#the actual hat part is almost finished so i’m like. halfway done with the entire thing

[bettermcn]

frog hat update 🐸

[roger-that-cap]

what a lovely dream it is

english major!wanda x english major!fem!reader

summary: who would have thought that wanda, the self proclaimed queen of reading science fiction, would be just as obsessed with shakespeare as you? 

warnings: one use of the word “su*cide”. shakespeare. nerds quoting lines. bad writing. (i challenged myself into writing this in an hour and a half). cringey writing (there is a difference)

word count: 4k!

You and Wanda connected at first because you two spoke the same language from different regions. It felt like she spoke British English, and you spoke American English. You were on the same wavelength but not exactly the same individual wave, but it was as close as you had ever gotten with someone who you deemed worth your time. 

While everyone else was partying or drinking until they threw up or flaunting around bags with white powder in them, you sat with your back to the wall after studying, reading a classic, knowing that the change of her leaning against the same wall and doing the exact same thing you were was high. 

You met her in the library, on your third day at your university. You were trying to find your group of authors, your little nook where you would feel the safest in the entire school. You had stumbled right into the fantasy section, looked around for a second, and then tripped over a brown boot that was just at the start of the science fiction shelf. 

“I’m so sorry,” a woman’s voice murmured, and you just shook your head and said that it was okay, much more interested in the way that your hands suffered from the fall on the carpet than the girl. Until you looked up. 

It was everything about her that stunned you. The brown hair, the flush of her cheeks, the apologetic look in her pale blue eyes that caressed her features to sit in one beautiful and genuine expression. The moment your eyes landed on her, you swore that your heart stopped and started in the same second, and then took a run for it with all of the parts of your brain that you needed to make a coherent thought. 

 You promised yourself in that moment that you would never forget the way the woman in front of you looked. And despite seeing hundreds of more faces throughout your self-tour, you never truly did forget it. If you didn’t know any better, if you were perhaps any younger and less exposed to the cruelty of the world and fate and its way of not giving you what you wanted, you would have been certain that the universe had finally given you the contemporary meet cute that you yearned for. 

But then, you saw which aisle she was in. You looked at the books and recognized the authors just to be sure, and then you turned to look at her. “You’re into science fiction?” 

 Her apologetic look fell completely into a look of pure surprise, and then excitement, almost as if she thought that she found someone else who liked the genre she did. “Well, it’s the best genre that was ever written.” 

  “Wow, how wrong,” you found yourself saying, and somehow, you knew that the look of offense on her face was all for fun. “It’s definitely gothic literature.” The look she gave you was one that you would never forget. 

  A week later, you ran into her in the cafeteria, holding a copy of The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, your beat up one from home that you would put your life on the line for. The cover was torn up a bit and the pages were dog eared, from a time where you hadn’t discovered the way that bookmarks changed lives. It was the copy your cousin got you, and it was your favorite gift to date. 

  She was holding The Martian Chronicles. You nearly gagged. 

At first, you thought she hadn’t seen you, or hadn’t recognized you, which was even worse. You sighed under your breath and said, “at least it’s not Nineteen Eighty Four,” and watched in complete horror as she turned around. 

She locked eyes with you immediately, and her own eyes widened when she saw you, and then she grinned when she undoubtedly recognized you and your disdain for science fiction. “No, it’s even better than Nineteen Eighty Four.” 

“Anything is better than that,” you said, swallowing down your nerves at speaking to the girl again, kicking yourself for being so nervous despite not even knowing her name. 

She gave you that same “offended” look she gave you during your first interaction, and you cracked a small smile. “Um, don’t you voluntarily go into the gothic section?” 

The smile dropped. “The most valid section in the library? Sure do.” 

She smiled too, a genuine grin as she took a step forward and extended her hand. For a second, you just looked at it, the calmness that came with the discussion of literature suddenly washed away so far back into your mind that you panicked for a moment, not reaching for her hand until you saw it shake in just the slightest, like she was regretting even doing it. 

You nearly bumped your elbow on the table trying to stand up and shake her hand. Your hands connected and you grinned so wide it felt like your face had split open. You told her your name and she repeated it to make sure she had heard you loud and clear, and then, she smiled even brighter. 

“Nice to meet you, Dracula. I’m Wanda.” And that was where it started. 

As your library meetups started to become more intentional than not, you learned that not only was Wanda a student that stayed in the dorms, but the student who was next door to you. You learned that she pretty much kept to herself for the most part besides a few other people at the university, and that she kept a small circle. You learned that her favorite book was Brave New World. You learned that she would rather shy away from classic romance novels, even though you didn’t mind them, and that she hated gothic literature. You loved it. Your favorite book was The Picture of Dorian Gray, for god's sake. So, you hated each other’s favorite genres. 

  But you both loved symbolism. And you were both English majors. And for some very odd, very coincidental reason, you both met in what was nowhere near the middle- Shakespearean plays. 

  Now, that was something that you were always made fun of for as a child. No one wanted to hang out with the girl who quoted Shakespeare, especially if it wasn’t even from Romeo and Juliet. Reading normal books just made you look “smart”, but you knew that genuinely enjoying plays would make you look pretentious. So you had always kept it to yourself when you left your hometown. Until Wanda came along. 

Wanda came along, and suddenly, you found yourself quoting tragedies and getting the correct response back. Sometimes, she would even start it first. You would do nerdy things like halfway reenact scenes because even you guys weren’t that nerdy… you supposed. 

One morning, you and Wanda were in a study group (that was hardly productive because it was just Wanda’s little circle that was actually astoundingly close), and she looked over your shoulder to see your computer, where you were hardly typing an essay about the importance of the establishment of places for higher education. She put her chin against your shoulder, sat there for a minute, and then turned her head to whisper in your ear, “nothing will come of nothing.” It was embarrassing, the way your eyes lit up at hearing her voice, and even more so when Natasha, Wanda’s extremely perceptive friend, picked up on what you were feeling. The red head shot you the widest grin ever known to man. 

“C’mere, Frankenstein,” Wanda said one night, already looking over at you while you tried to finish your work for the day.

You held back the smile on your face as you sat on your bed, one leg over it while you typed. “I’m right here.” 

“No, here,” she emphasized, and then she was patting the spot on the small couch in your room, the same look in her eyes that always came with when she asked for any kind of physical contact. 

  That was by far the worst thing about Wanda, and it hardly had anything to do with her. She was touch starved, and touch was your love language. Her asking you to hold her on the couch used to mean nothing to you, because at one point, you just thought she was pretty. But now, holding her hand on top of the table while you both were submerged in your respective worlds felt like a promise ring. Letting her rest her head on your shoulder and in your neck felt like giving your vulnerability over to her, and feeling her hand rub against your back felt like she was taking it and guarding it. But you knew she didn’t feel the same way, not at all. 

She was straight. 

But it did you no good when she quoted back some of your favorite lines. It didn’t help when she said all of the romantic lines towards you at the drop of a hat, almost like she didn’t even realize what she was saying. She didn’t understand the way your heart died and was revived every time she said something like that, something that was so dear and vulnerable to you. And she certainly never would, because you would never tell her. 

Now that you thought about it, allowing yourself to fall for her was the dumbest and most destructive thing you could have ever done. The first bookworm who didn’t make fun of you for your knowledge and love of old plays was the one that took hold of your heart, and now you were paying for being such an idiot. Now you would have to sit through three more years of school with her being your friend, just your friend, while you pined over her. It was going to be hell.  

And was it. You had to sit through her saying the most romantic of Shakespearean quotes every day and act like she wasn’t making your heart shake. You had to listen to her speaking the language that you two shared and pretend that you just wanted to be her friend. You were so attached to her and everything that you two had established together, and you couldn’t ruin it by giving her googly eyes. She was way too important for that. Because now, she was way more than a person who you could talk to about old plays. She was the person that you could talk to about anything, without a doubt. Anything but the intense crush that you were harboring for her, and the way that she made your heart sing and your soul ascend whenever you smelled her perfume or saw her smile. Anything but that. 

§§

 “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” You looked up from your book only to see Wanda looking over at you, lying down on the blanket and just watching you. You swore later on when you were alone that you imagined it, but for a moment you could have sworn that you saw a flash of adoration in her eyes. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” 

You were choking on the inside. Your face was blank, but your mind was going haywire, and you couldn't think of anhytnign besides holding back the urge to say something that you had no chance of taking back. “You’re in a sonnet mood today, aren’t you?” 

“And what mood are you in today, Jekyll?” 

“I’m in the mood to finish this book,” you teased, and she rolled her eyes. 

“What if I’m in the mood to sit and watch a movie?” 

“Then you should do it,” you said, going the way your heart clenched at the thought of her cutting your friendly outing short. “I’ll follow you in an hour or two.”

She gave you a look. “You know I don’t go anywhere without you.”  

“You can go watch a movie, Wands.” You sighed out, closing your book and wedging your pointer finger between the pages so that you wouldn't get lost. 

 “I’ll wait,” she said, and you shook your head at her. 

“I don’t want to hold you back from getting in time with your favorite sci fi movies.”

“Can I go forward when my heart is here?”  

You were hit with such a wave of longing that you had to shut your eyes for a moment, but it looked like it was simply a long blink. “You’re so cheesy.” 

“I want to hear one,” Wanda said, leaning on her elbows as she stared up at you, and your heart pounded. She looked celestial, glowing under the sunlight with growing grass around her and a sweet smile budding on her face. “You never quote any back to me anymore, you know?” 

You knew, for sure. It was on purpose that you didn’t quote back. If you were to continue the conversation in romantic quotes, it was going to feel way too real to you. You could handle Wanda and her touches, but you were not going to be able to handle quoting Romeo and Juliet to her. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled softly, and then you heard her make a sound with her tongue, a displeased clicking noise.

  You looked up at her and lost your breath again, and your mental footing. There she was, looking up at you with her pretty eyes, giving you a look more intense than she had ever given you before. She was… it was almost like she was waiting for something, like she knew something. She was staring up at you and leaning on her hand in a way that was so oddly domestic in your mind, and you could almost see in your mind the way that she would do that if you woke up in the same bed, like she was waiting for you to wake up and trying to memorize your face. It made you warm on the inside, and just like she always managed to do, your brain turned to mush. 

“Conscience doth make cowards of us all,” you blurt, and you saw her brows pull in for a second. You blinked. 

  “Huh?” 

You were panicking on the inside. There were plenty of ways that she could have taken the quote that you had chosen, but you knew exactly what it sounded like. A half assed love confession. “You know, from Hamlet,” 

“Of course I know it’s from Hamlet, Jekyll.” She shook her head at you and sat up, crossing her legs without breaking eye contact. “But why that quote? You know so many, and you chose the one about death.” 

Unfortunately, it’s death by silence in this context, not by swords. “You said you wanted to hear a line,” you said, shrugging as you opened your book, trying to get rid of the embarrassment that you knew would stick to you for hours and hours. 

 “What a line,” she said, and then she rolled over to look up at the sky. Minutes later, you heard her sigh. “What a line.” 

§§

Romeo + Juliet was a classic for your movie night. At first, Wanda showed it to you after you boycotted it for years, despite your male celebrity crush being one of the main characters in it. You had always avoided watching because of the modernism, but one Wanda made you sit down and watch it, you actually found good things about it. For instance, the party scene. 

  “It was done wonderfully,” Wanda would always say from beside you after your extremely predictable comment of the scene being a masterpiece. 

Like always, there were a few moments of silence as you two watched the movie together, shoulder to shoulder on the small couch in your dorm while your roommate was off getting high. You watched the rest of it in near silence, halfway focused on the movie while the other part of your mind was split in two; feeling blessed that Wanda was even there with you, soclose, and feeling cursed that she was so close but so far. It was the perfect moment to hold her close like you wanted to so badly, but the timing wasn’t right. And that killed you. 

“Do you ever think about how they fell in love so fast?” Wanda asked, and you shrugged your shoulders. “I’d say that they were encroaching on soulmate territory.” 

“Soulmates, or foolish teenagers?” 

“I hardly know of any teenagers who would die for each other, even if they thought they were in love,” Wanda pointed out, and you rolled your eyes at her. “Don’t give me that face. I’m right, and you know it.” 

“I’ll always let you believe it, sci fi.” 

“But, really, don’t you ever want something like that?” 

You turned your face from the screen and looked at her incredulously, like she had gone mad while completing the process of growing three heads. “A suicide pact?” 

She groaned and threw her head back. “No. A love like that. Take away the death and violence, and look at what they had.” 

“It bloomed too quickly to have much potential later in life,” you countered. “That was infatuation, and that never lasts long.”

“You think that they both died for infatuation?”

“I think that they were young, and it’s hard to tell the difference between love and infatuation at any age, let alone as a teenager. I think they thought they loved each other to the ends of the earth, but I guess they’ll never know.” 

“You’re so cynical. Just like a person whose favorite is gothic literature.” You laughed, leaning forward towards her without even noticing what you were doing. “Do you believe in love?” 

“Of course I do,” you answered, giving her a look. “I’m just saying, Romeo and Juliet were not in true love. They were confused.” 

Then, the playful air that the conversation was flowing on changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash and your heart started racing. The way Wanda was looking at you sent a chill down your spine, and in that moment, you were worried. “Are you confused?” 

You took in a breath. “About what?” 

“About anything,” she said slowly, almost like she felt like she was walking on thin ice with skates on. “Books, people, love, food, sexuality,” she ignored the way that you choked, “writing a paper, how to get  a strike in bowling. Or how to realize that Romeo and Juliet were definitely in love.” 

“You’re so intent on proving that they were to me,” you said, a laugh bubbling over and into your words. “Why are you suddenly so passionate about them now?” 

“The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.” 

Your heart jumped out of your chest again, and your hands clenched into weak  fists as you tried to will yourself into not assuming that she was talking about you. And then, white hot panic struck you at the thought of her being in love with someone else. “Speak low if you speak of love.” 

“Why should I?” Wands asked, shifting from her position on the couch to put a hand under her chin and watch you, her kind eyes afire with something that you had yet to see in them yet. “Really, Jekyll. Why?”

You hardly waited a full second before responding as truthfully as you ever would. “I’m afraid.” Before she could get a word in, you shook your head and finally loosened your lips, letting all of your worries and fears slide right through your teeth. “I’m afraid that I’ve fallen in love with someone who can never love me back. I’m scared to admit that I’ve been in love with you for a long time.  I’m afraid that you aren’t into girls.” You saw her make a face, almost like she couldn't believe that you were even suggesting the things that you were. “I don’t quote Shakespeare to you anymore because it feels too real to have you say lines like that back to me. I think that I’ve latched onto you without even meaning to, and now I don’t know if I can ever let you go.” 

Wanda was silent. She was watching you, as quietly as the sun hovered over the earth while she shone her light. Your heart had never beat so fast before as you watched her watch you with a face so blank that you were sure that she hadn’t retained a damn thing that you pulled from the depths of your heart. Then, the daunting thought that she had heard and understood everything but chose not to act swallowed you whole, and your hands started to shake. You gave a humorless laugh and finally looked away from the woman who had raised your spirits and crushed them all within five minutes. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?” 

“I’m so sorry.” You repeated, shaking your head and closing your eyes for a second as hot tears burned in them. When they opened, a fat tear sappetered onto your hand. I’m such an idiot. You looked to the screen, and then saw Romeo screaming, on the ground, and you could hear the words even though your ears were rushing with blood. I defy you, stars. “You don't have to say anything back, I know you don’t feel the same.” Your eyes pulled away from the screen. “I can leave- wait, um, this is my dorm. I-” 

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” Wanda started slowly, and your brows furrowed as you heard the words fall from her lips. Fuck. You knew what this ended with, and still, you couldn’t wrap your head around it. “Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.”

Your eyes were wide by the end of it, watery and fixed on her. “W-what?” 

“How could you not have known?” Wanda asked softly, and you but your lip to stop from bursting into tears. 

“I thought you were straight!” You accused, and to your surprise, she laughed. 

“No, sweetheart.” Your heart stuttered. “I’m not.” 

Your breathing was still slightly heavy as you tried to get a  grip on everything that was happening. “You… you feel the same way?” 

“Of course I do, Jekyll.” She said, and you found yourself falling for her expressive eyes all over again as she stared up at you.  You reached your hand out experimentally, like she did the second time you ever met, and you waited that torturous moment for her to take your hand in a way that was much different than all the other times you shared a touch. This touch was the moment of truth.

She took your hand, kissed your knuckles, and put your palm on her cheek. 

“The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.” 

“This can’t be anything but a dream,” you murmured, feeling her cheek in your hand and the way they were warm and flushed. The softness was bringing you in and out of your head, and every time you went back to reality, you were thrusted into a little sliver of paradise. 

“Well, what a lovely dream it is, then.” Her lips found yours. The movie played on, the clock kept its incessant ticking, and your leg was starting to tingle from sitting on it in the same position for so long. But to you, time absolutely stopped. And as long as a particular science fiction nerd was in front of you, nothing that ticked or clicked or buzzed was ever going to matter. 

*******

i said i wasn’t going to post this, but i did it anyway!! hope you guys enjoyed this fic!! it was a lot of fun to write but it also made me mad nervous LMAO let’s hope this wasn’t absolute dogshit

@teenwonder i know you said you wanted a tag on my stuff so here it is, love!! 💕💕

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 3

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

← Previous || Index || Next →

No one would imagine that a single drop could be the start of something so big. However, it would earn itself great meaning after a while passed. Should it continue pouring, it could also summon boundless blessings and curses.

Love was almost like rain.

   The Journey and the Auto-Memories Doll

   That one was a rain of betrayal.

It started with a calm morning, the sky unfolding without any hints of being enshrouded in dark clouds. Regardless, it did not take too long for the capricious rain brought by the heavens to turn into a downpour rarely seen in recent years.

There was no longer any sign of the rain that had started to fall like gentle kisses from paradise on the black hats of gentlemen walking around town, over the backs of cats dozing under the sun or onto the cheeks of children who opened their mouths and burst into laughter. The current season was the end of summer, and it was raining for the first in a long while in Leidenschaftlich, where the skies were constantly clear in summer, but had the god that controlled weather gone crazy? With time, as if a bucket had turned over, the city was hit by a flood.

This story is about an uneventful day, which did nothing but pass, in the lives of people who worked at a certain postal company.

   The rain and wind struck the entire building as if attacking it. The doorbell rang loudly because of this, a man standing in place and staring at it with unease.

Creak-creak, the door moved. Ring-ring, the bell resounded. Since it was ringing despite there being no customers, he had become concerned and found himself coming down from his residence in the top floor.

In the previous year, the building had been shot with rocket artillery, and not only had it earned an enormous hole but a fire had also occurred – however, thanks to the quick skills of workmen, the hole was now closed and the walls had been neatly rebuilt.

The man was a stylish redhead. He was the president of this company, which he had named after himself.

Claudia Hodgins had been left all alone in the empty postal office. Still, it was normal for him to be there, as it was both his home and workplace. However, since he was by himself at a time that would usually still be within business hours, no matter what, he looked like he had been abandoned.

The postal office had been in great turmoil because of the storm. Surely, so had its peers. With the deliveries stagnated, complaints were coming from the clients. Nevertheless, the transportation was not carried out by machines devoid of feelings. It was something done by humans, who had been given birth to by someone and who had families waiting for them when they returned home. In lieu of the unpreceded disaster, as the president, he had notified all employees that business would be closed for today.

To begin with, the customers had stopped coming in the middle of the day. If he had to say so himself, this might be the expected. Deliberately going outside amidst such strong wind and torrential rain was an act of sheer madness.

Curious about what was going on outside, Hodgins had approached the entrance from the side. He felt like attempting to open the large doors just a little. He wanted to see how inundated the ground was. Just when he slow and carefully reached a hand towards it, the door opened with force despite him not doing anything.

“Ow...!”

“Oh, my bad. More importantly, we’re screwed; it’s just impossible, Old Man!”

Hodgins was teary-eyed as his precious nose took a hit. He was lightheaded for an instant due to the pain, but soon regained consciousness. After all, one of his employees had come back dripping-wet. Hodgins pulled him – whole body wrapped in rain gear – by the arm, bringing him inside and closing the door. Although it was only open for a few seconds, the entrance was already drenched.

The visitor took off the hood over his head, allowing his face to be seen. He was a splendidly handsome and fine man of sky-blue eyes and sandy-blond hair.

“Benedict...!”

Benedict Blue. One of the postal company’s postmen, who had been working in it ever since its founding.

“It’s impossible – actually, it’s absurd! Working under this rain is absurd! I look like I’m in the bath already. I wouldn’t have come here if I weren’t soaked... Making the staff pull out was the right choice,” Benedict said as if angry-yelling, shaking his head in the same way that a dog or cat would and splattering water splashes at Hodgins.

This wetted most of Hodgins’s shirt and face, but he was unable to reprimand his employee, who had been doing strenuous effort. He accepted it in resignation, wiping Benedict’s face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Okay, stay put.”

“Uoh, what’s with you? Stop.”

“Welcome home. I was worried. Good thing you’re all right.”

“O-Oh. What, hum... I’m back... You were worried about me?”

“Of course,” Hodgins said, to which Benedict turned away with an obviously embarrassed attitude after a moment of bewilderment.

Outside, vases and planters that may have been at the eaves of people’s houses, as well as shop signs, had been turning into weapons for a while now, dancing around the city along with the wind. Managing to come back unharmed and safely amidst this weather, where one could not know what would come flying their way, was something to be happy about.

“I’m just fine. This job’s easier than running around shooting guns. Anyway, I was left with the letters and packages of a guy who fell from his motorcycle and came back by myself. Was best to do that, right?”

“Aah, so someone got hurt?”

“That newbie, Clark. But he only scrapped his knees. He fell lots of times when he was learning how to ride, but for real, it’s surprisingly depressing when you fall off other than during practice. He was crying, y’see.”

“Aah~.”

Knowing who the person in question was, Hodgins pitied him. He was the youngest postman to join the company as of late. It was difficult to find human resources for postmen as they were quick to quit.

“He’s young, after all...”

“You call him young but... he’s already a grown man. I wonder if he ain’t lying to us about his age... I thought he was a baby or something.”

“You can’t compare him to a city boy fresh from the battlefield like yourself. I’m gonna get you a towel and a change of clothes now, so don’t move from there.”

“Why?”

“You’d wet the floor. Don’t tell me to go around cleaning up where you walked.”

“Clean it up,” he said while laughing, to which Hodgins’s shoulders slumped. He was a reliable companion, but also a young man who knew not how to show respect for his elders.

——Well, guess I’m a so-called doting parent for thinking that’s cute – no, doting boss.

Anyhow, they needed towels, Hodgins thought as he went back to his room. He grabbed a few large towels and held a pair of trousers and shirt that Benedict would apparently fit into under his arm. Then returned to the ground floor. By the time he did so, the number of people had increased.

“Uwah... Amazing, it’s like squeezing a rag.”

There were three more other than Benedict. If they were to be separated by types, one of them had evacuated after receiving a report of work, one had evacuated after finishing work, and one had been ordered to clock out, but all had come back halfway through, as their bodies were about to be blown off by the overwhelming storm.

“Please stop.” There was Violet Evergarden, whose golden hair was in Benedict’s grasp.

“Why? You said your hair was wet.”

“You just want to touch Violet’s hair, Benedict. Isn’t that right?” Lux Sibyl, who had given up on wiping her glasses and was glaring at the empty space.

“That’s not it. Don’t say weird stuff, Lux.”

“You knooow, my hair’s just as long as Violet’s.” And Cattleya Baudelaire, who scowled at Benedict with her arms crossed.

The members who had been there ever since the founding were Violet, Cattleya and Benedict, but Lux, having joined midway, was now a skillful secretary who covered up the schedule of the employees and president and moved them around like chess pieces. As the four people whose ages were close to each other’s came together, the conversation naturally livened up.

“You—You’re that kinda thing. If I touch you in a place like this, it’d be that kinda thing. This is our workplace, so there’s all that kinda thing. Morally speaking, it’s that kinda thing.”

“What do you mean ‘morally speaking’?!”

“I wish you wouldn’t say those things even if you think about them. Right, Violet?”

“‘Public morals’...? Benedict, what am I from your point of view?”

“V, you’re like a little sister to me... Aah, Old Man, gimme another towel.”

It was a terribly joyful thing that the company’s young aces had returned to it safe and sound.

“Everyone, don’t move from that spot no matter what. Hey, Cattleya! Don’t move!”

However, wiping all the water off the bodies of those four turned out to be a bone-breaking work.

   Out of kindness, Hodgins invited the four people who had gathered up at the postal company to his residence in the top floor.

The whole floor was his apartment, thus it was quite large. A family of five could live comfortably in it. The furnishings were arranged in wooden items and serene shades of dark brown and green. It was a relaxed, adult atmosphere, where was nothing particularly funny. It had a faint scent of the perfume that Hodgins always wore.

The invited four let out sighs of relief. The biggest reason for it, although there was also the fact that this was Hodgins’s apartment, was that they were able to escape the horrible situation outdoors. With the exception of Lux, three of them were tough enough to take part in the act of physically crushing other postal companies, but human beings could not win against natural disasters.

“Hey, what do we do? We can’t go home anymore, can we?”

“There’s nothing we can do. We got no choice but stay in Old Man’s place.”

“First time something like this happens, huh. But we’re all together, so... might be imprudent of me to say this, but... it’s a bit fun. Violet, are you worried about your home?”

“Yes, about the flowerbeds.”

“You should say ‘about the people back home’, V.”

“The two went on a trip, so they are away. I promised that I would take care of the flowers in their absence, which is why... I am worried about the flowerbeds. Besides, if that house were to be destroyed by this storm, this place would meet its end much sooner... We have little time left to live.”

“Don’t go from talking about your family to destroying the company, Little Violet. Hey, hey, everyone, you’ll catch a cold so get changed first. Put the towels in the laundry basket. Benedict, don’t throw the towels wherever!”

As told by Hodgins, the employees firstly decided to change their clothes.

Violet and Cattleya had just returned from a work trip of two days and one night, thus they had a change of nightclothes in their bags, but Benedict and Lux did not. Although there was a height difference between them, Hodgins had no issues with lending clothes to Benedict, who was also a man, but there was a need for careful selection when it came to Lux.

“Shirt... shirt, shirt; all I have is shirts.”

“Hum, President, I’m fine with anything.”

“Eeh... that okay?”

As a result, the boy and girl came into the scene wearing baggy clothes. Benedict looked almost the same as when he and Hodgins first met. When he was left to chance completely naked in a desert, he had borrowed a shirt and trousers just as he was doing now. He seemed pleased with it, however...

“Feels kinda naughty...”

...the problem was Lux.

“Benedict’s fine, but maybe it won’t do for Little Lux? Is this okay?” Hodgins asked everyone with a meek face.

They all had at last settled down, each seated in a place of their preference while sipping tea. The employees were relaxing as if they were in their own homes. Contrary to the peaceful state of the situation inside, there was still a sound of rain hitting the windows and a troubled noise of something colliding against the building outside.

“What is ‘okay’ supposed to mean?” Sitting on the sofa, Violet tilted her head. Being comfortably dressed in a dusty-pink nightwear gave her usually disciplined self a slightly soft and gentle air.

“Little Violet.”

“Yes.”

“Your nightgown is cute, huh.”

“The people from the household bought it for me. Well, what is ‘okay’ supposed to mean? Was there any problem?”

“Little Lux’s clothes.”

For whatever reason, they had the person in question standing in the center of the room. With everyone’s eyes on her, she seemed uneasy.

“Hum... why do I have to stand in the middle?”

“Little Lux, stay like that and don’t move.”

“All right.”

“What is wrong with Lux’s look? You mean to say it lacks adornment?”

“Why would that be the case, Little Violet?”

“You are the one who chooses attires for us Dolls and you have particularities regarding the clothing and accessories, so I concluded that you might deem the plain shirt as not enough.”

“No, no.” Hodgins flailed both hands. The things he was saying had a moral value to them, out of fear that her outfit was perhaps vulgar.

Benedict had dealt with it by securing her trousers with a belt, but as Lux had too thin a waist, the outcome was the belt falling off. In short, she was not wearing pants. Inevitably, she was dressed in nothing but a shirt. However, her short stature fortunately made it look like a shirt-dress.

As Hodgins explained his concern, everyone said, “I see.”

Showered with their stares more and more, Lux began to blush.

“It gives off a dangerous feeling when you think she ain’t wearing any, but on second thought, isn’t that the same for skirts? There’s actually an open hole in them, but it’s not visible, so they’re classified as clothes. No big deal, is it?” Benedict had been standing with his back against the wall just a moment ago, yet had suddenly drawn close to her and started examining her fixatedly.

“Don’t say ‘not wearing any’!”

“Well, I mean, you really ain’t wearing any... but that’s okay. No biggie. You’re probably not an option for Old Man, so no worries. Right?”

“That’s rude!”

“I’m saying you don’t need to worry about that kinda thing... Should I take mine off, then? I see; I’m fine with it. I’ll be the same as you. That all right? I’m gonna take it off.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” As Benedict put a hand to his belt while laughing, Lux repeatedly hit his chest with her fists to stop him. Lux was red up to her ears. “I can’t take this anymore! Violet! Take Benedict to over there!”

“Understood.”

“Owowowow, V, ouch, that’s not it; it was the Old Man who said weird stuff first. We’re friends, so I was showing that she doesn’t have to get hung up over something like...”

Caught in Violet’s arms, Benedict obediently sat on the sofa. Perhaps in order not to allow him to escape, she gripped his hands and sat next to him.

Cattleya cut through the silence, “The tea is delicious.” She was scattered over the bed. She must have been tired from returning from the Doll business trip. Her eyes were downcast. She might be sleepy.

“Cattleya, do you not have any comments to make? I want to hear lots of opinions.”

“Eeeh, me?” Cattleya joined the needless debate as if it were a bother. “Hmmm... if someone were making her wear this because it’s their taste, it’d be gross indeed, but there’s no other clothes for her... It’d also be horrible to leave her with just a towel wrap, so I think it’s valid. Speaking of which, President...”

“Hm?”

“You’re saying that even though you pick open-chested clothes for my Doll outfits? And the times you were choosing Doll attires for me, y’knooow, you were never so considerate to say ‘not this, not this either’ when discussing it with the people from the made-to-order store...”

Her manner of speech was somewhat thorny, but Hodgins did not make much out of it. “That’s because they look good on you.” Rather, he said decisively, with an earnest gaze and excessive confidence, “Because they look good on you. Is my judgement wrong?”

“E-Eh?” Being replied to so unapologetically, Cattleya’s reasoning jumbled up, to the point she found herself wondering if she was the one in the wrong.

The Doll outfit that Cattleya usually wore was composed mainly of a crimson dress-coat, so there was no mistaking that one could not wear it unless the person was remarkably stylish. In addition, there was also no doubt that it was lascivious. Whoever looked at her would find their line of sight momentarily going to her chest. Still, whoever looked at her would remember the woman named Cattleya Baudelaire at once.

“No... it’s not like your choices are wrong... but I only forgive you because you’re the boss. I was shocked when you first showed me that outfit! I didn’t use to wear something like that before.”

“Well, but y’see, an hourglass-shaped person looks more slender when the area around their collarbone is exposed, and it’s pretty.”

An evident question mark floated above Violet’s head at the unfamiliar word. Benedict pointed a finger at the tea set arranged on the nearby table. An hourglass used to measure the time it took to steam the tealeaves was lying there. Perhaps finding the similarity between it and a plump chest and dainty hips, Violet nodded as if convinced.

“You’ve got an hourglass-shaped figure with that slim waist, so I gave you a coat-dress that puts this on display. You can adjust it with the ribbon, so it’s not a pain, right? It has a wonderful line in mathematical terms, y’know? Plus, you also have a cheerful character, so it doesn’t look vulgar. That’s important. It means that outfit takes into consideration even the personality of the one wearing it. And the owner of that made-to-order store is famous not just in this country but abroad. The outfits of our Dolls are on a whole different level in comparison to other companies, aren’t they?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I don’t want to bring this up, but they’re very expensive.”

“Eh, I’m sorry. S-Should I pay you back? Either that or you can dock my salary...”

“No, you’re my Doll, after all. Nobody waters a flower to get money off it, right? It’s fine, Cattleya. Just stay pretty. It’s exactly because I have obsessions over clothes that I don’t want to make a girl look vulgar. And it’s exactly because I like girls that I want to have them shine wonderfully. That’s also why I have a few complaints about Little Lux’s usual plain clothes, though...”

“I don’t know why you decided to run a mail service, President, but I accept that passion of yours. I’ll wear those clothes with care. But, President, I’m doing my best, so I want a new outfit. A cute one.”

Listening to the conversation of the two in silence, perhaps tired of going along with her superior, Lux looked at Violet and Benedict’s direction with a gaze that quietly asked for help. There was a gap on the sofa that seemed enough for one person to sit. Having locked eyes with her, Violet told Benedict to scoot over after a brief moment and patted the open spot. Lux sat next to them, looking happy.

“Violet, what’re you drinking?” Lux peeked at the teacup that Violet was holding.

“I wonder. I took the tealeaves that were in the kitchen. I do not know what type of tea it is.”

“Darjeeling.”

“Benedict, how did you know?”

“‘Cause that guy likes Darjeeling. All the tea cans he has are nothing but that.”

“Guess I’m gonna drink that too; my body got cold from the long time under the rain.”

“Heeey, the three of you who ended the talk before we noticed! Listen to what I have to say.” Hodgins put his hands on his hips, pretending to be angry.

“We were deviating from the main subject. We deemed that it was not a necessary conversation and took action prioritizing Lux’s rest,” Violet expressed with a clear voice tone.

“Besides, this talk’s about bedroom wear, ain’t it?” Benedict added a two-fold retort. The blond, blue-eyed duo that looked like siblings stared at Hodgins with questioning eyes.

“Ugh, I comply with you two no matter what you say when you both look at me at the same time, so cut it out. But I’m not giving up. I think she needs one more article of clothing.”

“Hum... President, I’m okay with this. I’m already thankful that I could borrow your clothes. Besides, when you make such a big fuss about it, things that weren’t lewd in the first place start to seem lewd, so to say,” Lux said, wanting to end this topic as fast as possible.

“The solution has come to me. Wouldn’t it be best if I took the shirt and trousers and had Lux wear this nightgown?”

However, Violet wound up rewinding it.

——Violet!

Lux hit Violet repeatedly in her mind.

“Ah~, that’s right. If that’s the case, I can do it too. But maybe my nightgown is too big? It’s a negligee just like Violet’s. The shoulder length might be the problem for this one...”

“Old Man, you gonna die if you don’t obsess over the stuff we wear? You ain’t. Give up.”

“No way. Days like this one don’t come by. All five of us are trapped in the company and we can’t get out. You’ve got no choice but stay here in my house, right? We’re having the best of parties, a pajama party. I want it to be a good one. But I can’t enjoy it when I’m worrying over Little Lux’s clothes.”

Benedict contemplated a reply to Hodgins’s words for a few seconds, but soon stopped. He was probably tired. He looked Violet’s way and asked, “Hey, you not hungry? I’m gonna take a look at the kitchen.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” As Benedict stood up, Hodgins chased after him.

“Benedict’s gonna make something? Yay! You guys probably don’t know this, but he’s good at cooking.” Cattleya lined up behind them.

“I didn’t say I was gonna make anything, though... Well, if you’re hungry, I can do it.”

“I shall assist you.” Violet raised her arms, rolling up her sleeves. Her prosthetics made a creaking noise.

“V, you can cook?”

“To some extent. In the military, I used to make preparations for the cooking. Mrs. Evergarden... Lady Tiffany also trained me on it.

“M-Me too... I can peel the potatoes, and stuff.” Lux hastily went after everyone. In a trail, a big move to the kitchen began to take place.

“Lux. You don’t usually cook, do you? I can already tell by just that statement. I’ll teach you.”

“Most things get solved just by peeling the potatoes... Benedict, you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Am not, Potato Demigod.”

“Violet, Benedict insulted me!”

“Benedict.”

“Owowow! V—! Don’t poke my sides! A hit from those crazy-ass prosthetics of yours ain’t no cutesy way to poke anyone! It just hurts like it normally would!”

In the end, Hodgins was able to find a light feather-print sweater in his closet and gave it to Lux. As she put it on, with her short stature, its length became the same as that of a long cardigan, which Hodgins was awfully pleased with for how adorable it was.

   The madder-red sky was not visible at dusk, the outside morphing into evening with no changes in the rainy weather.

Benedict made a soup at random with the vegetables available in Hodgins’s kitchen, which had seasonings in abundance, while Violet and Cattleya supplied it with cookies that they had brought back as souvenirs from their ghostwriting business trip. Lux brought over small candy marbles that she kept stored in her desk at the company, and Benedict, instructed by Hodgins, reluctantly took an expensive bottle hidden on the liquor shelf of the latter’s room.

“Hey, let’s rummage through the desks of everyone in the company. There are probably gonna be other ingredients in them.”

“If it’s Mr. Anthony’s desk, I think there’s definitely something in it. Mr. Anthony always gives me sweets... We’re in a state of emergency so I’m sure he’ll forgive us for it.”

“There were sweets in the reception guys’ desks. Would they get mad if we took them?”

“Definitely seem like they would. But this sweet... is one of the tasty ones... I wanna eat it.”

Lux, who was still growing, and Benedict, who had missed lunch and did not have enough with just the vegetable soup, procured more food. The sweets that the hungry thieves sneaked from the company employees’ desks turned out as what could be considered a big catch, and so, the five people trapped inside during a day of usual rain commenced a night party.

The five of different ages, genders and positions were already at a state where they could be deemed as a single family through the many incidents they had overcome and the time they had spent together. They laughed a lot, talked a lot.

“You remember when Violet brought Lux over? She went to negotiate it directly with Old Man with so much might, like, ‘I have picked up a puppy. Please give me permission to raise it here. Now, hurry’. They were holding hands and she wouldn’t let go of Lux, explaining the situation all at length as if to say she wasn’t gonna move until he gave the permission. The way Old Man acted so suspicious back then was a real blast.”

“I remember~! He was like, ‘Eh, “demigod”? Eh, “abduction and confinement”? Have you told the military police about that?’... President was so troubled, walking in circles around the two. It was the funniest thing of that year.”

“Hum... I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, Little Lux. You’re our main player now, so you did what you could to get where you are. You really exerted yourself in this unfamiliar land. Work for us forever, ‘kay? Rather, for me. Little Violet does some unbelievable stuff sometimes, but she generally doesn’t do anything wrong, so back then, her first-time deed shook up even someone like me, with plenty of life experience. Saying no didn’t even cross my mind.”

“I knew that President Hodgins would give you a generous treatment. If I had not concluded so, I would not have done such a thing. Thank you very much for that time, President.”

“Little Violet... Little Violet’s all grown up too, huh; you’ve become a wonderful lady...”

“Well, she’s got you as her example of guardian figure, after all.”

“I was raised by both Benedict and President Hodgins. You are my examples.”

“Eh, so I’m Old Man’s son...? Gimme the whole company.”

“No way! Actually, you’re taking a part of the company in the future, so that much should be fine, right?”

“You were serious about that? If you split the company...”

“Yeah, I’ll be the vice-president. V, call me Vice-President Benedict.”

“Benedict will be... the vice-president?”

“Violet, you haven’t been to the company too often because of work, right? I’ll stay as President Hodgins’s secretary, but some of the employees will go to Benedict’s side. That’s gonna be pretty lonely... Still, the company will be built inside the country, so it’ll be close in terms of distance. But it won’t be the same building anymore.”

“Other people... will also be gone.”

“Did I tell you that my role’s gonna change too?”

“I have not heard about that.”

“I’ll be transferred to training the newcomers. Violet, you’ll stay as you are. Well, between you and me, if we were to debate on which one should be the instructor, it’d have to be me. I’m good at looking after others.”

“Cattleya will be... an instructor...”

“I’ll be here like always. The Doll department that Little Violet and the others are in will stay in the main office and you’re largely in charge of the numbers in our Doll department, so your role won’t change.”

“Sounds like I don’t make money when you put it like that.”

“No, it’s not like that... I’ve been keeping the right people in the right places since long ago, right? I asked you to do this because I thought you could be everyone’s big sis. Besides, wasn’t it you, Cattleya, who immediately replied that you’d to it when I said your pay would increase if you became an instructor?”

“Well, that’s because I don’t know how long I could keep on being a Doll. It’s a job you can do even when you get older, but walking up mountains has been hard lately. Probably because of my high heels.”

They truly laughed a lot and talked a lot.

In their feel-at-home looks, they played card games, discussed memories of their trips and laughed holding their stomachs at silly stories. The night went on and on and the heavy rain outside gradually subsided, but no one said, “Let’s go home, then”. Days like these were a rarity. They all knew this much.

“I’m having lots of fun today. It’d be great if it were always like this.” The words that Cattleya muttered with a big smile spoke for everyone’s feelings.

Whenever a fun feast reached its climax, the loneliness towards the fact that it was going to end would cross the corners of people’s heads. That applied not only to this day that God had granted them but also to matters in the long run.

Perhaps the company named CH Postal Company itself could also be considered a feast to the people gathered in it. “May this dream, this fun time go on forever,” they wished.

The dream had begun with Claudia Hodgins. He then picked up Cattleya Baudelaire, Benedict Blue and Violet Evergarden.

“Make sure to just lick it. So, how’s that?”

They had built the company office building in Leidenschaftlich and started it together. As the postal business was a privatized one and the competitors were many, nobody could predict at first for how long this company would continue to exist.

“This stings.”

A local customer then came, earning them a large-scale contract in the delivery business.

“Eh~, you okay, Violet? You’re better off as someone who can’t drink...”

Their Auto-Memories Doll activities began to stand out.

“But everyone is changing.”

“Doesn’t that have nothing to do with drinking alcohol? I drink ‘cause I like it. If you don’t, then stop.”

“That’s right, Violet.”

“No... Major has a taste for drinking during meals, so I had been thinking of learning to do it one day as well. You are all changing one after another whenever I blink. I have started eating with other people quite often at work as well. I, too, shall adapt...”

Along the way, a girl who would later become a brilliant secretary joined them.

“I see... Then I want to try drinking too. I’m a secretary, after all. I have to eat out with other people. What kind of taste is it, if you had to compare?”

Despite the major changes in the personal life of each, all of them had contributed to the development of the company, to the point that they spent every single day being busy.

“Close to that of a perfume. In that it is hard to swallow.”

There would surely be many, many more changes.

“Hey, I can’t approve that opinion. Big Sis here will introduce you to delicious drinks. Rather than being taught by a man, you should learn from me. Lux, you can’t yet.”

Surely, their fates would twist further.

“Eh~?!”

“Benedict, bring another one. And something to crack it open with.”

For people to gather up, an encounter had to have happened. That was what it meant.

“Aight, aight...” Benedict stood up from the sofa. He had been dragged into Cattleya’s scheme, in which she had planned the conspiracy of attempting to make Violet Evergarden consume alcohol, because he himself had complied with it.

“O-Owah. Old Man. You were here?”

“‘Were here,’ you ask... this is my house.”

As they came across each other in the kitchen, Benedict had let out a brash voice without thinking. The reason might be that he perhaps was seen grinning as he walked in. Despite his nihilistic attitude, he was happy to spend time with his friends.

“I-I know. I was thinking you were taking too long in the toilet...”

“Cigar.”

With the kitchen’s small window open, Hodgins was smoking a cigar. All of the women despised the smell, so he rarely ever let them see him smoking. Just when Benedict was thinking about how he had suddenly stood up and disappeared, there he was, smoking in secret.

——He only smokes when he can’t calm down, though.

There was no better day to relax with their companions, and yet.

“Hey, take a look outside. It’s so quiet after the storm... like the wind. Even though it was so loud before.” Perhaps due to him being a little drunk, Hodgins’s face was red.

“True... Hey, need more booze. Ain’t there anything easier to drink?”

“Eh, why? You can’t give it to Little Lux.”

“Cattleya wants to make V drink some. Well, ain’t it okay? I think it’s about time she learns the ropes. Dunno when we’ll get to drink with her again... and it’s better to have people you get along with teaching you this kinda thing, right?”

“Eeh... it’s still too soon. If you insist, isn’t it enough to drip a drop of rum into her tea?”

“Can you even call that a drink? Make it a degree higher.”

Hodgins gave a strained smile. “Hey, hey, her big brother figure shouldn’t be saying this...”

“I say it because I’m her big brother figure. I mean, we’re getting more rookies. She’s the highlight of our Doll department. Eating with people is part of having a big job. Before she gets involved with someone who wants to make her drink...”

“Does this have anything to do with me telling you to be the branch manager?”

Hearing a slightly icy voice coming from the president, Benedict blinked. “No... sorta.”

“She’s still a child, and I’ll definitely always be with her in those kinds of places, so it’s okay. It’s still early to teach her how to drink. Nope, nope.”

“A ‘child’, you say... well, she’s got a childish side, but she ain’t one anymore.”

“She is – you, Cattleya and Little Lux, too, are all kids to me. Because you’re quick to do this kind of thing if I don’t keep an eye on you... My, my,” Hodgins said, blowing out the tobacco smoke. Mismatched as it was for someone with such a mature appearance, Benedict could get a glimpse of childishness in him.

“You’ll keep trying to do that from now on too? That’s impossible; face the reality,” Benedict bit out incidentally.

Silence.

Benedict’s words were not wrong. The CH Postal Company was growing rapidly as a business. The fact that the postal company led by Salvatore Rinaudo had withdrawn from the postal industry in the previous year had a major influence in this. They now reigned at a pivotal position in Leidenschaftlich’s postal service. The CH Postal Company would soon account for nearly all of the commissions from the people living in Leidenschaftlich. Other than being busy with work affairs, there were even discussions about relocating the head office because of problems with waiting areas and break rooms due to securing new employees.

“Like, you and I are gonna get damn busy. The Auto-Memories Doll department is gonna be the main organ of the head office and my place will be ordinary mail, right? We’ll be teaching people how things go, and I’ll be doing deliveries too. You’re the one with the busiest role. Anything and everything’s gonna be relayed to you. Getting to be close to your employees like until now while doing all that is just...”

It was natural for a company that had become bigger to do a corporative split-off and for one of their employees to manage the branch office. Benedict was still young but had the power to bring people together. The task would not be an impossible one if they put a veteran of the head office in charge of taking over it. They could do this, Hodgins had decided, thus he came up with the proposal.

“The regular meetings and other stuff that I take part in happen in the head office... It’s not like we won’t get to see each other.”

“Everyone will have a different post and position. We won’t get to see each other. Same for you, Old Man.”

“If it’s work, I can adjust it. I’ll do my best to administrate everyone so that the employees can get a time every now and then to relax like this...”

“Old Man, even if you do your best, V’s dating that nasty-ass military officer, so won’t they get married someday? Dunno ‘bout it, but... that’s why it’s impossible to always watch over us in the first place...”

Silence.

“Hey, don’t clam up.”

What was being thrust at Hodgins now was something that he did not want to look straight at, despite thinking about and readying himself for it. That was what he was being told.

“Hodgins – hey, Old Man.”

It was something that Benedict Blue had the right to say, exactly because they had been doing everything together from the start.

“Hey, don’t take it in a weird way. I ain’t saying this to be malicious. You left the Auto-Memories Doll department in the head office ‘cause your wish to watch over V is a big deal, right? I get it. She’s special to you.”

“That’s not it; I—”

“But she won’t be a kid forever. She’s different from back when she started working, with you teaching her everything. She’s someone who’s gonna let go of your hand one day. She ain’t your real daughter or your girlfriend. Then, if you had to say what she is, at the end of the day, she’s your employee. You’ll part ways one day. If you don’t get ready for that now, will you manage to get over it if she marries into that bastard’s family and he makes her leave the company?”

“Will you manage to get over it?” The question ruminated in Hodgins’s heart.

Benedict had shot him where it hurt without mercy. He was a gun expert. His aim was precise and the bleeding made Hodgins want to hold his own chest down.

——Will I recover if I ever have to be separated from Violet Evergarden? Hodgins pondered earnestly over the question. ——I don’t know.

He truly did not know.

Bonds were things that could not easily break off once they had connected, yet reality, time and busyness unpityingly caused the existence of “friends” to grow far apart.

——To the point that I don’t know, I...

Surely, a day like this would not happen five years from now. Their place to return to amidst the rain would be somewhere else.

——It’s not just her, but also you and everyone else.

To begin with, they might not even be working in the company itself anymore until then. More of them would fall for someone, nurture their love and move their places to be in life to their “homes”.

Twenty, thirty years from now, it might be hard for them to even work. Or they would not be alive – there was also that possibility.

The one who was more aware of this than anybody else was Hodgins, the oldest of them all.

——I’m the one who’s farthest apart in age.

That was exactly why he did not know.

“I have no idea.”

He did not want to see it. Did not want to think about it.

“I have too many things that matter to me, so I can’t make a move anymore. Y’know, you... you might aught at this, but... rather than when you’re young, getting hurt becomes scarier when you grow older. You start losing the energy to do your best and heal. It’s tiring. Still...”

Hodgins had thought that the youth in front of him, who referred to him as “Old Man” on a daily basis, was probably going to laugh, yet Benedict was expressionless.

“Still...”

He did nothing but listen. His posture of properly listening at times like these somewhat...

——...looks like Little Violet.

“Still, I know I’m the one who has to get moving the most. I’m getting everyone involved in the things I wanna do. That’s why I do what I have to. I also counted on you, because I trust you. I left it in your care. But... that and my feelings for her and you guys...”

“I get it.”

“...are different things, right? Y’know, you’re... mean. I’m like a foster parent to you, and yet... Even if you understand my loneliness...”

While Hodgins spoke as if bursting out, Benedict put a hand to his mouth as though to stop him. “I get it.”

Time halted completely.

Was he supporting the flustered figure of the one who was like a parent to him?

“My bad.”

Before he had noticed, he was carrying a load of things he must protect. Was he doing this due to realizing that he had left Hodgins to chance, thinking, “That’s because it’s him”?

“My bad. That just now was on me.”

Silence.

“I didn’t have to pick today to say this. Isn’t that right?”

“You think I’m being lame right now, don’t you?”

“Nah, you ain’t all that cool in the first place.”

“That’s a lie; I’m a generally-acknowledged beautiful young man... no, beautiful middle-aged man.”

“You might not be cool, but well, that’s what’s good about you. Right?”

Silence.

“The cool thing about my Claudia Hodgins is his uncool side.”

Since Benedict was speaking as if to comfort a child, Hodgins told him to “shut up”, slightly annoyed, yet burst into laughter nevertheless.

   The rain caused all sorts of things to pour. The way that people were drowned by the drops trickling down from the sky inevitably made them think about something.

As dawn broke, Claudia Hodgins sat up, body heavy from not getting much sleep. When he peeked at his room’s bed, Violet and Cattleya were sleeping wrapped in the same blanket. On the sofa, Benedict was scattered about, snoring in a way that made him want to laugh.

Hodgins looked for where Lux Sibyl might be. He went down from the third to the second floor, and then from the second to the first floor. She was nowhere to be found.

While thinking it could not be possible, Hodgins opened the front door, and sure enough, he could see the figure of a girl walking down the street towards him.

The clothes she had put to dry yesterday were surely half-wet. What was it that she wanted to do outside so badly to the point of going this far? He understood when he saw what she had in her arms.

“Ah, President.”

Lux was holding a paper bag with a lot of bread in it. The amount was enough that the small girl’s face could not be seen.

“Little Lux... could it be you went to buy us breakfast?”

Thinking back, this young woman was the kind of person who was always quick to act when she was trying to do something for someone. That was all it took to be a considerate person, but without kindness in their heart, they would not turn out this way. The reason why Hodgins had nominated her his secretary was not just that she could do any sort of work.

“That’s so nice.”

“Yes, the bakery owner is very nice. I woke up a bit too early, and when I went on a walk to see how things were outside, the bakery was just about to open and they were getting ready... I went to take a look ‘cause it seemed so delicious and they told me to come in.”

“Ah, hm...”

“I was so touched when they said they baked bread for people who were hungry early in the morning, so I told them many thanks for selling them and bought lots of it. It’s the bakery from that street around the corner.”

“As expected of my secretary. Did you properly get the receipt?”

At those words, Lux showed him a smile that resembled a blooming flower. “Huhu, of course.”

For Hodgins, who had spent the night deep in thought about all sorts of things, that smile was a soothing one. It was like the water of a lake for someone who was feeling thirsty.

Hodgins wordlessly took the bag from Lux. “Little Lux, I’m seriously glad you came to us.”

“Only in this kind of situation, right?”

“All the time. Always. Little Lux, you’re still young, will probably keep working with us... and you’re such a good secretary... I’m the happiest CEO in Leidenschaftlich.”

“Are you going to hire me for life?”

“Eh?”

“Is that a no?”

“No, I could. But that’d mean working with me for life, y’know?”

“Is that bad? I have nowhere else to go.”

When asked with such an innocent look, Hodgins faltered.

“I won’t say the stuff Benedict does, like wanting the company for me.”

“Well, I might... end up giving it to you if you say that, so don’t ever. Hahah... Of course, keep working for us forever and always at my place. Huh, this is kinda like a marriage vow... Wanna take this opportunity and marry me in the future? Just kidding...” Upon thinking that the jest that came out incidentally was an unsavory one right after saying it, Hodgins looked at Lux’s reaction, only to find her staring back at him blankly. He had made himself into a caricature of an old man bothering a girl. “No, it was a prank! But hey. Little Lux, you might be the only one who can go along with me, so having this kind of small talk is... I-I’m not looking at you with dirty eyes, really! We’re too far apart in age, after all! We’re c-close enough that we can crack this kind of joke to each other, right?”

Lux pretended to think for just a few seconds. “Huhu, I can tell. That it’s a joke, at least. But not happening. We’re not getting married.”

And then, she flat-out rejected him.

“Ah, yes.” Although Hodgins would have been at loss if she had accepted it, his shoulders dropped somewhat.

“But President, I’m prepared to nurse you if you ever become unable to work.”

“Don’t... suddenly thrust such a cruel reality at me.”

“Eh, is it? From my point of view... this is quite a deep form of love. President, you’re the first decent adult who accepted me. I’ll devote my whole life to you.”

“Little Lux, you sure like me a lot. Gonna marry me after all?”

This time, Lux actually grinned and replied, “I’ll take that one home and consider it.”

“Amazing; that answer’s like the business talk at the company.”

“Because you’re teasing me... even though you’re well-aware that I don’t even know love yet.”

“Don’t know love yet”. The destructive power of those words caused Hodgins to regret his lighthearted proposal a little.

“Then, I’ll ask again in about five years. I should be at a nice middle age by then.”

“You say that, President, but you’re going on a trip with some hottie next week. I know it.”

The duo, who somehow seemed like they would or other be hanging together for a long time, returned to the office with bouncing chatter.

   In order to make breakfast for everyone together, Hodgins and Lux stood in the kitchen by themselves.

Besides the already-baked bread, they would need drinks and vegetables. Those were merely simple preliminary preparations, but Hodgins felt that just this was somehow enjoyable, unlike doing the work on his own.

“President, you have yours with one sugar cube and a slice of lemon, right?”

“And for Little Lux, it’s two sugar cubes with milk, yeah? I know it.”

While arranging the bread on a plate, they also poured water over the tealeaves and left them to steam. Perhaps due to the scenery that could be seen from the kitchen’s small window being a blue sky with not a single cloud in it, it was awfully dazzling.

“Good morning.”

The next person who appeared amidst the morning sunlight was Violet. Her soft golden hair was just a bit disheveled. Hodgins’s hand naturally reached out to it.

“Morning... You’ve got a bedhead, Little Violet.”

“Excuse me...” Violet looked back at Hodgins as he caressed her head, seeming a little embarrassed. Her eyes were just slightly red. She might have not been able to sleep very well.

“Morning, Violet. Are Cattleya and Benedict also up?”

“Benedict was awake until a while ago, but when I got up from the bed, he began sleeping again by Cattleya’s side.”

“Morally speaking, it’s that kinda thing. I’ll go give him a warning.”

Hodgins laughed a little, seeing Lux off as she walked away while rotating her tiny shoulders. He then turned his gaze back to Violet. Her bedhead, which he had supposedly fixed with the caressing, had returned. For some reason, both of them being alone like this in a kitchen bathed in morning sunlight struck him as extremely peculiar.

Just the two of them, having such a tender time. How many more opportunities would they have for that?

They were already at it. He should talk about something. That was what Hodgins thought, but the words did not come out of him. Not because he had no topic to discuss. He could come up with as many things to talk about as he wanted, such wanting flowers to decorate the table or that they would surely have many customers today who were unable to come yesterday.

But he did not want to spoil this morning. He felt that it might crumble if he spoke even one sentence.

Violet was there. She had her blue eyes directed his way, looking at him. It was no longer awkward for the two of them to stay silent. That was their relationship.

Perhaps still sleepy, she was in a haze. He wanted to watch her standing amidst this gentle time for a little longer.

As she would usually always seem wide-awake, Hodgins believed that she was laidback to this extent due to being in the presence of people with whom she could be at ease from the bottom of her heart. That he had played a part in this feeling of security of hers.

——Will you forget one day?

One day, the position that Claudia Hodgins occupied in the life of Violet Evergarden would become smaller.

——She only gets bigger on my end, though.

Going to the hospital numerous times. Pushing her wheelchair. Giving her a notebook and teaching her how to write.

——I for sure can’t forget. These moments, days, everything like this with you.

The fact that he had not stopped her from fighting in the war. That he had thought they could use her.

——I can’t forget.

Delivering to Violet an outfit that could hide her prosthetic arms, yet that would also make her look her most beautiful.

——I’m sure I won’t forget about this morning either.

About that quiet morning, which was much like the one from before everyone was caught in the great storm and barged in.

Hodgins touched Violet’s hair again. Although she had told Benedict not to touch it, with Hodgins, she all but slightly left a strand in his hand’s care and let him take it, almost like how a cat would do.

——Aah, I want to hug you.

He was not in love with her. That would never be the case.

However, if she were his real daughter, on days like these, mornings like these, he would have easily said, “Good morning, precious” and embraced her.

“I had a dream, President Hodgins,” Violet whispered out of the blue with a freshly awake, faintly hoarse voice.

“Dream...?”

The stunning young woman, who was no longer a girl, talked about her dream like a child, “Yes; in the dream... you owned a clothing store.”

“Huhu, that so?”

“I cannot make clothes. You told me that you did not need me, President Hodgins, if I could not make clothes...”

“That’s horrible of me, huh.”

“Even when I said I could polish the shoes, clean up or do anything, you did not listen...”

Unlike the real one, the dream version of Hodgins had apparently chosen to part ways with Violet.

“Little Violet, what did you do about that?”

“I asked countless times. However, you rejected it countless times. I thought about standing in front of the shop until you allowed me in, but it started raining like yesterday.”

“Hm. And then?”

“Major Gilbert came to pick me up and told me to come home with him, but...”

“Hm.”

“I waited for President to come out of the store even as the lights went out.”

“Hm.”

“Despite waiting and waiting, President Hodgins did not come out, and at some point, a passerby told me, ‘This shop has moved’.”

“Even though it was open until just a moment ago?”

“It was a dream, after all... And then – and then, I asked where it was and went after it. Benedict and Cattleya also appeared in-between, but they seemed to have other things to do, saying they would come after me later... As for Lux, she was the only one who had been hired by you from the very beginning, so she also asked you to hire me again, but in the end, you said no could do.”

“Hm...” Suddenly, Hodgins felt so pained about everything that it was hard to breathe. “And then, Little Violet, what did you do...?” His hand reached out to Violet.

“I kept looking at the interior of the store beyond the shop window from outside.”

Not towards her head, but towards her eyes, where her golden lashes fluttered like the wings of a fairy.

“Inside it, many people – people that I know and do not know – came and left... showing how lively the shop was.”

A sea had silently formed in them, which dissolved and disappeared once Hodgins’s index finger touched it.

“Major came to pick me up for the nth time and said you had told him that my standing there was causing him problems. But, for whatever reason, I at the very least knew that if I stepped away from there even for a moment, you would never let me in... therefore, I could not comply. But I did not want to trouble you, President, so I was unable to make a decision... I attempted to ask Major for instructions, but he was also gone before I realized.”

The sea – the teardrop – turned into a pearl and slipped down her cheek.

“I... I... ended up crying.” Violet stared at the sky, the look in her eyes seeming almost as if the scene from her dream was there at this very moment. “To think I would cry like that...”

“Hm.”

“That was why President Hodgins would not hire me, I thought... And also why Major had grown tired and left.”

“Hm.”

“Then, without my notice, you came outside. You looked the same as that post-war day when you went to visit me at the hospital. You were very surprised with my appearance, as I was soaked with mud and rain. And so, you said this: ‘Guess we’ll start with how to hold a needle’. You told me that you had not invited me for the new job because it would surely be difficult with these hands of mine, so I was extremely relieved... Then, then...” Violet’s words cut off at once.

Unable to hold himself back, Hodgins pulled her into an embrace as if shoving her little head into his chest.

While being embraced, Violet said with eyes that looked as though she was still dreaming, “...with some effort, I could still be helpful. I was able to confirm this, after all.”

Hearing her let out a relieved sigh in his arms, Hodgins forgot about both his and Violet’s positions, clasping her to his chest very, very firmly. “You sure are helpful... Was there anything about me that made you feel uncertain?” Upon realizing that his voice sounded tearful, Hodgins allowed the tears to overflow at the truth.

——Aah, I’m such an idiot. Got caught up in it and ended up crying too.

As the girl whom he thought of as his own daughter, despite her being an actual adult, had shed tears, he found himself crying along with her. Almost like a child. Even though he was supposed to conduct himself as an elder in this situation.

“I do not know.”

“But, has anything like that ever happened until now...? You had that dream because you were uneasy.”

“‘Uneasy’... That might have been the case. Yesterday night, I came to know that many things were progressing while I was away, so I have the feeling that I was quite agitated.”

“Sorry; we were doing things on our own accord. Even though we’ve been together since the founding.”

“No, I am often absent, and it is only natural for some things to be decided in the meantime. I am an employee. I feel that your judgement is correct. Employees must correspond to the changes of a company. My surroundings are about to change significantly. I am grateful to you, President, for letting me be here like always. However...”

“‘However’...?”

“However, I do not know if I can cope with it. With the matters regarding Major, the ones regarding the company... with the fact that Benedict will be going to a different office building. When I think about these things...”

“It’s okay.”

“When I think about them, I realize that the number of things I should prioritize has increased too much.”

“Little Violet.”

“The order of priorities...”

“It’s all right.”

“I have to deal with situations of every kind as I live, and yet...”

——Surely, Violet Evergarden wouldn’t be alive if she didn’t do that.

Always, at all times.

She had been living through corresponding to her surroundings despite being at loss regarding its circumstances, putting everything she could do to use while looking for a place to belong and an adult who would take care of her. She was not allowed to waver. For beasts, hesitation was death.

Violet did not know unconditional love. She now had at last earned herself this warm place through her efforts, but it was about to suffer a rapid change with the course of time.

After running, running and running, Violet – previously one such beast – was watching the nest she had finally found crumble down. Even when people knew they had to prepare to start running again, there would come a time when they would be short of breath and unable to move.

Violet had gone from wild animal to person.

Her human parts and animal parts co-existed, occasionally revealing themselves. When she was the animal, she simply did not mind how much a place changed as long as she could live in it. However, it was difficult to live while holding something better, more important.

Now that she had become a person through the increasing of her emotions...

“I shall fight. I can always be of use. President Hodgins, please forget this aspect of me that I just showed you.”

...she had turned into just a girl who was a little bit scared of the future.

“Please... forget about it.”

Who had made her this way? Gilbert was likely the first, but the ones who had done the finishing touches were definitely all the people in this place.

“No way, I’m not forgetting.”

At Hodgins’s words, Violet lowered her eyebrows, looking troubled.

“Don’t make a face like that; I’m not teasing. I meant to say that you don’t need to worry about it. You indeed might’ve gotten weak. But is that a bad thing? You had nothing when you met me for the first time. Not even your brooch, right...? But now you have lots of things. You went on a journey for a long time and got more stuff to shoulder while you were at it, so it’s no wonder that you’d end up in a dilemma.” Albeit knowing that Cattleya, Benedict and Lux were looking at them in shock from the shadows at the doorway, Hodgins went on, “You know... life is a journey. Little Violet, you’ll go on this journey, won’t you?”

He had already forgotten about his anxiety. The feeling of frustration at such things and the overwhelming wish to cling to someone were now gone.

“You started your journey with a little less luggage than other people, so you’re staring at your bag now that it’s gotten a bit heavy, wondering what happened to it. You don’t know what to throw away anymore.”

He was able to think, from the depths of his heart, that he had returned to his usual self. While embracing her, who was indeed still young and confused in the middle of her journey, he was finally able to think so.

“You need clothes and money, of course, and good shoes are vital. Right, and an umbrella too. When you look into your bag and realize that you actually have nothing that you can get rid of, it’s indeed a problem. Even though it’s a hassle because it’s so heavy. What do you think you should do?”

He could still be useful.

“Train... my physical strength... No, calibrate my prosthetics...”

He was still needed.

“You’re such a fool... Either leave it in someone’s care and continue the journey or have someone take half of it.”

Even if it were only for a short while.

“Gilbert will probably take half of the luggage. I can take care of the rest that you can’t carry over here. I’ll be in Leidenschaftlich forever, after all. Little Violet, no matter where you go, I’ll stay here and wait for you to come back, and no matter when you come over, I’ll welcome you. I’ll take care of the contents of your bag with pleasure.”

——Even if you only remember me a few times a year someday...

“Listen up: whenever you’re troubled, remember that I’m here. And then you’ll be able to go on a journey again anytime.”

——...I’ll ready myself to welcome you at any time of the year.

“Am I really supposed to leave my luggage here?”

——I’m the kind of man who can do that, and you need it for sure.

“Hm-hm, that’s not it. Y’see, this is about memories. All you have to do is to know. That I’m here. This is the way to make your luggage lighter. Whenever you’re having problems, bam, remember me. If you do that, the worries you have now will definitely decrease a little. Y’know, at the end of the day... people’s place to come home to aren’t places, they’re ‘somebody’. You should know that much. You’d have gone to any battlefield if Gilbert was there, right? Someday, yes, you might quit being an Auto-Memories Doll. You might not come back to Leidenschaftlich.”

——It’ll be great if this “someday” never comes, though.

“But your current memories are with me. I’ll be a representation of them. So that you, my dear... will be able to open your memories anytime. When this moment right now becomes nostalgic to you, come see me. I’ll always be here. Waiting for you. You’re feeling ‘lonely’ right now. But... Little Violet. You have me. You’re not alone.”

——I want you to remember.

“I do not understand very well... However...”

——I’m always protecting you.

“...you have always guided me.”

——Waiting for your return.

“I never doubt your word.”

——I’ll be waiting here.

“But, President Hodgins, I have only one wish.”

——I want you to show up when your journey ends.

Deciding to deal with the sobbing coming from behind the door later, Hodgins opted for staying like this for just a bit longer. Her lover might get angry if he saw it, but he had the right to do it, at least to some extent. After all, she was Claudia Hodgins’s dear employee.

Hodgins asked with a particularly gentle tone, “What would it be, Little Violet?”

Violet blinked and looked up at Hodgins. The last drop spilled from her eyes.

“If, only if... there comes a time when you will quit the postal company and start doing something else...”

“Hm.”

“...please call me. No matter where you are, I will rush to you.”

“Hm.”

“I will definitely be of help... Even if not, should your luggage become too much, please call me when you need someone to carry it for you. I shall hasten to visit you.”

“For real?”

“Yes. I, too, will carry President’s luggage. You should know it. I am strong.”

“Huhu, yep, definitely. One day, you’ll understand what I mean by ‘luggage’. Hey...”

No one would imagine that a single drop could be the start of something so big. However, it would earn itself great meaning after a while passed. Should it continue pouring, it could also summon boundless blessings and curses.

   “Hiya, I’m Hodgins. What’s your name?”

Silence.

“This kid’s such a taciturn.”

“She... doesn’t have a name yet. She’s an orphan with no education. Can’t talk either.”

“That’s so terrible of you. She’s such a beauty. Just give a name worthy of her.”

   “Little Violet, thanks for meeting me.”

Love was almost like rain.

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,081)

--------------------

Part Five: Niki

She has no idea what to expect from this server. It makes her a bit nervous, if she’s being entirely honest. Dream is a man with a reputation stretching between worlds, and when the letter from Wilbur first arrived, she didn’t know what to think. But she does find it easy to believe that Wilbur would take one look at a man with a position of authority and decide to cause trouble. Founding an entire country is above and beyond, even for him, but picturing it comes naturally to her. For as long as she’s known him, Wilbur has never been one to do things halfway. That’s not always a good thing, but—

You should come to see it, the letter read. It’s really something, Niki. Everyone’s worked so hard, and I’d love to show it to you.

So here she is, letter folded neatly in her breast pocket as she wanders down the wooden paths that seem to function as the server’s main thoroughfares. There’s been no one to greet her just yet, even though she’s certain her entry pinged on everyone’s communicators, if they were looking. But perhaps that’s for the better; the letter told her that Dream wouldn’t harry her, but that doesn’t mean she’s particularly eager for a meeting.

And it’s simple enough to find the nation. L’Manberg. Just a little further down the path, and there it is, just like Wilbur described to her, blackstone walls raised around it and tipped with yellow. She can see over the top from this vantage point, can pick out a few structures, a flicker of fire, and perhaps a few people moving about, though from this distance, they look more like ants. There is also a tower under construction outside of the walls, already tall but still uneven, clearly not yet finished.

She grins and picks up the pace. The entrance stands wide open, and by the time she makes it there, she’s all but jogging, and then, coming to meet her—

“Niki!” Wilbur calls, a wide, beaming smile on his face, and she laughs, barreling into him for a hug.

“Wilbur!” she says in return. “It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s so good to see you!” Wilbur exclaims. He returns her embrace eagerly, though he steps back after only a moment, resting both of his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so glad you came, Niki, I’ve got so much to show you. We’re really doing something special here.”

“I can see that,” she says. “I could see the walls from far off. They’re very impressive.”

“Oh, I know,” Wilbur says, and his eyes shine. With pride, with joy. “They’re a symbol of our freedom, of our refusal to bend under tyranny. But that’s not even the half of it. We’ve done so much here. Please, let me show you around?”

He’s already taking her by the arm, so it’s clear that it’s not really a question. Or rather, that he’s presumed her answer. But in this case, he’s presumed correctly, and he’s obviously so excited to show her this place, this place that he’s worked so hard to create, so she lets him take her on a tour. He points out some of the structures that they have—“Much better than they were before, Niki, though we’ve got plans for plenty of others.”—and takes her around the walls, and then to the stage—“We’ll have public events and such here!”—and then outside of the walls, to the tower, where he introduces her to Eret, a lovely-seeming person who’s evidently responsible for much of the construction work here. She’s certain that she’ll get along with them wonderfully. And then, back inside the walls—

“I saved the best for last,” he says, and leads her to a structure that he skipped over, a van topped with what appears to be a shape like a—hot dog? A hot dog on fire? A flaming hot dog?

“Is it a hot dog van?” she can’t help but ask.

Wilbur laughs. “Not quite,” he says, “though it does look that way, doesn’t it? It’s the camarvan, Niki, the camarvan. It’s where all of this started.” He takes her up the stairs and inside, and the interior isn’t quite what she was expecting, judging from the outside. It’s a bit grimy, a bit smoky, though nothing too difficult to breathe through. And it’s full of brewing stands, some of which are actively at work. There’s a door toward the rear, too, apparently leading to a back room of some kind, and she thinks she can make out somebody’s shadow on the wall, bobbing in the haze.

“I will fully admit,” Wilbur says, in a conspiratorial tone, “that this nation started out as an effort to get a monopoly on potions here on the SMP. A drug van, if you will. We didn’t set out to start a country, but when Dream threatened us, well. We really had no choice but to declare independence, not if we wanted to stand up for our ideals.”

A drug van. Her lips twitch up into a smile.

“And what ideals are those?” she asks.

“Freedom, of course!” he replies. “Justice! The fight against tyranny! And also a good bit of sticking it to the man. The man, in this case, being Dream.”

He gestures as he speaks, hands tracing adamant patterns in the air, and she nods along, keeping half an eye on the back room. The shadow stills, and before too long, a face pokes around into the doorway. One that she recognizes, blue eyes wide and blond hair messy, and this face is followed by another, one that she doesn’t recognize.

“Holy shit!” Tommy says, and Wilbur jerks, head turning. “You didn’t say that Niki was coming today!”

She doesn’t know Tommy very well. She’s only had the chance to meet him a few times, this kid that Wilbur all but adopted as his younger brother. She knows that he is brash, that he is loud, that he has a way of bringing all eyes to him that is entirely different from Wilbur’s brand of smooth charisma, that once he decides he wants someone’s attention, he is as persistent as a gnat that’s found an ear to buzz around. Though perhaps that’s not the most flattering of comparisons. There is some truth to it, though; Tommy, from what she can tell, often doesn’t seem to care how he leaves an impression, only that he does.

Really, she hasn’t seen enough of him to judge. But he does seem like a good kid, and in any case, he looks at Wilbur like he hung the moon. Which Niki understands very well; it’s easy to be caught up in Wilbur’s orbit.

“I didn’t know when she’d get here,” Wilbur says with a laugh. “Here, come out, both of you. Niki, you’ve met Tommy before.”

Tommy grins at her, and she can’t help but grin back. He wears the same uniform that Wilbur does, an antiquated long blue coat and a tricorne hat, and it fits him well. He seems to be at ease in it, in an outfit clearly styled for a soldier. He’s only fifteen, he knows, but in this moment, she almost mistakes him for older.

“This is Fundy,” Wilbur continues, walking over to the boys and putting his hand on the other’s shoulder, the one that she’s never met. His uniform is different, pastel-colored, and compared to Wilbur and Tommy’s, not very well-made. “He’s my son.” He smiles. “My little champion.”

Something about that timeline has to be off—Wilbur is in his mid-twenties, and this boy looks to be about Tommy’s age, perhaps even a little older. So there’s something strange about that, but perhaps he’s adopted; Wilbur has a habit of adopting things, bringing people close. Or perhaps there’s something else at work. Either way, it seems rude to press at this second, so she smiles in greeting, noting the way that the boy’s ears are twitching—fox ears. A hybrid, or perhaps a shapeshifter? That might explain the incongruities.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fundy,” she says.

“Nice to meet you too,” Fundy says. His voice is resigned, perhaps a bit sullen, and she gets the impression that there’s definitely something going on that she’s not privy to. Whatever it is, though, Wilbur seems unaffected, as he keeps his hand on Fundy’s shoulder, still smiling.

“Fundy was the first citizen of L’Manberg,” he says. “He was born right here, inside the walls. A bit before they were constructed, of course, but it still counts.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard the story,” Tommy jumps in, and she doesn’t think she mistakes the look of relief that flashes across Fundy’s face as Wilbur turns his attention elsewhere. She fidgets, shifting her weight between her feet.

“Well, Niki hasn’t—” Wil starts, but Fundy cuts in.

“And it was great to meet her,” Fundy says, looking between everyone. “Great to meet you! But I’ve actually got something to do elsewhere, so I’m just going to go and do that. Right now, actually. So, I’ll catch you later!” He ducks out from under Wilbur’s grasp, heading for the door. “You coming, Tommy?”

“Be there in a second,” Tommy says. “I’ll just tidy up in there and meet you in a bit, yeah?”

Fundy nods, and then he’s out the door. Wilbur stares after him fondly, and Tommy takes the opportunity to grin at her again—and is it just her, or does that smile seem strained, now?—and he ducks back into the room that he came out of. A second later, there is a clattering sound, glass clinking together repeatedly.

“It’s all for him, really,” Wilbur says, voice soft. “The walls, this country, all of it. Him and everyone, but—it’s all so they can be safe and free. That’s all I want.”

“It’s a good goal,” she says, and his attention finally turns back to her. “It looks to me like you’ve made a great start.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, and leans against one of the counters, between two of the brewing stands. “This means a lot to me. This nation, it’s like—a second child, sort of. I’ve got to give everything I can to make it as good as it can be. I really do mean it when I say that it stands for something. Something important.” He pauses, tilting his head. “I am thinking about holding an election, though. Just a little something to consolidate power, nothing big. But I need the authority to guide L’Manberg to its future. Because I’ll tell you, Niki, that future is looking bright.”

She tilts her head, too, mirroring him. “Would there even be anyone to run against you?” she asks. Consolidating power. That doesn’t sound like the sort of thing that an election would help very much with.

He chuckles. “Not that I can think of. That’s sort of the beauty of it,” he says, and then, suddenly, Tommy emerges from the room again. He’s got a couple of potions cradled under his arm, shimmering with a pink glow.

“Wilbur,” he says, and Niki blinks, because his tone is a far cry from a few moments ago, is low and serious in a way she’s not certain she’s ever heard from the boy. “If you’re serious about the election thing, you’ve got to be careful with it.”

It’s an odd response to an offhand comment, and obviously, Wilbur agrees, as he arches a brow, regarding Tommy with a bit of confusion. “What are you on about now?” he asks, gently exasperated.

“It’s easy for things like that to go wrong,” Tommy states. “It might not—it might not go how you’re expecting it to go, you know? So, I think you should open it up so that anyone can run, so that way, when you win, nobody doubts the results and all. But—but Wilbur, here’s the thing, you can’t—I need you to promise me that you won’t invite Schlatt to the server, alright? Don’t have him come and endorse you, don’t even let him step foot in L’Manberg. Don’t have him come here, okay?”

It’s not a name she recognizes. But Wilbur seems to, because he wrinkles his nose.

“Why the hell would I have Schlatt come here?” he says. “Dream banned him anyway, don’t you remember?”

“I know, I know, just, just don’t, okay?” Tommy takes another step closer. His shoulders are tense. “Wilbur, I’m serious about this.”

“Alright, I won’t, I promise,” Wil says, and immediately, Tommy relaxes. There is still a look in his eyes, though, a look of wariness, and the sample size she’s drawing from is small but she thinks it’s still safe to say that she’s never seen him direct that expression at Wilbur before. “Tommy, why—”

“I’m going to go catch up with Fundy now,” Tommy says. “See you later, Wilbur. And Niki, you too. It’s—really good to see you, Niki. I’m glad you’re here.”

The earnestness in his voice catches her off guard. He sounds completely genuine, genuine in a way that she doesn’t really expect from someone like TommyInnit. Because Tommy is loud and Tommy is brash, but she has never known him to be so open. But then again, she doesn’t know him that well. She needs to keep reminding herself of that, needs to keep reminding herself that everyone has depths to them, no matter how uncomplicated they might seem on the surface. She deals with people making snap judgments about her too often to do the same to someone else.

“I’m glad to be here, too,” she says, and then, Tommy is gone, the door to the camarvan swinging shut behind him. She can already hear him calling out for Fundy, and someone named Tubbo, his volume cranked back up to an eleven, like the previous minute or so never happened at all.

Wilbur sighs suddenly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He seems to sag a bit, his perfect posture deflating into something more casual, more—defeated doesn’t quite seem to be the right word, but weary, perhaps.

“He keeps doing this, Niki,” he all but moans. “He keeps saying things that don’t make any sense as if they’re the most important things in the universe.”

“Do you think he’s okay?” she asks, already struggling to find something to say that will help. But the problem is, she just doesn’t know Tommy all that well. She’d like that to change, especially if she decides that she’s here to stay. But right now, she doesn’t know enough to help, and she doesn’t like that.

“I think so,” Wil says. “I hope so. I wanted to tell you while he was still here—he gets all embarrassed whenever I bring it up, it’s hilarious, but Tommy’s the reason that we have our freedom at all. He traded a couple of his most valued possessions to Dream in exchange for L’Manberg’s autonomy. It was a real sacrifice play. I’m very proud of him. But he hasn’t been quite the same since then.” He sighs again. “I’m worried that he’s more hurt by it than he’s been letting on. I’m trying to be there for him, but it’s been—difficult, these past few weeks.” He smiles slightly, meeting her eyes. “Turns out that running a country is a lot of work. Who knew, right?”

“As long as you’re trying your best, I’m sure he appreciates that,” she says. “And I’m sure he’s got other friends as well that he can turn to, right?”

“He does,” Wil says, frustration leaking into his tone, “he does, I know he does, but—I’m supposed to be looking after him, right? We’re like family. Like brothers, pretty much. And the older brother is supposed to look out for the younger. That’s the job.” He leans back further, crossing one leg over the other, and Niki is struck, suddenly, with the idea that he looks very, very tired. There are bags under his eyes that she didn’t notice right away, but now that she’s seen them, she can’t unsee them. “But he’s being weird about it—and do you know, we’ve actually got a few new citizens because of him. There’s this guy, Quackity, and I wasn’t going to let him join, but Tommy kept at me until I gave in. And then just the other day, I went to a meeting, and when I get back, it turns out that he’s snuck in another guy right under my nose. Jack Manifold. Gave him a uniform and everything. And what am I supposed to do, say no?”

Throughout, his voice becomes more and more petulant, and she pushes down the urge to laugh.

“It just sounds to me like he’s making new friends,” she says, and once again, Wilbur sighs, this time much more dramatically.

“I suppose,” he says, sounding very put upon. “I wish he’d just come to me, though.”

“I’m sure he will in time,” she says. “I don’t know him that well yet, but from what I’ve seen, he thinks the world of you. I’m sure he’ll come talk to you when he’s ready.”

Thankfully, Wilbur perks up a bit at this.

“Thanks, Niki,” he says. “You’re probably right.” He shakes his head ruefully, and then smiles. “He beat me to the punch, but I am also very glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad to be here,” she repeats. “Really, I’m glad you sent me that letter.” And then, because she can’t resist, and because his posture still seems to scream tiredness, she asks, “Are you holding up alright? With all of this? I know you said it was a lot of work.”

For a fleeting moment, a fraction of a second, his eyes widen marginally, and the expression passes so quickly that in the murk of the room, she can’t even be sure that she saw it at all.

“Just fine,” he says brightly. “It’s all worth it. L’Manberg is going to be the pinnacle of freedom and prosperity of the Dream SMP. Which actually reminds me, I have a meeting that I need to be getting to. Dream’s been more generous than I expected with border agreements, but we still don’t have everything ironed out as far as trade goes. So I’m afraid that I’m going to have to leave you.”

“Of course, I understand,” she says, and squashes the little voices that starts to murmur disappointedly. She knew from the beginning, of course, that Wilbur would likely be very busy. Still, she supposes that she just hoped she would have more of an opportunity to catch up with an old friend.

Wilbur holds the door open for her as they exit the camarvan, and then one last smile and he’s striding off toward one of the far buildings, one that looks like it might conceivably be a good place for an office. She watches him go, his back straight and strides purposeful. And then, she looks around. There’s still plenty of things to do, after all, and plenty of people she hasn’t met. So she decides to do a bit of exploring on her own.

But it’s not even ten minutes before she runs into Fundy again. He’s crouched over a pool of water, staring at the fish, though he doesn’t seem to have a rod or anything of that sort. She hesitates a moment, wondering if he would rather be alone, before deciding that if he tells her so, she’ll leave without objection.

“Hello again,” she says. “It’s Fundy, right?”

He doesn’t seem surprised that she’s there, even though she made little noise on her approach, and when he looks up at her, she sees the probable reason why; his face is now that of a fox, snout and all. A shapeshifter, then. Behind him, his tail lashes back and forth.

“Oh,” he says. “Hi! That’s me! And you’re Niki, right?”

She nods. “I was hoping to get to get to know some of the people here,” she says. “I think I might be staying.”

She doesn’t know that she’s going to say it until she does, but as soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes that it was her intention all along. She needed to see the country to finalize her decision, but really, there’s not much for her where she’s living now. A quiet life, some friendly acquaintances, an empty house. Here, there are friends and a cause to believe in, and she wants to be a part of it.

To her bemusement, though, Fundy seems to wilt a little bit.

“Did Wil have to go back to work, then?” he asks, turning his attention back to the pool. His tail swishes again, perhaps in agitation, though she doesn’t know enough about fox body language to be sure.

“He said he has a meeting,” she says, somewhat hesitantly.

“He says that a lot these days,” Fundy mutters. “And when it’s not a meeting, it’s paperwork. Or construction plans. Or just a vague, general thing that makes him super busy that I don’t need to worry about or help him with, so go find something to do, Fundy. But it’s fine.”

She’s stumbled into something that she’s not equipped to be in the middle of, she thinks.

“It does seem like he’s really busy,” she tries. Maybe Fundy just needs to get this off his chest. In that case, a listening ear is something she can provide.

“I know he’s really busy,” Fundy answers. “I just wish he’d let me do something. He keeps treating me like I’m some little kid. I’m not a little kid. I know I grew up quick, or whatever, but I’m not a kid. I fought in the revolution. I even made my own uniform!”

That explains—several things. Why the uniform looks so different, so haphazard. And also why Wilbur has a son who’s nearly fully grown, if he aged on a timeline more akin to that of the creature he shifts into.

“Well then, maybe you could help me make one, too,” she says. “I might want to have one of my own, if everyone else is wearing them.” She pauses. “Do you think you could show me around a little more? Wilbur gave me a tour, but I’d like to know if he left anything out. I’m sure he showed me everything he thought was important, but that might not be everything.” She shrugs, an exasperated, what-can-you-do sort of gesture, because while she’s sure that Wilbur did, indeed show her everything that he thought was important, Wilbur can be prone to tunnel vision when he has a grand plan in mind.

And even if he truly did show her everything, there’s no harm in seeing it again.

Fundy perks up, ears standing up straight. “Yeah, that sounds like Wil,” he says. “I could do that! I’ve been around from the start, so I know all the best places.” He stands, tail moving back and forth rapidly, and that, she is willing to bet, is excitement. She falls into step with him as he starts off, and that seems to be all the invitation he needs to talk, about everything and anything, and there’s just as much about the history of what he’s showing her as there are personal anecdotes, everything from what he had for breakfast this morning to plans for a prank he wants to play on Tommy. It’s endearing, and she finds herself very engaged in the way his words tumble out.

“What do you like to do, where you’re from?” he asks her at one point.

“I like to bake a lot,” she answers. “Maybe I’ll start a bakery here.”

“That would be awesome,” he says. “We don’t have any bakeries. Would you need any help with getting it started?”

And she smiles. “I think I would like that,” she tells him.

It sounds very nice. A nice little bakery, food and sweets for everyone, in a country that she can tell has already become near and dear to her heart somewhere between Wilbur meeting her at the doors and showing her around and now this, his son, showing off his home with obvious joy and pride, just as much enthusiasm as Wilbur showed her.

She thinks she’s going to like it here very much. She thinks she already does.

[snowdice]

When There Is Something Left (Part 13-Final of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton, Virgil & Patton, Logan & Virgil, Roman & Patton

Characters:

Appear: Patton, Logan, Virgil, Roman, Remy

Summary: A garden blooms the next spring.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Patton is a zombie, happy ending

This is the last part of this story, but likely not the last part of this universe. Stay tuned for Bonus Features coming out sometime soon. As well as a few extra scenes.

This is the twelfth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

“Food You’ll Never Eat”

“Things You’ll Never Do”

“There Are Things That Are Lost”

“There Are Things That Are Missing”

“And There is a Question”

“Is There Anything Left of Patton?”

“And There is an Answer”

“But What Does It Mean”

“One More Dance”

“One More Chance”

My Master Post

Virgil walked into the kitchen one day in mid-April and paused at the door. Patton was the only on in the room. He was standing at the stove cooking, and it wasn’t macaroni and cheese.

“Hey Pat,” Virgil greeted softly after a moment. Patton hummed in response, and Virgil walked to the counter to pour himself a cup of already prepared coffee. His eyes looked over at what Patton was doing; he’d cracked some eggs into a bowl and was whisking them with an actual whisk. As far a Virgil knew, that thing hadn’t been touched since Patton turned as both Logan and Virgil were too lazy to go through the effort of finding, using and cleaning it. (Roman and Remy were even less likely unless Roman had used it as a microphone to sing Disney songs.) He seemed to be doing fine with it, so Virgil turned to leave him be and sit at the table. It was already set, he noticed and there was a pitcher of what looked like orange juice sitting in the center.

He froze halfway there when a voice called out to him. “Virgil?” Patton asked. Virgil knew Patton could speak for real now. Logan had told him that Patton would speak regularly, but he’d only done it when he and Logan were alone. Other than the one “yes” a year ago that had confirmed Patton still actually existed in there, that was the first thing Virgil had ever heard him say.

Virgil had a feeling he shouldn’t make a big deal about that fact. “Yeah Pat?” he asked instead.

“I’m making omelets, but I don’t trust myself with the deer sausage in the refrigerator. Would you mind doing that part for me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Virgil replied. “Of course.” He grabbed the Tupperware container of cooked deer sausage while Patton poured some of the egg mixture into the pre-heated pan. He waited for the eggs to cook a bit before reaching for the cheese and sprinkling a bit over the top.

Then, he took a step away from the pan. “Now,” Patton said.

Virgil opened the Tupperware container of meat. Patton did a full-bodied twitch and pressed his lips into a line, but he didn’t reach for the food. After a moment, he nodded tightly, and Virgil put a bit of the meat on the omelet before shutting the container tight again. Patton was stiff when he moved forward to close the omelet but relaxed marginally when the meat was concealed. He let it cook for a few more minutes and flipped it before putting it on a plate and covering it with another one to keep it warm. He smiled at Virgil and Virgil smiled back.

They repeated the process a few times. Patton’s reaction to the meat was the same every time, but he seemed to be able to handle it. When Virgil wasn’t busy spooning the meat on for Patton, he started making toast.

Logan entered the room when Patton was folding the last omelet and stopped in the doorway. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Morning, L.”

“Virgil and I made omelets,” Patton said.

Logan promptly forgot Virgil was in the room when he heard Patton’s voice speaking at that volume. He smiled, looking sickeningly bestowed and crossed the room. He hugged him around the waist, leaning his head on Patton’s shoulder. “I can see that,” he replied.

Patton smiled at the touch and bopped him on the nose with the spatula in his hand. “Distraction,” he accused.

“Hmm,” Logan replied into his neck, getting a giggle in return.

“Disgusting,” Virgil commented. “I’m going to go get the others.”

He left them there and made his way to the study, shoving his way into the room past the mattresses that took up most of the space. Remy was already awake on his bed sewing something. Apparently, he’d been in the kitchen already, because he had a cup of coffee next to him. Roman, on the other hand, was still sound asleep in bed. Virgil walked over and kicked him lightly on the foot.

“Wake up,” he said. Roman mumbled something into his pillow. Virgil kicked him harder. “Wake up. Patton cooked us breakfast and you’re going to eat it.”

“I done wan da macaroni,” Roman complained into his pillow.

“It’s not mac and cheese,” Virgil said.

Roman tilted his head to squint up at him.

“Just come and see,” he said.

Roman rolled out of bed after a moment and got to his feet. He stretched while Remy set down the fabric in his hand and then they both followed Virgil to the kitchen.

“Ooo, omelets!” Roman exclaimed, taking a seat in his chair. Apparently, Logan and Patton had managed to resist being mushy for long enough to bring the omelets and toast to the table and set them out for everyone.

Roman started stuffing his face without hesitation, and Virgil rolled his eyes, taking his own seat at the table.

“This is really good!” Roman said, his mouth still full of food.

“Thank you,” Patton replied as he moved to sit down himself.

Roman blinked over at him, his mouth popping open in surprise. Remy reached over to close his mouth for him.

“Good day, Patty?” Remy asked.

Patton nodded, staring intently at his omelet. He reached for his knife and fork and took a bite of his omelet. The tension was clear in his frame.

“You can just eat it Pat,” Virgil said kindly. “No one will judge you.”

Patton mumbled something under his breath and took another pointed bite. Virgil wondered how much effort it took him to not eat food when it was right there in front of him. It looked hard, but he did manage for today at least.

Virgil thought it probably helped that Roman distracted him by blabbering on about the chickens and giving an update on his progress learning the songs in the guitar song book Remy had found.

Patton didn’t say a word through the entire meal, but once all the food was gone, he looked up. “I want to see the garden,” he said to Virgil.

Virgil’s eyes flickered to Logan. They had agreed months ago that it wasn’t a good idea to let Patton go outside in case he got confused, but… things had changed. Slowly, but surely, he had more and more good days and today was a very good day.

“Sure, Pat,” Virgil replied. “That’s fine.

“The three of us will clean up breakfast since you two cooked,” Logan offered. He leaned forward to kiss Patton on the cheek. His eyes flickered between Patton and Virgil. “We’ll be working at the other house if you need me.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed, squeezing his hand before getting to his feet.

Virgil got to his feet as well and offered a hand to Patton. He took it and let Virgil lead him to the back door.

They both stopped when they stepped outside and Patton took a breath, looking out at the garden. “It…” he said softly. He walked down the steps and to the edge of the large garden. Virgil wasn’t done planting everything yet, but many things were planted and the areas that weren’t had been sectioned off and labeled with little signs. “It looks the same,” Patton said. “You even kept my signs.”

“Of course,” Virgil said. “You knew what you were doing, and it didn’t feel right to change anything.”

Patton shook his head and smiled at him ruefully. “You didn’t even know me, Virgil.”

Virgil shrugged and looked at the garden. Things were growing well. The lettuce had been growing quickly this year, and he needed to harvest some more of the rhubarb soon. The asparagus was also starting to come up. They’d be eating well the next few months if everything went to plan. He glanced over at Patton.

“Want to help me today for a bit?” he asked. “I’m planting some potatoes and it would be nice to have someone help dig the rows.

Patton smiled at him, his eyes alight. “I’d love that,” he answered. So, Virgil went and got him one of the hats in the shed (even though he wasn’t sure if zombies got sunburnt), a pair of colorful gloves, and a trowel. Patton took them and, without hesitation, knelt down in the dirt.

Logan stepped out of the second house a few hours after breakfast, leaving Remy to continue moving the furniture in the living room space around to his heart’s content. The house was coming along and should be ready by the winter. They still had a lot to fix, but the first floor was almost livable by now and the fence Logan had erected around the home was up to his standard.

Roman was out back cooing at “The Ladies” and congratulating the things on laying “so many good eggs last week.”

…

Did… were there 5 chickens now? When had Roman found a fifth chicken?

He ignored it for now and walked over to the edge of the smaller fence looking over into the garden behind his house. Patton was there in the garden on his knees, finishing digging a long trench. Logan felt himself smile and walked over to the gate they’d put between the two yards.

“Hi!” Patton said when he caught sight of him. He peeled off his gloves and got to his feet.

“Hello dear,” Logan replied, carefully rubbing a bit of dirt off his cheek. Patton smiled back at him. The sunlight cast soft shadows on his face and his skin felt less cool to the touch than it usually did. Logan’s heart felt incredibly full as Patton leaned his face into Logan’s palm. After a moment, Logan looked around and frowned. “Where’s V-”

“Oh, hell, no!” Virgil said, coming out of the shed with a large bag. “You get the hell out of our garden”

Patton giggled as Logan glared at his friend. “It’s okay, Virgil. I know how to make sure he doesn’t ruin anything.”

Virgil gave them both a skeptical look. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll trust you Patton, but if he destroys-”

“I’m not going to destroy anything!” Logan defended himself.

“I promise, it’ll be fine,” Patton said, laying a quelling hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Virgil agreed. “Fine,” he lifted the bag in his hands and gave Patton a considering look. “You good with the potatoes?” Virgil asked. Patton glared at him. “What? You eat raw meat! Don’t act like I’m being unreasonable.”

“I’ll be able to manage,” Patton promised, and Virgil handed him the bag which Logan saw was filled with pre-cut seed potatoes. Patton turned to Logan. “Come on, my honey bae,” Patton said with a wink. Logan groaned even though that line filled him with nothing buy affection. “Let’s go plant some veggies.”

Logan followed him to the end of the first row and frowned. The rows were not straight or evenly spaced, he noted. Before they could even think about planting something, they needed to…

“The rows are fine, Lo,” Patton told him.

“But…”

“The row goes with the flow of the soil,” Patton said and then pointed the trowel in his hands at him like it was a weapon. “No measuring sticks.”

Logan grumbled about it but forced himself to let it go. He knelt next to Patton in the dirt and grabbed one of the dried potato pieces in the bag. Looking at it, he wasn’t sure if it was good enough. It only had one potato eye when really it should have at least two, preferably three. Not to mention how irregularly it had been cut. Had Virgil not been paying any attention? He should…

“It’s fine, Logan,” Patton said as he placed down his fifth potato piece, barely even looking at it.

“But this one isn’t good enough,” Logan pointed out.

“Logan,” Patton gasped like he’d just insulted a five-year-old child. “Don’t be mean.”

“To the potato?”

“Yes,” Patton said, already getting the next seed potato out of the bag. “Now apologize.”

“To the potato?”

Patton paused in his planting to give Logan a severe look.

Logan sighed and looked at the potato. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling ridiculous.

“Now tell it you love it,” Patton instructed.

Logan looked up at him. “I love you,” he said.

Patton’s nose crinkled up. “To the potato, silly!”

“Ah, yes, I’m the silly one,” Logan replied before looking down at the potato. “I love you.”

“Now kiss it!”

“Patton.”

“If you kiss it, you can kiss me,” he tempted.

Logan kissed the potato and then set it in on the ground without thought. He leaned forward to kiss Patton soundly on the lips. (A quiet voice in his head reminded him that such an action was likely foolish even if it hadn’t killed him before, but he brushed it away. He wasn’t dead yet.)

“Good job,” Patton said and then moved to cover the seed potatoes with his trowel.

They had made it all the way down that row and the next two before Virgil returned. He had a container full of lettuce under his arm. “Wow,” he said. “You two are making good progress. And Logan hasn’t even dug up something he’s not supposed to yet.”

Logan blushed. “I thought they were weeds,” he grumbled.

“That’s why we have to get to know our plants,” Patton said, holding up a piece of potato to Logan’s lips. Logan distractedly kissed it before he thought about what he was doing.

Virgil almost bent over double cackling. “Is that why your face is dirty, Logan?”

Patton seemed to have no remorse for what he’d just done. Instead, he plopped the just kissed potato into the ground and started covering it up with dirt.

Virgil was still chuckling. “I’m going to take this inside and then look at harvesting some rhubarb. You two okay to finish the rest of it?”

Patton sent him a thumbs up, already getting to work on the next row.

They continued in that way with Virgil walking back and forth to the kitchen with different harvested plants every so often. Eventually, they ran out of space to plant and Patton sat back on his knees to look over the rows of potatoes he’d just planted. He was covered in dirt. There was a large smudge of it near the side of his eye and a lighter one across the bridge of his nose. His freckles, which Logan hadn’t clearly seen in years, popped out a bit in the sun. There was a small smile on his face as he looked at what he’d accomplished over the last few hours. Assuming Patton truly had been able to counteract Logan’s lack of a green thumb, the ground there should spring to life soon. Logan couldn’t wait to see his face when it did.

Virgil wandered over too look with them, placing a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “How’re you feeling Pat?”

How was he feeling? Patton thought. His hands were covered in dirt despite the gloves he’d been wearing as he worked all morning. He was in his garden which had bloomed without him the last two springs. Except it hadn’t, he thought, his eyes on the sign in front of the quickly growing lettuce. He couldn’t read it, but he knew it said, “Romain Calm.” The garden hadn’t bloomed without him completely. Virgil had managed to keep a part of Patton in it, at least a little bit. He could hear Roman and Remy chatting softly in the other yard and could feel Virgil’s hand on his shoulder. Logan’s warmth next to him sunk into his skin, and there was a weight in his pocket from a ring he’d been keeping there since he’d remembered it existed. He didn’t think it was time to bring it out. Not yet. Maybe when the potatoes they’d just planted finished growing. Logan moved to take his hand when he hesitated, and Patton smiled over at him.

How’re you feeling?

“Alive,” Patton said, and he was.

Don’t forget to check out the Bonus Features and End Credit Scenes

[rubysunnday]

The Soldier and The Artist Part 2

A/N: oh, would you look at me actually writing something

You hadn’t left the shop for four days, quietly working away on the painting, determined to finish it before Tommy got back.  Arthur had popped in two days ago, simply checking in and ensuring that you hadn’t ruined the painting any more than it already was.

You enjoyed everything that you fixed, but the painting had a special place in your heart. You had no idea why, but you were taking even more care with the precious painting than usual. For some reason, you wanted to impress the Shelby’s. The Shelby’s, of all people.

Your uncle had disappeared off to Devon for a few days, leaving you in charge of the shop and also giving you the opportunity to just not leave the shop. Hardly anyone had been in the past few days, with the exception of Arthur, and you’d been enjoying the peace.

So, when the little bell above the shop door tinkled, you looked up in surprise. Finn Shelby strolled in, shutting the door behind him and standing in front of you.

“Hello,” you said, putting your brush into the pot of water and eyeing him suspiciously.

“Hi, y/n,” Finn said, smiling awkwardly, clapping his hands behind his back.

“It’s almost done if that’s what you’re wondering.” You stood up, smoothing your dress out.

“Actually, I’m here for a different reason.”

“Oh?”

“Would you like to join me at the Garrison tonight? You have to say yes, your uncle is very persistent."

You gaped at him. “He called you?!”

“Well, he called Arthur.”

“That’s basically the same thing, Finn.”

“Look, you have to come out. It’ll be fun.”

You sighed, "if it’ll get him off my back, then fine.”

“Seven?”

“Whatever.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

True to his word, Finn knocked on the shop door as the clock chimed seven. You sighed, checking yourself in the mirror one more time.

“Coming!” You yelled down the stairs, grabbing your coat and bag. You shut the flat door, locking it, and then quickly ran down the stairs. Finn smiled at you as you stepped put the side door, locking that too and pocketing the key.

“You look nice,” Finn said, looking you up and down.

You frowned. “Thanks?” Finn’s gaze hovered a bit too long and you slapped his arm. “Oi, eyes front.”

“Sorry,” Finn muttered, offering you his arm without looking at you.

You rolled your eyes and accepted it, leaning into him. “It’s just dawned on me that I have no idea where we’re going.”

“The Garrison,” Finn said, pulling his coat tighter against him as the wind picked up.

“Just us?”

“Nah, Isaiah’s gonna be there too. Maybe Michael and John.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you walked towards the Garrison. You could see the impact Finn had on then people they passed. The power of the Shelby name couldn’t be understated.

“You know, I do remember you,” Finn said after a while.

“What?” You said, suddenly realising he was talking.

“I remember you, from school.”

You slowed down slightly. “You do?”

He nodded. “Of course, I do. Hide and seek, running away from the teachers, sneaking out to go to the shop -“

“You rescuing me from the Cut that time,” you added causing Finn to laugh.

“I never forgot you, y/n,” Finn said softly. “I’m sorry, about your parents.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered, trying not to let on that you were crying. “I’m just glad we’ve seen each other again.”

“It’s been nice,” Finn replied, taking your arm again. “I’m surprised you’re still in Small Heath.”

“I’m saving up to go travelling,” you said, concentrating on where you were walking so that Finn couldn’t see your red eyes. “I don’t really want to leave my uncle, however. Maybe someday.”

“Someday, we’ll get out of here,” Finn said softly, a nostalgic look on his face.

You smiled, nudging him slightly to bring him back down. “So, what’s the Garrison like?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Garrison was packed with people. You took one step in and had to walk back into Finn to avoid having an entire tray of drinks poured on you. For once you were glad of the Shelby name as Finn guided you through the mass of bodies and into the private room at the side. Isiah was already sitting inside had evidently been waiting for a while; he was already four drinks in and had another four coming.

You’d known Isaiah for a few years. The two of you had become friends after you’d met at church (the one time your uncle had dragged you with him) but you hadn’t seen him for a while; he’d been too busy with Blinder business.

“Hey, y/n,” Isaiah said, shifting along the seat to make for you.

“Hey, Is,” you kissed his cheek as you sat down, immediately nicking one of his drinks.

“Wait, you’re that y/n?” Finn exclaimed suddenly as he sat down next to you.

“I’m what now?”

“Yeah, she is. Have you only now twigged?” Isaiah replied, frowning.

Finn just stuck his finger up at his friend as you looked between the two, confused.

“I’m what now?” You asked, raising your voice slightly to be heard of the cheering from the main bar.

“I told Finn about you that first time we met,” Isaiah said, filling your glass up. “He’s teased me about my first ‘crush’ ever since.”

“Aw, you had a crush on me?” You asked, batting your eyelids at him.

“Oh, fuck off, y/n/n,” Isaiah grumbled, shoving your slightly.

You giggled. “Well, unluckily for you I have zero interest in you.” You gave Isaiah a knowing look and he smirked, taking a large gulp of his drink.

“No interest in Isaiah? Wow.” Finn gaped at you. “Looks like your charms aren’t as good as you thought, Isaiah.”

“Do you want a black eye?” Isaiah countered, glaring at Finn menacingly.

“Oi, no scrapping in my bar.”

You looked up at the newcomer as the door shut again. Arthur Shelby smiled down at you as he took his hat and coat off, throwing them on to the chair. Behind was Michael, a man you’d only seen around but who had always given you a smile when you’d greeted him.

Finn rolled his eyes as his brother and cousin sat down opposite him. “I thought you had business?”

“The business sorted itself out,” Michael replied, pouring himself a drink. “How did he manage to convince you to come down to this hell hole then, y/n?”

You chuckled. “It was a mixture of him physically dragging me out of the shop and my uncle meddling with things despite being hundreds of miles away. Apparently, I need to ‘get a life’.”

“I didn’t say get a life,” Finn countered.

“You basically did.”

“But the words didn’t come out my mouth.”

“No, but it was implied.”

Arthur looked between the two of you. “Are you two done? Fucking hell, you’ve only known her a week, Finn.”

“I’ve known her almost all my life, actually,” Finn shot back, and you pretended to suddenly be very interested in your drink. “Best friends at school before I dropped out.”

“You were?” Michael gawked, his drinking halfway to his mouth.

“I don’t remember you being friends with a y/n…” Arthur muttered. “I never met any of you,” You explained, “never got round to it.”

“Huh.”

The topic didn’t get brought up again. The drinks began flowing around the room, but you kept yourself to just two, not wanting to end up throwing up and passing out in front of the Shelby’s.

“I should really go,” you said to Finn quietly as Arthur finished his sixth drink.

“I’ll walk you home,” Finn offered, jumping up and grabbing his coat before you could say no.

“Alright then,” you relented, grabbing your own coat. You bided farewell to Michael, the only one who was still slightly with it, and followed Finn out into the street.

The night was cold, and you wrapped your coat around you tightly, gladly accepting Finn’s offer of an arm to lean on.

“Thank you for letting me come,” you said after a while.

“S’alright,” Finn replied, smiling at you. “I’m glad you came.”

Eventually, you reached the shop and you reluctantly let go of Finn’s arm to unlock your door. “I’d invite you in but there’s not much room.”

Finn waved you off. “It’s fine, I need to go home anyway. Aunt Pol will have my head if I’m caught with a girl again.”

“Again?” Finn blushed. “Anyway, who said I was inviting you in for sex, hey?” You stepped inside the shop and smiled at him. “It’s been nice hanging out with you again, Finn. As friends,” you emphasised.

“Yeah, ok,” Finn muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll see you around, y/n/n.”

You watched Finn begin to walk away and sighed. “Finn!” You called, trying not to laugh at the speed of which the man turned around. “The painting will be finished by tomorrow if you want to come and get it…”

Finn nodded. “What time?”

“Noon?

Finn blushed slightly. “And then we could, maybe, go for lunch somewhere? As friends,” he added quickly.  

“Lunch as friends,” you agreed, nodding. “I’ll see you around, Finnigan.”

“Fuck you,” Finn yelled as he walked away and you laughed loudly, watching him disappear around the corner.

“Not a chance, Finny boy,” you said to yourself as you shut the door. “Not a chance.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist (because apparently, that’s a thing)

@why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy

[angel-deux-writes]

I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this On Here, but I really want to tell the story of the guy who put in my kitchen floors because it was terrifying

im putting it under a cut bc it’s probably not that long, but who knows.

(scrolled back up after i actually wrote it to confirm that it is in fact long)

Some backstory is that I was INCREDIBLY lucky and got my condo very cheap in a neighborhood I already knew I loved. The other unit I’d looked at was a full 30k over my budget, but this one was perfect because the owner hadn’t updated ANYTHING since it was built in 1985, so it was just...awful. Awful rugs, awful floors, awful walls. My dad is like...the dad who loves a project, so he was all “I can fix all of this except the floors!!! it’ll be great!!”, so I bought it. We hired a local company to do the floors, not wanting to go to Home Depot or whatever (Which i still support in theory, just......not this company lmao). Everything except the kitchen and bathroom was originally carpet. Hallways, stairs, every single room. And it was cheap industrial carpet, too. Like the kind in office buildings. The dude who did the carpet was like “what the fuck were they thinking???” 

Also, one of the carpets had a truly upsetting rusty stain, so. My guest bedroom might be haunted. 

Anyway, the carpet guy was great. He was the owner of the company, and he was older and very kind. I had my mom come over with me when he was doing the carpets, but I didn’t even need her there. He was cool. His son was in charge of the hardwood portion (I say “hardwood”. I mean, like, the cheapest laminate while still looking nice lmao). He was less great. He had a team of like 3 dudes and 1 lady who would show up and work, doing my office/dining room and upstairs hallway. I know carpet is easier, but the carpet guy took one day, and these guys took a week and a half. They messed up a few times, and it was kind of stressful, but overall it was okay. They had to redo all the subfloors, because condos built in 1985 were almost universally built in buckwild, impossible-to-explain ways, so it took forever. The hardwood guys were loud as hell, but they were nice! 

At one point, one of the nicest guys accidentally broke a few of my kitchen tiles while putting in the transition from the wood to the tile. I was cool with it, tbh, but he offered a discount on a new kitchen floor because, shocker, the subfloor under the broken tile was really jacked up, and it wouldn’t be as simple as taking a tile from under the fridge and replacing it. I was like, okay, cool! We set it up. 

I did not hear from them for four months. Which, I get it. It was a discounted job, so obviously they wanted to do full-price jobs first. I have no problem with that. The same hardwood guys came back to do the subfloor, and then they were like “okay [the owner’s son] will contact you about the tiles. That took about a week. Finally, I got a date. It was a Friday, a day when my sister was already working from home, so she was like “yeah, I can handle it.” She works in interior design, so she’s used to dealing with construction people, and she was REALLY useful when it came to talking down the son of the owner, who was like...every bad stereotype about contractors meshed with a used car salesman. 

So I’m at work the day the tiling is supposed happen. My sister is fine at first, texting me about how the son showed up with one single guy, and then left, so it was only the single guy working. She was annoyed like “it’s supposed to take one day, right? That’s what they said? There’s no way he’s finishing at this pace. Why are they making this guy do the whole thing by himself?”. She called him “nice, kind of cute, but a very slow worker”. I was like ‘well, if they have to come back tomorrow, whatever, that’s fine’.”

Around 10:30 she starts texting me increasingly insane shit. 

“He’s talking to himself downstairs? Maybe he’s on the phone”. 

“He keeps dropping stuff and yelling SHIT really loudly.”

“Someone just showed up with a bag, and he let them in, and they chatted in the kitchen for like ten minutes, and then the person left, and they didn’t take the bag with them”. 

“He’s standing outside using the tile cutter and SCREAMING whenever it’s on.”

“He’s out in the rain and shout-singing something while he’s cutting tile”

“He is BARKING LIKE A DOG TO THE TUNE OF THE RUGRATS THEME SONG CAN YOU PLEASE COME HOME”

I’m half convinced she’s making this shit up, but she’s uncomfortable so I tell my boss what’s going on and race home. When I get there, there’s a vaguely adam driver looking guy who seems nice enough. A little startled to see me, but we make pleasant conversation, I see that he’s not very far along, and then I go upstairs to see my sister. I brought her takeout as a treat, and we sit there for a while talking about normal things. Gradually, downstairs, the dude starts talking to himself. I’m thinking that’s still not THAT weird. Then he starts singing and clapping along. Okay, a BIT weird, but not terrible. I decide to go downstairs into the living room and play some Playstation. Like, maybe he thinks we can’t hear him upstairs and he’ll be more chill when i’m down there? NOPE! HE ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT! He does the barking thing again (and it is, in fact, the rugrats theme song), he’s working at a pace of about one tile per hour, and he starts singing a song that consists only of the word “bitch” over and over again. 

I’m texting my dad, freaking out, and he tries to get in contact with the owner or his son, but nobody’s answering the phone. My other sister and her friend are on their way for game night. My sister’s boyfriend should be home soon from work, but not soon enough. It is, at this point, 7 pm. There is absolutely no chance he’s getting these tiles done today. He’s not even halfway done. My kitchen is VERY SMALL, by the way, so this reasonably could have been done in a day with two people, but I suspect that because it was a discount job, we got the discount treatment. 

My other sister and her friend show up, and the guy is perfectly pleasant and normal to them. We all go upstairs into my sister’s room, and we sit there, waiting in silence for it to start again, hoping that maybe with more people in the house, he’ll be okay. 

NOPE! He starts singing the “bitch” song again. I distinctly remember my other sister whispering “I love this song” and pretending to groove, which was kind of funny but NOT THE TIME. I’m sitting on my sister’s bed clutching a camp axe like a maniac, because I’m like “we are going to be killed by this giant kylo ren asshole”. I’m still texting my dad, who’s like “if you need me to come over, I can, i’m out of work”, but at this point it’s almost 8 and I’m also thinking about my neighbors. Like, he can’t be here at night. He just can’t. He’s so loud even just doing regular tile things! 

I muster up LITERALLY EVERY IOTA OF COURAGE THAT I HAVE, and I head downstairs. I ask him when he’s planning on wrapping up, because I know there’s no way he’s going to finish tonight. He tells me it’ll probably take about two more hours. That is 1) absolutely not true and 2) not something I’m willing to deal with because I live in a condo with neighbors on either side of me, and one of my neighbors is a truck driver who gets up at like 4 am! So I explain that my friends and I have an obligation to get to, and I would love it if we could arrange for someone to continue the work tomorrow. He’s SUPER NICE ABOUT IT and is like “oh, okay, no problem!” He leaves. Just...walks into the rain. Leaves all his tools and his tile cutter. I move it inside because it was on my front porch and it is, again, raining. 

My sister, a Nancy Drew Game fiend, starts searching the entire downstairs and eventually finds the plastic bag that someone brought him. My other sister, who is a nurse in a hospital that primarily treats overdose patients, is like “yep, that’s drug residue for sure”. I’m like, okay, so he didn’t hurt any of us, and he was nice, just....high and weird. But it’s over now, so whatever. My dad says he’ll call the owner’s son the next day, and everything’s cool. He also says that he, my mom, and my brother will all come over to watch the football game at my house the next day just to be there (which...im less than thrilled about the football part, but sure). I also beg my friend to drive up from the Cape to pick up his hat that he left at my condo over the summer just so he can chill for a few hours in the morning. 

The next day, the same guy returns, with the owner’s son this time. The owner’s son is like “why did you only get this far along?” but otherwise doesn’t really say anything. The barking guy is TOTALLY FINE, totally polite. My friend lingers as long as he can, but there’s an ice storm coming, so he peaces out eventually. I’m alone for about an hour with the guy, and nothing happens. He’s quiet, even when the owner’s son peaces for a bit. My parents show up, we watch the football game, and nothing happens. I feel like A LUNATIC, because my dad is like “he seems fine now” and I’m like NO BUT YESTERDAY WAS TERRIFYING. 

Anyway, so that’s the story. I didn’t end up saying anything to the owner’s son, but my dad reamed him out a bit for sending only one person to do a job meant for two. And now every time I drive by that business I suppress a shudder, and sometimes the barking version of the Rugrats theme song still gets stuck in my head.

[7deadlycinderellas]

The Starks at War, 1941 part 2

AO3 link

(who knew all I needed was something called the “Abandoned WIP challenge to finish another chapter of this?)

Arya doesn’t stop shaking the whole way home, through to the next day. Asha accompanies her, sympathetic, but distant. The bus ride is hell.

When Arya walks through the front door, Jojen and Bran are playing cards, but stop immediately to look at her.

“Arya-” Bran starts, stuttering, “Mother?”

Arya feels a sob choke out, then get stuck halfway.

“How did you know?” Asha asks.

“Radio,” Bran says, pointing at the wireless set by the front window, “It said that the Germans hit a military hospital- the one we knew you were going to.” His voice suddenly becomes thick, and Arya realizes he sounds double his newly fifteen years.

“We were scared, we thought it might be both of you.”

Arya slumps down in her chair.

“It was stupid, really,” Jojen comments, “painting crosses on the roofs of all the hospitals. Just gave them something to aim at.”

“If half the stories out of France are true, it is our error to expect any kind of fair play from Nazis.”

Arya feels like she can barely move.

After a time, Asha stands to leave.

“I’ll spend the night at the inn and leave in the morning.”

She leans down to clap Arya on the shoulder.”

“You know where to reach me.”

Once Asha leaves, Arya slumps and clutches her face in her hands.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it,” is all she can whisper to herself.

Autumn begins to turn over the coming weeks. Arya sleepwalks into it. Gilly ends up being the one who goes to the church to report. There are no remains to bury.

Sansa calls multiple times a week.

She keeps asking if they need her to come home. They all push her off. Winterfell isn’t home as it was, and they won’t bring her back if she is needed elsewhere.

She’s begun to settle in in London. The flat she shares with Margaery is tiny, just a bedroom and kitchen. The two beds they’ve managed to drag in barely have enough room between them to walk.The walls are papered, but it’s fading and peeling. The heating doesn’t always work, what with the coal shortages. Often at night, the two of them simply pull on all of their clothes before crawling into bed.

The tenement building’s shelter is outside. When the air raid sirens bellow, they have to shove on their slippers, grab their masks and barrel down the stairs among the other flat-dwellers. Praying that all they will hear is the sirens and not the whine of an incendiary or the gait shattering boom of an explosion before they manage to cram themselves inside.

Sansa’s begun adjusting to the work as well. She spends all day in the tiny gray office, editing and retyping papers, sometimes helping Margaery do translations. Sometimes, even work is interrupted by air raids.

She can’t stop thinking of what Catelyn would have said to see her now. With her short cut hair and simple office clothes, she looks nothing like the debutante she dreamed of being. This was not a world her or her mother would have even thought to be part of.

She’s good with idioms, her supervisor notes, so at least she can take pride in that. She was always good at French in school, longing one day to go there, to see the sights and the glamor for herself.

One night when they’re at home, eating some cobbled together vegetable medley, cooked in a pan, Margaery comments,

“I think I’m going to cut my hair. I’m sick of having to set the whole mess at night.”

Sansa nods. She had been surprised when watching Margaery do her hair the first time, to see how hard she worked to make it perfect. Without the curlers at night, one side would curl up perfectly, and the other would hang straight pin straight, stretched out by its length.

“They do say long hair is terribly old-fashioned.”

Margaery sighs when it’s finished, touching the ends as though she can’t believe it’s gone. But now the sides curl properly, and she won’t have to do anything but wash it and wrap it all up before bed.

“My mother used to put it up for me when I was little, the way she did when she went out,” she comments idly.

“You never told me what happened to your mother,” Sansa tells her, suddenly keenly feeling her own loss that she’s spent so much time shoving down deep inside.

“She died of the flu- not the big one, just the usual one- when I was ten. My father was never the same after that. I’m not sure any of us were.”

Sansa is quiet. She understands really. She’s almost appreciative that she hadn’t been at home most of this entire past year. She can’t imagine how her mother must have taken her father’s death. While the pair had never been the most demonstrative of their affections, their children were very secure in the fact that the two had loved each other, and that not all married couples were as lucky.

Margaery glances down at herself.

“She always wanted the best for me. Nothing specific, just that I would be happy and the best person I could be. She was the only one I think. Everyone else has their own ideas about who I am and exactly what I should aim for.”

“What do you want to do? What would make you happy?”

Margaery’s expression is pensieve.

“I wish I’d applied to go to university. I’d like to study political science. I’d like a proper little flat, near a park, one that’s not been bombed. Maybe I’ll marry, but only if I meet someone I want to. Maybe I will when the war is over.“

It has been strange, Sansa thinks, leaving school behind and seeing Margaery for who she really was. She had always thought they were friends, but here she’s stripped bare. She’s not a prefect, or head of the French club, or the beautiful polished girl Sansa had idolized. Here she chips her nails and ladders her stockings and forgets her hat just like everyone else.

That doesn’t mean Sansa doesn’t still look up to her though. She fits right in at the office, even with most of the others being London born girls who left school at fourteen and knew they would end up working if they didn’t marry. Many of them were pleased to work in an office, rather than in a factory, or worse, in service. Sansa sometimes feels tongue tied around them, and not just because the Starks have always had a few people employed in service.

Before October, both of them get letters inviting them for an interview with the same Baelish that Margaery had said recognized Sansa’s name. The instructions have them both come to a tiny, bare bones hotel room during lunch hour. Sansa’s stomach grumbles while she’s outside waiting  for Margaery to finish her turn. Her stomach is not eased by her own interview.

Petyr Baelish isn’t a tall man. Sansa’s used to looking most grown men in the eye, and finds that when he stands, she’s actually looking more at his hairline. He has dark hair, going somewhat gray, a neat mustache and an overall aura of having everything under his control.  

He asks her dozens of questions, some of which she doesn’t even understand. But by the time it’s done, she has a job offer.

And a new, horrifying, realization, about the nature of the office where she’s been working.

Her and Margaery both, are, on paper, enlisted in the FANY, the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry. In practice, they were brought aboard the organization that became known as SOE for secret operations, and being sent to Scotland for their training.

Sansa cringes at the slightest thought of what her mother would say. But her mother is dead now, and this gives her the slightest hope for vengeance. Vengeance. That was one of those words so beloved in those awful twopenny comics Arya and Bran devoured.

It doesn’t take long before she wonders what on earth she was thinking by accepting.

Even reaching the training school is rough. The terrain in Scotland is difficult. By the time they reach the facility, they are all exhausted, hungry, soaked through with rain and covered in scratches. And when they reach it, the real fun begins.

Sansa never once in her life thought she would someday learn to shoot a gun, or disarm a man, or be required to carry a suicide pill. These skills are not second nature to her, so she has to work at it. When her eyes threaten to prick full of tears and her throat threatens to close up, she thinks of her mother’s face, dead now for no reason, and no one coming to save her, or Sansa or anyone. No one is coming to save them.

She learns to parrot back the goal they are told. To resist the enemy by any means necessary. There aren’t a great many women in training with them, but there are far more than Sansa would have expected. Too many in England have lost loved ones in this war. Too many have seen their homes destroyed.

Learning telegraphy and morse code are much easier, even if they are still totally foreign skills for her. She goes back through Arya’s letters, remembering her speaking of learning these things for Girl Guides. These at least, don’t make the bile rise in the back of Sansa’s throat at even the thought of using them.

One night, she sits on the end of her bed and puts her head in her hands. Margaery has the bunk above her. There are bunks here, it’s like being back at school again.

“What’s wrong?”

Sansa’s shoulders slump as she responds.

“All I can think is how much my younger sister would prefer learning all of this than me. She always loved science fiction and pulp magazines and those awful two-penny adventure comics. And when I called home last, she sounded so angry...she needs to feel like she’s contributing as much as us, but she can’t. She’s sixteen, she’s tiny and she’s stuck at home still.”

Margaery frowns, deep in thought.

“Your sister Arya...you said she’s only sixteen?”

Sansa nods.

“She’ll be seventeen at the beginning of next year.”

“Then let her be a child if she can still, we don’t know how long this war will last. Besides, from your stories, she always sounded like such an impulsive and ill-refined girl.”

Sansa sniffs. Her stories had always been terribly unfair to Arya. She might still prefer running about outside, but she hadn’t thrown a tantrum in ages, and the shouting and even the insults were a thing of the long past. They might never have been as close as sisters in Jane Austen novels, but they hadn’t fought each other in so long.

Except when they did.

“She is.”

Margaery smiles, and plays with one of her gloves.

“Know why Baelish had been head-hunting us?”

Sansa shakes her head.

“Because aristocratic women are good at a great deal more than picking out dresses and fixing their hair. We know manners, and pick up rules of etiquette with ease. We are good at talking to people and getting them to tell us things. And we are excellent at keeping up appearances under pressure.”

Sansa nods, and tries to put on her face.

And it is very easy to see why Margaery was selected. Her French is perfect and she has a great deal of knowledge of French geography, culture and fashion. Information that it turns out, Sansa has picked up quite easily having hung on Margaery’s words when she was just the glamorous school prefect.

And it’s so much easier to keep her face on in the dorms than out in the training field with a weapon in her hands.

One of the instructor’s compliments Sansa on her accent.

“A bit breathy, true, but the disguise of an excited young girl can be very handy. Very few would doubt the intentions of one.”

When the both of them get near to finishing training, Baelish’s assessment claims they would both make excellent radio operators. Even Sansa’s not naive enough to believe that’s a safe occupation, like Baelish insists. Mum had seemed fond enough of him, but Sansa doesn’t trust something in his gaze.

This is what sticks in Sansa’s mind as Margaery and her are sent off to parachute school. The first day of training, she stares out the window and wishes she were more like Arya.

That same day, Arya gets the telegram.

The months since Mother had died were hell. Arya has kept up with the girl guides when she could. She helps out with the WVS, who seems nearly as lost without Catelyn as she does. She helps Bran stumble through the paperwork needed to keep the family affairs in order. She tries to help Gilly with little Sam and Weasel.

She writes Gendry whenever she can. His letters are always so sweet, so understanding, but he can’t write often. And she doesn’t know if her own letters actually capture even half of what she feels.

He writes that he wishes he could come see her, but the Navy is stingy with leave, and when he gets a day, he’s stationed too far away to make the train ride south in the time given. Sometimes, selfishly, Arya wishes she could ask him to come anyway, but she can’t. She won’t get him in trouble because of her.

The day the telegram comes, she’s about to burst as it is. It’s only a few days after America has entered the war, wrapping her mind around that was hard enough.

She’s in the kitchen, staring at the paper when the others trickle in for lunch.

Bran notices first, Arya’s stony white face.

“What now?” he asks.

Arya’s hands are holding the card still, but her fingers are shaking.

“It’s Robb,” her voice says, low, dead. “His plane was shot down over France. They have no idea what’s become of him.”

Without meeting his eye, she hands the telegram to Bran, puts her hands on the table. Then she lays her face down on top of them and cries.

None of them could have known what was going down in France at the moment.

Robb was a competent pilot. He wasn’t a natural like Jon was, but he was good enough. This was very little comfort when his plane was currently on fire and quickly losing altitude.

He tried to radio out assistance, but the controls are dead. Robb’s head is throbbing from where it slammed against the inside of the cockpit and he can hardly think. It’s only through sheer luck that he manages to get his parachute on and leap from the rapidly descending plane and pray as he bails out for the ground.

The air rushes around him for only a split second it seems before he collides with the ground so hard that it feels like he’s being manhandled. He thinks he hears something crack, but he can’t stop to think. All he sees is blurs, all he hears is ringing and all he smells is blood and smoke. He tries to stand and run, but his body isn’t listening.

Eventually, one of those blurs comes closer, and grabs him, by the arm, pulling roughly. His legs screech in protest, his lungs wail, but it keeps pulling, and eventually the world begins to return to him.

The figure pulling him, he eventually sees is a woman. Young, perhaps in her twenties, with dark hair. She wears a heavy, dark green coat and her footsteps are heavy.

Eventually, the image of a barn comes into sight. The woman pulling him stops, moves something, and the next that Robbs knows, he’s being shoved into what seems like a hole in the ground.

“Stay quiet. Don’t make a sound until I come back for you. Not a single word, or you’re dead.”

Robb tries to stop himself from blacking out, but he doesn’t succeed.

When he comes to, he takes inventory of his surroundings. Dirt, a lot of dirt. A couple of what look like potatoes in one corner. A root cellar, most likely. The inhales and all he can smell is dirt too. His leg is on fire, and much of his skin is too. He fears when he wakes up fully, the pain will be so bad it makes him pass out again.

He can hear people outside, somewhere, faintly. He follows the woman’s advice and pretends he’s dead. He hears planes overhead, and gunfire too. He hopes his squadmates are alright.

Robb’s not sure how long it is before the cellar door cracks open and he jumps, squawking in pain, but the woman from before pulls him out again and leads him to the farmhouse.

“I told them where I saw your plane go down. I told them I saw it on fire and was worried about the trees in the wood. I didn’t say anything about your chute, I burned it in the hearth.”

After she leads him in and lays him upon a wooden chair, she retrieves a glass and tells him to drink the liquid inside. It’s bitter, and he sputters, but she pushes it to his lips again, and after that, he fades in and out.

When he finally wakes, there’s the sound of a kettle whistling.

“Not real tea, I’m afraid, but dried mint is good enough to pretend.”

She sits across from him. Even still in pain, Robb can’t help but notice that she’s lovely. He sips the mint tea and tries not to choke.

When he finally gathers the mindfulness to speak, he picks his first question carefully.

“What’s your name?”

The woman sighs, before taking her own cup and sitting in the other chair.

“Talisa.”

“Talisa,” he says, feeling the name on his tongue, “I’m Robb.”

“I suppose we should use each other’s Christian names, given we’re going to be stuck here together for at least six weeks” she admits. Then she gestures at Robb’s leg, which she has immobilized with splints and thick rolls of bandage cloth. “Don’t try and move. I couldn’t set a proper cast, but I did my best. Don’t ruin all my hard work.” Dimly, Robb realizes he is covered in cuts that are also bandaged.

Robb is flush with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says. He examines her bandaging. “Are you a nurse?”

Talisa nods.

“I was going to be, before-” she waves her arm out, “All of this.”

Robb glances around the farmhouse, and realizes the place is empty, but has the signs of other people having lived here before. Four chairs around the table, more cups than one person would need.

“Do you live here by yourself?”

Talisa nods, sadly.

“My father died when I was young, of a fever. I was born in Guernica. When Franco bombed it, me, my mother and my brother escaped and fled here. My father was French, so getting asylum was easier.”

“Guernica,” Robb muses, rolling the word around in his mouth, wondering where he’s heard it. “That’s in Spain right?”

Talisa purses her lips before answering.

“I guess it was too much to expect England to have reported too much on our own little war. But yes, Guernica is in Spain. The three of us came here and worked this farm. Then the Germans came. It had barely been three years. Seems like such a little time of peace.”

She turns away, and Robb chooses not to press her.

“Once your leg heals enough, I’ll pass you off to the resistance, and they can see about getting you home.”

“The German’s won’t get suspicious of you?” Robb asks. He doesn’t want to bring any trouble to her.

“That’s no matter,” she insists, “It’s not like you can go anywhere on your own, and anything I can do to be a thorn in the side of the Third Reich, the better.”

Talisa drains her cup at this point, pushing it back down against the table, and briefly shuts her eyes.

“It’s probably not good to admit, but I am happy that at least I’ll have someone here to talk to this Christmas.”

Christmas, Robb thinks. He hadn’t even realized.

Christmas 1941 is hellish for his own family.

Jon can barely eat any of the Christmas dinner the servicemen are given. It feels like ashes in his gut.

Sansa is given a break over Christmas, but the next day is when they’re supposed to be given their first parachute lessons. She cries herself to sleep, in fear. Fear for herself, fear for her brother. In her more fanciful moments, she imagines parachuting into France and one day bumping into him on the street. Perhaps he’d lost his memory, she wonders, her mind a Hollywood fantasy.

Arya and Bran are still at Winterfell.

Bran is overwhelmed. The work that has been left in his lap threatens to consume him, even as he had wished so hard to be useful.

Arya feels nearly dead inside.

The past two Christmases without Robb and Jon had been bad enough, but at least there were his letters. Now she can’t read them without wondering if they’re the last she will ever receive.

On Christmas Eve, no tree, no lights, no Christmas dinner, Arya stares out her bedroom window. Father, Mother, Robb gone. Jon, Sansa and Gendry far too far away. Bran overwhelmed, even Gilly, Sam and Weasel ash-faced.

They see Rickon so little it’s as though he’s slipped away.

It hardly feels like Christmas at all.

Maybe it would be better if she weren’t here too. One less mouth to poorly feed.

She leaves her bicycle, and her books. She takes Gendry’s letters, and she wonders if she’ll be able to receive any more of them.

The day Arya turns seventeen, she calls Asha Greyjoy, asking if her offer still stands.

[thedukeoftrash]

Remus’ Cry

This has a lot of suicide mention in it, along with suicide so I do not recommend you reading this if that is triggering for you. It is also angsty and there is a lot of unsympathetic character traits in almost all of the sides. (Also please tell me if I miss anything in the tags.)

The sides liked days like these. Where the weather was nice, the tension was gone and no arguments going on.

When the mind palace was silent and at peace for once.

But when Remus popped up in the kitchen, they all knew that was about to be gone.

The majority of them groaned in annoyance, while a few of them rolled their eyes and let out a silent sigh before he had spoken a word.

He kept a smirk on nonetheless and greeted them loudly. The only ones that responded was a nervous smile from Patton and a nod from Deceit.

Remus took a seat beside Virgil, who scooted his chair away, not bothering with being subtle. And the mustached man pretended not to notice only sending him a toothy smile that was hissed at.

A couple of minutes of silence passed, the only sounds being heard were the clinking of utensils, the soft music from Virgil’s headphones that he had around his neck and Remus’ shaking leg that he couldn’t keep still.

Remus then blurted out when the silence got too much, “Hey what if I throw myself off of a bridge into a body of water? Would I die from the impact or the drowning?” The others gave him looks of disgust and cringe.

Patton asked nervously, “Kiddo…could you not do that right now? We’re trying to eat breakfast.” He smirked back at him, making the shorter man curl in on himself and avoid eye contact. Logan glared at him while Roman gave a warning look with Virgil. Deceit just drank his coffee, staring off into space with a blank expression.

They ate mostly silently, choosing to ignore any and all comments he made. Including when he asked if they could pass over some salt and he had to reach over and grab it, knocking over Virgil’s coffee and getting shouted at for five minutes.

Patton told his gloomy son after they all finished, “You’re on dish duty today.” Virgil grumbled lowly, but got up and began collecting the dishes.

Remus jumped up. “I’ll help!”

Virgil shot him a look. “I’m good, I don’t need you making them even dirtier.”

He hesitated momentarily but gathered up the rest of the dishes and told him gleefully, “Blasphemy, wannabe emo. I can help!” Patton just gave him a helpless shrug and the darker dressed man rolled his eyes.

“Fine, just dry the dishes and don’t put anything on them. I’m watching you.”

“Ooo, kinky.” Virgil sneered back in disgust and began washing the dishes quickly, wanting to get it over with. Remus happily dried each one that he was handed roughly, ignoring the glares and quiet remarks he got.

Finally, he finished up and shoved the plates and utensils back into their designated spots, ready to bolt back into his room. Virgil knew that Patton wouldn’t be too pleased with him decking another, no matter who it was getting decked. And he was starting to lose his patience with him.

Remus then asked suddenly as he finished the last plate, “What if I just downed an entire bottle of bleach right now?”

Virgil snarked back as he walked out of the kitchen, “Do it, maybe it’ll finally shut you up.” Remus clutched the plate to his chest, never wanting to shove a drink faster down his throat then he did now.

His hands began to shake the more he thought of it and eventually he felt the plate shatter beneath his grip.

He cursed at the damn fragile plate and picked up the shards. Holding them tighter than necessary so they would bury into his skin and draw red.

He wondered how much they would hurt if he swallowed them. But didn’t get the chance when Patton found him hours later, with the shards dug into his skin.

He got a lecture before being ushered out of the kitchen by Patton who told him ‘to go clean up his wounds so they don’t get infected’. Remus knew Patton didn’t really care and just wanted him out of the way.

He spent the rest of the day in the bathroom, picking out and biting at his hands for any shards that were stuck.

Dinner was called out by their father side just as he was getting the last one out. And he hurried down to see the others sitting down already, his chair being shoved to the corner of the table where no one sat.

He pretended that they did it because they wanted him near the head of the table so they could see him better.

But lying wasn’t his forte though and just picked at his food, dropping in the occasional nasty comment just so the others didn’t entirely forget that he was there.

A movie marathon was put on afterward, each of the sides choosing a movie. He couldn’t help the giddy feeling when the others let him put his movie in the pile as well. Even if his was placed at the bottom of it.

They were halfway through a Disney movie with Roman singing along to the song, when Remus decided to speak again.

“If I tied a rope around my neck and jumped off a chair would I die from the suffocation or the neck-snapping?”

Roman snapped at him, frustrated at his brother’s continuous interruptions, “I don’t know Remus, how about you go find out?!” He just grinned back, never realizing how much worse it looked when he had to fake it.

Everyone let out a breath when he kept silent and the movie continued. But he could barely focus on the shitty Disney movie that was playing. And felt that weight return in his chest, it distracted him enough to keep his comments about the movie silent.

Hours passed by, the weight growing more and more but finally, the movies ran out and it was his turn. He grinned again, hopping up from behind the couch and ready to put it in.

But paused when the others began getting up.

He asked quickly before they could hurry off, “Wait! Where are you guys going, we still have one movie left.” He left out the part that it was his movie.

Patton quickly made up an excuse, “Sorry Remus, it’s getting pretty late and we’re all tired. Maybe another time?” He didn’t wait for an answer and was already hurrying upstairs with the others following behind.

He felt his face fall until a throat cleared beside him and he turned, almost screaming in joy when he saw Double Dee still there.

“You just going to stare or will you put the disk in?” He practically jumped from behind the couch and put the movie in, actually sitting on the couch when he got back.

He never smiled so much for something so little, and couldn’t get rid of it for the rest of the movie. Which did unnerve Deceit when the people were getting brutally slaughtered on screen, though he chose to ignore it. Not wanting to risk asking any questions that would lead to nightmares.

And when the movie was done, he gave a quick goodbye and went upstairs leaving Remus behind in the darkness.

Later the next day, Remus popped up into the library and quickly spotted the nerd sitting in a chair by a fireplace with a book in hand and a cup of tea beside him.

Logan glanced up at the sudden noise and groaned in irritation at the side’s presence.

“Make this quick Remus,” he told him before he taking a long sip that steamed up his glasses some.

Remus bounded over to him and crouched by the side of the chair, asking, “What ya reading there senpai?”

“First, never call me senpai again. And second, what do you want, stop beating around the metaphorical bush.”

Remus questioned him, “When did you learn metaphors? Deceit is that you?” He reached up to poke his cheek but Logan swatted his hand away, frustration starting to build.

He warned, “Remus, I will only repeat myself one time. What do you want?”

“How many ibuprofen could I take before I die?”

Logan slammed his book shut, now realizing his time was being wasted for no real reason. “Just take the entire damn bottle and leave me alone,” he growled at the intrusive side.

Remus flinched back, eyes widening slightly at the librarian wannabe’s glare.

Finally, he got up and sank back out without another word making the logic side let out a sigh and return to his reading.

Remus popped up in the lying side’s room. Afraid, for once, to be alone. His mind kept screaming at him but he was more terrified of it becoming silent.

His only friend would listen to him, right?

The half-snake side sat at his desk with papers scattered over it. His hat hanging on the back of the chair and his hair was messy.

Remus could tell he was stressed but didn’t know who else to turn to. Everyone else already made their opinions on the matter clear. He was hoping that one of them would be different.

And now there was only one left to ask.

“Deceit?” He asked hesitantly

He sighed heavily, barely glancing up from his desk. “Yes, Remus?”

He forced a grin, trying to stop the tears welling in his eyes. “Imagine with me, you find my body in the tub with blood and cuts running down my arms. What do you do?”

Deceit hissed at him, “Tell you to clean up your damn mess or to do it outside, I have work to do Remus! Not all of us can just sit around and waste others’ time like you!”

He felt his world crumble around him at those words. Now he knew that each side would be more then happy if he was gone.

He wondered if he would be happy too.

“Sorry, Dee,” He mumbled, making the other straighten up in shock but when he turned, Remus was grinning again. “I’ll just get out of your double dee’s now.”

Deceit scoffed, looking back at his papers. “Good, now leave me alone and find someone else to irritate.”

He couldn’t stop the water that slipped from his eyes and down his face. He sank out and back up into his own room.

The silence was unnerving, even for him. He changed out of his duke outfit, not wanting for it to get ruined, and pulled on a tank top and sweatpants.

He wanted to scream until he lost his voice. He wanted to break something. The wall, the door, his bed, his arm, his leg, his neck.

He wanted to cry.

That was stupid though. Crying was stupid. This was all stupid. Why was he even getting all mournful about this? What he was doing was a good thing, right?

All the other sides would agree with it. Maybe they would even smile.

He convinced himself over and over that what he was doing was right. Amazing even. Perhaps they would thank him for it and celebrate each year with a cake and party hats just for this day.

So why did the weight keep getting heavier and heavier in his chest? He wondered if he could be crushed from the inside out.

No, he couldn’t die from that. It was lame and pathetic. It would make the others laugh at him, not with. He needed to hurry up and stop wasting time for the others.

He locked his room for the final time. Though he was starting to wonder what the point was when none ever come by his room anyways.

How long would it take for them to notice his absence? Or would they even? Would they notice the smell before anything else? Or would they think nothing of it until it got so bad that they had to go into his room just to make it stop?

Oh well, it doesn’t matter too much. Hopefully, his rotting flesh would leave a lingering scent forever.

So they can’t forget about him entirely.

Remus wondered if he should leave a note. Most people left a note in the movies. But he didn’t know if they would even bother reading it so he decided against it.

He glanced down at the object that he had created years ago as just a fun project and sat on top of his dresser for years collecting dust and spider webs. He rubbed eyes violently, attempting to clear them up from the tears blurring them before reaching over and taking it in a shaky hand.

Wiping the dust away with the tears that fell onto the metal and placed a finger on the trigger.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t interrupt the others too much with the noise.

Downstairs the sides sat in the living room, hours have passed by since any have seen the rat. All of them remained in a peaceful silence as they enjoyed one another’s presence. Each of them hoping the rest of the day would remain that way.

But a loud bang rang through the house, interrupting the silence momentarily. Virgil stiffened up and look around at the others who barely seemed bothered by it.

“Did any of you hear that?”

Logan replied as he turned to the next page, “Probably just Remus, it’s best if we pretend we didn’t hear it.” Virgil nodded, sinking back into the couch.

“Yeah, you’re right. Hey Patton what were we thinking for dinner?”

Patton brightened up as he spoke, “Well I was thinking we could go out on a picnic as a family, just the five of us.”

Roman continued with a bright smile, “Sounds amazing padre, we shall have it in the imagination. I’ve been wanting to show you all the light show I’ve been working on!”

Deceit replied, his eyes remaining closed as he laid on the couch, “I’ll only come if you don’t freeze the place like last time, I would prefer not passing out again.”

Roman rolled his eyes with a loud sigh. “You’re overreacting, but fine I’ll turn the heat up some. Happy?” He got flipped off before Patton could catch it and Virgil couldn’t help the snicker.

Logan smiled softly at their antics. “Alright, well I’ll be bringing along my telescope, do you plan on bringing out the constellations Roman?” He got a nod which made his eyes light up in glee. “Wonderous news, I can’t wait.”

The silence returned again, letting them imagine how the night would go. But in the silence, Virgil began to notice the small pit in his stomach and felt like something was wrong.

[howrry]

once in a lifetime

a/n: sorry for the hiatus, i can’t find the strain i used earlier this year that led me to churn out a ton of writing so this was a little painstaking. here’s older!harry. bon appetit

warning: do i even gotta warn you that there’s smut? nc-17

w/c: 4.5k

***

Harry's life post-fame was, well, not so great.

His stardom, in his eyes, appeared to have no end. His friends and family had expressed concerns all throughout his career that he was peaking too early, but it seemed that life only got better. More music, meeting more of his idols, more new fans and more arenas sold out before his eyes.

Unfortunately, he noticed that as he got older, his body just wasn't accustomed to the touring, drugs, and partying like it was in his youth. He had a heart-to-heart with himself and realized that his best option was to retire, which he did in his late 30's.

He even got married, to an elementary school teacher named Grace. One of his friends had set him up with her on a blind date and he liked how predictable and simple she and her life were. She was such a nice change from the hecticness of his life before, and ended up engaged after only 9 months of dating (much to his fans' dismay).

But sadly, all that glitters is not gold. After less than three years of marriage, Harry and Grace seemed to be fighting more often than they got along. They argued over everything in the books; money, physical absence, their families, substance abuse, sex, the idea of having kids, the idea of not having kids, commitment, the list went on. Eventually it was clear that Harry was much more invested in the relationship than she, which devastated him. Regardless, he pushed on.

One night, when the air in his household was thicker than molasses, Harry went into the master bedroom of his home. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped his trousers. He climbed into bed where Grace was reading a novel. She didn't move, or look over, or even acknowledge that her husband had joined her.

"Grace?" he asked softly. Still no reaction.

He was scared. Sure, he and his wife fought plenty, but as of late, she barely spoke five words to him.

"Please," he begged, reaching out and delicately placing a hand on her forearm. "We don't have to do anything but please talk t'me. Something is clearly wrong. We haven't even spoken or had sex in w—"

"Is that all that matters to you? God, Harry, think with your other head for a change," Grace snapped, closing her book and yanking her arm away. She stood up out of bed and H heard her footsteps all the way downstairs. The telltale slam of the basement door indicated that she'd be sleeping in the guest room and he would be alone for the night. Again.

Harry's head dropped back down onto the pillow. He wasn't much of a confrontational person and hated these conflicts they had. Harry closed his eyes tight and hoped as hard as he could that the yelling and the ignoring and the disinterest would end.

And in some twisted way, he got his wish, because a week later, Grace slapped half-signed divorce papers in front of him on the breakfast table. She wouldn't entertain any sort of reconciliation; she just wanted to be separated.

The divorce was brutal. The soft, kind woman H had married just a couple years ago was gone and replaced with a cold, unloving person who wanted nothing to do with him.

As if the whole process in and of itself wasn't bad enough, Harry didn't realize that Grace would be getting the house until far too late into the separation. Her lawyer even patronized Harry-- you're an ex-rock star, I'm sure you can find a place to go. If it weren't for Liam providing him a place to stay in the meantime of finding a house, he really doesn't know what he would've done.

***

Harry knocked on Liam's door, hat in hand, and was greeted by his old friend who pulled him into a hug.

"It's been too long, mate," Liam noted, before guiding Harry into his home.

"Y/N, get down here!" Liam called, and seconds later she bounded down the stairs.

It had been ages since he'd seen Liam's daughter, Y/N. The last time he'd been around Li and his family, she'd been 14 and was in the moody teenage stage, but she was so different now. She was taller and her hair was longer, and she'd filled out quite nicely judging by how well her tennis skirt fit her--

Whoa, he caught himself. That's his friend's daughter. What was wrong with him?!

"Show Harry to the guest room," Liam told her, shaking H from his terrible thoughts. "Until then, I'll pour us some scotch and we can catch up," he said to Harry before heading off to the lounge.

Harry followed Y/N upstairs and down the hallway to the plain yet comfortable room. She opened the door and gestured for him to go inside, tossing her hair and lazily swinging the door behind her-- not quite letting it shut, though.

"Sorry that it's not exactly Caesar's Palace," she joked. "Since Mom died, my dad just let the importance of interior design slip away."

Harry waved her concerns away, setting his bag on the bed. "Nonsense. This was really nice of you two-- I'd sleep on a couch if I had to." She giggled at this before turning towards him.

Y/N looked up at Harry and gave him the look. It wasn't one he'd seen since his younger days, when girls and guys alike in clubs wanted to bed him for the social status. They lowered their eyelids slightly, cocked their head, and the corner of their mouth would tug up a bit in the hopes that it would make him immediately swoon. It never worked on H because he wasn't stupid, but he still recognized it to this day. Harry had no option except to match her eye contact, as he didn't trust himself to not let his eyes wander down to her V-neck.

Before he could say or do anything, Y/N breezed past him. "Dinner will be ready in thirty," she noted, brushing her hand down his arm as she left the guest room.

What the fuck?

Harry went back downstairs to join Liam and his two snifters on the table. His daughter was nowhere in sight, so he assumed she was in the kitchen. Liam droned on about how he was doing (probably in an attempt to take H's mind off his divorce) but, frankly, Harry wasn't really listening.

There's no way Y/N is trying to seduce him. No way. He's just... not been with a woman in a long time and is a little rusty with the signs. I mean, get real. He's almost 40 and she's, what, 18? 19? What would she want to do with him?

Dinner ended up being fajitas, good comfort food. Halfway through the dinner, though, Y/N innocuously gave up on using a tortilla and ate the filling with her hands. In any other scenario, Harry would find this to be in poor taste, but the way she made eye contact with H while licking the seasoning off her fingers made him forget all about table manners.

"... and the pap actually followed me into the locker room of my gym! I ripped him a new one. Yelling about how I haven't made music in a decade and left the band twice that much time age, and when they'll ever leave me alone. On the bright side, I think I flipped the bird in enough of his shots that none of them saw the light of day!" Liam had been telling a story which H had completely zoned out from, but luckily caught on to the part meant to be a joke. All three of them laughed together, though only one was genuine.

***

Harry couldn't fall asleep.

It didn't have any natural explanation; he didn't have any caffeine after three, he had a nightcap with Liam, and the finalization of the divorce should've led to him getting more sleep, right? Nonetheless, after hours of tossing and turning, he'd essentially given up and resorted to watching the fan lazily spin around. A sudden knock on his door spooked him, and when the door creaked open, Y/N's head popped in.

"Hey, Harry?" she asked softly.

"Yeah?" he grunted, sitting up. "'S everything alright?"

She entered without permission and sat on the edge of his bed. In the light of the bright moon outside he could see she was in a sheer white gown that just barely reached her mid-thigh. Scandalous. "Couldn't sleep."

"Same boat," he admitted, leaning back on his elbows. Her face was bare, clean of the makeup she'd had on earlier. She looked so fresh and healthy and her white nightgown gave her skin a sun-kissed appearance

Y/N sighed, her eyes wandered over his entire body, or at least all she could gather in the dark room. "Can I ask you a question?" she started, a delicate hand creeping on Harry's knee. "It's kind of... personal."

He swallowed thickly. Was it bad that just her hand on his leg made his cock twitch? "O'course. What's up?"

Y/N pursed her lips before releasing them and darting her tongue out and in. "You've had lots of sex, right?"

And he nearly choked on his own breath. She's so... straight to the point. He managed to keep his cool and nodded carefully. Where was she going with this?

"Well... I haven't," she continued, her hand sliding up his thigh just a little. "I've been seeing this guy, and he's great and all, but he's not too good in bed. I wanna do things with a man who knows what he's doing before I go back to the losers my age who... don't. Would you show me what it's like?" Her soft eyes lifted to meet his, and he couldn't believe his ears.

"Y/N... I-I don't know." Harry rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, as if to make sure he wasn't hallucinating this whole thing. It took him a bit to appreciate that she really had been trying to seduce him and he wasn't just going crazy.

He thought over it for a second. "It seems so wrong. I mean, the age gap is one thing, and your dad is another, but if you're already in a relationship I just...," he trailed off, not quite finishing his point and scanning your smirking face.

"He'll never know," she shrugged casually. "Not Alex or my dad. It's just a one time thing and it won't happen again."

He dragged a hand down his face, thinking over her proposition. At first glance, the cons of possibly getting caught greatly outweighed the pros. How many moral guidelines would he be breaking if he took her up on her offer? On the other hand, he hasn't had sex in what felt like ages, and when would he get this kind of chance again? He was getting up there in age and, despite his ex-star status, likely wouldn't have an attractive young woman throwing themselves at him ever again.

Fuck it.

"I- alright. What did you have in mind?" Harry's cock was starting to harden in his pants and he prayed that the angle his knee was at was hiding it.

Y/N smiled delightfully. "That's why I came to you. I don't just wanna do stuff, I want to learn. You show me."

Harry was gonna die from this girl. "Fuck, pet, you're gonna wreck me. Do you wanna... I don't know, start by sucking me off?"

"Yes please," she whispered, and there was officially zero blood left in any other part of his body.

"C'mere then." She clambered over the bed and his legs until they were face to face. He cupped her face in his big hands and connected their lips. Her lips were so soft and he wasted no time deepening the kiss followed by flicking the tip of his tongue on hers.

She pulled back to breathe. "You're fucking good at that," she blurted.

He smiled-- couldn't help it. "Then we should keep doing it," he suggested. They giggled together and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They continued making out, Harry leaning back until Y/N was laying on top of him.

One of her hands crept down to feel him in his boxers, cupping his erection. He moaned into her mouth, and she popped off his lips, making a juicy sound. She shifted down and toyed with his waistband before hesitating.

"I've only done this once, so..." she started, eyes avoiding him, "you may need to show me what to do."

"S'alright, pet," he soothed, cusping her chin and bringing her to make eye contact with him.

He sat back and took his boxers off, fleetingly embarrassed at his already-hard cock. It subsided when Y/N's eyes landed on it and her mouth actually dropped open. He grinned and took himself in his hand, pulling the foreskin down and swirling the precum around the tip. "See something y'like?"

She nodded and dropped down to be level with his member. "It's... big." Y/N gently took his cock and leaned in next to it to compare the size to her face. "How am I supposed to fit this all in me?" she asked innocently.

He groaned. "You sure y're new to this? Cause y're doing pretty damn well so far and y'haven't even gotten y'mouth on me."

She smiled and dragged the flat of her tongue from base to tip, making his head roll back. "Perfect, love. Act like you're trying to keep melting ice cream from getting everywhere." Y/N nodded.

Her tongue worked over every inch of him before finally attaching her lips to the head. She delicately sucked before getting the nerve to push down further. H's hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head and her mouth instantly became softer and over half of his cock slid between her lips.

"Fuck," he bit, emphasizing the K. Y/N liked hearing him swear because of what she was doing and was only spurred on. Maybe she was a little too excited, because she went a little too far down and came up coughing up a storm.

"Careful, doll," he cooed, rubbing her back as she regained her cool. "Do it at your own pace, not what you think I'd want." She nodded, teary eyes meeting his dark ones.

When his cock bumped at her lips again, she spit on it before going back to her comfort level. Her small hands gripped his base, where she couldn't fit her mouth. She acted like she didn't care how much of a mess she made and Harry thought it was so fucking hot. Her head lifted and lowered in his lap, obscenities slipping from H's mouth.

It got to a point where Harry was involuntarily bucking into her mouth, and he knew he was about to overwhelm her. If he kept letting her blow him, he'd cum down her throat any minute. "Fuck, love," he groaned, pulling her off him by her hair. "I think it's about time for your turn."

Y/N pouted for a second and he almost snapped. Her lips were puffy from sucking his cock, her eyes were watery, and her cheeks were pink and it took so much in him to not shove himself back into her soft mouth.

But she nodded and allowed him to pull the nightie off her body, exposing her breasts to him. He resisted impulsively grabbing at them as she rolled back onto the bed, hair fanning out below her. He climbed up and kissed her, tasting himself on her lips. He dragged his own mouth down her jaw and neck, past her collarbones and attached onto her nipple. One of his hands toyed with her other breast and her back arched beneath his body.

"Stay still," he ordered, breath ghosting over her skin. To further assert this, his free hand pressed her body back down onto the bed. She complied, but let heavenly noises slip from her.

Harry continued trailing down her body until he reached her white panties, which he grabbed with his teeth and dragged down her legs. He used his hands to get them off the rest of the way and spread her legs, exposing all of her to him. "So gorgeous," he said, almost to himself.

"Do you touch yourself?" he asked, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

Her cheeks were a soft pink, bashful at the sudden eye contact. "Yes," ghosted out of her mouth.

"What do you think about?"

Y/N pursed her lips momentarily. "Getting eaten out," she whispered. "No one's ever done it to me, but I bet it feels great."

Harry laughed at this, and placed two of his fingers on her clit. They dragged down her core to her already-wet hole and slowly made their way back up. His pressure was so light, yet her heightened sensitivity had her head roll back. "Go on," he hummed.  

Y/N sucked air through her teeth but obeyed. "Sometimes in porn, they 69 and I think that's so hot," she rushed out. "Like, both are getting pleased and moaning into the other--oh God," she whimpered when he momentarily dipped his middle finger inside her, only to pull it right back out.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Y'watch porn, hmm?"

It was Y/N's turn to smirk. "Everyone does." H pressed his finger slightly harder against her button and her back arched involuntarily.

His free hand pushed her back down again. "I said to stay still," he muttered, face hardening for a moment. "What else do you like to see?"

She gnawed on her bottom lip. "When they fuck missionary, I think it's really sweet when they make eye contact, but..." she trailed off.

"But what?" Harry pushed on, dipping his middle and index finger in this time.

"But... but I like when he fucks her from behind more. And it's really rough. And the girls cums all over his cock." Y/N exhaled, closing her eyes.

"Fuck, love, you're filthy," he noted. Harry spread her open and paid exclusive attention to her swollen clit, making her gasp as his rough fingers circled and flicked over it.

It was almost too much-- she was so sensitive she couldn't help but grab at his wrist to try and stop his actions. This finally got him impatient. He gripped her hand and huffed darkly, "Grab at me again and I'll tie you to this bed." Y/N's eyes were wide as saucers but her hands retreated and she allowed him to continue playing with her.

Without warning, H plunged his first two fingers into her down to his knuckles. He drew circles with his fingertips inside her pussy, stretching her open while stimulating every angle. Every four or five rotations, he hooked his fingers up to press against the spongey spot that had her whimpering and shaking.

"F-feels so good, Harry," she whined, struggling not to touch him and desperate for more. Her head tossed from side to side, as if to hide her moans and contorting face.

"Yeah?" he purred. "Y'like feeling m'fingers buried inside your tight little cunt?" Y/N nodded, slightly grinding her hips down. He allowed this, thumbing at her clit as she grabbed at the sheets.

Harry drew his fingers from her, and she groaned at the suddenly empty feeling. "Shh, love. Let's try something new." Her eyes confusedly begged for an explanation.

As soon as he uttered that number, Y/N's face brightened, she moved to let him lay on the bed and climbed so that her core was just above his face. She took his member in her hand as he grabbed at her ass with his big hands. The two of them dove into the other with carnal ferocity. Harry ate her like she was water in a desert, and this angle allowed his cock to slip right down her throat. The two devoured the other until the only sounds in the room were the slick noises of their own arousal and their muffled moans.

Y/N had never experienced this kind of raw pleasure before. He circled his tongue around her clit and, at the same time, pushed two fingers into her. She began to get a little greedy and pushed back against his face. He encouraged this, taking his fingers from her and wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling her back on him. It wasn't long before she couldn't even focus on him anymore and virtually began riding his tongue. Her wobbly arms straddled his torso as he continued eating her out with the sounds of her gasps mixing with his mouth on her wet peach.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna--" she stuttered before reaching her high. Harry's tongue dove even further into her, letting her ride out her orgasm on his face. Even after she'd finished, he continued to lick into her.

Y/N rolled off his face and away from him. When he reached for her, she kept him at a distance with her arm extended. "I'm so... so..."

"Sensitive," he finished in a breath. She fell back onto the bed and he hovered over her. "When you come down, I want to be inside you."

Her jaw dropped at his boldness, but truthfully it was exactly what she wanted. After a few moments of her catching her breath, she laid back down on the bed and Harry towered over her. He caught glimpses of nervousness and leaned down to kiss her.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, breath ghosting over her skin.

She shook her head. "No, but I'm not that... y'know..." Her eyes closed as she trailed off but Harry understood.

"Shh, s'alright. I'll be gentle," he promised. He lined himself up with her hole. "Are y'sure you want this?" he asked, just in case.

"Yes, please," she whined, and once given the green light, he inhaled sharply before gently pushing himself forward. The few seconds it took to fit his whole cock in her were perhaps the longest moments of his life. She was just so fucking tight, he had to count backwards from 100 to keep from harshly snapping his hips into hers.

Before he knew it, he looked down and his entire cock was buried in her cunt. He didn't dare move, allowing her to adjust before he really took off. It was so snug he thought he was about to go blind. Even with all they had already done, he still felt some level of disgust with himself.

Nonetheless, he couldn't stop.

She clenched around him, trying to hide her grimace. He leaned down to coo in her ear, "Shh, baby, take your time." H carefully kissed around her jaw and rubbed his hands up and down the sides of her body while continuing to stay still until she whimpered out one lone word. Move.

He straightened up again and reeled his hips back, revealing his cock now glistening. Harry pushed it back into her slowly causing her jaw to go slack and a soft moan to escape.

What really was the cherry on top for her was just the raw feeling of a cock inside her. The drag of it retreating and thrusting back into her, the empty feeling it left on the backstrokes, the tip pressing against the one spot inside her leaving her speechless. Sure, she'd played with herself and some boys had had the privilege of filling her with their fingers and whatnot, but nothing in her life had compared to a grown man stretching out her cunt with his thick cock.

Harry was shamelessly staring at himself disappearing into her walls and Y/N grinned. "Y'like watching yourself fuck this young cunt, hmm?" she teased, one hand grabbing the bedding and the other digging into his bicep.

"You've got a dirty mouth, y'little minx," he gritted out, a hand snaking up and gripping her throat as he continued fucking into her.

A devious smile crept up on her face, both frightening Harry and making his cock twitch. "Flip... me... over," she begged, voice straining through Harry's fist around her neck.

He nodded and pulled his cock from her. He moved back on the bed to allow her to lay on her stomach. Harry grabbed her hips and yanked her up on her knees and rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her slit to collect her arousal.

She arched her back and turned her head so that she could watch him fuck her. Her fingers clenched the sheets as he pressed the tip against her entrance before slowly sliding himself in again. Every thrust pushed her further into the pillows before he finally gave up and grabbed her by her hair, pulling her up so that her back was flush with his chest. The hand not tangled in her hair snaked around the front of her body for stability as he continued roughly fucking her.

He released her hair and brought the hand around to dip his fingers into her mouth. "Get 'em nice and wet, doll," he ordered and she complied, licking and sucking at his fingers until they were soaked. He trailed this hand down to her clit and began rubbing circles without breaking his rhythm.

Both of them were getting nearer to their orgasm, evident by Y/N's legs starting to shake beneath her and Harry's thrust becoming more and more erratic. "I'm g-na cum a-gain," Y/N choked out.

"Jus' a bit more, darling, and I'll fill your little pussy up," he hissed into her ear, which only made the both of them closer. Soon Y/N cried out so loud Harry had to smack a hand over her mouth, and his hips awkwardly stuttered as both of them came.

He drew himself out and both of them collapsed on the bed to catch their breath. Neither of them knew what to say or even think about what just happened.

Y/N shakily sat up after catching her breath."I can't stay here, or I'll fall asleep and my dad will catch us in the morning," she noted. "Thank you for that, Harry."

He snorted. "I should be thanking you. I haven't cum that hard in a long time."

She didn't respond, and it was quiet in the room for a few moments before Y/N finally broke the silence. "I think I have to break up with Alex," she muttered, slipping the nightgown back over her head and going to the door.

Panicked, Harry sat up on his elbows with his eyebrows furrowed. "What? Why?" His mind raced. Did she now regret doing this and felt guilty, maybe? Had he just made a huge mistake?

She stopped at the door, her hand on the knob, and turned to him. "Because every time I'm gonna be with him in the future, I'm gonna be thinking about what just happened," she explained with a grin before leaving and closing the door behind her.

If it weren't for the mind-blowing sex he'd just had and the sound of the fan soothing him to sleep, he probably wouldn't have let her leave.

[ravenclaw-craftsgirl]

Heart’s Desire Pt. 1

Preface: SO I know i haven’t done a story in a while, and that is for good reason: Writers block mixed in with real world stuff. BUT i do have something super nice and sweet to make up for it. This story is a bit of fluff, so I am rather proud of it. There will be a part 2 and I do eventually plan on combining the two into a master post (possibly with other stories) once I have a cover photo for it. 

The original format is here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_3tZlLjHtBtT7uk4maoZFMDtcCL96j7XZW3woMockNY/edit?usp=sharing

However i will also be formatting the story to tumblr as a bunch of you have expressed how you’re not able to view google docs links on your phone. 

Story under the cut 

The streets of London buzzed with traffic in the afternoon rush. Hundreds of Muggles going too and fro, rushing around in their cars as they race to work and home alike. Merula sighed wistfully, watching the Muggles drive around in their cars while she was still stuck at home. Despite everything, she did come here of her own free will, and she did have plenty of things to do while her girlfriend was out working. Even after living in the Muggle world for nearly six years, Merula still marveled at how quickly Muggles advanced their technology; Especially when she considered how far cars in particular had advanced. 

           A timer dinged from the kitchen, signifying that dinner was done cooking. Merula shifted Eleanor, Lilian’s black cat, from her lap as she moved to take the chicken out before it became too dry. A quick flick of her Pinewood wand sent the knife into a chopping the vegetables left on the cutting board earlier as she took out a skillet. A special recipe her mother had taught her before being locked up in Azkaban, one of the few good things that she remembered from her family. Once the knife had performed its duties, it quietly sat by the cutting board as Merula slid its contents into the oil and rosemary mix she had in the skillet. 

Halfway through frying the potatoes and asparagus, Merula heard the front door open and the sound of loud barking coming from the entryway. She smirked to herself, knowing Rook’s excitable nature and how no one could get past him when he was on watch. 

“Okay, okay! Bon garçon Rook. Good Boy.” The silver haired woman grinned as she took off her coat and hat, revealing a doll like arm and a pair of wireframe glasses over Amethyst eyes. Merula walked into the entryway, leaning against the door jam just to smirk at her girlfriend: Lilian Le’Reau. 

                              “You’re late, you know.” 

Lilian moved up to Merula with a smile on her face, as she leaned down to softly kiss her girlfriend. The two stood there for a moment in each others embrace, taking just a little extra longer to hold each other. “Pardonne moi, mon amour. The office was a little backed up today. Apparently attempting to convert mechanical energy into magical is something the engineering department advised the wizengamot against.” Lilian looked down to Merula and gave a defeated smile. “It looks like I’ll need to pull a bit more overtime over the week.”

Merula sighed and held Lilian closer. “All this overtime. I’m starting to think that you don’t like me, Le’Reau.” Lilian quickly sputtered as a slight blush came to her face. “NO! No its… There’s only one person I could love. This extra overtime is simply to make sure I have the entire week of christmas to spend with you.” 

Merula smiled before letting go. She was concerned for her girlfriend and all the overtime she was pulling. That couldn’t be healthy for Lilian, especially with all the added stress of being one of the wizarding world’s best prosthetic makers. Even though they had been dating for nearly Ten years, it was still unusual for Merula to admit she was concerned for someone other than herself. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” 

Merula looked up to Lilian with a small smile before putting up a mask of Bravado. “You had better be! You’re the one who dragged me out here to Muggle-Land so you should at least make sure to have time for me. Now come on dinner’s almost done, Lil. Make sure Rook and Eleanor have their food before we eat. We don’t need them begging for food at the table.” 

Once dinner was done, Lilian cuddled with Merula on the couch while they watched old christmas specials. Merula was still unsure of ‘television’ but like many other muggle items, it hadn’t been anything scary or lethal. During one such program, ‘Frosty the Snowman’ as the movie was called, the phone rang from the kitchen. “I’ll get it” Lilian said almost a little too quickly. Lilian returned with a big grin on her face. “Anything good happen, Lil?” 

Lilian smiled. “A surprise for in a couple of days, Merula.” With that, Merula wouldn’t be able to get anymore information on the matter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Merula and Lilian had gone to Lilian’s parents' home for a pre-christmas dinner, as her parents had planned on going on a vacation over christmas and new years. Merula sat on the couch, waiting for Lilian to get off work again as she talked with Lilian’s mother while they waited for everyone to get home. 

     “I never thought to ask, but how did you meet Lilian’s Father?” 

Celia smiled. “Oh that is rather amusing. I was on my way to the workshop I was supposed to start at when I see this curious man on the side of the road. His car was obviously dead on the road but the state of it was frightening. How he had managed to make it work in the first place is still a mystery to me.” Merula smiled as she listened about how Samuel had been stranded while trying to go to University. It was rather nice, knowing that she and Lilian weren’t so different after all. Love happening in the strangest of ways was apart of the experience.

        “After about a year or so, He finally proposed. He almost dropped the ring down the storm drain, but he’s always been nimble.” Celia finished. Merula couldn’t help but giggle a little bit at that. That sounds like something that Lilian would end up doing if she ever proposed. Just as she was thinking that, the door started to open, admitting Daniel and Lilian, as well as Abby and Rorick McKinley. 

“Hey lot!” Abby shouted with a grin before hugging Celia warmly. “How ya holdin, Auntie Celia?” 

Lilian silently sat beside Merula and gave a kiss on her cheek before unwinding her scarf. The family sat around, regaling each other with stories from throughout the year as dinner drew closer. Merula helped Celia place for the table when she noticed Abby and Lilian talking in the Living room. She finished and snuck over to try and catch a snippet of the conversation. 

           “-an yer sure of this. It’s a mighty big risk, even for you, Lil.”  

“Oui. I am sure. And I know that… I’m sure.” Lilian said with a smile.

Meula frowned. What were those two talking about? Was it related to Lilian’s unusual amount of overtime at the Ministry? She couldn’t help but wonder what all was going on and why all the secrecy was necessary. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merula woke up to the sound of her alarm going off. She looked up to see Lilian’s side of the bed empty. She frowned, turning to the calendar on the back of their bedroom door. 

           Only three days till christmas and still Lilian had been very secretive as to why she needed to work so much overtime. Merula couldn’t help but sigh despondently as she walked down to the kitchen. Her surprise was evident when she sniffed the air as she turned to see Lilian at the stove with her pajama pants and a loose t-shirt on as she cooked breakfast. And from the smell of it, it was Merula’s favorite. Cinnamon Oats with Bacon and Sunny side eggs.

“Bonjour, Belle. I figured that you’d enjoy something to eat. It is my week off.” 

Merula’s eyes went wide at that statement. A whole week of Lilian to herself? That was probably one of the best christmas gifts she could get. “Well it’s about time, Le’Reau. Especially with all of the overtime you’ve been working.” The two ate breakfast, Merula trying to hide how much she loved Lilian’s cooking even if it was just eggs and oats. Maybe it was the fact that Lilian made them? Merula didn’t know, she just loved it. She actually once thought Lilian had somehow snuck love potion into her food just to get Merula to enjoy it, though it eventually ended when the two baked some cakes together. She thought of that with a laugh as the two went about cleaning dishes together. “What’s so funny Charmante?” 

Merula smiled and shook her head. “Just remembering how much of a goof you are. Like that time with the cakes.” 

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who dared me to send a golem with a cake to Mrs. Wilkinson across the way. You’re lucky we were still in the wizarding world back then or we would have been in some trouble.” Lilian replied with a smirk on her face now. The two giggled at their dumb ideas and fond times before going back to washing the dishes. 

Once they were done, Lilian began to put everything away when she began to speak.

“So I was thinking… what if I had reservations to that new restaurant in Diagon Alley on christmas? Would you like to go?” 

Merula looked up from her seat, curious and slightly confused. “What you mean like a date night? On christmas? What place is open on christmas, let alone for dinner?” 

Lilian smiled, causing Merula to squint suspiciously. “Well I did say that it was a new restaurant. It’s a fancy kitchen that’s open every day of the year, but only at night. Everyone says that it’s run by vampires, but I think those are just rumors.”

Merula smiled and nodded. “Well, so long as it’s with you, I’d love to. So when are you going to get the reservations?” 

Lilian grinned sheepishly. “Well, I made reservations a year ago. The waiting line is that long. But I hear their food is amazing.” 

Merula sighed and shook her head. “You know, for being such a beautifully smart woman, you really are dense. Something this important, and no doubt expensive, should be planned out and everything. What if I was making dinner or we were going over to someone's house. You’d have made those reservations for nothing.”

Lilian smiled. “I mean, we don’t pay until we’ve eaten, so there’s no harm in missing the time.”

Merula sighed and kissed Lilian on the cheek. “Still, I’d rather you not have to miss those kinds of things.” 

After several chores, the two sat on the couch for the rest of the day enjoying each others company. Merula was watching TV while Lilian was casually reading. The rest of the day was spent between the two silently enjoying each others company and occasionally laying atop each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merula stood in front of the mirror as she put in the two emerald ear studs in. The tiny gems glittered to compliment her simple black dress with green trim. Merula took a step back to look in the mirror, admiring her dress. Even though she had bought this dress back when she and Lilian had started dating, it hadn’t faded or lost any of it’s magnificence as the long dress stopped at her ankle; the straps crossing around her neck leaving her shoulder blades and shoulders exposed. 

“You look stunning.” Lilian said as she wrapped her arms around Merula’s waist.

Merula’s face screwed into an expression of joy and embarrassment mixed into one. She still couldn’t get over how Lilian always so easily made her flush and hot under the collar. 

“Well I would hope so. I bought this dress because it complimented my figure and looked amazing on me. Anyway… You look nice as well.” 

Lilian smiled. She was wearing the dress Merula had bought her after their first date. A simple Navy Blue dress stopping above her knee with long sleeves covering her arms. Lilian touched her forehead to Merula’s, closing her eyes as they stayed like that for the next couple of minutes. “I’m really lucky to have you, Merula. I hope you know this.” Merula couldn’t help but feel her heart skip a beat at that statement. “Well obviously, Le’Reau. Who wouldn’t be changed by dating me? And besides, It’s not like I had eyes for anyone else. You’re the only goofy nerd for me.”

The two stepped back and looked into each others eyes, smiling before Merula kissed Lilian softly on the lips. “Now I believe we need to go or we’ll be late for our reservations, Le’Reau.” 

Lilian smiled as she took Merula’s hand. “Don’t worry. I know a few shortcuts.” Soon they were out, driving in the car through the countryside, skipping past the city and it’s traffic to get to the restaurant on the other side of London. Merula looked out to see the stars twinkling alongside the city’s lights, a wonderful blend of warm and cool lights intertwined in a dance of colors. Merula smiled as the lights twinkled over the fresh dusting of snow over the grass, reminding her of her time at Hogwarts. The car ride went on for about thirty minutes, with only a few cars passing by on the road. It was rather peaceful, especially with the christmas bustle nearly settled. 

Soon the two pulled up to the restaurant, Lilian opening Merula’s door before handing the keys to the valet. “Shall we?” 

“You truly are a flirt, Le’Reau.” Merula said with a confident smirk as the two walked inside to be seated. Merula was enjoying everything about the evening, how cozy and intimate the venue was and how Lilian had set everything up. The snow, the lights, everything… It was amazing. 

The two left the Restaurant, walking over to the park nearby. Merula tugged her coat close as Lilian walked beside her hand in hand. 

Merula couldn’t help but notice Lilian was slightly squeezing her hand. They neared the lake and stopped, watching the lights dance on the waves of the water. The spot that they had first kissed. “It’s just how I remembered it.” Merula said, her tone wistful and reminiscent. 

“Yeah, it is.”

Lilian turned to Merula, letting go of her hand. “I was hoping to say something that’s been on my mind…” Merula turned to Lilian, her heart catching in her chest. What was Lilian talking about? Was this the reason she’s been out for so long? Merula’s heart began racing as she watched her girlfriends every move. “We’ve been together for nearly five years, and I’ve had feelings for since we went to Hogwarts… You’ve seen my every low, every mistake and crisis… You helped me when I lost my arm, never left my side. Through everything we’ve seen and been through, I wouldn’t want any other partner” Lilian said, looking down to her left hand with a wistful smile. Merula watched as Lilian twisted her prosthetic hand off before continuing. “You’re strong, beautiful and resourceful. A star guiding my steps every part of the way. I wouldn’t want to… I couldn’t love any other woman in this world or any other. Merula Snyde-” 

Lilian reached into her arm, pulling out a small black box. Lilian opened it, revealing an elegant yet simple ring with an Emerald in the intertwined bands of platinum, curled over the gem in an elegant setting.

                                               “Will you Marry Me?”

Merula stared at Lilian, listening to her talk and pour her heart out for her. Merula hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath until this moment. She stared at her girlfriend, nearly dumbstruck as the snow lazily fluttered to the ground. Her face felt hot as something ran down her cheeks. She smiled, her tears curving down her face as she went to hug Lilian. 

The two knelt there, laughing and crying together. “Yes! Yes Yes a million times Yes you oblivious Ravenclaw! Of course I’ll be your wife!” Merula finally said as she held her fiance. Lilian couldn’t contain her joy and soon broke down into tears as well as the two held the hug. The two soon went back to their car, a new ring around Merula’s finger and a grin on her face. “So I’m going to assume this is why you’ve been working so much overtime. This ring had to have cost-” “An arm and a leg?” Lilian said with a cheerful grin. “Ugh you are the worst Le’Reau…” Lilian kissed Merula softly in front of their car. “Whatever you say, Ms. Le’Reau.” Merula’s heart skipped at that. Ms. Merula Snyde Le’Reau… This was definitely the best day of her life. 

Merula smiled before getting into the car with her fiance. The future was ahead for the both of them and, for better or worse, they’d face it together.

[bellakitse]

present tense, not past

Alex arrives at the UFO emporium a little after 9 pm, an hour past the 8 o’clock invitation to the grand re-opening gala for the tacky tourist trap. He shows his invitation to a man dressed in black and sunglasses obviously playing the part of a government spook. Shaking his head he walks into his teenage workplace, he knows that Isobel Evans has been planning this event for months and it seems that even her six-week stint in an alien pod didn’t stop her from getting things done. Inside he quickly spots her in the distance with her husband at her side as they make the rounds, stopping here and there to talk to locals and out of town alien groupies alike. He smirks to himself slightly at the almost amusing irony of an actual alien planning the opening of an alien museum.

And what an opening it is, the place is far fancier than it has ever been, not hard when all it’s ever been is a cheesy place full of make-believe. Though now that he knows extraterrestrials are actually a thing, he feels he needs to reassess his previous belief. This -underneath the glitz and glamour, Isobel has added to the place for this little party- is still a place he remembers with fondness. He’d always found the emporium amusing in the past, and the place had offered an escape more than once from his home life and his father.

Not to mention that he couldn’t think or step foot into the museum without thinking about Michael Guerin and a first kiss that 10 years later still shakes him to his core.

He takes a drink from a server passing by ready to bring it to his lips when across the room he makes eye contact with Maria. He looks back at her for a moment, feeling a pang in his chest as she sends him a tentative smile. The uncertainty on her face so foreign to him and he vows to himself that as soon as he can unfuck himself from the last few days of life-altering revelations, he’s going to fix things between them no matter how awkward that conversation turns out to be. For now, he sends her back a smile he hopes bears his love for her and tips his drink in her direction before taking a sip. The smile she flashes his way coupled with a playful roll of her eyes relaxes the tightness in his chest.

Smiling again, this time to himself he wanders from the main room where the party is being held to the smaller exhibit just off the left side, the room that holds what is possibly the best memory of his teenage years.

He lets out a breath as he takes in the room, unlike the rest of the emporium that has been completely revamped, very little has been changed here. In fact, other than maybe a good cleaning, he’d wager to say nothing about the room has changed. The far right wall is still covered with dark velvet fabric and shining lights. Overhead are still the two flying saucers, meteor rocks to the left. For Alex, it’s like stepping into the past.

Lost in his memories, he doesn’t hear the curtain move or the soft steps behind him.

“Nostalgia’s a bitch.”

Alex startles momentarily cursing his lack of situational awareness, he’s been trained better than this, for fuck sake.

He turns at the voice and takes Michael in.

In black from the top of his hat to his boots, his pants fit to hug his legs and Alex knows if Michael turns around to hug his ass perfectly. The large silver belt buckle low on his hips drawing Alex’s eyes, as usual, making him lick his lips absently as his mouth dries.

Angry might not be his type, but he must admit as he takes in Michael’s usual cocky swagger, embarrassing as it is, that the cowboy part of Kyle’s descriptor is entirely, 100% his type. And it seems that in days since they have seen each other, Michael has regained his equilibrium because he’s playing up the cowboy swagger to a ‘T.’

If Alex didn’t know better, if he were anyone else, he’d buy what Michael was selling right now. Still, everything has been so raw between them the last couple of days, and there is still so much more looming over them that he’s willing to play along for the time being.

“You need some need line, Guerin,” he says with a raised eyebrow.  “You’re starting to repeating yourself.”

Michael smirks back at him before bringing the beer in his hand to his lips. “That line worked out well enough the last time.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but more out of custom than any real annoyance. He looks around the place again and then looks back at the man before him, he realizes with startling clarity that they are standing pretty much the same way they were the last time they were in this room together, and he has to give Michael credit. Nostalgia indeed is a bitch and has laid on a hell of a sucker punch on him. From the way Michael is looking at him, the way he’s breathing a little heavier he isn’t the only one reliving the past.

He clears his throat and waves his hand at the room. “Isobel didn’t change this like she did rest,” he comments, his eyes widening when Michael’s reaction is instant. There is a red flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, and it’s so reminiscent of 17-year-old Michael that Alex aches.

“Guerin?” he questions, keeping his tone soft when the other man looks away, shifting from one booted foot to the other.

Michael licks his lips, his line of sight somewhere off Alex’s left shoulder. “I asked her to keep this part of the museum alone, she didn’t want to because it’s tacky, but I insisted,” he finishes, now looking straight at Alex with those eyes of his that always pulled Alex in, that look on his face that always makes Alex feel both special and exposed to the world.

“Why?” he asks, his word above a whisper, his heart thundering under his ribcage and his hands itch to reach out when Michael takes a step towards him, looking at him from under his eyelashes.

“You know why,” Michael answer, his voice just as low, raw.

“Tell me,” Alex pushes, his voice desperate even to his own ears because he needs to know. After everything, they’ve been through. After finding out the truth about Michael, finding out about Maria, finding out that Michael wants to leave, he needs to know.

Michael stares at him for a moment, taking his hat off.

Proving yet again that he is the braver of the two, he speaks. “Because I love you, Alex,” he starts, and Alex can see how the words release the tightness that is always on Michael’s shoulders. “Present tense, not past, and this place,” he says gesturing to the room. “This is where I first realized it, I couldn’t lose that too, not if I’m going to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Alex rushes to say, he can already see the walls building between them even after that declaration, and he’s had enough, enough of walking away, of misunderstanding, of not having the only thing he has ever truly want.

Michael gives him a skeptical look, and it hurts even though Alex knows he’s earned it with the way he’s treated Michael in the past.

“You walked away again,” Michael reminds him softly. “I mean I get it, not every day you find out your ex isn’t from this world,” he continues with a sad smile.

Alex shakes his head. “That’s not why I left, Michael,” he answers, pausing when Michael’s eyes widen. “What?”

Micheal swallows hard, licking his lips. “That might be the first time you’ve ever called me by my first name.”

Alex stops short at the comment, feeling like an idiot and horrible when he realizes that Michael is right.

“I’m an asshole,” he mutters lowly, ever since his father took a hammer to the hand of the man before him, all he’s ever wanted to do is keep him from harm, now he wonders just how many times he has hurt Michael himself. He sees Michael shake his head and Alex lets out a small smile he doesn’t actually feel. “I am,” he continues as he takes a step forward. “And I’ve been a coward, and it’s only now that I am beginning to realize how much I have hurt you. It’s no wonder that between the life this planet has given you and me, that you want to leave, I don’t blame you.”

“Alex,” Michael says helplessly, even now trying to reassure him, to fix it for Alex.

“I didn’t leave because of everything you told me,” he pushes on. “I meant it when I said I want to know you, all of you. I left because when you showed me the console,” he pauses, looking down at his feet. His eyes stinging as he feels the same profound loss he felt in Michael’s bunker, realizing that there was a real chance that one day soon he was going to have to watch Michael leave him behind, the same way Alex has done so many times.

Only this time it will be for keeps, it will be the end, something that even though there has been a 10-year history of starts and ends between them, he’s never thought that there could ever be a true end to them.

“You showed me the console, and I realized I would lose you for good,” Alex says looking back up, for once hiding noting as a tear rolls from the corner of his eye. “And I’m not ready for that Michael, because I love you too, present tense, not past,” he finishes, his voice gone a whisper with his confession.

Michael stares at him, his own eyes shining with unshed tears and then he moves. Alex meets him halfway, and the moment their lips touch, it like someone has cut his strings, he goes slack and clings to Michael to keep himself upright. He opens his mouth under Michael’s, and the kiss tastes salty from both their tears.

It isn’t a gentle kiss.

It’s days, weeks, months, years of pent up tension, of unsaid words, of love that has been tucked away in the deepest parts of them for safe, keeping finally being set free. No, the kiss is desperate, hands holding on tight as neither lets up, both afraid of this slipping through their fingers yet again. It’s only after oxygen becomes an issue that they break the kiss but not the hold they have on each other.

“I love you,” Michael repeats once again, and there is a rare honest smile on his face.

“I love you,” Alex answers back, pressing his forehead against Michael before continuing, hoping against hope that his next words don’t cost him what he only just got back. “Which is why I have to tell you that I have one of the missing pieces to your ship.”

[setaripendragon]

Not All Who Wander - Chapter 6

[Chapter 1] - [Chapter 2] - [Chapter 3] - [Chapter 4] - [Chapter 5] - [Chapter 6] “Fingers crossed the next chapter won’t take quite so long“ I said. Well, obviously, every last one of you crossed your fingers, because LESS THAN A WEEK LATER, here’s the next chapter. ...I had so much fun writing this one you have no idea =D Have some hijinks and fluff to make up for the dark tone of the last chapter.

Bilbo had absolutely no idea what he was doing. It was stupid, foolish, ridiculous. He was behaving like a tale-addled fauntling, and the worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even bring himself to regret it, even though he knew he should.

It was just that Thorin’s letters over the autumn and winter had been so sad. Well, actually, they’d been clipped and formal. Still just as informative as ever, and still full of just as much gratitude and curiosity as ever, so Bilbo was relatively assured that Thorin wasn’t mad at him, at least, but… Bilbo was concerned. And usually, when he was concerned about a friend, he would pop over for a visit.

Of course, Thorin wasn’t a hobbit, and he didn’t exactly live just down the lane. He was a dwarf, and  he lived in a mountain. It was an insane notion, and Bilbo had spent all winter trying to shake it out of his head. But he couldn’t shake the memory of how Thorin had smiled to see him, and his nephew’s words about his more usual demeanour, and… If Bilbo could help make the dwarf a little happier, then- Well, then he wanted to, and that was reason enough, surely.

Thorin had ever so helpfully provided him with a map that had his home marked on it – marked, but not named as more than ‘dwarven settlement’, which Bilbo thought was rather sad – and his own maps helped him plan out a route, and there wasn’t really anything stopping him, was there?

It had been like taking a walking holiday, and just… not turning back. The first night he stayed with his Took relatives, which was normal enough, and the second night he spent at the inn in Michel-Delving, and that wasn’t too odd, but the next night he was forced to camp out on the Far Downs, and at that point he was rather forced to admit that this was very much akin to an adventure.

On his own.

In the wilderness.

Gallivanting off to meet dwarves, for heaven’s sake!

What was he thinking?!

Only, of course, he knew what he’d been thinking. He’d been thinking of Thorin, of how the homesickness had been so very plain in every word he spoke about Erebor, of how he cared so deeply for his nephews, of how he looked at Bilbo like he was something remarkable. He was thinking of Thorin’s letters, how Bilbo could match the tone and cadence of the latest ones with the way he spoke to the other hobbits, but never Bilbo. He was thinking of that last letter, that had mentioned his plans to travel yet again being derailed by… Well, by something. He’d been annoyingly vague about that part.

He’d been thinking that he really, really just wanted to see Thorin again soon. Far sooner than his vague promises of ‘perhaps in the summer’. Why, by then it would be almost a full year gone by without seeing the stupid dwarf, and Bilbo couldn’t bear the thought of it.

One more night was spent camping in the foothills of the Blue Mountains, and then he was there.

His first clue was the huts. There were several little clusters of them, scattered across the slopes in a way that reminded Bilbo of nothing so much as stubborn goats perched halfway up garden walls out of sheer tenacity. They were not the best-built houses he’d ever seen, nor were they particularly elegant, but they looked sturdy enough, despite Bilbo’s fear that they might just go sliding off down the side of the mountain at the first nudge.

He got more than a few stares as he passed through the make-shift little village, and it made Bilbo feel very out of place indeed. Goodness, but if this was how Thorin felt in the Shire, no wonder he’d been scowling so fiercely. There was another slightly larger cluster of huts further along the path, but by that point, Bilbo was feeling a little uncertain. Thorin had said that they lived in the mountain, but was that another cultural difference? Had Bilbo walked right past Thorin’s house and not known?

He pulled out his map, wondering if it might hold any insights for him, but no, the little dot that symbolised this particular settlement spanned half a mountain, and offered him no details. There could be dozens of these little hamlets, and Bilbo could be wandering them for days looking for ‘a dwarf named Thorin’. He hadn’t thought this through at all.

“‘Scuse me, Mr Hobbit?” Bilbo’s head snapped up, startled. There was a dwarf standing nearby, head ducked forward as though he was trying to peer around Bilbo’s map to look at his face. He had the most ridiculous moustache, but there was a friendly, inviting smile underneath it, and his eyes were surrounded by laugh-lines. “Bit lost?” The dwarf suggested, tone light like they were sharing a joke.

“Ah, somewhat.” Bilbo admitted, going a little pink with chagrin.

The dwarf perked up and stepped closer now that conversation had been engaged. “Maybe I can be of service?” He offered, and then leaned in to look at Bilbo’s map. “Why, that’s a dwarven map, or I’ll eat my hat!” He exclaimed with some surprise.

“Well, yes, I should hope so, as it was a dwarf who gave it to me.” Bilbo agreed. “It’s no help, though. I know I’m in the right place-” He jabbed his finger at the little dot. “-I just don’t know where Thorin lives. I should have asked, really, but I never thought- Well, never mind. I don’t suppose you happen to know where I might find him?” He asked, hopefully, giving up on scowling at the map to look over at the helpful dwarf, only to find him looking startled.

“Thorin?” He echoed. “You’re looking for a dwarf named Thorin?” He checked, sounding a little incredulous, although Bilbo couldn’t imagine why. Unless that was like asking after a ‘Daisy’ in the Shire? Bilbo would be a bit incredulous if anyone asked where to find Daisy, without adding in a last name, or anything else to separate that Daisy from the dozens of others living in Hobbiton alone.

“Yes. Ah, he’s a blacksmith. He said dwarves don’t really do last names, but he did have one of those epithets you lot bestow for acts of valour or whatever.” It took Bilbo a moment to root it out of his memory, but he’d remembered weirder names for many a distant cousin, and, well, he liked Thorin a great deal more than he liked any of them, so he had ascribed the name a good deal more importance. “Oakenshield? Do you know him, by any chance?”

The dwarf was gaping at him now, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. “You-” He began, but didn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence. He mouthed helplessly for a moment. “Oakenshield.” He repeated. “You’re- you’re quite sure that’s the name?”

“Yes.” Bilbo insisted, getting a little impatient now. “He’s about so tall-” He gestured well above his own head and a little above the dwarf’s, even with the extra inches his hat gave him. “Long dark hair, short beard, impressive scowl.”

The dwarf started nodding about half-way through, one fist pressed to his mouth as if in thought. Bilbo stared at him, entirely befuddled and unsure whether the dwarf did or didn’t know Thorin. “Oh, Mahal’s balls.” He breathed suddenly, and Bilbo’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the profanity. “Blacksmith.” He squeaked. Snorted. And then he started laughing so hard he doubled over, wheezing. “‘Acts of valour or whatever’! Don’t know where he lives! Oh, by Mahal’s forge!”

Bilbo was feeling more and more embarrassed, and more and more annoyed about that fact. “Yes, alright!” He snapped eventually. “It’s very funny, I’m sure. But in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a dwarf! I’m sure you’re all well versed in where you all live and what you’ve all done, but this is the first time I’ve even left the Shire, for goodness sake! I just wanted to visit a friend, because that’s what we do in the Shire when someone you care about is having a rough time, but I’m really starting to feel like maybe I just should have stayed home and not bothered!”

“Ach, sorry, sorry.” The dwarf said, but he was still smiling, so that took some of the sincerity out of it, in Bilbo’s opinion. He seemed to notice that, because he went so far as to sweep his hat off his head as he sank into a bow. “My most humble apologies, Master Hobbit.”

“Well, now you’re just mocking me.” Bilbo grumbled.

“I promise I’m not.” The dwarf assured him, straightening up but not replacing his hat. “Well, not much. It’s just, uh, that Thorin, you see, he’s… Well, he’s a little bit famous, round these parts.” He admitted with a sheepishly amused grin.

“Oh.” Bilbo muttered, still feeling a touch irritable.

“He lives inside the mountain, too, and you might have a little bit of trouble getting in. We don’t usually have non-dwarves wandering around up here. I can show you the way, though, and maybe, uh, vouch for you, or something.” The dwarf offered.

The last of Bilbo’s irritation melted away, and he sighed. “Thank you.” He agreed, and then. “Oh, where are my manners? Bilbo Baggins.” He went to hold out his hand, and then remembered that Thorin tended to bow, so he did that instead, even though it made him feel very silly. “Um… at your service?” He offered, hoping that was the right thing to say.

The dwarf beamed at him. “Bofur, son of Bomfur, at yours and your family’s!” He replied, bowing again. Bilbo blew out a quiet, relieved sigh, glad he’d at least got something right. “This way, then.” Bofur encouraged, tipping his head back the way Bilbo had come. Bilbo sighed again, this time at himself, and then fell into step with the dwarf.

They walked for a minute or two in silence, weaving between the little stone huts, Bofur waving or nodding cheerfully to anyone and everyone who paused to stare. He didn’t get much in the way of response. Maybe a cautious nod if he was lucky, or a frown if he wasn’t. “You dwarves aren’t a very sociable lot, are you?” Bilbo asked, before he could think better of it.

Bofur snorted. “Nah, we’re plenty sociable among ourselves. It’s just… well, we’ve been through a lot, and it makes a people a bit wary and suspicious-like. No offence to you specifically. If, uh, if Thorin thinks you’re a decent sort, then you probably are, at that.” Bilbo felt oddly flattered by that, both for himself, and at the implication of trust in Thorin’s judgement. “D’you mind if I ask how you met him?” Bofur questioned, not exactly tentatively, but in a tone that suggested he was half expecting to be shut down.

For a moment, Bilbo was confused. Then he remembered the way that ‘blacksmith’ had been one of the reasons why Bofur had been laughing at him, and frowned. Was Thorin not a blacksmith? That hardly made any sense; Bilbo had seen him hard at work at the forge on more than one occasion. Had stopped to watch for long enough that he was pretty sure it couldn’t have just been for show. “He stopped to ask for directions to Bree.” He said casually, watching Bofur closely out of the corner of his eye. “He had business there, and his nephews had gone on ahead to advertise. I suggested he might want to try selling his wares in the Shire on his next trip, since we’ve a lot of need for good quality farming tools and such.”

Bofur looked surprised, but not as startled as Bilbo might have expected. “And did he?” Bofur wanted to know.

“Well, yes. Several times now.” Bilbo confirmed. The conversation faltered when Bofur didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, but before Bilbo could think of trying to find a new topic, the dwarf pulled up short and rapped his fist against the cliff-side they’d been ambling along. Bilbo froze, blinking in bewilderment.

Only, to his very great shock, a slab of the rock-face swung inwards in two parts. Like doors, Bilbo realised, staring open-mouthed in wonder. They were more than tall enough to accommodate four or five hobbits standing on each other’s shoulders, and wide enough to allow half a dozen or more to walk abreast, and the tunnel beyond was lit with glittering crystals that revealed a smooth hall lined with intricate geometric carvings.

“Oh…!” Bilbo breathed in awe, taking a step forward without thinking.

He pulled up short when a very long-handled axe was lowered across his path. Although, it was nothing like any axe Bilbo had ever seen before, with pointy bits on top and on the back and across the top of the handle as well. It looked like it would be next to useless chopping firewood, and Bilbo was fairly sure that meant that it was meant for a far more gruesome purpose. He stepped back again sharply. “Who’s that, and what’s he doing here?” The dwarf holding the axe – if it was even called an axe when it was meant for people and not trees! – demanded of Bofur.

“He is right here.” Bilbo huffed, irritated by the rudeness. “And he can hear you perfectly well and speak for himself just fine, thank you.” The dwarf gave him a long, incredulous look. “My name is Bilbo Baggins – at your service – and I’m here to visit a friend.” He offered a short bow, because that was apparently the polite thing to do, and it would be just the thing to make the dwarf ashamed of his own behaviour, really, to be better at dwarven manners than a dwarf.

“A friend.” The guard echoed incredulously. “What friend?”

Bofur cleared his throat. A glance told Bilbo that he looked like he was about to burst out laughing again, but was valiantly restraining himself. “Ah, I know we’ve got rules and whatnot about outsiders not being let into the mountain without King Thorin’s say-so, so I was just going to run on in and let His Majesty know he’s got a visitor?”

The guard nearly dropped his axe in shock. Bilbo couldn’t honestly say he would have done any better. Indeed, his fingers felt rather numb all of a sudden where they were wrapped around his walking stick. It felt a little like Bofur’s words were drifting over to him from a very, very long way away, but slowly, they filtered through into his mind in a shape that made… well, it didn’t make any sense at all, actually, but he understood what the words were supposed to mean, anyway.

It seemed like a small age that the guard just stood there uncertainly, before, eventually, he nodded, and gestured Bofur through with his axe. Bofur slipped past him and flashed a reassuring grin at Bilbo that Bilbo barely registered. “You just sit tight, Master Baggins.” He called, the words echoing in between the confused repetitions of ‘King Thorin’ and ‘His Majesty’ still swirling through Bilbo’s mind. And then Bofur was gone down the hall, and it and the guard vanished from view as the invisible rock-doors swung soundlessly shut again, leaving Bilbo gaping like a fish at a blank stone wall.

“King?!”

Bofur wasn’t really expecting anyone to stop him on his way to deliver a message to the King. Oh, there was a gamut of guards to get past, but ‘message for the King’ opened a lot of doors, even if Bofur didn’t have the braids of a courier. He was from the surface dwellings, which meant that if he made himself look a little bit harried, everyone expected him to be reporting on some new disaster, and they ushered him on quickly. He was glad that he’d get to deliver good news, instead.

He assumed it would be good news. Thinking back to the awkward little hobbit he’d left on the doorstep, Bofur had to stifle a grin. He knew very little about hobbits, all told, but that alone was enough to know that they didn’t exactly get out much. To have one come all the way here was remarkable, and the fact that it had all been for the sole reason of lifting the King’s spirits? That was sweet, and something Bofur most definitely approved of.

The guards pointed him towards the King’s office, an area of the halls he’d never ever had cause to visit before. It was a little intimidating, even if they didn’t look all that different from the rest of the halls. The carvings were more artistic, and the rooms and walkways better maintained, maybe, but only barely. And that was why Bofur liked King Thorin. Unlike the puffed up old sods on the Broadbeam council, who insisted on their station being venerated despite the fact that no one bloody well had time for that rot anymore.

Before he could reach his destination, though, he was halted by a pair of stony-faced suspicious-looking guards. “I’ve a message for the King.” He told him.

“What message?” The guard demanded.

Bofur blinked, but, well, it wasn’t like it was a secret. “There’s a visitor for him at the Gate.”

One of the guards nodded to the other, and the other one left, heading down the hall, while the other remained in place and kept a gimlet stare pinned on Bofur. There wasn’t anything for him to do except wait, so he leaned against the wall, and started humming an old mining song to keep himself entertained. The guard didn’t relax, even when Bofur pulled out a jauntier tavern song, and then started singing a song that was perhaps not appropriate for the royal quarter.

He was on the fourth verse when the King came into view. The guard grimaced, and gave Bofur a ‘shut up right now!’ sort of look. Bofur stopped singing, but he didn’t stop grinning. Especially since the two Princes, who were a step behind their uncle, both looked to be struggling not to laugh. He offered them a wink, and the youngest snorted into his muffling palms.

King Thorin shot the Princes a reproving glower, and then swept the same look over Bofur. It was very intimidating, and Bofur bowed to get away from it. “Bofur, son of Bomfur, at your service, m’lord.” He offered politely.

“At yours and your family’s.” The King replied, entirely serious, bowing back. It left Bofur a little stunned, if he was being honest. He knew, of course, that King Thorin was good to even the poorest of his people, but that was a level of respect Bofur just about never saw these days. “You said there was a visitor at the gate?” King Thorin pressed on, already setting off past Bofur down the hall and gesturing for the poor surface-dwelling ex-miner toy-maker to walk beside him. “What sort of visitor?”

“A hobbit.” Bofur informed him, and had the distinct honour of being one of the few dwarves ever to see their good King stumble like a wee pebble still taking their first steps.

“Mister Baggins?!” The younger Prince asked in what Bofur could only describe as glee.

Bofur looked over his shoulder at him, grinning again. “Yes, as it happens. He did say he was looking for a friend. You do know him, then?” He asked, feigning innocence as he looked to the King. “Only, I wasn’t entirely sure, seeing as Mr Baggins was very clear he was looking for a simple travelling blacksmith and all. But I don’t think there’s another ‘Thorin’ in these halls, so…”

The younger Prince was howling with laughter, and if Bofur wasn’t much mistaken, their great and noble King was blushing. He had to press a fist to his mouth to keep from joining Prince Kíli in his mirth. “That must have been an awful shock for Mr Baggins.” The elder Prince interjected, his moustache quivering with the laughter he was biting back.

“He did seem a little stunned.” Bofur acknowledged.

“That’s enough.” King Thorin snapped. Bofur did put some effort into repressing his grin, but that was kind of ruined when Prince Fíli sniggered into the ensuing silence. “Fíli.” King Thorin growled.

“Sorry, Uncle.” Fíli offered, not sounding very sorry at all. “But really, he had to be told some time before you present him with your first gift.” Bofur’s eyes maybe bugged out of his head a little bit at that, because that sounded an awful lot like the King was intending to court the fussy little surface-dweller Bofur had left standing outside the gate.

“Yes, I know.” King Thorin huffed, sounding resigned. “I had only hoped to be able to inform him in my own time.”

And there was no denial. Which meant the King was planning to court a hobbit. That was… Oh, that was going to put a raven in the tinker’s shop, and no mistake. Still, Bofur wasn’t an old tradition-bound councillor and, in his opinion, a dwarf could do a lot worse than someone who would go out of their way just to keep your spirits up.

It didn’t take them much longer to reach the gate, because the pace King Thorin had set had been only just this side of eager. The guards standing sentry in the watchtower carved into the mountain either side of the main tunnel opened the gate without needing to be ordered to on seeing the King approach. It took Bofur’s eyes a moment to adjust to the sunlight, and then another moment to find Mister Baggins, because he wasn’t standing on the path anymore. Instead, he’d taken a seat on a boulder not too far off, travelling pack and walking stick leaning against the mountainside beside him.

“Bilbo.” King Thorin greeted, hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun, but not hesitating to step out to greet the little hobbit.

Mister Baggins got to his feet as Thorin approached, and Bofur only then noticed that the poor thing’s feet were entirely bare, because he was digging his toes into the shale and gravel like some kind of living tree attempting to root itself even in stone. Then he cleared his throat, lifted his chin defiantly, and said “Thorin.”

And King Thorin laughed.

Bofur was pretty sure his own jaw wasn’t the only one to have dropped. The two guards shared looks like they were wondering if their ale had been spiked. Everyone in the mountain knew that King Thorin didn’t laugh. By Mahal, he barely smiled. Not that anyone considered it a flaw, as far as anyone Bofur had talked to was concerned, the King had precious little to smile about, so fair enough, really.

“What are you doing here?” King Thorin demanded. “You must have been walking for days…!”

Mister Baggins frowned at him. “Well, yes, a few. But it wasn’t so very different from a walking holiday, really, and I’ve been on plenty enough of those that I knew what I was doing. And I had that lovely map of yours to show me where to go.” He paused, and then peered up at the King’s face intently. “You sounded upset, in your letters, and I rather thought- Well, if you’d lived in the Shire, I wouldn’t have thought twice about popping over to check in on you, and really, it’s not so far to walk. Less than a week, and it’s that far to Bree. Which I haven’t actually visited, mind, but a fair few hobbits do, so it’s not as though I’ve done anything scandalous-”

Bofur couldn’t see the King’s face, because he was facing away from the rest of them, but he didn’t need to, to know that he was staring at the little hobbit in wonder. It was all right there in his voice, when he said; “Thank you, Bilbo.”

“Oh, I- Well, yes.” Mister Baggins stammered, clearing his throat again, before smiling warmly in response. “You’re quite welcome.” He offered, and then promptly shook the moment off with a brisk little sniff. “Now, are you going to make me stand on your doorstep all day?”

“Of course not.” King Thorin said quickly, and turned to usher Mister Baggins into the mountain. The guards stepped smartly into flanking positions either side of the gate and raised their weapons in salute. Putting on a proper show for the first surface-dweller to step inside dwarven halls in- Well, since Erebor fell, probably. Mister Baggins squeaked, though whether in surprise or fright, Bofur couldn’t tell, and though King Thorin nodded respectfully to the guards, his momentary solemnity doing nothing to dim his smile.

“Oh, Fíli! Kíli! Hello! I’m afraid I didn’t see you there.” Mister Baggins greeted as he approached the cluster of dwarves. Bofur edged away, not wanting to intrude, but still a little caught up in enjoying watching someone else’s happiness. The Princes, while clearly not besotted the way the King was, were still clearly delighted to greet Mister Baggins, and were doing so with all the rambunctious enthusiasm of dwarves half their age.

Before he could actually retreat back through the closing gates, though, the King turned to him. “Thank you for taking care of him, Master Bofur.” King Thorin said, still with that fond half-smile on his face. He actually looked a little dazed by his own happiness, which made Bofur grin in sympathy, and maybe a little amusement.

“Oh, it was no trouble, Your Majesty.” He assured him cheerfully.

“If it would not be too much of an imposition, would you be willing to see Mister Baggins home when he wishes to leave? You’ll be paid for your time and trouble, of course.” King Thorin requested.

Bofur maybe gaped at him a little. He was doing a lot of that today, but he dared anyone else to keep their composure better after the day Bofur’s had. “I’d- O’course I’ll do it,  but- I’m just a toymaker. Not even a miner, anymore. Wouldn’t you rather send an actual guard for- for someone so important?” He asked, bewildered.

For a moment, the King looked pained, but then he cleared his face, even though his smile looked a little less happy. “The guards are currently stretched rather thin, and I don’t expect there to be any real trouble on the road to the Shire, but Mister Baggins is of a gentle, peaceful folk, and I would feel better if he had someone with a strong enough arm to swing a pickaxe with him.” He paused, and then fixed a steady, intent stare on Bofur that startled him, just a little. “I have no doubt in your skill, nor your honour, Bofur, son of Bomfur.”

“A’right then.” Bofur managed, feeling a little ridiculous for being so flattered at the trust being put in him, but it was King Thorin. He figured that earned him a little leeway. “Yeah. I’ll- Whenever he’s ready to go, just- ah-” Bofur gestured uselessly, in a vague attempt to communicate that he wasn’t going to be busy doing anything that couldn’t be dropped with a few minutes notice.

“We’ll find you.” King Thorin replied, and Bofur felt a laugh bubbling up at the thought of King Thorin dropping by the tiny clumsy surface shack he shared with his cousin.

“What’s this?” Mister Baggins asked, finally released from the Princes, it seemed. “Why will we need to find Mister Bofur?”

“He’ll be escorting you home, once you wish to return.” King Thorin informed him.

Rather than being grateful, Mister Baggins’s face scrunched up in what looked like annoyance. And sure enough, his next words were damn near to a scolding, hands on hips and everything. “I’m not a helpless fauntling, Thorin, I hardly need babysitting-”

“It’s not that I believe you to be helpless, Bilbo.” King Thorin retorted in frustration. Bofur’s shoulders shook with laughter at the long-suffering look on his face. “I’ve no doubt that with a little training, you would wield a blade well enough-”

“A blade?!” Mister Baggins squawked.

King Thorin jabbed a finger at Mister Baggin’s horrified expression. “But that – that right there – is why I’d rather you have someone with you while you go cavorting about in the wilderness! The world is a dangerous place-”

Bofur finally exited the mountain to the sound of the hobbit’s flustered, indignant blustering, and the King’s fondly frustrated retorts. He whistled a jaunty little ditty to himself as he ambled home, marvelling at everything he’d seen and learned today, and the strange little turn his life had taken, just because he’d stopped to give a hobbit directions. Bifur was sure to get a laugh out of this story, sure enough.

[the-walking-memelords]

Vows

Rating: G

Word Count: 3362

Pairing: Louis X Clementine

Louis and Clem work out their wedding jitters for their big day.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

The rapid sound of his pencil tapping against the paper was the only thing filling the silence of the empty dorm room. Louis sat slouched over the desk, head in hand. The blank page stared back at him almost mockingly. There were so many things he wanted to say but none could escape his mind onto the page. Time was running out. He kicked himself for putting this off for so long. The wedding was only a few days away but Louis had no idea what he would say to her. He leaned back in his chair, that beautiful face distracting him from what he was doing.

Clementine, the love of his life. Louis became lost in a daydream as he thought of spending the rest of his life by her side. Waking up to her golden eyes was already blissful, but to be accompanied by that golden ring seemed to make life even sweeter.

The feeling of him falling in love was interrupted by the feeling of him actually falling. Louis quickly grabbed the edge of the desk to prevent his chair from completely tipping backwards.

“This is no use.” He muttered to himself.

He gave up writing for now as he decided to go see someone he knew he could talk to about anything. Though of course, Marlon was less talkative these days.

---

Purple Snapdragons stuck out of the dirt around the worn wooden cross. Louis sat under the midday sun at the foot of the dirt mound. His eyes traced the carved letters spelling the name of his best friend.

“Hey, Marlon.” He spoke to the grave.

“I’m sorry it’s been a while since I came to visit you, we’ve just been so busy with the wedding and other stuff I haven’t had the time.”

He laughed to himself. Part of him thought this was stupid, but deep down he just hoped that somehow Marlon could hear him.

“Everyone’s been good, all excited for the wedding. Oh- I hope you don’t mind that Aasim is my best man.” He let out a sigh.

“I wish you were here, man. I don’t blame AJ, of course, I love the little dude. Though, he isn’t so little anymore. He’ll be eleven this winter.” Louis never thought he could be a dad, but Clem always assured him he was doing a good job.

“I love them both, so much. Clem and AJ are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just don’t want to screw this up. Makeshift as it is this is our wedding.”

Heh, wedding jitters.

“I’ll think of something.” He decided

“Tell Mitch and Brody I said hi.”

---

It was as if all inspiration had left him. His fingers laid motionless on the piano keys, unable to find any notes to play. He ran his thumb over the carving they had made the night before everything went to hell. He remembered that night in such vivid detail. The good and the bad, though he chose to only think of the former.

He could still recall the heat in his cheeks when she called him cute...

The feeling of his heart skipping a beat when she said she like-liked him...

The softness of her lips the first time they kissed…

“Louis?”

Louis’ trip down memory lane took a detour when the voice of his adopted son called out to him.

“Uh, hey little dude. What’s up?”

“Violet told me to check on you, make sure you were getting your vows done.” He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, a behaviour he picked up from Clementine.

Shit.

“Tell Vi I’ve got it handled. A little more time and I’ll have the whole school sobbing at the wedding.” He said with his usual dramatic flair.

“You’re stuck, aren’t you?” AJ wasn’t falling for it.

“You’re gettin’ too smart for your own good, kid.” He scooted over on the bench, giving AJ a spot to sit.

“I just don’t know what to say. They’re so many things I want to say, but none of them seem right.” He grit his teeth in frustration.

“Well, you could tell her why you love her.” AJ suggested.

“Tell her how happy she makes you and why you want to stay with her forever.”

“That does seem like a good start.” He couldn't hold back a chuckle.

“When did you turn into a love guru?”

“...I don’t know what that is.”

“Heh. Never change, Alvin Junior.” He put his arm around AJ’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug.

“I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you back.” He said, wrapping his arms around Louis.

They broke the hug and stood from the piano, each smiling at the other.

“C’mon, AJ.” He said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“We got shit to do.”

“Swear.”

---

---

---

Clementine held her breath as Violet struggled with the zipper on the back of a peach-coloured dress.

“It’s no use, it’s just too small.” The blonde huffed.

“These dresses are made for high schoolers, of course it’s too small.” Sighed Ruby as she dug through more of the school’s old costume bins.

“Well, we have to figure something out. She can’t just walk down the aisle in those mud-stained jeans.” Violet helped Clem out of yet another failed dress.

Clementine shuddered against the draftiness of the old theatre. A simple white tank top leaving her arms exposed to the chill.

Clem crossed her arms, her eyes finding a fascination with the floorboards.

“It’s okay hun, we’ll find somethin’ to make you look right beautiful for your wedding.” Ruby assured, noticing her silence.

“The dress isn’t what I’m really worried about.” She confessed. Letting out a heavy sigh, she sat down on the edge of the stage.

“I don’t know what I’m going to say to him.”

“Oh, God. You haven’t written your vows yet either? You two are just made for each other.” Violet was the most stressed out wedding planner in the apocalypse.

Clem didn’t respond. Instead, she fiddled with the ring on her finger. The slightly tarnished gold band was adorned with several small diamonds. The slight looseness of the band caused the heavy diamond setting to slip upside down around her finger.

I need to get a chain for this.

She found herself playing with it often, not wanting to lose it by not paying attention and letting it slip off.

She remembered the day Louis proposed to her.

He had been acting odd that entire day. Nervous and jittery. He was quick to pull her away from the others once her watch shift ended just as the sun began to set. She remembered catching Violet’s wink as he tugged her along. She couldn’t deny that she teared up when he showed her the ring that had belonged to his mother. Tears of happiness spilling down both of their faces when she said yes.

“Just write about how much you love him and that you’ll be together forever and all that.” Ruby continued to dig through the boxes.

“It has to be special. I can’t just say something generic and pretend it came from my heart.” She laid back onto the stage, staring up at the sunlight that peeked through the holes in the roof.

“I just didn’t think I’d ever be getting married. Once the world died I figured all of that stuff died too.” She ran her fingers through her loose curls, spying her hat laying a foot away.

She reached to arm out to grab it, holding the damaged cap in front of her as she sat up.

I need to take better care of this.

Her dad’s hat was filled with rips and holes and covered in stains from all kinds of muck. The D on the front peeled nearly halfway off.

She could hardly remember the voices of her parents. The mental image of their faces was tainted with the dead eyes and rotting skin of the walkers she found in the Savannah herd. Her memories of the old world didn’t even seem real anymore, like some kind of happy dream or alternate reality.

I miss you both.

You too, Lee.

She blinked back a few tears as she placed her hat back on her head, wearing the brim low.

“Don’t beat yourself up over the past.” Violet took a seat next to her, speaking as if she could read her mind.

“Now’s the time to think about the future.”

To Clem’s surprise, Violet pulled her into a hug. She returned the hug, then after pulling away with a smile.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you initiate a hug.” She laughed.

“Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it.” The blonde joked.

“You’re gonna be happy whether you like it or not, damnit.”

“Thanks for doing this for us, Vi. You didn’t have to make things so elaborate.” Violet was the one who insisted on a whole ceremony, flowers and fancy clothes in all. It was already more than she ever could have asked for.

“You and Louis are my best friends, and I’ll be damned if I can’t put on an epic wedding for you guys.” She smirked. “Thank you, Violet.” Her voice caught a bit in her throat as she choked up a bit. She could never be able to explain how much this meant to her.

“Oh c’mon, enough with the waterworks. We still gotta find you a dress that’ll knock that dork’s socks off.” Violet stood up, offering her hand to Clem as they both went to give Ruby a hand.

“I know what I’m going to write about.” Clementine decided. Her heart swelled in anticipation for the upcoming event.

“I’m glad.”

“Hey, guys? I think I found something.” Ruby called from a mess of searched boxes. The two girls rejoined the third, who unveiled her latest find.

“So what y’all think?”

A wide grin formed on Clementine’s face.

“It’s perfect.”

---

---

---

Louis adjusted his suit jacket in the cracked mirror, frowning at how large it appeared on him.

“You look fine, Louis” Violet assured, quickly checking her own slightly town jacket.

“Now c’mon we need to get you out there so I can check on Clem.”

She practically shoved him out the door.

“You’re taking this very seriously, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“Almost as if you care or something.”

“Don’t push your luck.” She said impassively, continuing to lead him to the music room.

“You finished your vows, right?”

“Yeah, of course I did.” he fiddled with the slightly crumpled paper in his pocket. Louis had gone over the words again and again until they were burned into his brain, but he still couldn’t bring himself to leave the page behind.

“Good, now get in your spot.” With that Violet rushed off to find Clementine.

The music room was decorated in an assortment of wildflowers. The red petals of the Indian Blanketflowers were mixed with the bright yellow of the Black-eyed Susans. Each bouquet sat in an old glass jar on tables and shelves outlining the room. Chairs were lined in short rows, leaving a gap in the middle as the aisle.

“Nervous?” Aasim asked him.

“You can bet your ass I’m nervous.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Yet at the same time, this is the best day of my life.”

His heart fluttered in anticipation. Louis hadn’t been able to see her since that morning as they were hurried away to prepare for the event.

“I’m happy for you, dude. You guys are really good together.” Aasim gave him a pat on the shoulder as they awaited the arrival of the bride.

---

Clementine played with her hands restlessly as she sat in the desk chair in her room. Her ring was absent from her finger, left with AJ for the ceremony. She kicked her bare feet from under the long hem of her dress.

Her wedding dress was scarlet red like the colour of a rose’s petals. Long flowing silk ran from her collarbone to the floor tied just under her ribs with a sash. Her arms were left bare in the sleeveless gown.

“I’ve never worn something like this before.” She told Ruby, who was busy arranging Clem’s curls into a stylish updo, leaving a few locks to hang around her face.

“Do you think Louis is going to like it?”

“Like it? Louis is going to love it, just like he loves you.”

“All done.” Ruby held a hand mirror in front of her.

Clem ran her fingers over her styled curls.

Ruby did a great job.

“Thank you.” She smiled, giving the redhead a hug.

A knock on the door slightly startled them both as Violet entered the dorm. Her eyes widened when she saw the bride.

“You look amazing, Clem.” Violet gasped.

Clementine’s anxiety began to turn to giddiness as she twirled for them, letting her skirt flare out in every direction.

“I’m ready.” she declared, putting on the white flats they had found for her and taking her bouquet.

“Your future husband awaits.” Violet said as she held the door for her.

---

“Attention, everyone.” Violet called to the group.

“The bride has arrived.”

Louis’ jaw immediately dropped. She was gorgeous. A gown so simple yet so elegant.

She picked me.

He could barely believe it.

This living goddess actually picked me.

Heat crossed both of their faces as Clementine made her way down the aisle.

She tried to focus on her steps, dreading the idea of tripping over her skirt. Her eyes were deadlocked on his, finding nothing but love. She walked past their smiling friends until she reached the man she loved. She passed her bouquet to Ruby, letting Louis take her hands in his.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, making her heart jump even more than it already was.

“Alright, everybody.” Violet smiled, pulling a few small cards out of her pocket.

“We’re here today because two of our amazing friends fell in love and wanted to be able to unite in the way of the old world, and what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t support them and throw a kickass wedding?”

That earned a few woots from the audience.

“But today isn’t about us. Today is about Clementine and Louis getting married and being a family.” She nodded to Louis.

This is the moment he had been preparing for. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he gazed into her stunning golden eyes. Louis abandoned the paper in his pocket. He knew what he was going to say.

“Clementine I…” He began, his breath slightly catching in his throat.

“You and AJ both mean the world to me. I never thought I could have this kind of family.”

“I never thought there would be someone like you who would want me.”

“Someone who could really see me for me, not just some stupid jokester who plays the piano.”

“This family is more than I ever could have asked for, and I promise, I will protect you with everything that I am 'til the day I die.”

His tone was serious but his smile never faded.

“And I vow to keep making my stupid jokes, and keep playing my stupid piano, and make you laugh every day because it is the most beautiful sound in the world.”

Clementine giggled as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I vow to hold you tight through whatever this crazy world decides to throw at us, and whatever that ends up being, we face it together.”

He squeezed her hands tightly, their foreheads pressed together.

“Forever and ever.”

“Wow.” Violet mumbled.

Clementine wiped the tears from her eyes. It was her turn to speak.

“Louis, I love you more than words can say.” She choked back her tears.

“The day AJ and I arrived here at the school was one of the best days of my life, even if I didn't know it at the time.”

“I was scared at first, I wasn't sure if I could open myself up to someone again after losing so many…”

Her eyes fell.

“But you? You sparked a light in me I didn't think I had anymore.”

“I know there are things you still blame yourself for, stuff you wish you could take back even though you don't need to.”  

“But that was forever ago.”

She saw him begin to tear up. She knew he still blamed himself for AJ getting shot all those years ago.

“Today is a new day, and today I vow to be by your side for the rest of our lives.”

“I vow to be there whenever you need me, and to be just as much of a rock for you as you've been for me.”

“And I just have to thank you, Louis, because you taught me how to live, not just survive.”

Tears rolled down the faces of both the bride and the groom.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Even stone cold Violet could be heard sniffling a little.

“O-okay, that was beautiful.” Violet cleared her throat.

“AJ, it’s time for the rings.”

AJ hopped up from his seat. Two rings, one adorned with diamonds paired with a plain gold band salvaged from a supply run rested an old red pillow in AJ’s hands. He excitedly held it up as Louis held his mom’s ring in his hand.

No, it’s Clementine’s ring now.

“I, Louis,

take you, Clementine,

as my wife.

With this ring, I thee wed and with all I am and all I have I honour you.”

Louis slipped the ring onto her finger, the gemstones sparkling in the sun that peeked in from the windows. It looked so natural.

“I’m sorry that it doesn’t really fit.” He saw how the band slipped loosely around her finger.

“It’s still perfect.” Clem assured with a smile.

With a shaky hand, she plucked the second ring from the pillow.

“I, Clementine,

take you, Louis,

as my husband.

With this ring, I thee wed and with all I am and all I have I honour you.”

She repeated the vows, truly meaning them with all of her heart as she slipped the ring onto his finger.

The matching rings were a symbol of their love. Two small pieces of jewelry that meant so much more than they appeared. Their love was their bond, and the rings were proof.

It was time.

“By the power vested in me by Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Violet threw her unused cards over her shoulder.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Louis hardly waited for Violet to finish her sentence before he pressed his lips to his new wife’s. Clementine wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her slightly off the ground, her toes barely touching the hardwood.

The cheers of their friends were loud and wild. When the kiss broke, the newlyweds swooped in on AJ, pulling their boy into a tight hug.

The rest of the day was a party. Everyone danced and sang and had the time of their lives. For one day, they managed to make it feel like the world had never ended.

The whole gang enjoyed some of Omar’s specially made stew in place of an unobtainable cake. They didn’t mine. Everyone enjoyed Omar’s cooking. By the time the sun set the party was calmer. Tennessee played a song on a guitar as the couple slow danced.

The two moved with each other in small circles, swaying back and forth to the music.

“I love you, Louis. So much.” She whispered.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

Clementine rested her head on Louis’ chest as he held her. To her, the world only existed in that one room. That one moment. Surrounded by their friends as she rested in her husband's arms while he whispered the lyrics to the song in her ear.

Cause it’s you and me,

And all of the people

With nothing to do,

Nothing to lose.

And it’s you and me,

And all of the people

And I don’t know why,

I can’t keep my eyes off of you.

[anthemsreturn-writes]

To Set Aside One’s Pride

Hi!!! I’m really sorry I wasn't able to get this done by Christmas, things were hectic, no excuse for that! This is my Secret Santa gift for @forloveoflibertea for the @usuknetwork event. I went with the magical strike kiss under the mistletoe prompt combined with the optional omegaverse twist! I hope you like it!!! :))))) 

Word Count: 3,109 

Warnings: They think they hate each other at first, but they secretly have those feelings. 

Summary: The company Christmas party was coming up, and a certain Frenchman has a plan to get Alfred and Arthur together in an unconventional way. 

--- 

"Alfred, if you don't leave my office right now, we'll have a big problem!" Arthur, the quickly rising star omega of the company, bit out, venom in his voice and poison in his glare. His scent was spiked with irritation.

"HA! You know what else is big?" Alfred goaded, knowing Arthur couldn't do anything to him without getting fired, what with Alfred being the company president's son. He almost smelled more obnoxious than he was acting, their scents combining to make the room unbearable.

There was a loud groan before Arthur's fluffy blond head hit the table. "Why do you have to be such a child?" He ground out before looking up, cold bottle green eyes locking with the alpha's bemused pacific blue behind his thin-wired frames.

Simply smirking, Alfred "aw'd" at him condescendingly. "You're just jealous, baby." There was an odd spike in his scent at the end of his sentence, which Arthur completely ignored.

Twitching, he looked about ready to murder Alfred. "Do not call me that!" he growled out, the blush creeping into his cheeks saying otherwise.

Holding up his hands in a placating gesture and laughing obnoxiously loud, Alfred spun on his heels, his long, feathered black coat swishing behind him. "Whatever… sweetie."

Arthur barely restrained himself from throwing his metal paperweight at the brat's head. Alfred's only four years younger than him, and by no means unintelligent, yet he acts like an imbecile or an immature hooligan. The dyed purple stripe in his hair and a temporary purple star tattoo on his cheek only add to this effect. Convincing himself he was angry at Alfred and not at all flustered by the pet names, Arthur quickly got back into the throes of his work, ignoring the silence and not at all wishing he'd come back.

-------

Back in his private, top floor office, Alfred was feeling incredibly proud of himself. He considers his work day to be wasted if he doesn't bug the adorably grumpy Arthur Kirkland at least once. Just as he himself was about to open up some of his own work-related documents, there was a knock on his door. Fixing a professional smile on his face and wiping off the self-satisfied smirk, he called out, "Come in!"

The door opened halfway. "Ah! Mon Ami, how are you?"

Smile dropping off his face, Alfred sighed gustily. His cheerful scent mellowed. At least the man was wearing a normal three-piece suit, meaning he wasn't in the mood to be putting on a pink frilly dress and taking his department on strike.

"What do you want, Francis?"

The man came in uninvited, shutting the door behind himself. The beta strutted towards Alfred's desk, flipping his long blond hair over his shoulder idly. Then he leaned on the desk with one hand. "Oh, nothing really, I just wanted to ask you how things are going between you and Mr. Eyebrows lately," he asked, his tone suggestive.

Alfred arched a brow. "What's there to tell?" He asked dryly, ignoring the jab at Arthur's rather over-sized eyebrows. They're actually kinda cute, not that he would ever admit it.

Leaning in, Francis chuckled. "Oh, but everyone outside of his office heard the little spat between the two of you. What was that about, what was it again? "Babe" and "Sweetie"?"

Alfred glowered at him, scent and mood darkening. "I'm not in the mood, Francis." The man was ruining his good mood by suggesting there was more to his teasing Artie earlier.

He smiled lecherously. "So you're not denying calling the formidable Brit those pet names?"

"... Get out, Francis."

"Wait, wait, wait! I just wanted to make sure, now onto the actual topic at hand! I propose a bet, one that will help solve the, how shall I say, tension between the two of you?"

"... I said get out."

"Just hear me out! I know the two of you can't possibly bear to spend more than a few minutes together at a time, so this bet would be a good way to one-up him!"

Alfred didn't want to admit his intrigue. "What are you going on about?"

"Before I say anything, just know that Arthur has already agreed to this!"

"And?"

"It's simple, really. I'll handcuff the two of you together-"

"Not interested."

"Hear me out! You will both have a key to the handcuffs. The conditions are that you have to spend the entire Christmas party together on a fake date, and whoever uncuffs himself from the other first loses! And if by some miracle, you manage to go the whole party without doing so, the work environment will be much improved because you will both have learned how to cooperate!" He finished triumphantly.

Alfred regarded him warily. "And why would I agree to this?"

"Because Arthur has already done so. He bet me one hundred dollars you'd never accept."

Alfred pushed a hand through his caramel blond hair. He considered it for a minute, looking off to the side through his floor-to-ceiling windows at the busy New York streets below. It would be nice to be with the omega during the party; after all, he doesn't have a date-- it wouldn't be a date, he'd just get to tease him the entire time! Artie would get so mad and he'd come out on top like an alpha should! Hopefully, Artie won't uncuff himself at the drop of a hat though… he'll have to tone it down, but, he'd get to spend some time with him-- teasing him! That is… Finally, his resolve hardened and he turned back to Francis, nodding his head. "He deserves to lose some money," was all he said at first. Francis just smiled brightly, knowingly for some reason, because of course there's nothing more to this. "But if I win, you have to promise to not go on strike for an entire year."

An evil glint in his eye, Francis nodded. "You have my word, Mon Ami… Oh, and one more thing. If you both make it the whole party, neither of you win or lose, so expect a strike, because no one wants to work before New Years."

Alfred smiled, somehow managing to look wicked and innocent at the same time, and clasped his hands together. "Good. Now, get out of my office."

Chuckling, Francis nodded his head, beginning his retreat. "Au revoir!" he called out, shutting the door behind himself with a flourish. As he made his way down the hall, he thought, Now to just get Arthur to agree.

-------

Why did I agree to this? Arthur bemoaned, frustrated with this being the fifth time during the party a coworker asked why he was handcuffed to Alfred, of all people! Arthur was quick to reassure them it was just for a bet that he himself would be winning. Each time he had to reiterate it he got more and more frustrated, his tea and roses scent turning sour and lemony, especially with the git just grinning down at him instead of helping explain. Alfred, meanwhile, was having the time of his life watching Artie suffer, but a large part of him wished he'd smell sweet while they were together. So sweet, just for him… Uh… Alfred didn't know what to make of that thought. But as the party wore on and the gossip spread, people stopped questioning them and they were left to enjoy the party as much as they were able to in each other's immediate presence. To Arthur's surprise, however, the whole event was going rather… smoothly. Sure, he was still teased by the utter pillock he was joined to, but Alfred became less and less obnoxious as time wore on. He became almost… charming? No, not charming, just more bearable, that was it! Of course, that was it… Right.

"Oh! Hi guys, I see you two must be having fun!" Arthur's cheerful coworker and office friend, an alpha woman named Erzebet, walked up to them with a smile and a wave. Just as Arthur was about to reply he found himself gently pushed behind Alfred. He frowned, scent reflecting his confusion, about to ask him what his problem was when Alfred spoke.

"Hey, Erzebet, nice to see you! Where's your mate? You should go find him." Alfred spoke tersely and authoritatively, and Arthur was honestly quite bewildered before anger took over. Who in the world does he think he is?!

Blinking in slight shock, Erzebet smiled and took a slow step back from the two of them. "That's a good idea! I don't know where he is right now, so I'd better go. I'll leave the two of you to it then." With a nod to Alfred and an astute glance at Arthur, Erzebet walked away. Arthur turned to Alfred, livid.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He shrieked quietly, trying not to make too much of a scene, despite his distress coloring the room.

"What's wrong with you? You were just going to let her flirt with you?!" Alfred smelled of acid and charcoal, and it was burning Arthur's nose, only distressing him further. Alfred finally noticed and attempted to calm his scent back to its usual fire smoke and sandalwood.

Calming slightly and face twisting trying to comprehend the stupidity of his statement, Arthur then pursed his lips with a frown. "Maybe losing one hundred dollars is worth it," he bit out acidly. He was reaching into his pocket when Alfred grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

Alfred quickly backtracked. "Wait, Arthur, come on, I just… I didn't mean to upset you, I--"

"Didn't mean to upset me?! By being rude to and chasing away my friend? I find that hard to believe. Do you want me to be miserable working here? Is that why you always bother me? … Do you truly hate me that much?" Arthur's rage-fueled voice quieted down as he spoke until it was almost hard to hear him over the noise of the party. Tears poked into the corners of his which he valiantly fought from spilling.

Panicking, Alfred's scent turned tart and vinegar, causing Arthur to crinkle his nose and start to panic in response. Noticing, Alfred turned it gentle and comforting, surprising Arthur, the sudden change causing tears to start to spill. "What? No! Artie, no, look, I-I just… look, can we just forget about this? I'll make it up to you, I swear! Just please sweetie, please don't cry." Without thinking, he wrapped the omega in his arms, his left and Arthur's right pressed awkwardly between them.

In Arthur's ensuing shock, the tears vanished and his scent sweetened against his will. That was the first time Alfred had ever called him a pet name that wasn't intended as an insult or to rile him up. It was… genuine? Was he honestly trying to comfort him? Regardless of the alpha’s intentions, which were obvious to everyone else in the room, Arthur was indeed comforted and, without hesitating, buried his face in Alfred's chest and felt calmed by the hand gently rubbing the center of his back. Alfred, for one, had never realized just how soft Arthur was, how delicate, and how he absolutely needed a hero like him to protect him.

Once Arthur was calmed down (a little while still after that, because the hug was… nice) Alfred led him away from the majority of the party and to a back corner where he could apologize and tell Artie why, exactly, he did what he did. He had only just realized it himself.

Arthur was surprisingly compliant as Alfred led him through the crowd until they reached a deserted niche. Then Alfred, instinctively, nudged Arthur into the corner and blocked it off with his body, keen on protecting the man he now viewed as a vulnerable, sweet, cute omega who he has the sole job of protecting. Alfred still warred with his feelings internally, but it was too late. For better or worse, the alpha inside of him wants this omega, like a light-bulb turned on in his head, or more aptly, he opened his eyes to see the light had always been on.

Arthur looked up at Alfred questioningly but unprotestingly. His emotions were going through a similar whirlwind, and he suddenly didn't hate, or rather "hate," Alfred as he previously thought he did.

Alfred sighed and ran his free hand through his hair, scent tumultuous. "Baby…" he started off, "I'm sorry I upset you, and for chasing away your friend. I know it's not an excuse, but, the thought of another alpha being, closer to you than I am, I dunno, it just, triggered? Something inside of me, that I can't really explain. No, wait, I can, I--" mustering up his courage, he sighed before smiling and looking down into Arthur's beautiful green eyes, scent evening out pleasantly. "I like you, Artie," he said wistfully. Arthur had been confused throughout his speech before his eyes widened and his heart clenched in a way that warmed his whole body. His lips trembled, and he looked the picture of a deer frozen in headlights. Alfred moved his hand to gently cup Arthur's cheek, stroking it softly, before realizing Arthur hadn't replied yet and the touch might be unwanted. He quickly removed his hand, scent sheepish, before Arthur's shocked scent melted into one of unadulterated happiness and he whined softly against his will, embarrassedly, in the back of this throat when Alfred removed his hand. Alfred let out a soft breath, his smile more relaxed and genuine than either his megawatt smile or his smirk. He returned his hand and gently cupped his cheek, waiting for an answer. Arthur didn't know what to say, so he sniffled as tears of happiness blurred his vision and his scent sweetened, smelling of tea, roses, and now rain and honey as well.

"Artie, would you like to go on a proper date with me?" Alfred asked, hoping Arthur would say something. Arthur looked down and wet his lips before nodding, looking up with a small but pleased smile.

"Yes… I would," he replied softly. "... Although, the rest of this party can be our first date?" He asked, emboldened by his budding and strengthening feelings. He mentally looked back on past meetings with Alfred and realized just how much they were holding back their true feelings, insulting each other so they could ignore how they felt, belittling each other so they could forget how they felt, and convincing themselves they hated each other so they wouldn't ache inside. He realized now the ache was completely gone, and he felt, happy. A thought struck him. "Uhm… wait. Does this mean? That we're…" his voice nearly squeaked on the last word, "boyfriends?"

Alfred's scent became stronger, more protective and proud. "Yeah, it does. I'll take good care of you, Artie, I promise. And I'll make this the best first date you've ever had, alright?"

Arthur nodded meekly, too overwhelmed by his feelings to muster up his usual attitude. Cautiously he leaned forward and Alfred immediately caught him up in a hug. The alpha buried his face into Arthur's hair, gently nosing his locks and smiling, happier than he'd been in a very long time, so long he can't remember a time when he was happier, and this was only the beginning of their relationship. Arthur looked up with a smile when he caught something out of the corner of his eye… Mistletoe. He frowned and pouted, causing Alfred to look up questioningly.

"... You led me over here on purpose," he accused. His mind raced. Alfred had probably set all this up! He purposefully upset him just so he could comfort him, then twist the knife! He had him believing this was genuine! But… it couldn't be, could it? Arthur started to pull away. "I can't believe you planned this! Did you set all this up just to kiss me? Did you honestly think you could trick me like that?! I--"

"I didn't plan this, Artie! I swear! This is all a coincidence. Trust, me, I lo- care about you so much, I'd never do this to upset you," Alfred cut him off before he could go on one of his trademark rants. He didn't even fully know what he'd done wrong this time, but the omega was obviously upset. Arthur's face was tinged slightly red with anger, but he quickly realized he jumped to conclusions. Alfred wasn't leading him on, he wasn't trying to trick him. He actually, really… does care about him. The red turned to one caused by embarrassment. Arthur looked down, pressing his forehead against the collar of Alfred's coat.

"Hey, baby, I swear I didn't plan this, but since it's there… why don't we follow tradition?" He asked with a smirk, scent strengthening. After a second, Arthur looked up from beneath his lashes with a smirk of his own.

"Well, it is tradition," he said angelically, scent spiking mischievously. Grinning, Alfred leaned down and captured Arthur's lips with his own, holding him close and tilting his head to the side so his glasses didn't press into Arthur's cheek. The kiss started out slow until they were enthusiastically moving their lips in tandem. It was sweet, and they both hummed into this kiss before Alfred slipped his tongue out and gently licked the seam of Arthur's lips. With a gasp, he parted them and Alfred tangled their tongues together, stroking Arthur's tongue and hip and the same time. Arthur moaned. He can't remember a kiss that felt this nice. No, better than nice. This felt… right.

Their lips molded together passionately, tongues tangling before they began to run out of air. Arthur finally felt the intense need to breathe and attempted to pull back, but Alfred held him against him a second longer before they pulled away, a string of their mixed saliva connecting them. Arthur wiped it away with the back of his palm, feeling out of breath as a pleased smirk came onto his face. Alfred just smiled, nuzzling their noses together, causing Arthur to involuntarily make a sound close to a giggle that was absolutely not a giggle. He looked down, embarrassed, but Alfred lifted his chin and molded their lips together for another kiss.

-------

At the end of the party, they both uncuffed themselves while Francis smiled, sighing over-dramatically. "Ah, love…" he cooed, both Alfred and Arthur snapping, "Shut it." Four years later, on their wedding day, they both thanked their lucky stars they took a bet for the sole purpose of their own pride and gained more than they could've ever hoped for by putting it aside.

[vvtaverenvv]

Todomomo Christmas Day 2

Hello! Here’s my submission for the @todomomo-christmas celebration! The theme of this story is “baking,” so that’s pretty much it. Hopefully you enjoy!

Links will be posted when the account becomes available. Words: 3075

This was partially influenced by my ongoing finals and what I think is cute at 2 in the morning

“How do you think you did on the math final?”

“Honestly no clue, let's be real though probably not the best.”

“Do you think if I got a concussion I wouldn’t have to take the english final?”

“Better go with permanent brain damage just to make sure.”

“Have you written that final paper yet?”

“Whey, nooooo, why would I?”

“It’s due in five days??”

Class 1-A talked amongst themselves in the common room of their dorm hall, the fear of their final exams lingering over their heads. The end of their second semester was drawing close and while the thrill of knowing that they had survived, for the most part, their first year was great, the fear of final exams was equal to that. Already the first wave of tests had hit them, with more to come over the next week. The fact that this weekend was likely going to be spent studying was not ideal either, for any of them.

Mina glanced around the common room and saw how exhausted her classmates were. Iida sat straight in a chair but she could tell that it was a struggle to maintain his form. Kaminari was reduced to a bumbling mess; his hair stuck out every which way, his eyes were glazed over and he couldn’t manage to sit still. Even Bakugou had a little less irritation in his glares than normal. Something needed to be done about this.

“Everyone!” Mina stood from her chair and raised her right hand with a smile. “We should do something this weekend! Ya’know, since we’ll all be leaving soon.” It was true that all the students would be returning home after their exams, so really after the end of the next week they wouldn’t be seeing each other for a good while.

“Yes!” Iida stood up and started waving his arm as well. “Something to brighten the mood and help everyone prepare for our final exams would be preferable.”

“Please no more studying.” Jirou commented as she pulled Kaminari down next to her. “I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.” The way she glanced towards Kaminari told a different story, but nobody was willing to point out the obvious.

“What if we baked cookies and had a fun competition?” Midoriya chimed in. He was looking well, save for his unusually-messy hair and the heavy bags under his eyes.

“Great idea! But we need the supplies.” Mina said and turned towards Iida with a bright smile on her face. “Maybe the class president will be able to help out?”

“I’m sure Iida would like to rest. I don’t mind getting what’s necessary, just give me a list and I’ll get it.” Todoroki quietly said.

“Perfect! Thank you Todoroki!” Todoroki nodded as everyone started to thank him. Honestly it wasn’t that much of a deal for him to get it since he was one of the more wealthy students. It just made sense.

Later that afternoon he left with Midoriya, Shoji, Sato and Sero to go shopping and returned about two hours later with the baking supplies. While each of them carried a significant amount of bags, Shoji was the real team player. Since he was able to carry multiple bags with each hand, and having multiple hands, he looked like a tree that was decorated with shopping bags. They stuffed the refrigerator in the kitchen full and the competition was set to begin at three o’clock the next day.

Momo entered the common room just ten minutes before the competition began to see everyone setting up. Since the kitchen was too small for the entire class to use at once, they had opted to do the preparation in the common room and then bake the cookies all at once. Long tables had been set up and the couches pulled away to allow for the most cooking space, and Aizawa “oversaw” the entire operation from the couch on the opposite side of the room. In reality, he was probably asleep. She felt someone next to her and turned to see Jirou.

“Hey Yaomomo, where are you planning on setting up?” Jirou said from her side.

“Oh, um,” she glanced around the room and saw that it was already pretty crowded. Bakugou and Kirishima were in the far-right corner, Midoriya stood in the middle next to Iida and Uraraka and everyone else was getting set up. The only real spots left were near Mineta and Todoroki. “I actually don’t know.” She gave a half-hearted laugh, she definitely had a preference but didn’t want to say it.

Both Jirou and Momo saw the way Mineta looked over at them and immediately decided that sometimes being dead was better. For a moment, it looked as if a difficult choice was going to be made, but then Kaminari came into view right next to Mineta.

“Hey Jirou! Come on over here, you said you’d talk to me about the paper!” The blonde practically shouted across the room. Jirou blushed and turned towards Yaoyorozu.

“Ah, I guess I’ll be going over there then…” She gave Momo a small wave and then rushed over to Kaminari, who stood there with a broad smile on his face. Momo sighed but felt grateful for him, and then turned towards the last available spot which was next to Todoroki. She walked over next to him and set down a small journal she had been carrying with her since she had entered the room.

“Good afternoon Yaoyorozu.” Todoroki said as she walked up. He had all his ingredients set in front of him, but no obvious recipe.

“Good afternoon Todoroki-san.” She replied, “are you excited for the competition?”

He nodded and turned towards her. “Yeah, granted I don’t think I’ll be able to win.” He glanced towards Sato who looked as if he was the most professional chef in the world. He had on an apron and matching hat, and his equipment, from the stirring bowl to the whisk, was obviously of the highest quality. “I honestly think Sato has the best chances out of all of us. That being said,” he looked towards her again, “I’m looking forward to trying yours.”

“Oh, well I’ll make sure to save you one then.” She tapped her notebook and smiled, “I handcrafted this recipe by borrowing from other famous recipes. You have to learn from the best you know.” Todoroki nodded and she turned away to gather her materials, her heart fluttering.

When the clock struck three the competition began and everyone dove into making cookies. The common room became so loud from the conversations and the general noises created from the cracking of eggs and the whirring of beaters that Aizawa looked up and groggily watched his students. While making a cookie was ultimately a pretty basic format, each student was unique in their approach. Bakugou made his cookie dough aggressively, Sato added a lot of sugar and Tsu added green food coloring.

Momo flipped open the notebook to her chocolate chip cookie recipe and began following the step-by-step instructions to the letter. First she cracked two eggs into the bowl and added one cup of brown sugar, one cup of white sugar, half a stick of butter, and a teaspoon of cinnamon and began to whisk it together. Then, halfway through, she added another teaspoon of cinnamon and brown sugar and enough flour to make the cookies just soft enough to melt in your mouth. Her recipe was tried and tested and she was confident that her cookies were at least going to be well-received.

As she cooked she glanced over at Todoroki. He appeared to be focused on the task at hand, but again Momo did not see a recipe that he was following. In fact, there were no measurement supplies he used except for simple glass one would use for water, a tablespoon, and a butter knife. He did not measure how much butter he cut and added, or how much sugar he poured into his mixing bowl. It was almost as if he was adding things in randomly. She trusted Todoroki, however, and turned back to her own work.

After the cookies were baked, some students decorated theirs to match themselves. Kaminari added a lightning bolt and Jirou added a guitar, Kirishima’s was fully red frosting and Midoriya’s had the carefully drawn smile of All Might on it. When all the cookies were finished, they were plated and each was set before a placard that named the student who made them.

“Alright let’s dig in!” Mina declared and everyone began touring the room tasting cookies. It soon became clear that Sato’s cookies were among the best of the bunch, along with Bakugou’s.

“How did you get them to be so soft, Bakugou?” Uraraka asked as she bit into another one of his cookies.

“It’s easy! Just roll the dough until it hits the sweet spot and bake it and the right temperature!”

“I don’t think you really explained it…” Kirishima said as he took another one of Bakugou’s cookies.

Momo turned away from that commotion and back towards where Todoroki and her had been standing, hoping to catch one of his cookies. However, when she returned, neither one of them had any cookies left. She frowned slightly and glanced around, wondering who took them all.

“Oh, sorry Yaomomo did you want some of Todoroki’s?” Kaminari asked, with what appeared to be the last of her cookies in his hand, half of it missing. “Sorry they were really, really good.” He rubbed the back of his head and smiled. “Yours were really good too though! Not gonna lie I think you rival Sato.”

“That’s very nice of you to say, Kaminari.” Momo smiled and turned to clean up her mess. If she was being honest with herself, she was just a little upset. She had promised Todoroki one of her cookies but it appears that she wouldn’t be able to fulfill that promise.

“Hey.” Todoroki’s soft voice caused her to slightly jump and turn to him. He held up his hands in apology, “Oh, sorry to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me Todoroki-san, I just didn’t think anybody was closeby.” She said as she piled up her dirty dishes. “Did you manage to try any of my cookies?”

“No actually, I kinda got distracted.” He rubbed the back of his head and then looked up towards the ceiling. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

“No, why?” She turned towards him and crossed her arms.

“Oh, well, do you mind if a stop by around ten?”

“That’s awfully late since we’re supposed to be studying.” She smiled and nodded, “But I wouldn’t mind.”

“Great,” he met her eyes then and she swore she could see a plan forming there, “I’ll see you then.” Midoriya caught his attention then, and the fluttering that Momo thought was gone only returned.

Shoto Todoroki knocked on Yaoyorozu’s room and took a half-step back. Outside the day had grown dark and the excited air the dormitory had held dissipated. Now, most students were likely sleeping or studying for the upcoming tests and here he was standing in a t-shirt and pants in the middle of the hall.

The door opened and Yaoyorozu stepped out. She had let her hair down and was dressed in a tank-top and pajama pants. “Hello Todoroki-san,” she smiled and carefully shut the door behind her, “what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, actually, since neither one of us managed to try each other’s cookies I figured we could fix that. I bought a little too much yesterday and didn’t want to let it go to waste.”

Yaoyorozu smiled and let out a small laugh. “That sounds like a good idea, though is it really a good idea for us to bake cookies this late?”

“I mean, technically no.” He shrugged then and glanced down the hall, “but I don’t think anybody is going to stop us.” He took her second laugh as agreement and started down the hall. She quickly caught up to him and walked close.

“So I noticed that you didn’t use a recipe today.” Yaoyorozu said when they reached the kitchen. Todoroki had all the supplies set up on the kitchen counter, and instead of the too-bright kitchen light he instead had lit a few candles and set them nearby giving the room a warm atmosphere.

“Well I learned all my baking skills from my mom, and she never really used a recipe either. It was all ‘a touch of sugar here, then add this much butter and stir for five seconds’ type of stuff.” He looked over at her, “I notice you didn’t bring that notebook of yours.”

“No I didn’t.” She turned to him and put one hand on the counter to rest against it. “I actually had a request.” He nodded and she continued. “Do you think you can teach me how you make your cookies?”

“I don’t mind, but when will I be able to try yours?”

“I guess we’ll just have to do this again.” She smirked then and time froze for a brief second. Todoroki nodded with a slight smile in response and began taking the supplies he had brought out for Yaoyorozu away.

“I guess so, I’ll clean up if you want to crack two eggs into the bowl.” Yaoyorozu turned away and gathered the eggs while Todoroki put everything away. “After the eggs you want to add some brown sugar and white sugar, then a pinch of cinnamon and about a cup of flour. A pinch, mind you. Then some butter and you can start mixing everything together. Halfway through you will want to add the vanilla.

Once everything was cleared away he leaned against the counter and watched her cook. Her measurements weren’t exactly the same, but that was fine. He had no doubt that she could make chocolate chip cookies no matter what. It was just nice to watch her, if he was being honest. When she began to mix the ingredients together, he got an idea.

“There’s a special way to mix everything together, do you mind if I show you?” Todoroki asked her and took a half-step closer. She turned her head towards him and gave him a small smile.

“No I don’t.” She offered him the spoon and he shook his head.

“It’ll only work if I guide your movements.” He said in all seriousness, to which Yaoyorozu’s face became a shade of red he had never seen before. “If that’s okay with you,” he quickly added, heat rising on both sides of his face. Did she hear a pounding too?

“I-it’s fine.” She stammered and turned to stare down at the bowl. Todoroki slowly stood behind her and laid his hands over hers. For a moment he could feel her hands shaking slightly, or was that his own? Todoroki noted that she smelled nice, her perfume reminiscent of mint, and that she was warm, even against the half of his body that was accustomed to the heat.

“What you want to do is hold the spoon like this,” he spoke in a soft tone as he guided her right hand, “and cup the bowl like this.” They moved as one and Todoroki judged that first step done. “Begin mixing clockwise, then after three turns reverse it for four.” His hands gently followed her movements and slowly he could feel her, and himself, get more relaxed. She let him guide the spoon in the motions he described. “Then, as if the spoon is a shovel, turn it over on itself.” Again he guided her movements, but almost stopped when he felt her back press against him. Heat flared across his face once again when she rested against him. “Repeat the process twice, and you’re done.” He ran through the motion with her again, and when it was done he stepped away from her.

“What do we do now?” Yaoyorozu asked in a soft voice. She looked over at him with a soft smile, eyes hiding a mysterious light.

“Put everything on the pan and let the oven do the rest.” Todoroki said, meeting her eyes with a slight smile on his face. She put the dough they created onto the pan and slid it into the oven, and left it to cook.

“Tell me, Todoroki-san,” Yaoyorozu stepped closer to him and tilted her head, “Why did you really want to bring me down here?”

“Is wanting to have your cookies not a good enough reason?” He asked in a level tone.

“I think it is, but I also think you were planning something else.”

There was a pause in conversation as the air shifted. Both stood rather close to each other, bound by an invisible rope that kept them from breaking the half-foot that separated them.

“Would you be mad at me if I said I was?” Todoroki finally said. Tentatively he reached forward and brushed a few strands of Yaoyorozu’s hair out of her face and behind her hair.

“I don’t think I would be,” Yaoyorozu whispered and shifted closer to him, her shaking hands moving to gently lay against his shoulders. “I trust you, so whatever you have planned…”

The kiss was sudden. The moment Yaoyorozu stopped speaking Todoroki leaned in for a soft kiss that held for a few moments before he pulled back. Yaoyorozu’s face was a light shade of red, but then again so was his. They made eye contact for a moment again before he leaned back down for a more passionate kiss.

They were interrupted when the oven timer dinged and forced them to turn their attention to the cookies they had just made. “Ah Todoroki we should probably get to that.” Yaoyorozu spoke softly and took a step away from Todoroki, though she did link hands with him.

“We probably should.” He grabbed an oven mitt and opened the oven so he could pull the cookies out of the oven and set them on a cloth on the counter. “Now we need to wait for a little bit to let them cool.”

“Whatever will we do in the meantime?” Yaoyorozu asked with a small smile on her face. Again she stepped close to him, and Todoroki wrapped his arms around her lower back.

“I have an idea.” He whispered back to her as he pulled her against him once again, and everything that seemed to matter faded away.