found a super cool progression on my bass that adds a really nice line underneath hers, and it sounds-” he did the chef’s kiss thing with his hand- “divine.”

“Alright, well now I’ve gotta see it!” Reggie’s grin lit up even more and he ran to his room, followed by Ray, who was jogging behind him. 

Reggie’s room was huge, the walls painted dark blue. He’d always found the color soothing. He snatched his red and white bass guitar from its stand, spinning on his heel as he ducked under the strap, letting it settle by his waist. 

When Ray met him there, Reggie grinned, plucking the strings animatedly until he remembered the notes. He didn’t bother grabbing his phone to try and find them from wherever he’d written them down in the endless scrolling of his notes app. Soon, though, his chaotic ADHD brain remembered, and he began excitedly plucking specific notes in a rhythmic pattern, his fingers stretching to reach each fret as he hopped from the E string to A, then G back to E and D. He smiled even brighter when he saw Ray grinning and tapping his foot to the beat.

“So, it kinda just goes like that, until we get to the chorus. Then, I come in with a little…” he slid his finger down the string, letting the note slide down before he hopped back into the rhythm, the same notes as before, but ordered differently, giving a new feel to the music. 

He hopped around, spinning as he played his bass, humming the lyrics under his breath.

“That sounds super cool, mijo!” Ray exclaimed, one eyebrow furrowed, as was custom for him whenever he was excited. Reggie hopped up and down happily, fixing the cuff of one of his sleeves. 

“Thanks! Julie and I are gonna try to record it. I’m trying to learn how to play the drums, to add a steady beat, but I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it soon.” Reggie beamed. “I’m so sorry, mijo, I have to go. I’d love to hear more later or tomorrow, though!”

“Okay,” Reggie said. “Bye!” He continued playing marking down cool progressions he found, and just hopping around to get out his wiggles. 

…

At the self-defense class, he sparred with Lady Athena. Sometimes he would spar with Julie or Flynn, but even though she was no doubt better at fighting, he was also bigger, and she was paired with Flynn. 

Lady Athena was amazing at fighting, and Reggie got his ass kicked most of the time, but he was able to win a couple rounds, which he was quite proud of. Lady Athena complimented his form, and he had no doubt that he would be gathering serotonin from that compliment for weeks. Even then, though, he got plenty from seeing his badass little sister master her insane breakdance-style move, with which she completely demolished Flynn in a few seconds. His chest swelled with pride when she won.

Soon, though, a man named Luke entered the studio, and Reggie definitely didn’t miss Julie’s blush when she looked at him. She might’ve been supposed to marry Alex, but it wasn’t like either of them wanted it. Plus, he was always down for a little treason, especially if it was with Julie. 

Lady Athena paired Luke with Reggie, perfect timing for her to go check on some of the other people in the arena. 

“Hey, I’m Luke,” the man introduced with a smile. Reggie gave his trademark grin.

“Reggie!” He outstretched his hand, and Luke shook it. 

“Nice to meet you! So, do we just… fight?” Luke asked. “I’m not sure how this is run here compared to in Tambor.” Reggie laughed. He’d never sparred with anyone from Tambor before, so this would be fun.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You good at hand-to-hand?”

“I’m not bad, but I’m no expert.” Reggie followed his gaze as it shifted over to Julie. “Is she always that much of a badass?” He asked, clearly in awe.

“Pretty much,” Reggie replied with a laugh, grinning at Luke’s blush.

Simp.

“Good to know. In that case, if I introduce myself to her, how scared should I be?” Luke was fiddling with the hem of his shirt by that point. 

“Oh, don’t worry!” Reggie assured him. “She’s actually really nice. I’ve known her since she was eight,” he explained.

“Alrighty then,” he said, hopping into a fighting stance. “Let’s get cracking.” Reggie grinned and reciprocated, taking the first strike. 

The first thing he learned was that Luke was very opportunistic in his fighting style. He went for nearly every possible blow, even if it meant leaving himself vulnerable. Reggie, of course, took advantage of this. He had to make sure his new friend (and sister’s possible future treasonous boyfriend) knew he could protect people. 

Luke pouted, and Reggie couldn’t help but admit that he had adorable puppy eyes. 

He helped him up, laughing. A few more sparring rounds passed, and Luke turned out to be quite adaptable. He found ways to get past Reggie’s blocks, and even put some up himself. Soon, they were evenly matched, and Reggie was impressed. Although, he soon found that he could get in another blow by telling a horrible joke, then striking when Luke laughed.

He thought it was pretty genius.

…

The dinner was rather uneventful. He did, however, get to meet Prince Alexander, which he was very happy about - even more so now that he was confident in Ray’s assurance that he was a good person. They’d chatted about politics and whatnot, before both admitting that they were bored. Somehow, the conversation strayed to music.

“No way, you play the drums?” Reggie asked excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’m no good.”

“Yeah, I do! You said you play bass?”

“Yep!” He beamed, making a mental note to ask if he wanted to see, sometime later.

“That’s awesome, dude.”

“Thanks!” 

They talked for a little while longer, before Alex was pulled away to talk to some other Dahlian nobleman whose name Reggie kept forgetting. Plus, Alex seemed tired; unsurprising, given the long day he must’ve had. 

Reggie eventually settled down and ran through his thoughts.

He knew he couldn’t protect Julie, not like he wanted to. Plus, she didn’t need protecting, he’d come to realize after Luke’s “badass” comment at the training arena. Julie Molina wasn’t just a badass in self-defense, she was also a badass in every other sense of the word. She was a teenage girl, the heiress to the Dahlian throne, juggling her academic lessons and royal lessons, along with making time for her friends, free time, and she managed to (usually) get enough sleep. She was a complete badass who didn’t need protecting. 

She needed support, instead. That was something Reggie could do. He could be by her side every step of the way, no matter how hard it got. He was her brother, and he loved her more than life itself, loved every crooked smile, every curl of hair, every eye roll after one of his famously bad jokes. She didn’t deserve any of this, but by God, he’d do his best to make it bearable for her. 

-----

Willie POV

...

After lunch, the burn on Willie’s hand had calmed. Rather than the angry red mark it was earlier, it had shrunk into an annoyed red streak. Still a nuisance, but he didn’t really care.

As Willie whipped the mousse, his mind strayed to Prince Alexander. 

What was he like? Was he as cute in person as he was in photos? Probably, Willie decided. Photos never fully captured someone’s beauty unless they knew what they were looking for, and that was always more of an emotion. Photojournalists aimed for lighting and composition. There were always emotion in the photos, yes, but they never actually got to see the people in the photo. 

He wondered if he would get to meet him. Would it go well? Would he like the bread he’d so carefully baked? Would he enjoy the mousse cake he was whipping up right now? All of these questions whirled around in Willie’s brain as he whipped the mousse, letting it become airy and fluffy. Sprinkles of cocoa powder dusted the counter next to his mixing bowl, but it was fine. It would all get wiped up later. 

He grabbed a tub of fine cinnamon, sprinkling in a pinch for a little bit of kick. It was barely noticeable, but it gave the mousse an extra depth that it normally would’ve lacked. He’d never told anyone his secret, despite prying from Lilian. 

Sprinkling in a tiny bit more to account for the large batch, his thoughts wandered again.

How was Princess Julie dealing with all of this? Willie had never had a real conversation with her, but she seemed to be very well put-together. She managed everything so well, at least from the outside. Though he knew better than anyone that, no matter how organized someone may seem, there’s always a storm underneath. 

Willie finished up, putting plastic wrap over the mousse and sticking it in the giant refrigerator, before taking off his apron, washing his hands, and heading for the door.

“Willie?” Called Alyssa from behind him. He turned around, walking backwards. 

“Yeah? I’m just going on break.”

“Did you finish making the mousse?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Alyssa,” he said, walking out the door. The mousse is in the refrigerator-” 

WHAM. 

Willie let out a slight “oof” as he ran into the person in the hallway.

He stumbled, catching himself before he fell, though not as gracefully as he would’ve liked. He’d fared better than the other person, though. 

“Whoa!” The man said.

“Agh, sorry, I really need to watch where I’m-” Willie cut himself off, his cheeks flushing as he realized he’d just ran into Prince Alexander.

Well, so much for making a good impression.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, your highness.” He scrambled into a bow, and blushed. 

“No, you’re good, bro.” Willie was taken aback by the casual response, but he wasn’t complaining. 

Willie finally got a good look at him, and wasn’t at all surprised when he found that he was even more stunning in person.Of course, it made it a whole lot harder to hide his gay panic.

He had blonde hair that was expertly styled, and a crisp, blue suit vest with minimalistic gold embroidery that brought out flecks of blue in his eyes and highlights in his hair. His muscles were defined and visible through the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and even when he was frazzled after just having been knocked over, he still looked as handsome as ever.

“Are you okay?” Willie asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine, yeah. Thanks. Just trying to clear my head. Until you, you know, tried to crack it open.” Willie couldn’t help himself from laughing, and dearly hoped it wasn’t the wrong move. But the prince had a small smile on his face and pink dusting his cheeks, so he had a feeling it was okay.

“I did pancake you, huh?” He tried to laugh, and Willie nervously cleared his throat. “Sorry. Oh, uh, I’m Willie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Willie outstretched his hand, delighted when the other man shook it. “Alex,” he greeted, still blushing a little bit, which could be chalked up to the embarrassment of being plowed over. Willie was worried things would get awkward soon, so he searched for an excuse, hating that he had to leave.

“Well, I’d better make sure we’re clear to bring up dessert,” he said. “But I���ll see you around, your royal pancakeness,” Willie added with a grin, spinning on his heel and going back to the kitchens, hoping Alex hadn’t noticed his internal gay panic.

…

“Well, that was a quick break,” Alyssa pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” Willie agreed, not fully listening. 

He’d fucking pancaked the prince. Prince Alexander Mercer of Tambor. And Willie, despite his constant hoping for a good impression, ran him over because he wasn’t even watching where he was going. 

How the hell was he such a mess? And even more, how would he ever be accepted by literal royalty who was way too cute to even exist? 

Willie shook his head, letting his hair fall over his shoulders, ignoring the feeling of Alyssa’s eyes on him as he walked into the giant refrigerated room, grabbing the huge bowl of chocolate mousse and scooping it into a piping bag, grabbing some of the chilled cakes.

His hands were steady and meticulous as he gently piped the mousse onto the cakes, making a thick layer on top of each, then lifting into a swirl that peaked in the center, adorning each cake with a bit of wafer and chocolate. He set each one on a tray, waiting for Alyssa to pick it up. Plating was her specialty, because according to Lilian, any time Willie did plating, it ended up “chaotic” and “messy” and “unorthodox.” Personally, he thought it was cool. But, not everyone could have taste, he supposed. 

…

Later that night, as he wandered into his small room in the chefs’ quarters, laying down on the soft bed, his mind wandered to Alex. Despite constantly being on the news, he was a mystery, an enigma, a puzzle Willie had the urge to solve. What were his interests? His desires? His hopes, his dreams? 

Of course, he would never be able to act on his feelings about the prince, how adorably awkward he was, how gorgeous he was in any outfit, no matter the style, how even in one simple conversation, Willie had become so enamoured that he wanted to know everything about him. Not in a creepy way, of course, but in the way one wishes to know someone they’ve just met, who intrigues them to no end. 

That night, his dreams were haunted by a familiar face, a shy smile, and a piercing set of bluish eyes.