#the cat's being put in the hallway. until shes inevitably let back in cause she keeps cryin at the door and charles got sad

[xxplastic-cubexx]

referring to the cat post, i feel like erik would wake up in the middle of the night and it would just be staring at him like 👁️👁️

staring at him with them big ol icy blue eyes gettin oil all over tha damn place frankly id scream

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! < This is Part 19!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Song Here- (X)

Big thanks to @imdoingathingmom​ and @bbibbisan​ for doing a sensitivity read! 

* This could be worse, you remind yourself as you feed your deer

* Much, much worse

* “How much am I supposed to give them?” The tall, ebony colored man says from beside you, his bright red eyes seem to glow under the pale moonlight

* “Um.. for that one, you can feed it as much kale as you want, but be careful James, he’s kinda insatiable. He’ll eat your clothes if you give him the chance”

* James nods, tearing the kale in careful ribbons.

* He smiles when the deer eats right out of his palm.

* You’re not going to lie, you were 100% surprised when the blond turned out to be Laurent and the black guy was James

* You were even more surprised when he asked if he could help you feed your animals

* You watch him smile as he gives the deer a gentle pat, feeding it more kale

* Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing the teddy bear in front of you is some psychopath tracker

* The story went that while you and Edward were out, the coven decided to play some baseball up in the mountains, and the sound caught their attention as they were passing through

* Apparently this was a fast friends situation, because Carlisle and Laurent have been reminiscing about their geezer pre-colonialism days

* You look to the house, you can see Edward’s inside from the window, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile

* Well that seems hopeful

* “I used to take animals before I turned” James’s deep voice calls you back to the situation at hand

* “Oh were you a farm hand?” You’re peeling an orange, which Henrietta the third is already licking at impatiently

* “Um, not quite, I was a slave”

* You stop peeling the orange

* James tells you his story- he was a third generation slave, fathered from the master, his mother passed away shortly after his birth

* “I was lucky- in a sense, the master -my father- he was a superstitious man, and my mother- she had a reputation”

* His mother was a slave in name only, was what he told you. She was more of a mistress or a concubine.

* “At least that’s what they said, Though I’m not sure how much of that is true, I’m fairly certain she didn’t enjoy being with him. She was just trying to survive”

* His mother had been ostracized, even amongst others like them, but not because of her social position in the household

* “They thought she was a witch,” he admitted. “Bad things happened to people who wronged her, and good things happened to those who helped her”

* That sounds like Alec and Jane

* “When she was on her death bed, she laid a “curse” on the owner of the plantation, that if I wasn’t taken care of she would haunt him and bring misfortune on the entire family for several generations”

* And so, James became the unfavorable third son of the Pickett family.

* “I had many opportunities from her sacrifice, I learned to read and write, but I was more or less shunned from the house- both by my family and by the other slaves”

* It was lonely, almost painful.

* “But there was one thing, a ray of light-“ his eyes flit towards the window, and you follow his gaze to the red haired woman in the green chair

* “Victoria, she was my eldest brothers fiancé”

* The youngest daughter of the wealthiest man in town, from the outside she was a blossoming socialite

* The most beautiful girl in town

* But behind closed doors...

* Victoria was the product of an affair, a mistresses child, reluctantly brought into the household when her mother passed

* “She had big dreams, she loved to read, she yearned to study, to educate herself, to use her mind”

* And so, two lost souls found each other

* “Our family would never have allowed it. So we decided to run away together” he smiles, but it’s bitter.

* They claimed he had abducted her, perhaps to save face, and sent slave catchers to find them.

* “I’m not quite sure what happened-I remember being shot and telling Victoria to go in without me- all I ever wanted was for her to be happy.”

* This is heartbreaking

* “When I woke up, Laurent was there, and my throat burned”

* So Laurent had been with them for all that time, he was their creator

* “Afterwards the three of us worked in ‘the underground railroad’ helping slaves to the north where they could be free”

* “I’m thankful to him, for saving us, we wouldn’t have been able to be in a world where we could be together if it weren’t for him-“

* “But you wonder what the trade off is” you finish and he nods

* No longer human

* Purpose only lasts so long in this life, after all human life only has meaning because you know one day it will end

* “I found a penchant for tracking, it turns out what they said about my mother might have held some truth”

* James calls it “extreme luck”, there’s no other word for his gift.

* If he’s looking for something - or someone- it’ll inevitably find him through pure luck. Like the world bends to his will

* But it only works with finding things

* “These days we work as bounty hunters, and we only feed from people beyond redemption”

* Murder and rapists it sounds like

* “I didn’t know there was another way”

* “That’s understandable, I didn’t know either until I met Carlisle” he looks at you with kind eyes, and so with a deep breath you tell him your story

* About the Volturi, your parents, Alec and Jane-

* “I think you would like them, they’re a little off putting at first, but they warm up pretty fast”

* “Like cats” he says

* “Like cats” you agree

* You tell him about meeting Carlisle, how he saved you,

* how Eleazer gave you a home and a family,

* and about Edward, who gave you a chance to live

* Not just to survive, but to truly live

* “We’re not so different you and I” James says with a smile, and you mirror his expression

* “No we aren’t”

* Though of course you wouldn’t compare the relatively privileged life you had to his

* But the loneliness you both experienced is not all that different

* The tie that binds you all

* And then you do something you’ve never done before

* “You know, I don’t belong to this coven, not really” it’s the first time you’ve admitted it to anyone

* “Oh?”

* “My coven is in Denali, they have a permanent settlement there, and they follow the er... same alternative lifestyle”

* He laughs

* “I’m sure they would love two or three more, we’ve got like thirteen spare rooms in that house”

* You still remember the antiquated scooby Doo mansion-esque hallways filled with armor and swords

* He looks at you for a long time, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable

* “I won’t follow another leader”

* You nod, that’s understandable.

* Laurent created them, and it seems he’s happy with their current lifestyle, they won’t betray him

* “Not unless it’s you”

* ........

* What?!?!

* “M-me?” You sputter, your orange peel filled hand clutching your chest

* “Why would you want to follow me? I’m only nineteen years old- I don’t even have a high school degree yet!”

* He laughs at your panicked expression

* “You know that doesn’t matter to our kind,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at you.

* “Call it witchcraft if you like, but you’re going to accomplish great things, I can feel it deep in my bones”

* Garrett had said the same thing, but the way James says it-

* You really believe it.

* He doesn’t want anything from you you, not a kiss or a date-

* He just wants to be your friend, to be apart of your vision

* Whatever it may be

* “Here’s my card-“

* He holds out his business card to you, unlike Garett’s it’s a cheap cardboard white with his profession and number on the front

* “If you ever find yourself in need of someone to help with your animals, let me know”

* You nod, taking his card in your hands

* “Um there’s one more thing I could use your help with-“

* He points to the large window, right at Alice

* “I know that girl but she doesn’t seem to know me.”

* “Well how does that work”

* He tells you how many years ago, a woman was looking for her sister.

* “It was a bit of a Cinderella story”

* The woman’s father had remarried quickly after his wife’s death, and the step mother had sent his children away. The younger sibling, his client, was lucky and was sent to a relative.

* But the older, who had suspected something amiss had happened to her mother, was sent to a mental asylum

* “You know me, I find things, it’s my gift.”

* But when he found the girl, she was no longer human. Already turned.

* “I tried to approach her, but she didn’t seem to remember anything”

* “Alice doesn’t have any of her memories from before she turned, she woke up in the woods all alone”

* The only thing guiding her were her visions.

* James nods solemnly

* “Should I...should I tell her?”

* You look to Alice.

* She’s smiling at something Victoria said.

* How many nights has she spent wondering who she really was, feeling so happy she had a family and a partner, but wondering if she left someone behind

* How would she feel when she found out?

* “I think you should tell her.”

* If it was you, even if it hurt, you would want to know

* James nods

* “Okay”

* You walk inside together, and immediately look to Edward

* Your own personal vampire lie detector

* “He did lie about one thing-“ Edward tells you once James pulls Alice aside.

* Was he actually tracking Alice to hunt her?

* Your heart drops at the thought

* “His mother didn’t die from natural causes, she committed suicide because she knew it would secure his future” Edward tells you with a somber expression.

* “He just didn’t want you to feel bad”

* You smile and nod.

* What a strong person, you can’t even imagine

* Edward pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss in your hair

* You feel bitter sweet about the whole thing

* Especially as you watch them leave in the morning, right before you’re going to head off to school

* Jasper is holding Alice who seems vulnerable, but relieved

* They’re leaving so soon, you didn’t even get a chance to get to talk to Victoria or Laurent

* You watch James stand next to Victoria, they’re talking to Carlisle.

* They’re not even touching, but you can feel the intimacy radiate off of them

* You wonder if maybe you and Edward might get to be that close one day

* James meets your gaze and smiles

* “I’ll see you around sometime leader!” He calls out, earning confused looks from your coven and his

* You smile back and give him a nod

* You’re still not sure what your future holds

* But you know you wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for the kindness of others

* You want to make them proud

* And then in a gust of wind, he’s gone

* They all are

* “See, I didn’t commit murder or anything, I told you things were different” Edward says with a teasing smile

* You roll your eyes and lightly shove him while he just laughs

* He’s right though, that was different

* “Enough flirting kids, you’re going to be late for school, and I really don’t want to deal with that dick in the front office acting all high and mighty because they think I can’t control my children” Esme yells

* School?

* Oh sh*t you didn’t do your homework

* “Edward-“

* “I’ll drive and tell you the answers on the way there” he says catching the keys you toss to him

* “It’s the-“

* “The Trig homework, I know. It’s your worst subject”

* Well you do struggle with trig quite a bit

* “Though to be fair you’re pretty terrible at all of them”

* He barks laughing when you shove him before getting into the car through the passenger side

* Carlisle and Esme watch you from the doorstep

* “They’re so good together-“ Esme starts

* “I know, I never thought our Edward would look at anyone like that”

* Carlisle and Esme exchange a look

* Before you came around-

* Well it wasn’t bad, but he certainly didn’t look like that.

* And he never smiled like that either

* Immortality had hardened him, made him into a man

* But with you-

* Well, with you he looks just like a boy

* A boy in love for the first time

* “I wonder what kind of children they might have had” Esme wonders with a small grin

* Him, with his ability to read minds, and you with that positively monstrous power of yours

* Any number of possibilities is possible

* “Best not to think of such things” Carlisle murmurs

* Though you two may be together for eternity, with the endless options, you’ll never have that.

* Esme nods

* “I’m late to get to the hospital, surgery this morning” he mumbles kissing her on the cheek before walking to the car

* She watches him go, his sleek white Volvo disappearing down the road before looking up to the sky

* “What a shame, I would have liked a cute grandchild or two running around” she mumbles to herself before turning to go inside

* “Entertaining always leaves me exhausted, guess I’ll give my employees the day off”

Tags:  @moonlights27​ @thebluetint​ @the100thtwilight​ @awesomebooklover17​ @oneofthepotterheads​ @smileygirl08​ @imdoingathingmom​ @iconicgguk​ @yrawn​ @alyciaswhore​ @little-horror-show​ @wicked-watering-can​ @lazydreamers​ @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​​ @hotmessgoodness​ @jaimewho​ @corabmarie​ @what-am-i-doing10​ @alluring-venus​ @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse​ @im-tired-not-sleepy​ @emmettcullenisahimbo​ @my-super-musical-life​ @smolvampiregirl​ @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​ @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252​ @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow​ @bwbatta​

[cherryblossomtease]

In The Fairest Season ~ Part 4

18+ only

warnings summary masterlist

Chapter Warnings - mild graphic violence

~LATE AUGUST~

Bird song usually soothes you in the mornings.

Your bed is near the window and when the nurse leaves it open you can feel the cool breeze and hear the sparrows, but this morning you’re in pain and you wish you could quiet the little beasts.

You had a nightmare, that must be what it is. Your dreams have always been vivid, ever since you were a child. So much so that they set the tone for your day.

This one is a replaying of the night you almost died. You’ve had it before, for better or worse it is typically the same, but this time, he was there just watching as the butcher hacked away.

You woke with your pulse racing, scared for a while until the sparrows calmed you, and then the pain kicked in and now you are just angry.

It isn’t true. You know he’s the one paying for your care or else you would have been sent home weeks ago.

Instead you have a private nurse and this beautiful room on this quiet floor far from the chaos below with a doctor who speaks kindly when he comes to do his rounds.

He checks your wound which is a specific form of torment you would not wish on your enemy. It is too hard for you to speak when he asks how you feel, but you write with chalk on the little slate they’ve given you and when he is done prodding, they give you fresh bandages and let you sleep.

Eating slowly becomes easier too— when you have an appetite.

Turning your head from the bright light of day, you look at the vase on the table beside your bed and stare at the single dead rose.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes after your surgery. Someone had placed it on your bed while you slept after they stitched you back together and you’ve kept it, refusing to let them throw it away.

Once, you overheard the doctor say that the assailant was in a hurry. The theatre was a risky place to commit such a crime and get away with it. His careleness and your bouquet which took the impact of his assault kept you alive, but it would take time and rest before you could speak.

You still do not have the heart to ask him about singing.

*

Baron Zemo likes the hunt.

It’s been a while since he has, but not long enough that he’s forgotten how it’s done, or how much he enjoys it.

Patience and observation are his weapons and he’d spent the past few days using both.

The Baron had stripped away his fine clothes, concealing his wealth with worn shoes, a tattered coat and the hat of a man no one would notice. He left the pretty summer mansions behind, forgetting the charm of street lamps and manicured topiaries that decorate the parks, choosing instead to disappear into the bleak slums, quietly following the man whose name he’d gotten through his first round of cat and mouse which had ended very badly for the mouse.

Down he went over shit covered roads, dodging the beggars and dirty children, slipping in and out of the shadows like a predator that crouches in the tall grass before leaping to bite the neck of its victim.

He had stalked around this way for two nights. Thankfully this man -Karpov- is simple.

It will be over and done before midnight.

Pressing his back to the damp wall, the Baron keeps out of sight as Karpov stops at the entrance of an abandoned warehouse just off the water. He speaks with the old man sitting on a barrel and lights what’s left of a cigarette while they chat, the sound of gulls and gentle waves  deceptively tranquil.

Zemo watches him, staring at his plain face. He will never forget it, or the way he feels knowing that you have seen him too, and why.

Their voices fade though his eyes stay trained on his target, just  a sliver of his face showing around the corner in the dark, the memory of you onstage coming to him quickly.

He can see you so clearly, with your voice so bright and strong. It fills the music hall with the most beautiful sorrow he has ever heard, just when he needed it most…

Karpov may not have killed you —little bird— you are still alive, you are strong and healing even now. But he tried, and that is enough.

There is a righteous anger burning in the Baron’s heart that drives him—pushing him forward much as it did when he lost his wife and son. He won a war fueled by that rage and it is this same hurt that clears his head and keeps him steady. He is at his best when he is hunting those who deserve to die. This man, he thinks watching Karpov take a long drag, is most deserving.

So Zemo waits.

When Karpov finally goes in and the old man slumps down in a drunken sleep, Zemo slips on the mask he has not worn since the fighting at the borderlands and goes inside, making his way through the dark, his eyes quickly growing accustom to it.

He sticks to the shadows moving in through the fallen beams until he notices the silence. Karpov knows he's here. That’s all right.

“No use for that, I know who you are.” Comes Karpov’s voice in the distance.

The Baron smiles beneath his cover. “Then you also know why I’ve come.”

“I guess you’re mad about your little ingenue” He says the word making it sound crude.

“That is an act, only the role played on stage. She —is anything but.”

“All the same, you’ve got a score to settle with me….same as you did the ones that ripped your country apart. Come on then. Stop hiding.” Karpov says and the Baron hears how his voice wavers with fear.

He must truly knows who has come for him.

“What stories have you heard?” Zemo asks, curious as he walks past the wreckage. “What tales of war have made it all the way to your filthy ears?” He smirks. When he steps into the dim light of a barrel fire, the doomed man backs away.

Through the flames, Karpov catches his first glimpse of the Baron. He sees the long black coat with the white fur collar, similar to what the men wore to stay warm through the long winters of a northern war and the thick gloves to make gripping swords much easier. And finally, the mask that had become the stuff of legend between the fighters. Karpov may not have been there to see first hand, but he'd heard enough on the docks from the ones who traveled through, those few who survived...

Zemo's men rallied behind the mask and his enemies feared it. The entire time, none knew who the man that wore it was, the Baron had managed to keep this identity secret. They only knew that he was fearless and seemed to enjoy the killing when it kept others alive. Now Karpov knew— he did not expect to live long enough to tell the secret.

“You’re Baron Zemo.” He says awed. “The masked swordsman of Sokovia.” He grins with the discovery. “You’re the one who waits, and hunts.” His gold teeth gleam in the firelight. "And falls in love with little stage girls who forget their place." He says with a laugh, but that laugh is not genuine. He is trying very hard to stave off the inevitable.

Zemo squares his shoulders and fixes his eyes on his victim. It’s been a very long time since anyone has looked at him this way, but it is instantly familiar. All cowards make the same face right before they die. Still he is surprised and tilts his head, perhaps a little flattered that his war reputation has reached so far. He gives a single nod. “Yes… the patient man. With experience.” He adds and looks Karpov in the eye, his grin hidden beneath the mask. Why is he still standing here?

“Run.”

The man growls an angry response, he does not usually back down from a fight, but when the Baron steps around the fire, and draws his sword, Karpov forgets his own reputation in the slums and turns, fleeing up a set of crooked stairs, jumping over the places he knows won’t support him as he makes his was along the balcony of the next floor. The Baron stays put to watch; his brain doing the calculations to follow without stepping on a rotted or missing plank.

When the time is right he follows.

“I can smell you from here.” Zemo says into the dark as he climbs, his voice finding Karpov before he does.  They say predators can smell fear, perhaps the war has changed him more than he realized. And to think he used to be a peaceful man.“People seem to find joy in taking things from me.” Zemo says stepping onto the second floor. He pauses to listen so happy that the hunt is not over. This may be Karpov’s territory but what is a broken building to a man who has seen the end of the world. “Such careless, stupid ignorance.” Zemo scolds softly. “Better men than you have tried my friend. And I’m sure you know that happened to them. You see it is not what I did during the war that should frighten you. It’s what I did to the ones who caused the deaths of my family after the fact.” Karpov is breathing is too loud. He does know.

Zemo hears and pauses, going left to find him instead of right.

Karpov feels panic, he’s set something off inside of Zemo, something that had been quiet for so long. He should never have done it, but how could he have known that the Baron the little bitch snuck off with was this one!

And then a breeze, like the breath of an angel catches his hair, reminding him of another way out.

Not waiting to test fate, the man scuttles across the floor boards down a short hallway with the broken wall that leads to the water below. He stands gazing down not wanting to jump, but not wanting to die in a fight either.

It isn’t so very far, he thinks watching the gentle waves break on the planks of the warehouse. But those rocks… he is certain he will not be able to miss them. He will have to take a running leap. Gathering his courage he takes a step back.

“Tell me, how long do you think it took your friend to give you up?” Zemo asks, his voice as light as a feather in Karpov’s ear. “Just the threat of my blade and he told me your name. I still killed him of course."

Karpov shuts his eyes, angry that he’s missed his chance. The bastard Baron moves as quiet as a snake in the grass. “You killed Charlie?”

“Yes.” He says and begins to raise his sword.

Furious at being caught, Karpov gives a shout and swings back with an elbow, but Zemo ducks missing the swing, rising with a single attack. His trusted sword delivering silent death. He takes a step or two back and waits. He did not miss.

Karpov stands, his face contorting, he reaches as if the Baron might help. He is confused and then he realizes.

The blood looks black against his dirty shirt blooming like a rotted flower as it seeps from the wound to his heart. The color drains from Karpov's face.

Zemo looks him over and it comes on quickly. Rage and fear are such a powerful combination. As the dying man sputters, the Baron kicks his stomach hard enough to send Karpov through the broken wall.

Pulling the mask from his face, Zemo quickly goes to the edge of the building, leaning over in time to see the way Karpov’s body breaks on the black rocks, ruined and hardly recognizable as a man.

He stares down at the gore for far too long, his only thought being that Karpov’s accomplice Charlie had been shown a mercy when his throat was sliced. Though it was a just end for a man so fond of showing the same -kindness- to innocent women.

Turing away, Zemo sheaths his sword and slips his mask into his coat, sad to put it away, and starts back through the warehouse. Unsure that he’s done what you would want, he questions his actions, but he is certain that his own brand of justice has been served.

The men who would cause you harm are dead. And that is all that matters.

*

“Throw it out,” You say. It is the first time you’ve tried using your voice. The nurse is shocked that you’ve finally given in but she seems so pleased that you try; you are only angry with what you hear.

It sounds like a crow scratching at a window.

You hate the sound.

It’s never even occurred to you to love or hate your speaking voice, it’s just been there and pleasant enough, sort of soft and unassuming, so different from when you sing.

Everything has changed so quickly.

“Are you sure miss? You’ve kept it all this time.” She says, her kindness punctuated by her hand resting light on your shoulder.

You look up at the ceiling from your pillow in bed refusing to look at that silly rose anymore. It is a symbol of something that has been proven to be untrue.

One week spent with your fate unknown. Three weeks you’ve lain here recovering. In all that time he has not written or come to see you.

It is unexpected, you’re not sure what to make of it, but you assume the worst and try to adjust to living with a broken heart beneath a lost voice.

“I’m sure.”

[sweetestlamb]

Make Me Crescendo

Summary: Song-ah ponders if there is truly any space left in Joon Young's life for her. Joon Young shows her exactly where her place is.

Author's Note: I didn't expect to enjoy this show as much as I do honestly, I love the dynamic and chemistry between the leads. Most of the other characters could choke for all I care, but I love Song-ah and Joonie, they are goals and they deserve to just run away and be happy. Anyway, I was inspired so this happened. (Please don't leave comments asking about when I'll write more, I'll do it when I can and when I'm inspired for all of my stories. If you are going to leave a comment, you can tell me what you liked or what I could do better, appreciate that more!) Happy reading, please ignore all my lame music puns! 😂😈 

Music filters through the doors as she watches on her heart thumping erratically, a metronome expelling the staccatos of her fear. The gaggle of female students outside the door white noise in the background, their coos and awes stabbing her paper thin heart that is wavering in her chest.

They sound so good together!

Omg, don't they look perfect?

I think they would be a much better couple!

Taking a step back her violin bangs into the wall suddenly alerting them to her presence, her eyes dart wildly like a cornered animal as they look at her with pity and sneering apologetic eyes as if saying: you brought this on yourself, how could you ever think you could have him?

With a wet gasp, she scurries off avoiding their looks clutching her hands tightly as she bursts through the doors. The cool Spring air whips her hair around her face temporarily blocking her face from onlookers, the moisture on her cheeks causes strands to stick before she pushes them back.

Seeing them play in such perfect harmony has only cemented the doubts that already fill her mind, how can see ever measure how to Jung-kyung? A woman that he has not only loved for years but who also plays her instrument far better than she ever will? If she is meant to be a replacement, she stands no chance; they are worlds apart maybe it's time she accepted that.

I'll cherish our moments today, it was an honor.

She knows what she has to do, her heart whines but she blinks away her tears. He deserves better.

His missed calls and messages taunt her as she peers down despondently at her phone, she hasn't been able to bring herself to sever their bond. Every time she starts to type out a message to set him free, his smile flashes in her mind and she's rendered comatose. Instead flinging the cursed object far away and punishing her fingers as shrill notes screech from her violin.

Avoiding him isn't as simple as she'd hoped with everyone knowing about their ill-fated relationship and constantly inquiring about his whereabouts, it becomes sickening obvious that most "friends" who approach her with their shrieking calls of "unnie" could care less about her and are instead hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

As soon as they realized he was absent and had no plans of suddenly materializing, they bombarded her with excuses of why they needed to take their leave, immediately. She vaguely wondered if they cared at all about how little they made her feel, their treatment further emphasizing how insignificant others viewed her.

She was always disposable to others. She didn't even have a best friend to turn to for advice, someone else who has decided that she simply wasn't worth the trouble of staying and fighting.

Nobody had ever deigned her worthy of fighting for.

With a forlorn sigh, she grips her purse tighter better climbing the stairs to the school entrance. She only has one class to get through today, before she could escape to her room and ruminate on how to inform Joon-young that she couldn't do this anymore.

Arriving a few minutes early to class, she takes her seat closer to her front away from the gossiping girls who had been waving her over. She had no desire to listen to their backhanded comments on her lack of talent or unbelievable relationship, their words only added fuel to the vicious thoughts already cycling in her brain.

Pretending not to hear them beckoning her over, she looks at the professor with more focus than she's currently capable of, turning a blind eye to her surroundings.

Time crawls by like molasses poured from a jar, before the professor dismisses the class causing students to bolt from their seats, she being one of the first. He typically waits for her after this class and she has very little time to flee without him catching her, ignoring the calls of her name once more she takes her leave, violin thumping a dull pain on her back.

Cracking the door open she peeks outside, a sliver of her head breaching the opening, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she meets a vacant spot. Stepping out further she glances around, but he is nowhere to be seen, the hallways empty besides students trekking to their next classes.

Her chest aches traitorously but she internally berates herself, this is good I don't want to see him, her heart ripples at the lie, refusing to engage in this façade that she's forcing. Clutching at her chest she takes one trembling step, then another before finding her resolve and racing to the door.

So close, almost there, come on.

Hand reaching for the handle, she twists it pushing it open seconds away from freedom.

"Song-ah!" Her skin prickles from his deep baritone, his tone wrapping her in a honeyed cocoon. She hesitates, fingers twitching on the cold smooth metal.

"Song-ah, wait!" The desperation in his voice halts her escape, unable to abandon him when his voice reveals so much about how he's feeling. She loathes the mere concept of being someone who hurts him.

Reinforcing her now wavering resolve she slowly spins around, their eyes meeting in a clash, his own shining brightly as he peers into her soul. Her breath hitches as she watches him step closer to her, suddenly there isn't enough oxygen in the room, her lungs wheeze at the atmospheric change.

His beautiful hands gradually elevate, millimeters from her skin, as he begs for permission with his smoldering dark eyes.

She almost accepts defeat, before Jung-kyung's smug sour face flashes in her mind. Dousing her with icy cold realization, they just aren't meant to be.

She draws away from his searching fingers, stepping just out of his reach.

Hurt blazes across his handsome face, hardening in his eyes.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls and messages?"

He goes straight for the jugular, not pussyfooting around the elephant in the room.

"I've been busy practicing." She responds weakly, recoiling under his hard glint.

He steps forward once more, instinctively she retreats, the demure mouse to his assertive cat.

He sighs, stepping back his shoulder sagging in disappointment.

"What's wrong? Why won't you even let me come close to you? Why are you ignoring me?"

This is the moment, the one she's been yearning and waiting for, the perfect opportunity to put this sham to an end. Her mouth opens and closes as she pushes herself to be courageous for once, do the right thing and put both of them out of their misery.

You look better with her. I don't deserve you. I'm not good enough. Not strong enough. Leave. Leave me.

Please.

But, she can't. Can't get her mouth to say any of those truths. Fear and heartbreak render her immobile and cowardice takes center stage instead, ready for its solo.

"I...I...." He looks at her with warm eyes, pleading with her to finish her sentence, hope settled in the lines of his skin.

"I have to go."

"Song-ah!"

Her breath doesn't return until she's shaking on her seat at the bus stop. He hadn't chased her. Maybe he had just learned that she wasn't worthy the trouble.

Her days lapse by as she moves through life resembling a zombie, obsessively looking at her phone only to feel her heart fracture each time no notifications await her hungry eyes.

She goes to class as normal, no longer having to avoid her classmates as they have moved on to something more entertaining than her relationship. Their piteous looks make her skin crawl, her fight with Joon-young the talk of the town. Now they can freely gossip about her and how they knew it would never last, the pure glee on their faces is grotesque.

She sees him in passing in the hallway but he keeps his distance, never maintaining eye contact for too long. She's getting exactly what she wanted. Yet she feels sick to her stomach, her skin clammy and cool.

The irony isn't lost on her, how appropriate that this would be the one thing she's able to do successfully. Ruin her own life and sabotage her own happiness.

There are nights when her control falters and she stares at the illuminated screen of her phone, writing a message only to erase it with a sigh before crashing into her mattress. Her limps are heavy and uncoordinated as she flails upon the surface.

"Why does this have to be so hard?" Her question goes unanswered in the stillness of the night, as she ultimately falls into a fitful slumber.

Finally pulling herself together after days of quiet anguish, she goes back to her mission to find an accompanist.

She closes her phone as she says her final good byes to the team leader, thanking her for allowing her to use the rehearsal room in the Kyungoo building.

The winds blows the wispy ends of her skirt, dragging the material across the smooth skin of her knee. Subconsciously she tugs at the material, its a bit shorter than her usual ensemble she'd ordered it online not expecting it to hit inches above her knee. It seemed longer in the photos. 

A voice shouting her name drags her from her self-conscious inklings, as she spins around to see her potential accompanist.

A welcoming smile tugs her lips up, dimples sinking into her skin with familiarity.

Raising her hand in a small wave, bowing while calling out, "Hello! Nice to meet you, I'm Chae Song-ah, chae not choi, like the vegetable." Explaining before the inevitable questioning and confusion can sour their interaction with awkwardness. 

The sheepish grin informs her that she did the right thing, a hand is extended into her space and she grasps it in her own.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Park Min-jae." His warm smiles immediately puts her at ease. Together they enter the building amicable conversation flowing easily.

Hours pass as the music ricochets around the room, her bow light in her hands as she drags it across the strings, flabbergasted as harmonious sounds permeate the air. His fingers move in a flurry across black and white keys, shoulders bouncing in rhythmically as the song nears it end. Their last notes swirling around each other in a perfect crescendo.

"Wow, that was fun! You did great!" He breaks the silence, and his words leave her breathless.

She's been prepared for insults and sharpened words, his praise disorient her.

His wide grin leaves little room for argument so she merely nods, not quite believing him.

He starts to gather his belongings before turning to her, "I have to head out but I mean it, I think we sounded pretty good together. What do you think? Was I good enough for you?"

His innocent question plummets her into a sea of memories, his face at the forefront of her thoughts.

Shaking herself free she quietly replies, "Yes, it was good. You were good."

He lifts an eyebrow but says nothing else at her words.

"Okay, I'm free this weekend. Give me a call if you want to practice some more."

She nods finally collecting her own belongings, then turning off the lights and exiting the room.

The air is charged as the walk side by side and it's doesn't make sense until she turns the corner. Park Min-jae's excited voice never falters as she stands still, eyes locked on the new arrival.

Joon-young stands before her, eyes scouring her face before darting to the unknown man standing beside her. She watches his Adam's apple bob distractedly, as his eyes darken minutely.

"And I think we should..." Park Min-jae's voice peters off as he notices her unmoving figure before noticing that there is someone new. 

All three of them stand there wordlessly before park Min-jae cracks the uncomfortable silence.

"Hi, I'm Park Min-jae. A friend of Song-ah, nice to meet you." The and you are? lingers in the air.

Her brain stutters at the possibilities and she rushes to provide an answer.

"Oh! This is Joon-young, he's just a fri-"

"Her boyfriend." He extends a hand but his eyes never leave her face, she feels as if she's being challenged and she doesn't know how to respond.

"Nice to meet you! I didn't know you had a boyfriend, you should have let me know before flashing those pretty dimples at me." Park Min-jae's teasing smile unsettles her causing her to shift under his gaze, unbeknownst to her Joon-young's grip tightens ever so slightly in their handshake.

Suddenly her potential accompanist winces and jumps, apologetic look on his face before he retracts his hand to put them up in acquiesce.

"Sorry."

Joon-young looks at him, the seconds dragging before he nods looking away from again. Eyes for her only.

"Um..so I'll talk to you later? It was nice to meet you." Park Min-jae bows once more, glancing between them both before shaking his head and all but running away.

She feels pinned under his look and rubs her own arm simply to have something else to focus on. Feigning distraction, she looks at the ground; heart clattering frantically at his sudden appearance.

Mumbling under her breathe she finally speaks, "What are you doing here?"

She's completely unprepared for his hands to slide into hers with ease, her fingers curling around his before her brain can register what is occurring.

"Come with me." The please is unsaid but loud as a high C and she nods, helplessly following his lead as he drags her back into the rehearsal room.

The click of the door closing is harsh in the quiet of the room, as he stops in the center of the room. Large hand still wrapped around her own, his warmth drift into her brittle bones.

"Who was that?"

Glancing up at him from under dark lashes she swallows, "Park Min-jae, a pianist. I wanted to see if we could play together. My teacher recommended him."

Humming in response he stares her dead in her eyes, it takes every fiber of her being to maintain the contact.

"Why were you going to tell him I was just a friend?"

Sputtering, she chokes on nothing pulling her hand away to cover her mouth as small coughs escape.

Concern flashes on his face before it's driven away with anger.

She quivers under his hard stare, "I thought....I didn't know...we haven't spoken in days."

Pressing forward he invades her space, jaw tight.

"Do you think it's that easy?"

Mouth falling open in a perfect o, she looks at him in confusion. Lost at his meaning and wondering what is going through his mind, it's difficult to read his body language.

"What?"

"Do you think our relationship is that... trivial? Do you think a few days without conversing is all it takes to end it?"

Anger and hurt color the words as they fall from his lips and land like daggers in her stomach.

But he's not finished, not by a long shot.

"You can't just push me away and replace me with someone else!"

His cry echoes around the room and she stands in shock, contemplating picking her jaw up off the ground. When he says nothing more, simply pushes out harsh breaths and squeezes his fists by his side she finds her voice.

"What are you talking about? I'm not doing...that."

"Then what are you doing? You don't answer my calls or call me for days and now you're here with someone else, who flirts with you right in my face." She collapses guiltily. "How can you not have time for me? I'm your boyfriend, why can't you make space for me?"

Is there any room for me?

Like a wave, all her emotions and pain and insecurities and fears come surging out, his question the blow that broke the dam.

"You're the one who has no space for me. I saw you two that day, you looked like you fit. Two musical prodigies, it made sense. More sense than you and I. I can't do it, I can't pretend that I don't see everyone looking at us. Nobody understands why you'd want me. You should be with someone like her, she's from a good family and she plays the violin better than I'll ever--"

His hands latch onto her shaking shoulders, pushing her backwards until her violin collides with a click into the piano.

She whimpers as he gazes down at her, frustration streaming off him in waves.

"You don't understand how I could want you? I'll explain it, in detail. Listen closely because I don’t want to ever need to this again"

She gulps.

He swaggers closer, arms reaching over her shoulders to rest on the smooth surface of the piano. Brushing against her shoulder before gently gripping the straps of her violin, he removes them before placing the instrument carefully on the ground. Taking the weight from her shoulders.

His warm breath caresses her skin before he cups her face, hands tender on her hot cheeks. Air catches in her throat as she shyly looks up at him.

Almost instantly he smiles in return, dimples greeting her as his smile warms her to her core.

"I like how you make me smile, whenever I see you my heart feels at ease and I feel like everything will be okay. I like how you smile at me, you look prettiest when smiling at me."

Her cheeks flush from his compliments and she turns away embarrassed only to feel his sure fingers on the point of her chin, dragging her back into the penetrating line of his eyes; refusing to let her push him away again.

"I like how hard you work to be better, I like how you never stoop to others level you're kind to everyone despite how they treat you. I like your dimples, I always want to touch then. I like how you listen to me and want to hear about my life. I like that you don't treat me like I'm breakable and you tell me when you don't like something."

Then the air crackles as his hands smooth down her skin before settling on her neck, tugging her closer, she reaches out to grab his waist for balance.

"I like kissing you, I like how your lips feel on mine. I like how you open up for me. I like the little sounds you make."

Like a manifestation, a small shocked gasps tumbles from her lips and his eyes meander down to look at them in response. His own cheeks are scorching, red and flushed too but he doesn't seem like he has any intentions of stopping. Fearlessly pushing past his comfort zones.

Pulling her against his body now, his fingers twisted in the dark material of his button down shirt, he gazes at her adoration pouring from his eyes.

"I like you Song-ah. I like you so much. I don't want anyone else, there's space for you. In my heart there's so much space just for you."

He brushes her hair out of her face, his face open and vulnerable.

"Do you want it?"

Do you want me?

She looks at him as he awaits her answer and wonders what she ever did to deserve this? It seems too good to be true, she has never won anything in her life coming in last at everything that has counted. So how can this be true, how can she possibly deserve something has precious and valuable as his heart?

Smiling in defeat she nods at him, "I want you."

His joy is contagious as he grabs her, strong arms wrapping her in a warm embrace. She returns the hug, face smashed into the soft cotton of his shirt.

Slowly they draw away from each other, smiles not fading and then she catches his incessant gaze on her lips.

"Can I?"

Blushing she bites her lip nervously, tingling under his close appraisal. At the merest nod of her head he's on her, his lips crashing into her own as his hands tighten on their new location on her hips.

Tilting onto the tips of her toes she presses back, moaning as his tongue teases the seams of her closed mouth, her arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

His taste explodes on her buds as his slick muscle swipes around her moist cavern, he delicately sucks on her tongue enticing her to join him in his explorations. She trips as she attempts to press even closer to him, breaking their deep embrace.

Embarrassed at her lack of grace and coordination she opens her mouth, apology on the tip of her tongue. Before his next move steals her breath.

Easy as pie, he grips tightens on her waist as he hoists her up until she's sitting on the edge of the grand piano.

Her blush is now painful as it rages on her exhausted cheeks.

He smiles at her, disarming her before he steps forward her new position bringing their lips in perfect proximity.

"You looks pretty when you blush too." He teases and she slaps his chest in reprimand but he catches the appendages, trapping them between their body as he descends on her mouth again.

Kisses deeper and slower this time, largo as their tongues roll and plunder. His hands stroke her hair, his fingers traipsing across the soft skin of neck. He suddenly grabs her hips dragging her across the smooth surface until their groins collide and she gasps loudly at the hardness that jabs into her.

They both bolt back, frenzied eyes meeting as they take in this moment.

She's never gone this far before, never even kissed anyone. He is the owner of so many of her first, it's terrifying.

Looking down she sees his straining erection, a long line tenting the satin smoothness of his dress paints. Blushing she forces her eyes from the tempting sight, to look at his face. Momentarily frozen under his look, first time seeing them set ablaze with desire. All for her. 

"Are you okay?" His voice rumbles making her skin pebble with anticipation.

Is she okay? She can't quite answer such a big question, her head spinning from everything that has happened. She feels like her skin is going to burst apart and he's the only thing keeping her together, both her destruction and her resurrection.

Wrapping her legs around his waist she boldly yanks him back into her orbit, kissing the question off his mouth. He stills for a moment before responding, devouring her mouth as she opens up for him, slick noises loud to her ears.

Her lips are raw and tender as they kiss making up for all their time apart, then she feels her world tilting as he presses her back onto the piano, lips still swallowing her own until her back meets the cool material and their lips disengage.

He looks at her, her body spread across the instrument like an offering. She feels naked under his gaze.

Then his eyes shift to her skirt, high on her thigh from her sprawled position and she starts to sit up but he's faster to react, catching the edge of her skirt and fingering the material that trails across her thigh.

After thick moments of silence, he gazes up at her slowly drawing her skirt up her thighs, the cool air rushes across her hot skin and she gasps and squirms under his steady hands.

He stops at her movement glancing at her, she bites her lip, opening her legs ever so slightly and that's all the answer that he needs. Tugging the material slowly, slowly, adagio up her skin pushing it over her hips and his groan causes wetness to pool between her legs, she looks away in shame.

He fingers at her stark white panties, she jumps at his first touch on the skin above her undergarment. Peering down to watch his eyes locked on her in awe, his long fingers running across her skin before he stops to tug at the cute little bow on the top of her underwear.

Eyes never leaving hers, he drags the thin material down pausing to give her a chance to stop him, one word from her and this will all come to an end she has no doubts.

Tacet.

He pulls the material down, down before dragging it off her feet and folding it neatly in a square before placing it on a chair to the side.

"Beautiful."

His eyes are smoldering on her skin as she eagerly awaiting his next move, equal parts excitement and anxiety.

Clutching her eyes shut she grips futilely for purchase, before he knocks the breath from her lungs with his first slow drag on her opening, his tongue swiping through the moisture dripping from her. A gasp is punched from her chest, as he licks at her again, deeper the second time almost slurping at her and she cries out from the foreign sensation, pleasure ravaging her body.

"Ah! Joon-young ah!"

He surges at her cry and subsequent proclamation of his name, nimble fingers soon joining his tongue and pushing knuckle deep into her wet bud playing her as expertly as his beloved piano, her whines and whimpers serving as music to his ears.

Using two fingers he pries her lips open, exposing her further to his hungry eyes and mouth. His tongue stiffen into a point he jabs into her drenched hole, collecting her sweet nectar as he swipes across her walls.

She pants loudly, grabbing his hair in warning as she feels a ball tightening in the pits of her stomach, another first as he thrusts into her over and over, her skin puckering up in anticipation.

"Please, I, I...."

As her body nears its crescendo, release blinding her as pleasure flashes blinding white, suddenly he pulls away, she whines from the emptiness crying out for him.

When she opens her eyes in a weak glare, she finds him bent over the piano his bangs sweaty as they stick to his forehead. Gathering herself she sits up, eyes widening in surprise and arousal when she sees his erection jutting from his own fly and his fist wrapped around the rigid ruddy flesh.

He'd been touching himself while tasting her. That had been enough to hurl him dangerously close to the edge. Something like pride bubbles in her chest.

Clamoring off the piano, her heels clicks when she lands on the floor and that catches his attention.

He looks up at her with dazed eyes, looking younger with his bangs skewed and messy, his lips shiny with her condensation.

Taking the lead she grasps his hands tugging him until he snaps out of his stupor, within two steps they reach the piano bench and he looks at it and then her, puzzled before she gently presses his shoulders and seats him on the bench.

It's his turn to gasp as she climbs into his lap, her face scarlet red as his erection brushes against her sacred flower.

"Are you sure?" He asks, using every last bit of control to keep his hips still even as his body aches to plunge into her wet hole, mere inches away the heat wafting off all too tempting.

"Yes." She watches as he grips himself by the base, rubbing the head through her juices and her head falls back from the sensation and then his tip is at her entrance and she holds her breath.

He reaches up to hold her face, forcing her to meet his eye, "Breathe." He commands and as she inhales he slides into her, breaching her tight opening with one long smooth thrust upwards.

Her arms tighten around the wide stretch of his shoulders as gravity drags her further down his impressive length, pain and pleasure warring for dominance.

"Just a minute." She pleads and instantly he stops, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she loosens around him. When she can breathe again, she lifts herself up before sliding back down pleasure knocking pain back on its ass.

Immediately she needs more, lifting up again before slamming down onto his hard cock, wet sounds echoing off the walls and at first he is motionless, simply letting himself be used by her. But then he grips her tight cheeks, using them as leverage as he plants his feet and viciously pistons into her, her shriek deafening in this room made for acoustics.

They crash into each other, as they chase their release, his fingers easily unbuttoning her shirt and pushing it off her skin before catching her pebbled nipples through the thin lace of her bra. Her soft breasts jiggle as she bounces in his lap, his hard length driving into her, over and over and over.

At a particularly brutal thrust of his hips, she loses her precarious balance and falls back, instantly he grips her waist slowing her descent and lessening the blow, her back crashes into the piano keys and jarring dissonance filling the air.

They both glance at each other before smiling, recalling their last mishap with the piano after their first kiss.

Her sprawled position on the piano opens her wider and without pause he thrusts up into her again, tugging her back to meet his movement.

Light flashes behind her eyelids as he fucks into her, the piano crying out underneath their onslaught. She's too close to care and his frenzied thrusts make it clear he's not far behind.

He pries her eyes open once more, before kissing her. The gentle press of his lips in complete opposition to the hard hits of his hips. 

"Please, come." He whispers, begging her and simultaneously informing her of his plans.

She feels every molecule in her body burst apart as she vibrates on the piano, walls tightening around his length as he struggles to thrust through the vicelike grip she has on him before a hot stream fills her up, sticky and leaking, and he melts under her his head falling onto her belly.

It feels..... weird. Not nearly as sexy as it's depicted in videos. But a piece of her is giddy to be so full of him, her blush permanently stained on her cheek at this point.

Gently he drags himself out of her, she shudders as she feels his release leaking out without him there to keep it in. When she glances down pearly white substance is smeared across the keys of the piano.

She immediately feels filthy, complete disbelief at what exactly they'd done and where they'd done it. She covers her face in shame.

Something brushes against her sensitive skin and her eyes pop openly only to shriek as she watches in horror as Joon-young, cleans up the mess between her legs and the piano keys with a handkerchief.

Her handkerchief to be exact.

Grinning bashfully at her he shrugs, shoulders now light as his hair flops on his face.

"I'll wash it later."

Too embarrassed to answer she merely stands up, small smile tugging at her lips as she picks up her neatly folder panty before stepping back into it.

"Do you see now?" Do you see how much I want you? How much space there is, just for you?"

She's fighting losing battle. The irony isn't lost on her, the one time she loses it's the best thing that's ever happened to her.

In the hallway Jung-kyung pounds her fist into the wall, arriving minutes ago to practice with Joon-young for her recital only to hear the loud crashes of a piano keys. She'd been worried about him, was he angry because she was late? Missing her terribly?

She'd rushed to open the door only to stop frozen as she heard moans following the clash of the piano, soft feminine moans followed by a voice she knew all too well. Jealous and rage consumed her at the thought of that...nobody touching her Joon-young.

Taking as deep breath she turns around walking away, she will not give up on him but staying right now is impossible she can't bear the thought of seeing him glowing from being with someone else. This was probably how he felt watching her all these years.

She will be patient and wait for him.

They are destined and his time with Song-ah is fleeting, she knows he wants her. There isn't space for anyone else.

[segafan37]

Shadamy Snippet: Emergency Meeting Pt. 1

Author's Note:

This Shadamy snippet used to be a Teaser Snippet for Chapter 6. I wasn't planning for it to be part of the story at all. It was just a old deleted scene that I wanted to share to give you, the audience, a broad idea about the upcoming chapter. However, after my sister read the teaser, she insisted that it be apart of the story. So, after some tweaks, the former Teaser Snippet is now apart of Chapter 6!

I hope you enjoy it! 😁 Art by @drawloverlala

Inside Dodon Pa's Mansion

[Normal p.o.v.]

After Metal and Rouge parted ways to look for Devious, Rouge started wandering through the different crowded rooms and corridors of the mansion. There were four levels to the mansion and Rouge was currently on the main floor. Metal ventured to levels 3 and 4, leaving Rouge to explore the others.

King Donda Pa was never one who lacked in abundance and his mansions were likewise. Each one was styled to attribute the environment that surrounded them, and the one Rouge was in was no different.

The mansion was large and fanciful, displaying the breath of winter. The hallways were long and wide and painted a calm blue. Tall windows filled the rooms and corridors showcasing the fierce blizzards outside. 

The halls were decorated with broad tapestries of cream and royal blue, and the floor was polished marble. The rooms were equally vast with crystal chandilers, honed marble floors and many assortment of decor to accent the rooms.

Rouge scanned the multitude of faces as she made her way throughout the main floor. Everywhere Rouge went she was surrounded by Mobians, both good and bad. Everyone seemed cordial enough, but the bat knew better. She could just feel the tension in the air. 

Rogue would have been lying to herself if she said this whole affair wasn't the least bit unsettling. It was just a matter of time before something or someone causes the inevitable. 

 It took a whole hour, but she had finally explored all of the main floor. Rouge still hadn't found her man though. It was time for her to switch tactics.

Just then her communicator picked up a male voice.

"We can't celebrate yet. We still need Rouge to do her part." 

It was the voice of Slinger the Ocelot.

"Don't you worry your pretty head about me, Ocelot." Rouge cooed, "I'm already in the mansion, and I've got to say, this mysterious dealer knows how to put on a party! I'm surprised that Dodon Pa even allowed this event! But seeing that he never takes sides...I guess it's not too surprising."

"Hey Rouge!" a female voice squealed through her eyepiece. 

Rouge immediately smiled. It was Salkia, her sweet little student. Well, she wasn't little anymore, but Rouge couldn't get the cute little 10 year old out of her head, who wanted to learn how to kick but. 

"If any of the food looks good, save me some! Okay!?" Salkia asked.

"Will do, honey!"

Slinger gave out a groan.

"Just stay focused, alright!"

Rouge rolled her eyes. She could tell he was in one of his moods again.

"Relax, Slinger. No need to get snippy!" she said.

"Yeah! We all know you're jealous!" Salkia added. 

"Mm hmm!" Rouge smiled.

Slinger released another groan, which made Salkia giggle. She knew she shouldn't be teasing Slinger when he's like this, but he's been acting like a big grump the whole day. And she was tired of it! 

Salkia and Rouge continued to pester Slinger with their giggles, until he finally spoke.

"That's not the reason why!" Slinger argued.

This made Rouge and Salkia both fall silent. They knew what he was talking about. [Author: Chapter 4 reference] No one spoke for sometime.

Rouge sighed and decided to change the subject and break the awkward silence.

"By the way, what do you mean by 'Rouge needs to do her part'? You two are the ones assigned to get the package! I'm just here in case there's a slip-up."

"And to secure our escape route!" Slinger emphasized.

"Which I already have covered!" Rouge insisted, "Now you stay focused on your job, while I stay on mine."

Slinger sighed. "Fine. We'll contact you when the package is secured."

Rouge's communicator went silent and she continued to make her way through the crowd, as different fragments of conversations caught her ears. 

"I wonder what makes this relic so powerful?" asked a female.

"Whatever it is I bet it's worth a fortune!" another spoke.

"Everyone's assuming that this relic has power, but for all we know, it could be a hunk of junk!"

"Well, if that were true, then Dodon Pa wouldn't have allowed this event to take place in his mansion in the first place."

Well, would you look at that!, Rouge laughed to herself. It seems everyone's here to get their hands on the relic. Huh! Too bad none of them will have a chance to see it!  

"What I really want to know" a male's voice began, grabbing her attention, "is who this mysterious dealer is? He clearly doesn't care who gets the relic as long as he's getting paid. And I for one, don't trust those kinds of people. If I'm going to get that relic, I need to first know who I'm dealing with." 

"Smart guy." Rouge whispered, as she approached the stairs to the second floor. 

"Okay Rouge, enough eavesdropping. You got a Mobian to find." 

Once atop the second floor, she looked about and immediately identified this level as the party floor. The music was louder here and gambling tables, slot vendors, pool tables and the like were scattered throughout the joining rooms. Rouge felt like she had walked into a casino.

Rouge peered over the corridor's open railing, and took one last look at the faces below, trying to find the one Mobian who would know how to pinpoint Devious. But she had no such luck. Rouge sighed. She knew it was a long shot. This guy was wanted after all, but Rouge couldn't ignore her strong hunch that he'd be here. 

Rouge gritted her teeth in frustration.

Where is he!?

Time was of the essence. She and Metal only had a limited amount of time to locate Devious, before Salkia and Slinger collected the relic. If her sources were correct, the best and only person who could find Devious quickly would be his favorite broker.

Rouge looked over the crowd again, but she still couldn't spot her man.

That cat could be hiding anywhere! I better check in with Metal to see how he's doing.

"Metal, honey? This is Rouge. Do you copy?"

There was no answer. 

"Metal, come in! This is Rouge. Did you find anything?"

Still silence. Rouge was about to try again, when a deep sinister voice startled her from behind. 

"Looking for someone in particular, my dear?"

Rouge spun around to come face to face with the infamous psychic magician Mammoth Mongul. 

His large tan trunk was almost touching her nose. Rouge could smell thick expensive cologne and winsted.

It was never easy to frazzle this bat; she has faced many dangers before, all without hesitation. Some, even close to death, but Rouge also knows when she's met her match. 

The hairy elephant towered over the bat, making her appear small and insignificant. Mongul's dark green orbs pierced through Rouge's teal eyes, paralyzed her. She remained in his gaze for ten full seconds.

A small smile slowly crept on the mammoth's face. Was Rouge terrified? Yes. Did she want to scream and fly away to safety? Yes. Was she going to show it? Not on her life!

The Bat released herself from Mongul's spell; eyes sparkling with defiance, as she matched the beast's smile with her own.

"I'm surprised at you, Mongul!" Rouge scolded, "You of all people should know not to be here! It could be dangerous for you." 

Mongul smiled at the bat's attempted threat, and decided to give one of his own.

"My dear, Rouge. I appreciate your concern but I can assure you that I am not the one who is in the least bit of danger."

"Is that so?" Rouge questioned, trying to sound unaffected by his words, "Well, even still! I would think you would send one of your mindless followers to get the relic for you to save you the trouble."

"Don't be so quick to judge, bat. I have sent one of my men to take care of the relic. I'm here for a different reason, and being here is no trouble at all."

Rouge raised a painted brow, "Oh?" 

"Yes. Just like you, I'm looking for someone, a colleague of mine." Mongul leaned down to bring his face closer to Rouge's ear. "And perhaps", he whispered "my colleague is the same pink cat dealer you're looking for." 

Rouge took a step back. 

How does he know about Locky!? 

Rouge swallowed, as her heart raced.

"I'm sorry, who?"

"No need to hide it, Rouge! Someone of your acquaintance told me all about it."

Rouge gasped.

Oh no, Metal! 

"No need to worry about your robot friend, my dear; he's perfectly safe. But I know he'll appreciate your concern." 

As he said this, Mongul's eyes met Rouge's and his distinct facial features began to pixelate before her. It was just for a brief moment, but Rouge could clearly see the face of her comrade. 

"..."

"..."

"Metal, …" Rouge whispered, "I'm gonna knock your bolts right out of you! And turn you into scrap!"

Metal Sonic quickly returned to his cloned form and moved out the way, before a slap could be delivered to his face. Some guests saw the scene and were shocked at Rouge's bravery.

"Why so anger?..." Metal Sonic questioned. His voice was just above a whisper. "Did I scare you?"

"Shut. Up." Rouge growled.

"Okay, okay! I just came down to tell you some news." Metal rose to his full cloned height and peered down at Rouge.

"Then start talking!"

"Not here." Metal instructed, still holding Mongul's deep voice. "Follow me."

Metal brought Rouge to a quiet room somewhere on the second floor. It wasn't like the ballroom, like the other rooms Rouge been in. This was a study. It was large in comparison to most studies, but it was still a study, none the less. 

Once both were safely inside with the door locked, Rouge turned to Metal.

"Now, talk!"

"Why are you still angry?" Metal still was using Mongul's voice. 

"Metal, stop with the cloning for one second and talk to me!"

Metal sighed, and returned back to his normal self. Rouge let out a small breath she didn't realize she was holding. Rouge folded her arms, waiting to hear her comrade's message.

"I was surprised at how many Mobians came to Dodon Pa's Mansion." Metal said simply." 

"That's what you wanted to tell me!?" Rouge screamed.

"Rouge, if you do not wish for us to be discovered in a restricted area, I suggest you lower the volume of your voice." 

"I'll start lowering my voice, when you stop messing around! Now, tell me why you brought me here!?"

There was a silence in the air, as each stared at the other.

"I found him." Metal calmly spoke.

"What?"

"I found him." Metal repeated, "I found Locky."

.

.

.

Exsert from Shadamy fanfic "12 Years Later: A New Dawn". You can read the rest of this chapter and more on Wattpad, DeviantArt, Quotev, or Webnovel.

[stranger-writer]

A Bowers’ Bet (Part 2)

Thank you so much to everyone for all the love on Part 1! I’m not sure exactly how many, but this story will be a couple of parts! But for now, I hope you enjoy Part 2 :)

Summary: When Henry and Patrick make a twisted pact on who can steal Derry High’s most inexperienced student’s virginity first, they think it will be their most exciting game yet. But what happens when one starts to develop feelings, while the other is determined as ever to win, no matter what or who is standing in their way? 

A Bowers’ Bet Part 1

Juliet didn’t get much sleep that night as she tossed and turned with butterflies dancing around wildly in her stomach. She was nervous to see Henry Bowers the next day at school, knowing he would want an answer to his poorly written proposal. There was a part of her that she didn’t recognize, a side that wanted to so desperately say yes. But then she had to come back down to reality and remember who exactly she was getting herself involved with. Henry was the school's baddest bully, but then again, Henry, the boy who tortured kids for his own sick amusement, wrote her a poem? He was obviously no Robert Frost, but the fact that he made such a thoughtful effort made Juliet feel extremely compelled to want to figure Henry out.

Juliet huffed in frustration from her inconsistency of being able to find a comfortable position as well as her mind that wouldn’t seem to turn off, consuming her with countless possibilities and scenarios of what tomorrow could bring. Finally, she fights against the voices listing off all the reasons why she shouldn’t give Henry the light of day.

Alright, just one date Juliet, she thinks to herself. If it goes bad then you learned a lesson and never go out with him again. Simple as that. 

If only she had followed her intuition.

             ………………………………………………………………

Juliet stands at her locker, trying to think about anything else other than the inevitable interaction she will have to face with Henry today. She forces her mind to drift to other thoughts like what she’s going to get her best friend Jennifer for her birthday, or future assignments she wants to get a head start on, or maybe buying that jean jacket she saw in the shop downtown that’s placed in the front window.

All too soon, she slams her locker shut and Patrick is standing there, causing her shoulders to jump as she places her hand over her heart.

“Boo,” he flatly remarks, his smile growing wider as he knows he scared her.

“Ha-ha very funny Patrick,” she smiles while rolling her eyes a bit, turning around briskly to walk away from him. That is until a strong hand catches her wrist, preventing her.

“SO,” he states rather loudly, “I hear you have a little date with Bowers.”

Juliet was a bit confused since she didn’t necessarily give Henry a definite answer yet. However, little did she know, Henry couldn’t stifle his smugness for long before he bragged to his friends and lied, saying she had already said yes. Henry couldn’t wait to boast to Patrick about him being ahead of the game, however, it won't be too much longer until he painfully regrets that decision.

“He did ask me, yes,” Juliet answers, not wanting to give him too much information.

“Let me get this straight kitten. You turn me down because of my so called “reputation,” but want to go and fuck around with someone like Bowers? Did you hit your cute little head since the last time we talked?”

Juliet hated to admit it to herself, but Patrick actually kind of had a point. Were Henry and Patrick really so different? Patrick noticed the uncertainty in her eyes, realizing he’s starting to get through to her a little bit.

“The guy who beat up a kid so bad they had to go to the hospital,” Patrick states, staring off into space as if he’s in deep thought recalling past events. “The guy who tried to shoot a poor stray cat. The guy who carved his name using a knife into Ben Hanscom’s porky stomach till he was dripping blood.”

Juliet’s eyes widen, becoming horrified by the details of Henry’s severe cruelty that she was completely unaware of.

“I-uhm, I....” Juliet was at a loss for words.

“Bowers, man,” Patrick chuckles, interrupting her while he props his elbow up against the lockers. “He’s fucked up. I’ve done some wild shit in my lifetime, but him? Shit, Bowers makes me look like a fucking saint. I mean you should of heard the way he was talking about you last night. But oh well. I’m sure he’ll go easy on you.” Patrick immediately turns his back on her, about to walk away. He doesn’t even take one step before Juliet calls out to him.

“Patrick wait!”

He grins and softly titters to himself before turning around, changing his expression from coniving to concerned.

“What did he say about me?” 

Patrick’s plan worked, luring Juliet right where he wanted her. He was having trouble holding back his usual wide, eerie smirk.

“Geez, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news or anything,” Patrick innocently shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Can you tell me? Please,” Juliet begs, not realizing how much Patrick loved hearing the word fall from her lips.

"If you insist,” he huffs in fake disappointment, trying to act as if he wasn’t beaming with pure joy. “He just kept going on and on about how excited he was to get you alone so he could have his way with you.”

“What did he say ...exactly?”

“I believe some of his exact words were, “‘She looks like she has a good mouth to fuck,’ and ‘I bet I can get her to act like a whore,’ and uhm,” Patrick clears his throat, beckoning with his pointer and middle finger for her to come a bit closer as if this last part was top secret. “He said he thinks you’ll be easy because, you know, you’re a virgin and all.”

“He really said all of that?” Juliet asks astonished, her eyes like a puppy dog’s.

He nods his head in confirmation. “I know,” he scoffs. “What a pig right?” 

Juliet stares down at the tile floor, hating herself for being so naive that she can’t even stare Patrick in the eye. She glances up and from behind Patrick’s shoulder, she sees Henry from afar. He must have spotted them as well because Henry makes direct eye contact with Juliet and begins heading towards them. Juliet sets into immediate panic mode.

“Look Patrick,” Juliet rushes, her eyes moving frantically between Patrick and Henry. “I appreciate you telling me all of this, but right now I have to go.”

Juliet darts down the opposite end of the hallway before Patrick could even get a syllable out, wanting now more than ever to avoid Henry like the plague.

              ........................................................................................

The school day was coming to an end and Juliet had managed to stay clear of Henry and his gang the whole afternoon. It was Thursday, meaning Juliet had to stay after to tutor Eddie in the library. As much as she adored Eddie and didn’t mind helping him, she just wanted to go straight home after this disappointing day.

Luckily after a bit of time, he seemed to be catching on quickly, understanding the material better than he did last week. He barely needed her help with his homework, making Juliet feel happy for him as well as somewhat relieved that their session didn’t have to last as long as usual.

“I’m so proud of you, you’re doing so well! You’ve totally got this test in the bag,”Juliet encourages, closing the textbook shut as she starts to gather her belongings. There was a moment of silence before she suddenly hears Eddie’s shaky voice ask, “Uhh Juliet, has Henry Bowers done anything to you lately?”

Juliet’s actions come to a halt when she turns to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

“No Eddie. Why do you ask?”

“Well yesterday he cornered me in the boy’s bathroom just to force me to tell him what I knew about you. I only told him you like books and shit so it would prevent him from drowning me in contaminated toilet water.”

Juliet sat there, her thoughts scattered all over the place. 

“Oh,” she answers, sounding somewhat confused, but trying to be nonchalant. The last thing she needed was for poor Eddie to think something was going on between his bully and her. “Well I appreciate you letting me know that Eds. Don’t worry about it, Henry is always seeking trouble from somewhere.”

“I know. That’s why I thought I’d tell you. So you can keep your guard up.”

It’s like Eddie is giving Juliet an indirect warning as to what the two boys were plotting even though he actually had no idea what they were up to. Juliet may have her guard up now, but it’s only a short amount of time before she drops it. And once its down, she will have no way of being able to put it back up.

As she walks out the library doors, she feels like the world is playing some sort of sick joke on her when Henry is leaned against the wall, waiting for her.

“Henry.” Juliet freezes. “What are you doing here?”

“Detention,” he simply shrugs since it’s a usual occurrence for him. “So what, you tryna hide from me?”

“No!” she lies defensively. “Definitely not.” The butterflies from last night begin to flutter again in the pit of her stomach, but this time not in the good way.

“Well you got the note right?”

Juliet nods before Henry continues and asks, “So how ‘bout it? Tomorrow night?”

“Henry, why do you want to go out with me?” Juliet blurts, not even able to think about the words before they tumble out of her mouth. She crosses her arms, giving Henry a peeved expression. This makes Henry start to chuckle. “What do you mean babe?” 

“Why did you write me that note? Why are you asking people about me? Why do you suddenly want to go on a date?” she questions rapidly, causing Henry to laugh at her, making Juliet even more angry.

“What do you think I’m planning to do, kill you? It’s just a fucking date, why are you acting so crazy?” Henry sneers, using his most common defense mechanism, knowing he was up to no good, but trying to play it off as if she was the one who was being cynical. 

“Oh why am I acting crazy?” Juliet asks in a sarcastic tone. “Well let’s see, maybe it’s because you’re going around telling your friends that you think I’ll be easy and that I’ll blow you on the first date.” 

“Jesus Christ Juliet, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she retaliates, her right eyebrow quirked up.

And oh was Henry very familiar about what Juliet claimed she heard. His mind briefly goes back to last night with the gang as they were all hanging out in Vic’s basement, talking about her. Fucking Patrick. He should have known that Hockstetter plays one way and one way only; dirty.

“It’s Patrick isn’t it? He got into your head. Why the hell would you believe anything he says?”

“Why should I believe you?” Juliet insists, staring so hard into his eyes that he couldn’t believe the girl he thought was timid was pure fire.

“Look Juliet, just hang out with me once so I can prove to you that whatever Patrick said is complete bullshit.”

Juliet shakes her head, hating and despising how much she wanted to give him a chance.

“I’m asking you to trust me. Please?” he persists, grabbing her hand and holding it in a surprisingly delicate way. There’s never been a time that Henry has ever begged someone in his life, but as much as he loathed it, he knew he’d get ahead by playing the good guy type. He could tell by the look on her face that she was giving into him. After a few seconds, Juliet proves him right when she finally caves. 

“Fine,” she snaps, slipping her hand out of his grip.

Henry felt a sudden rush of relief, knowing that the ball has been placed back in his court. 

“There’s a showing of Nightmare on Elm Street I thought we could go see.”

"That actually sounds fun,” Juliet admits, peering up at Henry with those long lashes that makes him want to do unspeakable things to her. 

“The movie is at eight. I thought I could come get you and we can walk there. It’s not far.”

Usually Henry would use Belch and his Trans Am along with the other goons to have as a way of transportation, but Henry was adamant about the whole night having Juliet to himself, that way Patrick had no way of sabotaging things again. He also knew that Juliet is the kind of girl that wasn’t going to just go over his house and fuck around. He actually had to treat her with respect and take her out on a real date first.

“That sounds perfect, but is there any way you can wait for me a house or two down from mine? My mom, she-”

“Let me guess? Won’t approve?” Henry interjects. It was moments like this that Juliet truly despised how judgmental her mother could be. Her silence was proof that what Henry suspected was right.

“It’s cool. I know I ain’t the kinda guy girls like to take home to mom.” Henry begins to chuckle, “Or dad.”

“Hmm, I wonder why.” Juliet looks up to the ceiling, biting down on her lip before glancing back down to Henry, giving him a cheeky grin. Henry doesn’t know what it is, but her innocent yet sassy attitude was turning him on more and more. She wasn’t afraid to confront him or tell him off, which was actually a turn on for Henry since he isn’t used to people defying him whatsoever.

“Looks like Derry’s smartest student has a mouth to match,” he teases, starting to slowly stroll closer to her. She can see the seductive way he’s analyzing her, making Juliet take tiny steps back before she smiles and says, “Looks like Derry’s biggest bully isn’t so scary after all.”

“You don’t want to test me there baby doll,” Henry smirks, licking his lips as continues inching closer to her.

“I don’t know,” Juliet hums, “Tests are sort of my thing,” she responds confidently, sticking her nose up in a joking way. However at this point, Henry has her body pressed up against the lockers with his hand propped up near the side of her face. 

Henry releases a breathy snicker, feeling like she was being a tease. He wanted to grab her ass, her chest, something. But he knew he had to control himself with Juliet and be patient. 

“Well this is one test I’d hate to fail, so I guess for my own sake I better walk away before I start to ....slip up,” Henry simpers, moving his face close to hers.

Juliet laughs, but it truly was one of the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard. “See you tomorrow Henry,” she smiles, but it was her usual one that was laced with innocence and genuine kindness. She moves past him as he just stands there, feeling over the moon already even though he hasn’t even gone on the actual date with her yet. Juliet may be falling for Henry’s game, but Henry however, is falling hard for her, and the worst part is that he doesn’t even know it yet.

           ……………............................................................................

Juliet exits her house and starts to walk down the sidewalk, enjoying the crisp, cool, night air that was hitting her face. She told her mother that Jennifer was having a girls night which she surprisingly believed with no questions asked. Her parents seemed to be preoccupied with having dinner plans with her dad’s snobby business partners, leaving Juliet to have one less thing to worry about.

She suddenly spots Henry in the distance standing down near the stop sign at the corner. He’s wearing dark, ripped jeans with his typical black boots and an almost navy blue muscle shirt that looked extremely good on him. His biceps were prominent, making Juliet shamefully ogle at them for a minute before he turns around slightly and sees her walking towards him. As a nervous habit, Juliet presses her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She decided on a plain white, square neck, sundress that had slightly puffy sleeves. 

Henry whistles at her, making Juliet blush profusely. “I don’t know how you expect me to stay on my best behavior tonight lookin’ like that.”

“Oh c’mon, l think you can manage yourself for a good two hours,” she smirks as they begin to walk together side by side. 

“Maybe. But what about after?”

“After?”

“Well yeah after the movies, you know, I figured we can hang out some more.”

Juliet was certainly not planning for an after. She was planning for solely a movie and a straight walk home. 

“Don’t look so worried,” Henry chuckles. “Still think I’m going to murder you or somethin’?"

“I mean you actually have the perfect opportunity to since my family and friends have zero idea I’m hanging out with you right now,” Juliet teases, making Henry’s heart beat faster and faster.

“Well since you put it that way...” Henry smirks, suddenly grabbing Juliet by the waist, hoisting her up over his shoulder as she lets out a small shriek. Her legs kick back and forth as he begins to run while she’s laughing hysterically. It’s only for a short moment until he eventually stops and gently places her back on the pavement as she holds onto his arms for stability. But that’s when they look up at each other, both slightly out of breath, their faces close as they glance down at each other’s lips. Henry starts to lean in, thinking this was his chance, however, Juliet tenses up. She bows her head down a bit, nervously studying the ground. 

“Hey,” Henry says before grabbing her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. “You’re safe with me alright? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay,” Juliet responds, giving him a small, closed mouth smile.

Henry started to feel something he couldn’t quite decipher. Guilt? Regret? Whatever it is, he pushes back the unfamiliar feeling aside, knowing that Juliet is nothing more than just a stupid bet. A stupid bet that he plans on winning.

They eventually make it to the theater and walk inside as Henry opens the door for her. Once they reach the counter, Henry tells the worker he’ll have two tickets for A Nightmare on Elm Street while Juliet reaches down in her pocket to grab her money. When she’s about to hand it over, she’s shocked to see Henry has already beaten her to the punch.

“Henry I had money, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t stress baby, I got it,” he winks, grabbing her hand as he leads them to the right theater. Juliet would never know that he had only gotten that money by stealing it from a couple of kids at school.

Once inside, Henry aims for seats that weren’t in the far back since it has just been made clear she isn’t the type who’s going to want to make out just yet, but he didn’t want to sit too close to the front either. He landed on two seats that were a good in between right in the middle. 

The movie was supposed to start in exactly four minutes. Henry felt like everything was going according to plan. Not only did Juliet look as hot as ever, but she was eating out of the palm of his hands. Right as he started to think nothing could possibly go wrong, the worst of the worst comes crashing down on him.

“Henry,” Juliet leans into him whispering, “I didn’t know your friends were coming.”

“What are you talking about my friends aren’t-” and as soon as he looks over towards the entrance, there they were. Vic, Belch, and of course Patrick.

Henry shuts his eyes briefly, clearly fuming. “Those mother fuckers,” he mutters under his breath.

“It looks like they’re coming over to us,” Juliet observes, trying not to make her stare obvious even though it was hard since they were all collectively getting closer and closer.

“I didn’t invite them Juliet, I swear. I have no idea how they found out.”

“Well they knew we were going on a date didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” Henry snaps. “But I didn’t want them knowing where.” As soon as the words rushed out of Henry’s mouth, he knew he fucked up.

“Why?”

As his mind scrambled for some sort of logical lie, his buddies came and interrupted just in time, preventing him from having to even answer the question. 

“Well lookie here boys. It’s Romeo and Juliet,” Patrick sneers with his cheshire grin before throwing a handful of popcorn at Henry as Vic and Belch snort and chuckle beside him. Patrick plops his lanky figure in the seat next to Juliet while Belch takes the seat right next to Henry and Vic in the aisle seat. 

“No fucking way, you assholes go find another place to sit,” Henry demands, trying his best to act calm for Juliet’s sake, but the irritation dripping from his voice wasn’t helping.

Belch searches the theater to see what other seat options there were. “Sorry buddy,” Belch shrugs carelessly while munching down on some popcorn. “It looks like it’s a full house.”

The theater is packed and there are only seven seats open at this point, but they are all completely separated from one another. Juliet could tell Henry was livid by the way his fists were clenched laying on the arm rests and how his nostrils flared. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but there was nothing she could do to ease his anger at that moment.

“Want a taste?”

Juliet suddenly hears Patrick’s voice and turns to him, worried about what he was insinuating with Henry sitting right there.

“What?” Juliet asks in a somewhat mortified tone.

“Of my drink?” Patrick asks holding up the giant cup, looking at her as if she’s stupid. 

“Oh,” Juliet lets out a half- hearted chuckle. “No. Thank you.”

Patrick licks his lips, grinning mischievously at her. He relished how he could play with her mind and make Juliet question herself. As if right on time, the theater suddenly goes dark as the movie finally begins on the screen. Juliet enjoyed the slight adrenaline she got when watching scary movies, but it didn’t mean she never needed to cover her eyes and watch some parts through her fingers.

Patrick however, seemed to be enjoying the horror as he laughed at the gore and terror, grinning from ear to ear. The scene comes on in the movie where Glen is fast asleep, lying on his bed with headphones over his ears. Juliet couldn’t help herself when she jumps slightly once the dreadful music starts to play as Freddy’s claws appear, sucking Glen into the mattress.

Henry laughs quietly at her reaction, clearly amused. He leans over to her and asks, “You good?”

She nods with a cute grin, hating how even though she knew something was about to happen, it still made her tremble. Even though Henry is enjoying the movie, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Patrick was just one seat away from him. He hated him so much that he wished Freddy could somehow come through the screen and swallow Patrick in like he did to Glen. He still had no idea how he found out that they were even there.

Enough is enough, he thought. Henry decided he isn’t going to put up with Patrick’s shit any longer. If he wanted to come see a show, he was about to give him one.

Henry places his hand on Juliet’s thigh, hiking her dress up a bit while his thumb rubs back and forth on her bare skin. Patrick notices this and begins to feel absolutely infuriated. He becomes even more enraged when Juliet snuggles into Henry a bit, interlocking her arm with his.

It didn’t take long for Patrick to act fast. He pretends to grab his drink when he purposely knocks it over, spilling the red liquid all over Juliet’s lap. She completely jolts when she feels the ice cold, sticky substance dripping down her bare legs, the lower half of her white dress completely drenched. Juliet stares at the ice cubes laying on her lap, not even comprehending what just happened for a few seconds.

“Oops,” Patrick says with zero emotion, satisfied that he didn’t have to endure watching Henry touch what’s his any longer.

“What the fuck Hockstetter?” Henry sharply whispers, staring down at the mess he had caused.

“It’s okay, it was just an accident,” Juliet assures, not wanting the two boys to cause a commotion in the middle of the movie. She could care less that her dress is ruined, she just wanted to immediately get herself cleaned up without making a scene and disrupting everyone else in the theater.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick okay? I’ll be right back,” Juliet states in a hushed tone to Henry.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

Juliet shakes her head at him and gets up quietly. She carefully tip toes passed Henry, Belch, and Vic and then quickly exits out the door.

Once Juliet is in the bathroom and in the actual light, she sees that the drink got all over her socks and high tops as well. Juliet drenches some paper towels in water, doing her best at getting what she could out of her dress. She internally laughs at herself when she looks in the mirror, seeing the huge glob of red that only turned into a slight pink. The stickiness on her hands and legs made her feel gross, causing her to immediately wipe the soda’s remnants off. After constant scrubbing and fifty-two paper towels later, Juliet realizes that this was as good as it’s going to get.

When she walks out into the lobby, she spots Devin Mccalister, Mark Swanson, Derrick Mckinley, and Jason Montgomery all huddled near the back corner. They were arrogant tyrants disguised as the popular football jocks of Derry High. She never understood why The Bowers Gang were notorious for being bullies, but because they wore a sport’s jersey, they were seen as royalty.

“Well, well, well, look who we’ve got here boys,” Derrick calls out, each of them now giving her their undivided attention.

“Juliet,” Jason sings, checking her out with no shame before laughing. “What happened? Time of the month come early?” This causes his friends to bust out in a fit of laughter at the expense of Juliet’s embarrassment as they all walk closer to her.

 “No,” Juliet responds flatly, having a hard time keeping eye contact. “It’s just soda.”

She begins to turn around to head back to the theater before Jason rushes and grabs her by the forearm, jerking her back. “Hey, where do you think you’re runnin’ off to?”

They each begin to huddle around her, shutting her in.

“You should ditch this place and come hang with us. We’re bored,” Devin offers while he gazes down at her chest.

“Yeah I can see that,” Juliet mutters, wishing she could just shrink and disappear.

“Can you?” Jason asks before snatching Juliet’s glasses off her face.

“Stop it Jason, that’s not funny,” Juliet exclaims, reaching out to try and grab them back, but failing miserably. “Please you guys, give them back,” she begs. They instead began to snicker and laugh at her multiple attempts of trying to pry the glasses out of each of their hands since they were tossing them back and forth to one another. Juliet obviously couldn’t see as well without them, making the boys even more amused. That is, until a certain voice causes their actions to come to a sudden halt. 

“What’s going on here,” Patrick interrupts, his eyes narrowed and pierced with craze as he slowly strides out of the darkness over to them with his hips slightly jutted out and his hands in his pockets.

The jocks may be seen as intimidating and tough to most, but one thing was for certain; they were all mentally scared shitless of Patrick. Even if they were cocky enough to think that they could beat him up physically, they knew that he was a person capable of far worse things.

“Nothin’, we were just messin’ around,” Jason retorts, broadening his shoulders a bit, trying his best to be intimidating. Patrick chuckles at his attempt, taking a few more strides before he approaches Jason, standing dangerously close to him when he suddenly takes his pocket knife out and holds it right below Jason’s eyebrow.

“There’s nothing more I’d love to do to you right now then cut out your eye sockets and shove them so far down your throat, you’ll be seeing out your ass.” Patrick moves the knife’s sharp point close enough to where it’s almost touching the white part of Jason’s eyeball, causing him to go pale. 

“Oh, but daddy wouldn’t like that would he?” Patrick taunts in a sarcastic tone. “I mean, how could his son play the big game next week with no way of seeing that football being thrown towards his stupid fucking face?”

Jason is shaking like a leaf at this point as his friends are standing their frozen like statues, too petfriefied to even move.

“Look man, I’m sorry. Just take it easy and put the knife down will ya?” Jason whimpers, his macho facade completely thrown out the window.

Just as Juliet was about to intervene and try to calm Patrick down, he starts to snicker and pulls the knife away from Jason, leering at his panicked expression. “Awh,” Patrick mocks in a teasing voice, frowning his lips down in a fake pout. “Don’t be so serious Montgomery. I was only messin’ around.” 

Jason looks embarrassed and angry, yet still very afraid all at the same time. His face was beat red from wanting to punch Patrick in the face, but knowing that he couldn’t. He reaches his shaky hands out to return Juliet’s glasses to Patrick before slowly backing away. A piercing stare towards Patrick was all he could muster, although if looks could kill, both boys would be dead right now. His friends follow suit until they turn their backs, walking quicker than usual out of the theater.

Juliet is shook up about what she just witnessed as she continues to stand there not moving. “That was…..intense,” she gapes, appearing slightly apprehensive. Patrick feels worried for a second that he went a little too far in front of her until he hears a small giggle. “But also kind of amazing.” She slaps her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her smirk because she felt guilty for finding such a violent altercation humorous.

Patrick chuckles at her adorable reaction before taking a few steps in her direction. He unfolds the glasses and brushes a few strands of her hair away before putting them back on her face.

“Beautiful,” he simply observes with a slight grin. Juliet remains motionless as his hand reaches out to caress her cheek, his thumb gently swiping across her bottom lip. 

“W-We should head back,” Juliet stutters, moving her face to the side, away from Patrick’s touch.

Patricks knows that no matter what he says, no matter what he does, she will not give into his enticement just yet. She was in the middle of a date with Henry right now, she wouldn’t be ballsy enough, but he recognized that glint in her eye and the way she stumbled. He knew that whether she wanted to come to terms with it or not, there was something behind those hazel eyes that he could tell felt tempted. Patrick has had his exact plan sought out from the start. He just has to wait until something certain happens until he can fully execute it, but this made him all the more excited.

"You ignored the little chat we had this morning,” Patrick states, studying her face. 

“Me and Henry talked it out,” Juliet briefly explains, about to turn around until Patrick says, “Let me guess. He told you not to trust me.”

Juliet started to feel a bit frazzled. She didn’t want to tell Patrick that Henry told her not to believe him and pin the two friends against one another and cause issues.

“N-Not exactly, he uhm, he told me-”

“You’re an awful liar,” Patrick interrupts, smirking before he says, “Henry is a much better one.”

Juliet furrows her eyebrows in an annoyed manner, hating how Patrick kept trying to make her feel like she was being stupid for giving Henry a chance. She was appreciative of Patrick, knowing what those dumb jocks could have done if he hadn’t shown up, but it wasn’t hard to notice that Patrick can be manipulative. She couldn’t let him toy with her head again. Juliet stares at him for a brief moment, biting down on her tongue before she decides it’s best if she says nothing at all in return. She simply turns her back on him and heads inside the theater.

Henry’s face was set in a scowl, but appeared somewhat relieved once he saw Juliet coming back.

As soon as she sat down, Henry moved in closer. “What took so long?”

“I’ll tell you later, it’s kind of a long story,” Juliet whispers back.

Henry sat there, his mind thinking about all the horrendous possibilities that could have happened between Patrick and Juliet outside that theater. He was boiling with rage, causing him to not talk or touch Juliet again for the remainder of the movie.

Henry has his arm draped over Juliet’s shoulder when they walk out into the parking lot as Patrick lingers closely behind. Vic and Belch were staggering near them, still preoccupied with continuing their popcorn fight. They stroll together until they are all standing in front of Belch’s Trans Am. 

“I’m going to fucking kill them. All of them, one by one I swear to god,” Henry fumes in regards to Juliet’s brief rundown about what occurred with Jason and his friends earlier.

“Trust me Henry they aren’t worth it. Although I do wish you could have seen Jason’s face. It was so red,” Juliet laughs. 

“Yeah, well that fucker’s face is going to turn purple on Monday,” Henry responds harshly, making Juliet go silent. Henry begins to notice the way Patrick is intently eyeing Juliet, which reminds him that he needs to get her out of here before this night goes downhill. “We’re gonna take off,” he states flatly to his friends as he steers Juliet away, using his hand around her shoulder as an advantage. 

“What’s the rush Bowers?” Patrick smirks at Henry, wanting to get under his skin.

“I got to get her home,” Henry grumbles while turning around, gesturing his head towards Juliet. She pulls her wrist up to glance at her watch, reading the time that says 10:02pm.

“My curfew isn’t until midnight, so if you want to hang out with them we can,” Juliet quietly offers to Henry, trying to appease him. However, Juliet was unknowingly ruining what he had planned.

“Great!” Patrick beams, hearing Juliet’s hushed offer before opening Belch’s backseat. “Hop in.”

Juliet glances up at Henry, trying to see if she can read his mind on whether he actually wants to join them or not. Juliet would much rather spend the rest of the night alone with Henry, but this was his gang and she didn’t want Henry to feel like she didn’t want to be around his friends.

“If you shit heads haven't noticed yet, we’re on a date. I’ll catch you guys later.” Henry stares Patrick down in a somewhat hostile way, only making Patrick more entertained. Juliet gives a meek wave goodbye to all of the boys before they turn around and start to walk away again. 

“You two have a safe night now,” Patrick calls out in a taunting way, making Juliet feel like those words are being directed at her. Henry holds her closer and for some reason, she felt okay.

Henry didn’t know why he felt so nervous. He hated how this girl made him feel emotions he isn’t accustomed to dealing with. At this point, they weren’t too far away from Juliet’s house, making him even more anxious. She becomes caught off guard when Henry’s feet that were walking next to her come to a complete stop.

“There’s uhm, there’s a place I'd like to take you,” Henry utters, his palms slightly sweating.

“Okay,” Juliet smiles. “Where?”

“It’s in the woods,” he states, not wanting to reveal the exact destination quite yet.

“In the woods,” Juliet slowly repeats, laughing a little about Henry’s lack of detail, making his response sound highly suspicious. 

“Fuck, I know how sketch that sounds, but I swear, you just gotta trust me.”

Juliet felt a bit hesitant on saying yes, but surprisingly enough, trusting him has gone pretty well so far.

“Lead the way,” Juliet grins, gesturing her hand out to him.

It was at least ten minutes of walking and the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet before Juliet asks, “Okay I know we were kidding around earlier, but are you sure you’re not luring me out here to kill me? Because honestly, at this point, I would deserve it considering I ignored all the obvious signs.”

Henry chuckles, wafting a long, thin branch out of his way. “We’re literally almost there.”

After about another minute or two, a small and somewhat wonky, wooden treehouse comes into view. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it had a certain character to it that Juliet found appealing.

“This is it,” Henry shrugs, scratching his head as he nervously glances at the ground and then back at Juliet, waiting for her reaction.

“Oh my gosh,” Juliet mutters. “Did you build this?”

Henry nods, making Juliet’s eyes widen. “Wow,” she gasps. “Henry this is absolutely incredible.”

Henry gulps, having never heard such a compliment from anybody in his life before he asks, “Wanna take a look inside?”

Juliet shakes her head in an excited way which makes Henry grab her hand. He lets her go up the creaky ladder first before he follows right after her. The inside was small, but had some blankets laid out and wrinkled metal band posters taped to the walls. 

“It ain’t much,” Henry says. “But it’s a place I like to come to where I can get some peace and quiet.”

“Are you crazy? I love it. Do you know how much skill you have to build something like this?” Juliet asks, still looking around and analyzing every corner and crack of the tiny wooden house in amazement. Henry genuinely wasn’t expecting a rich girl like Juliet to think much of it, but like in many ways, Juliet proved him wrong. Henry sits down near the entrance so his feet can prop up on the ladder. Juliet does the same beside him, except her tiny white sneakers are dangling in the air.

The only noise that can be heard is the soft hum of the bugs and the trees rustling together from the chilly night air. Juliet’s eyes are staring up at the stars, but Henry can’t seem to take his eyes off her. He has never felt more at peace in his life than in this moment.

“Henry,” she says, snapping him out of his trance. She peels her eyes off the sky and looks at him. “What scares you the most?”

The question was not only unexpected, but quite difficult for Henry to answer. Henry’s mind tries to think of something, anything, but it was like his brain went totally blank. He wasn’t used to people asking him personal questions. “Uhm...I don’t really know. I mean shit don’t scare me much, but I guess if I had to choose somethin’ it’d be...uhm.... I guess like what my future is goin’ to be in this shit town after high school. I’m afraid I’m goin’ to end up alone and be exactly like my old man.”

“You don’t like your dad?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Henry huffs. “I fucking hate his guts Juliet. He’s the biggest piece of shit I know. He’s the main reason I built this in the first place, so I could get away somehow when I needed to.”

This confession made Juliet feel heart broken. She didn’t want to press and ask too many questions, but it was clear that Henry’s home didn’t feel safe for him. Juliet interlocks her fingers with his.“You don’t deserve that. I know saying sorry won’t fix anything and you at least have here to come to, but if things ever get bad, my house is always open. Well I should say my bedroom window is,” Juliet smirks, bumping her shoulder lightly with his, making Henry chuckle. “But seriously, I can’t imagine how awful it must be to not feel loved by your dad, but it doesn’t mean you’re incapable of being loved by anybody else.”

Henry appreciated that she wasn’t pitying him or making him feel like he was a lost cause. This girl that he hasn’t even known a full week cared so much about his well being that she would be willing to take the risk of offering her room as a place to stay when times got tough. He ponders over what she just said before she continues on and says, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly thankful for my parents. They want what’s best for me, but my mom, she is constantly worried about what every single person thinks. Whether it’s my clothes or hair or grades or friends, she judges and critiques every little thing I do. I feel I can just never win with her, like nothing I ever do is good enough.”

Henry stares at her, shocked at how much they were opening up to each other, but how good it truly felt.

“Your mom must be fucking crazy,” Henry admits. “You’re beautiful and fucking smart as hell and have so much going for you.”

Juliet giggles, smiling at the boy who was making her cheeks flush.

“Well I appreciate that. But it sounds like your dad must be pretty crazy too if he doesn’t realize what an amazing and incredibly talented son he's got,” Juliet responds, gazing at him. Henry could swear he felt his heart completely stop.

He has never in his life had somebody who felt like they genuinely thought he mattered and was important. He stares intently at her, and not even a second passes before Henry grabs her neck, crushing her lips unto his. He moves his hands so they’re cradling both her cheeks, liking the sort of control it gives him. The kiss is slow and innocent until Henry slips his tongue into her mouth. Juliet was petrified for this moment, but she couldn’t believe how good kissing Henry Bowers felt. 

He gives her bottom lip a slight tug with his teeth as he delves his hot tongue deeper into her mouth, moving his hand down to grope her chest. Juliet hated how much she didn’t want him to stop. She breaks away from the kiss, feeling like she needed a breath. Henry moves down and begins attacking her neck as he tries to pull the shoulder of her dress down to expose her bra. He grabs her hand and moves it on top of his throbbing hard on that lies underneath his jeans.

“You feel what you do to me baby,” he rasps in her ear before biting slightly down on her earlobe.

“Henry,” Juliet whispers, but it comes out as more of a soft moan.

“Now how about you let me feel what I do to you,” Henry utters, his rough, calloused hand moving up Juliet’s smooth thigh. His hand reaches under her dress when he begins teasing the waistband of her underwear with his fingers. She quickly grabs his hand to stop him, making Henry seize what he’s doing.

“I’m sorry Henry, but I...I think we should take things slow,” Juliet murmurs, feeling embarrassed.

Henry wasn’t used to girls he’s been with not wanting to move fast. He was used to them begging him for any sort of pleasure he was willing to give. But Juliet was different.

“It’s alright, it’s probably almost midnight anyways, we should start to head back.”

Juliet couldn’t quite decipher Henry’s tone as he begins to run his hand through his hair before he pushes himself off the tree house, his feet hitting the ground with a quiet thump. His mood shifted quickly as if he flipped some sort of switch. She decides to not over think it and starts to cautiously climb down the ladder. Juliet suddenly hears a slight rustling in the bushes.

“Did you hear that?”

“No? Hear what?”

“It sounded like there was something moving over there,” Juliet points over to her right.

“It was probably a rabbit or somethin’. There’s always critters runnin’ around here. Come on this way.” 

The walk out of the woods was quiet which made Juliet think Henry has to be annoyed at her. She wanted Henry to touch her, but she felt like she wasn’t quite ready to go too far and offer that personal part of herself to him just yet. Meanwhile Henry was more silent than usual because guilt started to set into the pit of his stomach. He didn’t expect to feel this way towards her. He actually didn’t know what he was even feeling and that made him even more mad. They make it back to the red stop sign where Henry waited for her at the beginning of the night. The glow from the street light loomed over them.

"I’m sorry about earlier,” Juliet speaks up. “I wanted to. I honestly just got nervous. I haven’t you know-uhm, I-I havent done anything like that yet.” Juliet had a hard time confessing her inexperience to the boy who has been with countless of girls.

“I understand,” Henry assures, wanting nothing more than for Juliet to feel comfortable around him. “You’re safe with me remember? I’m not goin’ to ever make you do somethin’ you don’t want to.”

This made Juliet feel at ease. “I know,” she smiles. “I had a good time with you tonight. I’m happy I decided to come.”

“I’m sorry what was that?” Henry asks sarcastically, a smirk on his face as he pulls her in playfully by her waist.

“Okay, okay fine! The almighty Henry Bowers proved me wrong,” Juliet giggles, loving the warmth Henry’s embrace gave.

“Damn right I did,” Henry utters before leaning in to give her one final kiss. Henry felt no need to be rough or show his dominance. All he wanted was the simplicity of feeling her plush lips on his.

“Bye,” Juliet whispers once she pulls away from him. She grins before turning around to walk back to her house. Henry stood there watching her the entire time until she faded into the darkness.

On his walk home, Henry couldn’t stop the stupid smile that lingered on his face as he reminisced about the night. He knew Juliet was into him as much as he was into her, and that nobody, not even Patrick, could get in the way. Henry thought it over and came to the conclusion that not only was he going to win the bet, but he was also going to win the girl and make Patrick regret the day he ever tried underestimating him. However, Henry was delirious of the raven haired boy that was hiding in the woods the entire time, relishing how Henry and Juliet’s relationship was going exactly how he wanted it to.

[daincrediblegg]

As Time Goes By (1/2)

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Co-worker!Reader Word Count: 1803

Author’s Note: Lmao so I’m deadass 3 days late with this, but I got inspired for it literally on New Years Eve, and it’s been running away from me ever since (mostly ‘cause I actually came down with a pretty bad infection, and now I’m apparently allergic to the antibiotic the doctors gave me for it. It’s not been fun the last few days). Here it is now in its final form (split into 2 parts for my own sanity and yours), and with it, I thank you all for coming in at the butt end of 2019 and playing a big part in saving my ass. All your fanfic, all your art and acceptance of mass mutual love for this boy, and whether you’ve reblogged and liked or commented on my art or what little writing I’ve done or even my dumbass tag meta, I’m incredibly humbled and screaming about it literally all the time, and I love you all. Hope to talk to more of you in 2020 to keep the clown love going strong, and I’ll see you all very soon for part 2 ;)

Arthur hadn’t really believed it when he’d been invited.

In his 33 years of life he had hardly ever been invited to anything. Birthdays, Christmas parties, dinners, drinks. If he had been offered any of these occasions, he’d often be forced to turn them down. He could justify to himself that he’d hate to leave his mother alone on any given holiday (let alone any day, with how poor her health was), but deep down, he felt the gesture empty. If he went, he’d be no more than he already was- an invisible man. Nobody to talk to, nobody to really celebrate with despite festivity cascading all around him. All because nobody really wanted the freak there anyway. Why go to all the trouble when he could be far more comfortable at home alone instead?

But when Gary had approached him one sunny Gotham winter morning as he was buttoning his golden vest, and said that the rest of the guys were planning to go to a bar on Nolan and 3rd to celebrate the New Year, he actually thought about going.

He was sweet to do so. Always nice to him. He’s sure the other guys wouldn’t think to extend such a courtesy to him, let alone want to. He knew what they thought of him, and frankly he didn’t think too highly of spending more time with them either. He was ready to make his usual excuse- that meds needed to be picked up, that his mother needed tending.

But it was four little words that Gary had said- soft enough and potent enough to make him reconsider.

“She’ll be there too.”

His eyes find her almost immediately, and Gary’s eyes follow- by the vanity, where she tugs down her wig to cover her hair- bright red spun yarn, dressed in a pair of braids. Her fluffy underskirt poking out a brilliant white under her blue polka-dot dress as she leans closer to the mirror. 

She’s lovely. Always has been. In and out of makeup. Always wishing him a good day, laughing at his jokes. She even asks for them- on days when she drags her feet up that long staircase, tired eyes hoping all the more that whatever he has for her will do the trick that he loves best- a smile, no matter how soft, and a chuckle, whether it leaves her chest or not. Anything is enough for him. 

He knows he’s going, deep down. He knows it surely as his heart starts thudding against his fragile ribs just a little harder as she smoothes her hands down her plush skirt.

“I-... I’ll think about it.” he concludes softly.

“All right. I hope you will. It’d be good to see you there, mate.”

They share smiles- genuine ones, before Gary gets back to his locker, dragging out his own jacket and wig. Just then, he sees a flash of pastel blue flutter past him, and his eyes flit up to her face, full of warmth as she waves a gentle goodbye to him. 

“Have a good day, Artie.”

Chills shoot up his spine in a rush. A hit of joy. An impossible wish, but one spoken true all the same. He wonders if there’s invisible cherubs behind him, stabbing him with arrows. 

Arthur lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers weakly as he smiles back at her.

“Have a good day…” he repeats. 

Her smile gets wider before she turns her attention to the dwarf next to him. 

“You too Gary.”

“And you!” he shouts after her, as she finally picks up her bag and trots down the stairs. He knows his eyes aren’t the only ones on her when she leaves, but he hopes that his eyes are more important than most. 

“How come she never tells me to have a good day?” Randall quips with a shrug. Gary rolls his eyes as he turns to him in reply. 

“Maybe because you’re an arse-hole.”

He laughs at that. Neither the laugh he pushes out of himself for courtesy, or the ones that force themselves out and choke him. He laughs for real, and he knows he’s going.

He has to.

His mom is nodding off, thank God. 

She’s been fed, and they’ve watched a bit of the Live Gotham New Years Celebration coverage on TV- Murray Franklin, hosting- from her bed. The lights are out, save for the soft blue glow of her TV, and it’s just enough of a sleeping potion to start putting her under. She always gets like this, in truth. Out cold long before the night really has a chance to even begin. It’s a blessing, really. Especially tonight. 

Because it gives him plenty of time to get ready. 

Sure, he doesn’t have much of a choice in what suit he wears- the only one he owns being a deep maroon, a hand-me-down from the last decade. He can’t decide how to style his hair (though he’s bathed, he’s at least managed that much, for her), whether to slick it back or keep it casual, all he has in the way of cologne is something cheap he got from the drug store on his way home from work the day Gary invited him, but he’s got the spirit. For Her. And it seems that today, it’s enough.

He gathers the necessaries from the closet before he leaves his mother to sleep, switching the tv in the living room onto the special while he prepares, dabbing the cologne to his wrists and neck, wiggling his spindly legs into his suit pants on the couch. 

Just then, as he’s buttoning up his fly, the brief commercial break ends with a quick jazz sting from the band- moved all the way downtown just for this occasion. He watches as the comedian approaches a couple. Arm in arm in the snow and smiling like they’ve won the lottery. Murray quips of how happy they are, about his own relatively new wife and how it won’t last- all in good humor. But he can’t register any of it. 

All he registers is the way the woman’s hands move around that man’s waist. He feels it himself. On him. Faint. A warm hand wrapping around him, just under his jacket, grazing over the deep blue sweater he’d dragged on this morning to go to therapy, fitting so neatly in the space between his hips and his ribs. It’s uncanny. It feels just like her.

And for just a moment the couple on the screen is gone. Replaced by another, far more handsome than the last.

Him and her. Together. Happier than the thousands of handmade smiles they paint on themselves with rich pigments in cheap grease. Hers is particularly divine. Her cheeks rosy as they lift fully to accommodate her joy. It makes his heart want to break his bones, leap right out of his chest, into the palm of her hand of its own accord. 

And they remained that way. For hours. Gotham’s imposing buildings shrinking beneath the way they look at each other, hold each other close and not just for the inevitable warmth her body brings to his. And at the stroke of midnight, he pulls her impossibly close, cupping her face when he kisses her, the cold air melting away under their shared warmth as confetti falls around them with the snow. They even get on the kiss cam. 

Gotham sweethearts. And everyone knows it.

He smiles, as the saxophone slowly pulls him out of reverie. The chilling blue light of the tv washes over him, and his hand pulls itself agonizingly from the spot it found across his abdomen, feeling his rib sticking out in his laid-back position. Murray, bundled up in scarf and woolen coat, speaks loud and clear into his microphone over a cheering crowd, ever the professional. 

“Well folks, this is it! Not much more than an hour left until the New Year! Pour some Champagne, and get your sweethearts close, and we’ll be right back after these messages.”

Panic washes over him so fast he almost tumbles over the coffee table trying to get up off the couch. 

He’s late.

Quicker and more lithe than a cat high on their nip, he tugs his sweater off, buttoning up his clean white dress shirt as fast as he can- praying he didn’t skip any buttons, or that he improperly tied his tie. 

“Happy? Where are you going?” a sleepy lilt calls from behind him.

He almost yelps, but before he can he turns to see his mother, leaning against the hallway, looking like she could pass out again right then and there. Leaving his waistcoat not fully buttoned, pulling his suit jacket on, he strides over to her and supports her sleepy form, starting to try and lead her back to bed. 

“I’m meeting some guys from work for a drink.” A half-lie, as they reach the bedroom door. Enough to not make her question why he’s dressed to the nines and the strong and heady scent coming off of him - discount eros from a bottle. She hums a little “oh”, mulling over what she should say in response. He doesn’t give her the chance. 

“I’m sorry Mom, I forgot to tell you.” Another half-lie, but it completes a full truth for her, letting him keep the solitary thought of her all to himself, even for a little while longer. 

A look of unnecessary worry strikes across Penny’s face.

“You shouldn’t drink, Happy. It could mess with your pills. And you know I don’t like you being out this late.”

He winces at that. Guilt hitting him like needles prodding his veins. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to hurt. That she doesn’t trust him to leave and make it back in one piece. That she doesn’t trust him to know himself. 

That she doesn’t trust him.

But she can’t dissuade him now.

They reach the door to her room, and they both slink in. He lets go of her once he’s sure she can make it the rest of the way to her side of the bed by herself, and swipes up his old hoodie draped over the corner that isn’t hers.

“I’ll be home by next year, I promise.” He purses his lips with a playfully disarming smile for her. She gives him a breathy chuckle of acceptance, and sits back on her bed again, pulling up the covers as she does. 

“All right, Happy. Be careful.”

He nods, tugging the hoodie over his suit- trying not to wrinkle the sleeves as best he can.

“I will, Ma.”

He blows a kiss, and before she even has the chance to give him one back, he’s picked up his wallet and keys, and he’s out the door, locking it behind him.

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 5: The Masks We Wear

“You are, without a doubt, the most arrogant asshole I’ve ever met!” Nami screamed, her voice echoing down the steel hallway. Most of the crew had taken cover in any room they could find—things had been tense ever since the sunburn incident over a week ago, everyone walking on eggshells waiting for Law’s inevitable revenge. They all knew it wouldn’t be right away; the man liked to take his time, meticulously planning while his victim was lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he had forgiven and forgotten. There was already a large betting pool on what would happen and when, with theories ranging from her waking up to a room full of organs to being forced to wear a skimpy nurse uniform.

Most were silently praying for the latter.

Across from her, Law glared, arms crossed and knuckles white as a small vein popped in his neck out of frustration. They’d been arguing for nearly ten minutes, and for a man who was used to having his orders followed immediately and enthusiastically, it was quickly growing wearisome. “And you’re the most infuriating little witch I’ve ever encountered. I’m not even asking much; it’s completely within your skillset.”

“Like hell it is! You’d have more luck convincing me to wear your crew’s stupid jumpsuits!”

“And deprive my men of seeing you prance around in practically nothing? Morale would tank.”

She crossed her arms, scowling. “Then we agree; I’m not doing it.”

“Our agreement was that you work for me; that means you listen to my orders and carry them out, no arguments.”

“I absolutely never agreed to the ‘no arguments’ part.”

“All I’m asking is for you to pull your weight by using your skills as the Cat Thief to assist me in a little infiltration job. Or do you not know how to act like a lady?” he taunted.

She bristled at the insult but refused to take the bait. “I already pull my weight; I help Bepo with his maps, guide you through storms, and do my share of chores.”

“I’ll concede to the first two, but I know you’ve been conning the men into doing your cleaning.”

She didn’t even try to stop the pleased smirk from curving her lips. “I can’t help it if they feel like being gentlemen by taking on some extra mopping so I can dedicate my time to more important matters.”

“And you thank them by stealing their wallets.”

“It’s no secret I’m a thief; they should know better than to let their guards down around me. Consider it training; you said I shouldn’t let my skills degrade, and a pretty face like mine could be their downfall if they don’t smarten up.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t removed your hands for it, Nami-ya,” Law replied sourly. “That being said, I’m ordering you to stop stealing from them. It’s not nice to take advantage of your crew.”

Infuriated, she jabbed him in the chest. “They’re not my crew! We’re in a temporary alliance, and I’m fine working with them, but I’m a Straw Hat! Get that through your pigheaded-skull!”

A hand shot forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close to Law’s tall, imposing form. “For all intents and purposes, until the year is up, you’re a Heart Pirate. I said when you first arrived, I intend on making the most of having you on my crew, and I meant it.” Arguing was getting him nowhere, so he quickly changed tactics. A shiver ran up Nami’s spine as he leaned close, hot breath ghosting over her sensitive ear and neck. “You’re stealthy, clever, beautiful, and one of the best burglars on the Grand Line. I can’t imagine a better partner. With our combined skillsets, a job like this should be both easy and extremely profitable. I just need your help searching the place for some classified documents once the party’s in full swing.”

A hint of pink dusted her cheeks at his flattery. “Documents?”

“Inside the main study is a safe full of Marine codes, reports on the various atrocities they’ve caused in the name of ‘justice,’ names of soldiers infiltrating pirate crews—all things that go for millions of belli on the black market. Besides that, our target is known for having expensive tastes. Bejeweled trinkets, high-end art, gold statuettes; the man’s loaded.”

Nami couldn’t help it; belli signs flashed in her eyes at the thought of getting her hands on that treasure. Law’d said he had a big job planned, and clearly, he wasn’t kidding.

It was clear that he had her attention, so the Dark Doctor pressed on, voice dropping an octave to seductively murmur, “And that’s just the study. Imagine all the rich pockets you could pick at the party. Far more profitable than my crew, and anything you manage to steal on your own is completely yours; I won’t even demand a cut.” Brushing his free hand across the sleeve of her borrowed shirt, he added, “I was even generous enough to buy you a new dress for the occasion, since you’ll need to look the part of a rich doctor’s lover.”

As much as she hated it, she was wavering. When he’d first proposed—or more specifically, ordered—she escort him to a party as his date, she’d refused on principle. But damn, after only a month, he was starting to figure out her weaknesses, and right now, money was a big one. She had very little to her name on the ship; most of her clothes were borrowed from Ikkaku, and while they’ve made port a couple times, she hadn’t been able to get much beyond the essentials. So the idea of having fresh, wealthy victims and an outfit of her own that she didn’t even have to pay for was tempting indeed.

Too bad she knew pirates like him didn’t do anything for free.

Ignoring the overwhelming heat of his proximity and her natural greed, hazelnut eyes met his hooded gaze suspiciously. “What’s your real game here, Law?”

To his credit, his lazy grin didn’t falter. “Maybe I just think it’ll be amusing to watch you force yourself to shower me with love and adoration all night.”

Nami didn’t buy it for a second. Beneath the sharp scent of soap and antiseptic, she could smell a con. “And who, exactly, owns the house we’ll be infiltrating?”

The confident expression finally slid off his face. “Baron Harpin Gerald, former Head of Intelligence for the Navy.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“He’s over 70 years old—far past his prime.”

“Whitebeard was 72 and still considered the Strongest Man in the World! Garp’s even older and he can throw cannonballs like baseballs! And do you really think a couple of pirates won’t be recognized at a former Marine bigwig’s gala? Especially one of the fucking Supernova?!” she shouted, trying to pull away for the certified madman who’d managed to rope her into service.

Not budging or releasing his hold on the slippery thief, he stated, “Lucky that it’s a masquerade ball, then. A good mask, some temporary hair dye, and no one will suspect a thing. Besides, no pirate would be brazen enough to walk right into the lion’s den.”

“You mean stupid enough.”

“And here I thought you’d enjoy making a little extra cash.”

“I like staying out of jail more. Besides, I’ve seen what your powers can do; you don’t even need to attend the party!”

Gold eyes narrowed in annoyance, though she got the sense it wasn’t fully at her. “On that scale, everyone with eyes will notice a mysterious blue bubble springing up out of nowhere, and someone is sure to raise the alarm,” he countered. “The other problem is that the safe is made out of Seastone—that means my powers are useless, and even touching the damn thing weakens me. So, I need a more traditional thief by my side as back-up.”

Realization hit her like Luffy’s Gum-Gum Bazooka. “You’ve tried to rob him before, haven’t you?”

“Once, about six months ago. Far from a success, though at least the injuries were minimal and he never found out who got past his defenses.”

She frowned. Now it definitely made sense why he wanted to infiltrate the masquerade, but she was still skeptical. “How do you even plan to get us in? If this party’s as fancy as you say, there’ll be a guest list, invitations, at the very list some kind of ID check at the entrance to keep the riffraff out.”

Law reached into his jean pocket, drawing out a shiny, embossed invitation. “Then it’s a good thing Dr. Goodheart Adrian M.D. and his plus-one have already RSVP’d.”

“You really think they’ll fall for a fake invitation?”

“I sent Uni ahead to switch out the guest list with an updated version. Bribed a servant to let him take his place. He sent me a message this morning that he was successful, so we’re in.”

“Like anyone would believe you’re a real doctor.”

“I am a real doctor—I wouldn’t have been able to save Mugiwara’s life if I weren’t,” he said pointedly.

Nami winced. There was that painful reminder of exactly how much she owed this man and that, whether she liked it or not, she was obligated to follow his orders for the sake of their deal. The whole plan sounded absolutely insane, but it was still a plan—far more than she was used to on her own crew.

And she really needed the money. Not just for shopping; being so poor again brought back too many painful memories of her childhood, of being poor and watching Bellemere eat nothing but mikans so her kids would have enough to eat. Of putting aside the majority of her haul after every job, counting down the days until she’d have enough to buy back her village. Of watching those shady Marines destroy the mikan grove, hauling away her stash so Arlong could keep her forever. Treasure was more than just shiny coins and cute outfits to her—it was a safety net, something she clung to as tightly as a child might a security blanket.

Money could keep monsters at bay, and now that she was stuck on a ship with the Surgeon of Death, that fact was more prominent than ever.

So as much as she wanted to refuse and wipe that smug glint from his eye, she knew he had her backed into a corner, where the most she could do was give in gracefully.

At long last, she sighed, “My dress better have pockets.”

XXX

Though she generally preferred casual clothes, Nami appreciated expensive things, and the gown Law had gotten her definitely screamed “money.” The gold satin overdress, embossed with darker gold leopard spots, draped over her curves magnificently, cinching tightly at the waist with a black and gold belt; the bottom had an under layer of stiff interfacing, allowing it to flare out like a ballgown without the need for tulle or petticoats while concealing a daring slit where she could slip her ill-gotten goods into the many hidden interior pockets or expose the pale flesh of her leg as a distraction. The plunging neckline was nearly to her sternum, and the long, billowing sleeves hid her signature tattoo. It was more like an extremely fancy robe in its design, and underneath was a skintight, black, spaghetti-strap bodysuit much better for sneaking around in, her Clima-Tact strapped to her thigh. A string of pearls and matching earrings completed the look—it wasn’t quite as fancy as what she was sure other women would be wearing, but it was what she had, and it was less conspicuous than going unadorned. If she were lucky, maybe she’d have the opportunity to swipe something better off a drunk heiress.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” the Cat Thief grumbled as she carefully applied eyeliner. A long, dark purple wig covered her orange hair, the loose, elegant curls pinned away from her face with a few barrettes inlaid with pearls, letting the rest cascade down her back like a midnight waterfall. Ikkaku had given her permission to use as much of her makeup as needed, and with a bit of contouring and highlighter, Nami could hardly recognize herself.

“I can,” the engineer chimed from her bed where she’d been studying the mansion’s blueprints. She and the rest of the crew were tasked with causing a number of diversions throughout the island that would draw away the guards and authorities, giving the pair inside the perfect opportunity to sneak away to the study. “He made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous.”

“What, you want to be Law’s girlfriend for the night? Because I’m willing to trade.”

“Hell no—last time we tried that cover, I couldn’t keep a straight face. Nearly tanked the whole plan. But it’s cute how far he’s willing to go to get you on his side. It’s even funnier that you pretend you don’t like it.”

Nami snorted, brushing on some mascara, pleased with how sultry the fanned-out lashes made her almond eyes. “I don’t like it. He’s a creep, and Luffy’s rival, and I’m still waiting for the day I wake up on his operating table, heart and liver and kidneys on display and ready for sale. Or for him to sell me wholesale to the highest bidder.”

Shaking her head, Ikkaku replied matter-of-factly, “He wouldn’t do that to you unless you really tried to fuck us over. Like, there was one guy who joined up not long after me who tried to sell Bepo to some slavers—Minks go for a lot at auctions. Captain’s not usually one for cold-blooded torture, but he made that bastard suffer. Last we saw him, the guy was in pieces being shipped off to separate corners of the four Blues.”

She shuddered at the image, though she couldn’t bring herself to fault his reaction. The more she got to know Bepo, the more she wanted to protect him, too, and from what she’d gathered, the bear was one of Law’s oldest and closest friends. “Now that I believe, but are you seriously not afraid of him? You’ve seen what he can do, and while he’s not as bad as I thought, you can’t tell me all of his reputation’s government propaganda.”

“Why would I be? Even if he was as ruthless as the papers say, Captain Law takes care of his crew. Plus, I’m indispensable around here, and I grew up with four older brothers, so I know a thing or two about how many buttons I can push before I’m in any real trouble.” She smirked, as if she’d just discovered a big secret. “You’re not scared because you think he’ll actually slice you up—otherwise, you wouldn’t backtalk him so much. What you’re really afraid of is the fact that you’re not at the top of the food chain anymore.”

It gutted her that her friend wasn’t wrong. Though Luffy was captain, from the get-go Nami had basically been the one who ran the ship, bending the others to her will with either her feminine wiles or her fists. And while she certainly had most of the Heart Pirates wrapped around her finger, she didn’t like that Law had real power and authority over her while her usual threats and tactics had minimal effect on the cool captain. “It’s far from the only reason, but yeah, it doesn’t help. Don’t get me wrong—you’ve all been super nice and accommodating—but I’m not exactly a trusting person. And Law’s way more…I guess intimidating is the best word to use, than Luffy ever was. So I’m not going to be joining the guy’s fan club anytime soon.”

“Fair, but just give Captain a chance, yeah? He might surprise you.”

Before she could argue that she wanted absolutely no surprises from the Surgeon of Death, there was a knock at the door, the raps against the metal quick and precise.

“Seems someone’s here to pick you up for your date,” Ikkaku sing-songed.

Hazel eyes glared at her bunkmate as she got up to answer the door. “It’s not a date, and if you call it that again, you’re gonna find out why exactly why I’m Head Bitch in Charge on the Sunny.”

Steeling herself, Nami smoothed down the stiff fabric of her gown, determined to treat this night with the same level of professionalism Law used in the infirmary. A few hours of acting, looking pretty, and sneaking around, and then she could plan her next shopping spree. And despite his arrogance and innuendos, she was sure Law would take this just as seriously—after all, it was his plan, and the payout affected the whole crew. He knew what he was doing, and with the amount of thought and care he put into crafting this elaborate scheme, there was no way he’d risk it by pushing her buttons. Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a total disaster.

Those reassuring thoughts flew out the window into the ocean depths to probably be eaten by a sea king the moment she opened the door.

“Please tell me that’s not your disguise.”

Looking down at himself, the Dark Doctor’s brow furrowed. “I see nothing wrong with it.” Admittedly, he looked good; midnight blue hair, including his goatee and sideburns, was dyed black, and he’d put in grey contacts to cover the distinctive gold. His suit was sleek black satin, the knee-length, high-collared coat cutting a rather dashing figure. The vest was black and gold brocade, shiny gold buttons and matching watch chain adding a little extra flare. In his hand was a polished mahogany cane with a silver handle shaped like a bird’s skull, and Nami wondered if it was secretly a sword like Brook’s.

Yes, she could admit Law looked very handsome, but it was a shit disguise. For god’s sake, he was still wearing his hat!

“You think some colored contacts and dying your hair is enough to fool people?” she said, exasperated. “You’re a Supernova; your wanted poster’s one of the most recognizable this side of the Grand Line. You didn’t even bother to cover up your tattoos!” she shrieked, pointing at his hands.

He seemed genuinely surprised at her criticism. “You think I should wear gloves, then?”

Nami could have screamed. She’d expect that kind of answer from Zoro or Luffy, not a man who prided himself on his intelligence. Grabbing his arm, she dragged him into the room, pushing him down into the chair by the mirror and snatching off his hat, tossing it onto her pillow. His lanky figure looked almost comical in the too-small seat, long legs sticking out awkwardly. “Stay there. You’re going to wear gloves, but if you need to take them off for some reason, we want those things covered.” Squeezing out some foundation into her palm, she mixed it with some bronzer until the shade matched his skin tone. “Hold out your hands.”

“I don’t care for being ordered around, Nami-ya,” he growled in warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of getting caught and thrown in jail because you didn’t think the Marines would be suspicious of a guy with DEATH tattooed on his fingers.”

Though he didn’t look happy, he conceded her point, hands steady and still as she applied the makeshift concealer. Definitely the hands of a surgeon, she thought, admiring his natural control. It was comparable to her own when she picked a lock or drew a map; not so much as a tremor, even when under intense scrutiny. Pleased that the black ink was sufficiently covered, she quickly spritzed on some setting spray and finishing powder, hoping the foundation wouldn’t rub off inside the gloves.

Inspecting his face, she then tilted the captain’s chin up, dabbing some concealer under his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing, woman?” he snapped, jerking his head back as if she’d slapped him.

“Covering up those massive bags under your eyes.”

“The hands were one thing, but I’m not letting you put makeup on my face. Besides, I like the world knowing that I’m tired of its shit and ready to kill at any moment.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s totally the mindset of a respectable, non-pirate doctor,” she sassed, jutting out her hip in annoyance. “It’s not like I’m turning you into a drag queen; just covering up some of your more recognizable flaws.”

His brow twitched at the insult. “I’ll be wearing a mask, so why does it matter?”

“You can still see under your eyes, and they might make you take off the mask at check-in. Are you really willing to risk your ‘perfect’ plan because your fragile male ego can’t handle a little cover-up?”

“Oh, just listen to her, Captain,” Ikkaku chimed from her bunk, the Cheshire cat grin on her face declaring to them both that she was mostly getting involved for her own amusement. “Nami’s the infiltration expert here, and you’re the one who insisted she come with you. Just suck it up.”

“You’re fired,” he snapped, pointing at her sternly as he once more dodged Nami’s attempt to dab him with the sponge.

“You’ve fired me six times since I joined, and I’ll tell you the same thing I always do—get rid of me, and Shachi’s the most qualified person to touch up your tattoos. You want that?”

Law shuddered. “Fine, you’re not fired, but you’re on kitchen duty for a month.”

“Eh, fair enough. Now be a good boy and let Nami tart you up.”

His glare could have melted steel, but he stopped resisting as the navigator carefully covered up the proof of his insomnia. Nami had to admit, she was impressed; Ikkaku hadn’t been kidding when she said she had no fear of the Surgeon of Death. It was also nice to see someone else backtalk him, as most of the time the Heart Pirates seemed to worship the very ground he walked on. It made her feel less like the enemy.

As the dark circles disappeared, she had to admit, she kind of missed them. Even though they could make her tired just by looking at them, they were distinctive and a major part of his normal appearance, and he just looked so different without them. Younger, maybe, and less mysterious.

Normal. Boring. Just…not Law.

Sensing her scrutiny, he raised a dark eyebrow. “Something on my face, Nami-ya? I mean, besides the makeup.”

Suppressing a blush at having been caught, she replied, “Just trying to figure out if you need any highlighter or lipstick. I’ve got a lovely flamingo pink—”

“Try it and Mugiwara-ya will have to find a new navigator,” he snarled, the hard look in his eye and the openness of the threat sending a shiver down the spines of both women.

Not willing to risk her life just to embarrass a man, Nami backed away, hands raised in surrender. Relieved that he wouldn’t be subjected to any more of her powders or creams, Law inspected himself in the mirror, lips twisted in a grimace as he studied the difference it made to his face. Nami couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed at the indignity of it all or the fact that she’d clearly been right, but grey eyes flicked to his messy black hair.

“I guess the hat did clash with my outfit, huh?”

“To say the least.”

Without a word, he grabbed her hairbrush and began combing it back into something a bit neater and more respectable, even as Nami groused, “Don’t use my things without asking.”

“Fine. May I use your brush?” he asked, not even glancing at her as he kept brushing.

“No, you may not,” she snapped petulantly.

“Oh, dear. Whatever shall I do, then?” he chuckled, tossing it back on the vanity, smirking at her grinding teeth. His mood was infinitely improved now that he was back in control, and while Nami appreciated not having to worry about being dismembered, a minute part of her wished he’d go back to sulking. “Best get that anger out now, Nami-ya. Once we’re on the island, it’s all smiles.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Getting out of the chair, he smirked down at her, pleased to once more have the height advantage so he could both figuratively and literally look down on the Straw Hat thief. “No, I’m enjoying this. What I’ll love is watching you try to keep that cute little temper of yours in check while we’re in public.”

“Asshole.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

A small vein throbbed on her temple. “Call me sweetheart again and there won’t be enough makeup on the Grand Line to cover up the bruises I’ll give you.”

“What an abusive girlfriend I have. I hope you at least kiss them better.”

“You wish. And if you’re going to be this much of an absolute prick all night, I’m charging you ten million belli per hour.”

“You want me to pay you to be my date? I wasn’t aware prostitution was part of your repertoire.”

“Congratulations; it’s now fifteen million.”

Ikkaku eagerly watched their back-and-forth like a particularly intense tennis match, grinning the whole time.

She didn’t feel particularly sorry for her captain or her roommate; both knew what they were getting into, provoking the other like that. No, she pitied the poor party guests, who had no idea what kind of unholy terror they were about to face.

Ah, to be a fly on the wall.

XXX

Tokken Island was one of the lushest and most beautiful little islands on the Grand Line, but the majority of the land was owned by Baron Harpin, forcing the port town to desperately cling to a jagged shard of the coastline while his enormous mansion and manicured grounds dominated the rest. Luckily, there were plenty of rocky outcrops and sea caves ideal for hiding the Polar Tang, and after teleporting his crew into position, the well-dressed pair made their way through the town.

“And why couldn’t you have Shambled us there or whatever it is?” Nami groused as she nearly stumbled for the third time. She was an expert at maneuvering in high heels, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the inherent dangers of cobblestone streets, especially ones so torn up.

Law chuckled as she finally accepted his proffered arm for support. The stubborn woman had refused to endure and physical contact with him until absolutely necessary, but it seemed the threat of a broken ankle before they could even get to the mansion had finally won her over. “My abilities take a lot of energy, and I’d rather save it in case we need to make a quick escape. Besides, I don’t want people getting suspicious if we pop up out of nowhere.”

She grumbled under her breath that he was probably doing it just to annoy her, even if, logically, he had a point. Wrapping her arm around his bicep for balance, she was finally able to turn her attention from the uneven road to the state of the town itself. Only about half the lanterns were lit, and what illumination they did give didn’t paint a very pretty picture.

The houses were run-down, roofs thatched haphazardly and some windowpanes packed with paper or rags instead of glass. The shops weren’t much better off, the display windows showing off rough-looking fishing supplies, underripe fruit, and cheap clothing. Only a few people were out, most looking worn-out or underfed, and those that didn’t stare at the pair of well-dressed pirates with envy watched them with hunger.

“If the Baron’s so wealthy, why’s the town in such a sorry state?” she wondered aloud. “I mean, just setting up this gala should have brought plenty of business to the port. Docking fees, restocking supplies, even sailors picking up cheap souvenirs—”

“There’s a private dock on the mansions’ grounds that he uses for deliveries and the like,” Law answered, barely sparing a glance at a skinny woman hoarsely calling out to passersbys, a basket of small trinkets thrust out towards them. “None of his business comes to the town—plus, he owns most of the farmland, so any crops are considered his property. All that’s really left is fishing, and the guy’s notorious for hating seafood, meaning these folks are shit out of luck.”

Biting her lip, Nami looked towards the woman again, freezing as a small child, yellow hair tied in twin pigtails down her shoulders, poked her head out from behind her frayed skirts. The little girl looked marginally less skinny than her mother, and without even thinking, the thief broke away from Law to inspect the woman’s wares. It appeared to be mostly jewelry—nothing particularly fancy but in the warm light of a nearby streetlamp she could tell it had been carefully made with decent materials.

“What are you doing?” Law hissed, looking around to make sure they weren’t drawing too much attention—most of the Baron’s guests wouldn’t lower themselves to pass through the slums like this, but he’d didn’t want to take any chances. That, and he wasn’t entirely sure there weren’t villagers desperate enough to try and mug them. He’d rather avoid a fight this early in the evening, and he didn’t want to get his nice, new suit dirty.

Ignoring him, she picked up a simple gold chain with a pendant made of four gemstones. They were beautifully polished, the marquise-cut purple tourmaline the color of the sky at sunrise. Their arrangement was reminiscent of Polaris, or perhaps the compass on her maps. “This is lovely,” she commented. “Is it locally made, or imported?”

The woman hastily explained, “My husband was once the Baron’s personal jeweler. He made beautiful pieces, but they were too simple for the Baron’s tastes. He wanted to impress lady callers, and demanded gaudier jewelry without providing the proper materials,” she said sourly. “My husband got sacked, and I’ve been trying to sell these off for a while. The necklace is 6000 belli on its own, or you can make me an offer for the set?” she said hopefully, indicating the matching ring and earrings in the worn basket, their delicate star designs winking in the dim light.

Immediately Nami could tell this woman hadn’t had any luck for a long time. The quality of the gems alone showed she was drastically underpricing the pieces. It was doubtful anyone in town could afford luxuries like jewelry, and if the Baron monopolized all the outside business at his own port, she probably never even saw other potential clientele. She was probably only even trying her luck now out of desperation. After all, you can’t eat gold, and with a small child to care for, any amount of belli would do.

“It would look really pretty on you,” the little girl murmured politely, large, purple eyes watching her in wonderment. Nami was certain she was the closest thing to a princess the child had ever seen, dressed in finery and on her way to an exclusive party at the glorious mansion on the hill. A real-life Cinderella, something out of a fairy tale she’d use to comfort herself on cold, hungry nights.

Nami had certainly been in those shoes, long ago, and she’d never been able to turn her back on a child in need. Her eyes were even the same color as the tourmaline in the basket.

Well, damn, she thought with a rueful smile. Poor kid could use a fairy godmother. Or at least a Cat Thief.

Pulling a black leather wallet out of her cleavage, she said, “I’ll take the set. How does 30,000 belli sound?”

Law’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened in recognition, immediately patting his pockets to confirm his suspicions. Coming up empty, he glared bitterly when the saleswoman replied, “Tha-that’d be perfectly fine!”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Law grumbled as Nami pulled out some bills, handing them over with all the care of a woman who was fine spending money that wasn’t hers.

The thief matched his glare, tossing him the wallet. “What kind of boyfriend wouldn’t lavish his lover with jewelry?” she huffed, giving the child staring at her with blatant adoration a conspiratorial wink.

“What kind of girlfriend pickpockets her lover’s wallet?” he countered, checking the contents to make sure he was only out 30,000 belli. Satisfied that the rest of his cash was safely in place, he glanced at the little girl, his scowl faltering as his eyes fell on the awestruck face of the little girl. Quickly, his gaze darted back up to the woman who wronged him, glaring like a basilisk.

Fluttering her eyelashes, Nami replied, “The kind who knows just how generous her lover is,” she quipped before turning back to the jewelry seller to collect her purchase. For a moment, a pair of gold barrettes inlaid with clear stones—possibly diamonds, again in the marquise cut—caught her eye, but she knew better than to swipe Law’s wallet twice in one night. So, reluctantly, she only took her purchase, patting the little girl on the head in farewell. When the kid bobbed a curtsy in response, Nami couldn’t hold back her giggle, returning the gesture.

That kid’s going to have one hell of a story to tell her friends tomorrow, she thought cheerfully, jogging slightly to catch up with Law, who’d been less than the image of a handsome prince by storming off up the road without her.

Joining her date, she rolled her eyes in exasperation at the dark scowl on his face. Even without his hat, his black bangs cast ominous shadows over his eyes. He was walking even faster now, and she had to work to keep up with his long strides. It was petty, petulant revenge against the woman who had dared to get the better of him. “Are you mad that I took your wallet, or that you didn’t even notice?” she taunted lightly.

Even from the corner of his eye, his hawk-like glare made goosebumps rise across her shoulders. “I’m mad because you wasted our time and my money,” he snapped. “I already bought you your dress, mask, and wig. My ‘generosity,’ as you put it, has its limits.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she ground out, refusing to feel guilty for her actions. That little girl’s smile had been well worth the price of Law’s irritation, but she also knew she had to appease his anger if they were going to pull off their grand scheme. When he scoffed, she added reluctantly, “With interest.”

“Why’d you even bother?” he asked, indicating the jewels in her hand.

Pulling him to a stop under one of the streetlights, Nami switched her original earrings out for the bejeweled ones. “It’s for the cover. I’m supposed to be a rich doctor’s arm-candy, and my boring pearls would have looked way too simple, especially with this dress. With these, I’ll blend in better.”

“You could have just stolen them.”

She frowned at him, genuinely offended. “I steal from pirates and rich idiots who can afford it. Did you see that woman? I’d bet all the treasure on the Sunny that any money she got went to feeding her kid. I’m not going to even haggle with someone in that kind of situation.” A soft, sad smile graced her lips. “My mother did that. Claimed she was on a diet when she really couldn’t afford to feed all three of us.”

There was a moment of silence as she turned away from him, hoping to collect herself before she started bawling at the memory of Bellemere’s sacrifices. Silently, she thanked her adopted mother, willing back the stinging sensation of tears forming behind her eyes. Ruining her makeup before they even arrived at the gala would do them no good. Besides, Law would probably have some kind of smart-ass comment about it.

The refusal to let her temporary captain see her so weak, she brushed away her sadness to focus on her new jewelry. Slipping on the ring, she admired how it gleamed under the warm lamplight. It was a tad too big, fitting most comfortably on her middle finger, but she found the style suited her. She might even wear the set on a night out sometime; maybe to celebrate tonight’s success. Assuming the plan didn’t go to shit, that is.

She jumped when he finally responded, “I hate to say it, but that does look good on you.” When she turned her head, she couldn’t fight the sudden blush that spread across her cheeks. Worryingly, she couldn’t tell if it was due to his sudden, intimate proximity or the small, appreciative smile lifting his lips. Such an expression seemed too gentle for the famed Supernova, and yet she found she rather liked the way it softened and relaxed his features. “You’re surprisingly soft-hearted for a pirate, though.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, struggling to maneuver the tiny clasp through her thick wig. Suddenly having so much hair was a real pain, and she wondered how she’d ever manage if she grew her own hair out. Short was more practical, after all, and looked cute on her to boot.

“Here, let me help,” his smooth voice whispered in her ear, and she felt her curls carefully gathered to rest over her shoulder. Nimbly, he took the necklace and fastened it securely around her neck. Tingles ran down her spine as the smooth leather of his black gloves brushed her bare skin, and the whole thing felt strangely intimate. Turning her around, Law studied his date. The pendant rested just above the dip of her bountiful cleavage, sparkling invitingly. “I’m pretty sure it’s still too simple for this crowd, but it works better than the pearls.”

Her reply was cut off by the curls she’d pinned up tumbling into her face, only to be swept back into place, secured by his deft fingers. He cupped her chin, appraising his work before nodding. Suspicious, because Trafalgar Law’s approval was never a good thing in her mind, she reached up to touch her hair, russet eyes widening when she felt gemstones instead of pearls. Head snapping back to look at the mother and daughter, her jaw dropped when she saw the little girl holding a wad of bills, beaming even more brilliantly than before while the saleswoman looked close to tears.

Turning to her partner in crime for the night, Law responded with a nonchalant shrug, though she could see his grey eyes soften as they lingered on the child excitedly waving back at them. “The pearl clips didn’t match the rest, and if we’re going to pull this off, we’d best go all-out. Plus, that cash’ll ensure their silence should they be questioned by the authorities later. I’d rather your kindness not get us identified.”

It was all very logical and well-thought-out and total bullshit. Nami had to smile as she once again took his arm, matching his easy gait as they made their way up towards the mansion. “Right. Because I’m the soft-hearted one.”

“You’re paying me back for those, too, by the way,” he quipped, smirking at her annoyed growl.

Before she could argue, he halted; the brilliant lights of the mansion were in sight, and small groups of well-dressed guests were gathering at the ornate front gate. It was time to stop being Cat Thief Nami and the Surgeon of Death Trafalgar Law, bickering pirates, and become a loving couple. Gently as a forest stream, Nami adjusted her body language, leaning comfortably against her partner, hand clutching his bicep possessively, face switching from a seething scowl to the deliriously happy grin of a woman pathetically enamored with her companion.

For his part, Law seemed to morph into his role just as fluidly, posture straightening into something more refined, his smile relaxed and charming; perfectly playing the part of a man who knew he was smart, good-looking, successful, and could easily use all that to get a woman as beautiful as the one on his arm.

Inside, Nami groused that he had the way easier acting job.

As they made their way up the mansion’s long, winding front path, crushing artfully sprinkled rose petals beneath their feet, Law slipped on a raven mask, the sharp beak curving over his nose and the shiny black feathers fanning out like little spikes over his cheeks and forehead. Nami was grateful she’d covered up his dark circles—the eye holes were definitely wide enough where they would have been distinctly visible.

In contrast, her mask was modeled after a cat, the color and leopard spots mimicking her gown perfectly. It flawlessly concealed the upper half of her face, while the large eyeholes showed off her beautiful eyes and wouldn’t block her sightline too badly.

Approaching the doorman, Law handed over their invitation, smirking when the servant checked it against the guest list before nodding, ushering them both inside. Another servant led them down an extravagantly decorated front hallway. The doctor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the Baron was an art collector with expensive tastes; masterpieces in gold frames hung along the walls, marble statues and painted porcelain vases were displayed on opulent pedestals, and even the crimson rug beneath their feet was luxuriously soft.

Nami had to briefly bury her head against Law’s shoulder to hide the belli signs that sparkled in her eyes.

Eventually, they reached the ballroom, and as they waited to be announced, Law affectionately brushed his lips across her hair. “Ready for some fun?” he murmured, his tone affectionate but the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips screamed of devilish intentions.

She mirrored his smile and tone, eager to line her pockets and relish in luxury for a while before the real job began. “Absolutely.”

As the ballroom doors opened, the servant next to them announced them to their fellow guests.

“Presenting Dr. Goodheart Adrian and his escort, Ms. Chaton Bellemere!”

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Dreams

dont know if youre taking prompts but if it appeals to you at all could you incorporate kara comforting lena after nightmares of her childhood with lilian and lex? i need some protective caring kara and an exploration of lena's psyche is always fascinating

It was the eighteenth time.

In two months.

That was almost four times per week, though it wasn’t the completely right number. There were sometimes that it was six nights in a row and then not again for ten. It was every other day sometimes, and then none for a week. It was irregular and it was scheduled and consistent, and it was perfect.

But the eighteenth time was different.

Nothing really changed. Not in the newly developing routine that seemed to flow naturally.

Still, Lena came over to Kara’s apartment after a business dinner. Still, she brought Kara the leftovers and dessert. And she earned a kiss  that tasted like tiramisu. Somewhere between telling about her day and making out against the wall in the bathroom with a bit of toothpaste in the corner of her mouth, the thunder cracked. Lena complained about a headache and being exhausted. That didn’t stop her from kissing her girlfriend’s neck.

Not one part of the night was terribly different than any other when one slept over. Somehow, as always, Lena ended up in one of Kara’s discarded DEO shirts and old pj pants that were much too long for her legs. She complained about it half-heartedly almost every morning, claiming them to be tripping hazards and a real problem when it came to dating the hero.

And Lena, in her oversized pants and shirt, as always, found herself hiding in Kara’s shoulder and neck as she finally allowed herself a satisfied, peaceful nights’ sleep. And Kara, in her old tank top and underwear, hid in Lena’s hair and fell asleep just as quickly.

It was textbook.

But deep into the night, well into her deepest sleep, Kara felt a tugging at her shirt and a jostling beside her. Immediately, she woke, tensing every muscle and using every extra sense she could to figure out if something was happening. But amidst the quiet and predictable noises of the night, the sloshing of tires outside in a stagnant puddle, the flickering of the streetlight a block down, the startled skatter of a stray cat-- nothing was out of place.

And then Lena shifted again, tossing and turning but holding onto Kara’s shirt so tightly that it made her nervous.

“Please…” the sleeping girl half sobbed.

“Hey, Lena, hey,” Kara whispered, pushing away the hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Honey, wake up.”

Gentle as she could, Kara rubbed Lena’s back, talking her down from something she couldn’t understand. It seemed to work, until Lena shot up in bed, her hand moving to her own chest now, finally relinquishing Kara’s shirt. With a gasp, tried to catch her breath which seemed to sound like she’d just run a marathon.

“Hey, you okay, Lee?” Kara cooed.

“What? Yeah, of course. I’m sorry. I just.”

“You were having a nightmare.”

“No, no, I was just. It’s fine. Go back to sleep. I’m going to go grab some water.”

Before she could do anything, Lena was out of the bed, and Kara was left listening to the soft muffle of her pants dragging along the hallway toward the kitchen.

The clock blinked that it was just after four in the morning when the light in the kitchen clicked on and crept its way down toward the bedroom door. Kara listened to the sound of water running and Lena drinking. She gave her a few minutes to compose herself before following down the hall, squinting against the imposition into the dark.

“Want to talk about it?” Kara ventured.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine. I’m just a little worried.”

“Don’t be worried,” Lena smiled, composing herself in a short amount of time. A talent that she prided herself on, and that Kara hated.

“You can talk to me, you know?”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Do you… want to go back to bed?” Kara offered, still unsatisfied with the answer.

“I think I’m going to check on emails and get started with the day,” the CEO decided. “But you should go back to sleep.”

Lena put the glass in the sink and tried not to look at Kara because she knew that Kara would be watching her, and that was too much for her still sleepy but wide-awake brain. She knew that those blue eyes would be sympathetic and warm and want to make her go to sleep, and so she avoided them at all costs.

But the fidgeting didn’t make Kara moved. Instead she stood there and eyed the girl in her kitchen and tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Lena Luthor was a minefield. It wasn’t that there were many mines, just that the few mines that existed, deep in the ground, were sensitive and extremely large.

“I should actually get started on some emails and rewriting that draft I owe Snapper,” Kara decided. “And I’m kind of hungry.”

“You should sleep.”

“Or,” Kara smiled, finally approaching, slow and steady, as one would approach a scared, bristling panther. “We could do some work, get ready, and have breakfast together.”

Despite herself, Lena melted into Kara’s hands as they ran along her arm.

“You can go back to bed. I’m fine.”

“I’m not fine. I’m starving.”

Right on cue, a stomach rumbled and Lena sighed, her nervous fingers working through their anxiety by playing with the her girlfriend’s stretched top.

“We should feed you then.”

With a smile, Kara accepted the hug that came after the words, contradicting their intention and instead rooting them in the kitchen. She felt Lena dig her nose into her shoulder and then her chest and close her eyes, and all Kara could do was wrap her arms around her shoulders and hold them there for just a moment.

It was a front.

On stage, in all of the interviews, before the crowds and employees, Lena Luthor stood tall and shrugged off the attempt on her life with a noble, endearing kind of strength that pervaded the thoughts and minds of those who weren’t so sure about her. She was the picture of resilience and she was the antithesis to her name.

To Kara, she kept the same kind of unfaltering façade. It wasn’t as vigorously maintained as it was in front of the entire world, but still, when just the two of them made it back to her penthouse, she spent more time reassuring Kara that she was alright than she did believing it, but it didn’t matter.

“Hey, put that ice back on your face,” Kara ordered as she made her way back into the bedroom. “I want a non-black and blue girlfriend as soon as possible.”

“I’m going to freeze my eyeball if I keep it on any longer,” Lena whined, letting her head droop back.

“You’re a literal genius. You know how ice and bruises work. Let me see.”

Tenderly, Kara hovered over Lena’s side of the bed and furrowed as she surveyed the damage caused by the attempted abduction and gun that’d been pointed at her girlfriend’s head not long enough ago for her heart to beat normally. Light fingertips moved along the bone of her cheek and the swelling near her eyebrow before the ice pack was gingerly placed back in its rightful place.

“How do I look, Doc?”

“Like you crawled into the ring with Joe Frazier and forgot how to float like a butterfly.”

“You should see the other guy.”

The bed went back to normal as Kara got up and continued moving around the bedroom. With one eye, Lena watched the tenseness in her girlfriend’s shoulders. She saw the antsy nerves that wouldn’t let her sit still. Instead, Kara plugged in their phones, and powered them down. She went out and double checked the locks on the doors despite being bulletproof. She turned off the lights and finally joined the bed.

“Did you want a pill?” Kara asked, almost ready to hop out of bed again. “Alex gave me some. To help you sleep.”

“Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. I know I’m not fine. I lasered a guys hand off that had a gun pointed at your head. If I could take a pill to sleep this all away, I sure would.”

The honesty in the words hung there in the quiet room, and Lena didn’t know how to fix that, so she put her ice pack on the nightstand and turned out her light before making her way back toward her girlfriend in the middle.

“I’m fine. You’re fine. Tomorrow we’ll start over, okay?” Lena whispered, kissing Kara’s jaw and cheek and finally her lips.

There wasn’t anymore energy left in her to do much more, but Lena wrapped her arms around her hero’s ribs and smelled the shower still on her skin. A warm hand slid under her shirt and rubbed the sore muscles of her ribs and back.

“I love you so much,” Kara whispered into the crown of Lena’s head. The words were full of more conviction than normal, as if they were a threat to the universe to try to do anything to mess it up. The fierceness was warm and slumbered in bed with them.

With a small grunt, Lena adjusted and slipped her leg over her girlfriend’s thigh.

“I know. Me too.”

“You sure you don’t want a pill?”

“Shh. I’m trying to sleep here.”

Her pillow snorted at the order and for the first time in a while, Lena felt that happiness sneak back into her bones. Nothing stopped Kara from rubbing her back, even after she fell asleep. Kara felt Lena relax and eventually slip off beside her, and refused to let herself sleep for a little while.

Inevitably, the combination of Lena’s soft breathing and the warmth of her body pressed against her side, the hero felt the heaviness of her eyelids. It wasn’t until she felt the jolt beside her that Kara realized she’d drifted off to sleep.

Tears stained her shirt, bled through to her skin, and she felt the moisture there as the body in her arms was wracked with sobs.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Kara murmured, close to Lena’s forehead. She rubbed her hand along her back again.

Nothing really did anything. Lena’s arms circled tighter around her ribs as her face dug into her shoulder and cried against it.

“Lena, wake up, love.”

Nothing.

“Baby, come on. It’s okay. Please, it’s just a dream. You’re safe,” she promised, moving a little more forcefully to wake up the nightmare-suffering girl.

With a final cry, Lena woke herself and shook her head, quickly opening her mouth to breathe as her nose was currently sniffling and running.

“Oh, Kara,” Lena shook her head and clung again, hiding there. “I thought you were dead. I dreamt it. Don’t die. Don’t die for me.”

“Hey, hey, hey, no one is dying. How many times do I have to keep telling everyone this?”

“Please don’t die,” she continued to mutter, her lungs fluttering frantically as the emotions overpowered her restraint. “I saw it. I watched it happen and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t and I saw you and oh, please don’t die.”

“I won’t. I won’t,” Kara promised. “Take a deep breath. It was just a silly dream. We’re safe.”

“But I saw you! I saw it and I couldn’t--”

Despite her soreness and the pain in her body, Lena sat up slightly and kissed Kara’s cheek. She cupped her neck and felt her everywhere she could before resting her forehead against her temple.

The hiccups of crying began to finally supside as Lena refused to let go. To her credit, Kara held back just as hard.

“It was just a dream,” Kara promised again.

“I know.”

“The universe isn’t done with us yet, Lena Luthor.” Lena scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t worry about dying. I’ll always save you. And you’ll save me. But I swear, fate doesn’t take away something like this. I have faith in it.”

“So many things want us dead.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t gotten enough of you, and it’s that simple. I refuse to die until I’ve had my fill of being near you, and I don’t see that happening ever.”

“So you’re immortal now?”

“I’m sure I’ll get sick of you in about eighty thousand years.”

“That soon?” Lena smiled, hear heartbeat returning to normal and her eyes growing even more sore from the outburst.

“Yeah well,” Kara shrugged, rolling towards he, careful to tuck her girlfriend’s wounded body under her chin. “You’re a lot of work, Luthor.”

“I’m so sorry. I thought you were dead. I hated it.”

“I know,” she nodded, kissing Lena’s face again. “Do you want a pill?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she promised, a yawn coming, right on schedule.

“Okay. Let’s sleep then. No more nightmares.”

“Okay,” Lena nodded.

In some small way, Kara expected it. She skated around the issues as long as she could, coming home early and picking up Lena’s favorite dinner, lighting the candles, pouring the whiskey instead of the wine. Little ways to help her wife relax.

On the day that Lionel Luthor was found dead, Lena didn’t know what to feel, except that she had to feel something, and so when she arrived at home, she appreciated the dinner and the candles and the whiskey that was, in fact, not her first of the day, but rather her fourth. And Lena kissed Kara in that way that said to do anything other than talk about the elephant in the room.

Kara let her wife dig her nails into her shoulders. She let her cling to her so tightly she couldn’t move. She let Lena ache and clutch and not think but need to just feel Kara near her, on her, in her, everywhere. There was a bit of salvation in it, at least for a moment.

Sore and bruised and unable to think of anything else, Lena found herself sweating in the soft sheets and in dire need of another drink and a cigarette. She wanted to hurt herself, and that was how she could do it the easiest without raising any suspicions from her wife. Kara would let her hurt herself in small measures. Tiny, little ways like a cigarette and grabbing her thighs too tightly to leave bruises that would sour and grow painful the following day, and that Lena would push and tease all morning just to feel that dull anger beneath her skin, deep in her muscles.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Kara whispered, running her fingertips along the dip in her wife’s stomach, the little divot that formed between her ribs, just below her sternum.

“I know,” Lena nodded, running her nervous fingers through Kara’s matted hair.

The night was quiet and neither moved. Lena closed her eyes and fell asleep with Kara draped across her hips, anchoring there. She fell asleep with an ache in her bones and heart. She fell asleep despite her own aversion to it.

It wasn’t a surprise that she woke up with the fleeting visions of her father and this agonizing burning in her chest. Or that she couldn’t seem to forget the day that she scraped her knee on her fifth birthday when he taught her how to ride a big kid bike, and he cleaned her wound on the kitchen counter, kissing her knee sweetly when she was patched up. Or that before she woke, she dreamt of the day that he pointed a gun at her and tried to have her killed for where she was taking the company.

The sweat cooled and clung to her body, drying and chilling her to the bone. Tears streamed down her face, dribbling quietly into her hair toward her ears. Slowly, she removed her hand from where it was rooted in her wife’s hair to press it against her chest because she was afraid her heart was ready to hammer right through its cage.

For a few minutes, Lena caught her breath and tried to remain as quiet as possible. She almost thought herself successful in not waking up the slumbering hero on her hip, but there was this nagging feeling of never being able to sneak anything past Kara.

“A nightmare?” Kara whispered, lifting her head and wiping her cheek from the the drool that formed as she slept.

“Yeah,” Lena rasped.

“I’m right here.”

“I know.”

A sleepy Kara lumbered toward her wife and slid beside her in the bed, stretching some of the soreness from her bones from the awkward sleeping position.

“One day,” Kara murmured, kissing Lena’s neck and jaw. “I’m going to give you so many good memories, you won’t have room for any of these bad ones. Then you won’t have bad dreams.”

Despite her fear and her worry and her sadness, Lena smiled in the darkness and rolled to her side, deciding to hide in Kara’s neck this time. She’d sleep well if she felt her, if she could smell her.

“You’re my favorite.”

“I’m serious. Your brain won’t have enough room for the bad memories. I’m going to take all of them away and replace them.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Kara grinned, her fingertips dragging along her wife’s back.

[scarheaded-ferret]

Drarry Highschool/Summer Au

Pt. 2 is here

So basically this is an American high school summer au where Harry and Draco are childhood friends with some added wolfstar dads lmao. This has legit no plot, it’s just some highschool meme dorks in luv

I’m still in school for three more days and all I want to do is go down to the shore. Enjoy some uhh meme boys?? (I added a link for the one vine reference

Draco and Harry are in Junior year rn

***

Harry groaned and buried his head in his arms on top of the desk. Why Mrs.Widlow wanted to continue to give them work on the last day of school was beyond him. He began to zone out and fall asleep as she droned on about biological ethics. Just as he neared falling into a deep sleep, someone began to poke at his right elbow insistently.

Harry huffed and turned his head to face Draco, who was glaring down at him.

“C’mon Potter, we need to answer these questions,” Draco shoved Harry’s arms out of the way so he could put the paper in between them.

“It’s the last day of school Draco, the last day!” Harry cried as he settled back down, this time with his head on his left arm instead of both. Draco flicked Harry’s forehead and chuckled lightly at his grimace.

Harry groaned and, with his head still rested on his left arm, picked up a pencil with his right. They went through the questions, which varied from Would you use hair from your dead pet to make a clone and have a second Rover, or let dead dogs stay dead? To- If you could pick which genes to give your child, would you make them perfect or let them be born naturally?

The bell rang and Harry scrambled to pack up his things. He caught Draco laughing at his hasteness and shoved him lightly as they made their way out of the classroom. He and Draco parted ways at the ramp on the 200 hallway, like they always did, as Draco had Algebra 2 and Harry had Spanish for 8th period.

Harry managed to get past the intersection of moving students and made it through the long hallway that lead to the 300’s. He huffed out a breath as he entered his Spanish classroom, it was always hotter in the 300 hallway and Senora Vernandes’ classroom was no exception.

After 40 grueling minutes Harry finally finished his classes for the day and met Draco in the front so they could take their bus home. They grabbed a seat towards the front, setting their bags down on their laps. Draco always sat on the window seat, and once the bus jostled into motion, Harry let his head fall on his best friend’s shoulder.

***

“Fucking finally!” Harry shouted as they stepped off their bus for the last time that year. He grinned at Draco who rolled his eyes in turn. They made their way up the cobbled hill to Remus and Sirius’ house. They had custody of Harry ever since his parent’s death, and took in Draco after Lucius kicked him out for being gay in freshman year.

Harry unlocked the door with his key and the pair made their way inside. Draco walked over to the couch and curled up at the end of it. He placed his head in his palm as he watched Harry call for Padfoot and Moony. Harry laughed as Padfoot all but tackled him, and he ran his hands through the dog’s soft fur. Moony soon followed, and pawed at Harry’s leg. Harry scratched the cat behind it’s ears, causing Moony to purr.

It was then that his Uncle Remus walked in, and he sat down on the armchair opposite to Draco’s couch.

“When are you two leaving?” Remus asked. Harry looked up from Moony and gaped at him dramatically.

“We barely got home, Remus, you don’t wanna spend time with your godson before he leaves for the whole summer?” Harry said. Remus smirked.

“I’ve spent almost every hour of your 17 years of life with you, I can go two months without,” Remus said, grinning as Harry grabbed the nearest throw pillow and chucked it at him.

“We’re leaving tonight at 6,” Draco told him. Moony then jumped up on the couch and curled into Draco’s lap. Draco idly petted the cat’s back as he watched Harry play with Padfoot.

“If you two fuck up my car I’ll fuck you up,” Remus warned. Harry snorted, causing Draco to chuckle.

“There’s the man I know and love,” Sirius said as he entered the room, he moved to sit on the arm of his husband’s chair. “Aren’t you two supposed to be at the house by now?” He murmured from where he had let his head rest on top of Remus’.

“Draco if I didn’t know better I’d say they wanted us to leave,” Harry gasped, mocking disbelief.

“Observant as always, Potter,” Draco replied flatly.

***

“What kind of Ramen should we get?” Draco held up the two packages of flavored Ramen for Harry to see. Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the convenience store, scrolling through his phone as Draco looked through the shelves for food to pick up for their trip. It was a two hour drive down to the shore, and there was little food stocked at the summer house.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy,” he replied. Harry looked up at Draco and grinned, quickly snapping a photo of him. He had a pair of sunglasses atop his head and was clad in a soft-looking t-shirt and black jeans. Harry himself was in an oversized Aerosmith shirt and sweatpants. Draco sighed, and continued to hold them up for Harry to pick.

“I’m not even going to try to understand what that means,”

“It’s from that one video, you know- where the news anchor asks the kid and…” Harry trailed off when he realized Draco wasn’t listening and had started to put packages of chicken flavored ramen in their grocery cart. “Ugh, you never understand my references,” Harry groaned and let his head fall back against the shelves he was sitting against.

“Vine died last year Harry, let it go,” Draco said, but he was smiling softly.

“Never!” Harry laughed, he then held up the phone and began to record. “Look at this walking meme- Draco, show the people the stance!” Harry cried and Draco laughed. Draco slouched slightly, put his sunglasses over his eyes and did a peace sign.

“Boy” Draco said, enunciating the “y”, and soon Harry was overcome with fits of laughter. He saved the video and stowed his phone in his back pocket. He then stood and helped Draco stock their cart with food. After a five minute fight over adding another bag of Doritos, they bought the groceries and walked back to their car.

With all of their food, plus a copy of Homeward Bound on DVD, stowed in the trunk of Remus’ 2005 Honda Pilot, the two continued the drive down to the shore.

***

“Harry where did I put my headphones?” Draco asked, rifling around the bag in his lap from where he sat in the passenger seat.

“Uhh… glove compartment!” Harry shouted upon his realization. Draco set his bag down on the floor of the car and opened the small compartment. “You find it?” Harry asked. He turned and realized that Draco’s face had flushed a bright red stark against his pale face, Draco was stuttering and he quickly shut the glove compartment.

“Er… Draco?” Harry asked hesitantly, he pulled the car to the side of the road and parked it.

Draco stuttered again and made a sound that sounded like a half-laugh and a half-sob. Harry opened and reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the first thing his hand came in contact with. He held up the object and all but screeched. The condom had a ribbon tied around it with a note that read:

I’m sick of watching you two eye-fucking. Harry - Draco likes you, and Draco - Harry feels the same, so just fucking do it all ready Remus is being harsh but be safe!! We love and support you both :) - Love, Sirius and Remus.

Harry didn’t think he had ever blushed that hard in his entire life until that moment. Despite the humiliatingly awkward situation, Draco surprisingly burst out laughing. Harry’s mouth quirked up as he watched Draco’s eyes crinkle up slightly in a way they almost rarely did. Draco snorted and soon Harry was overcome with laughter too. The seemingly ridiculous situation was too much to bear.

Their laughter eventually died down and Harry held it up, eyeing the condom speculatively. He then turned to Draco and gave him a shit-eating grin.

“You like me! And Remus is never wrong, I learned that the hard way- aww Draco, you like-” Harry couldn’t finish the sentence as he was shoved harshly by Draco.

“Just for the record, you like me too, Potter,”

“Potter now is it? To think I was gonna ask you to be my boyfriend. God, Draco how you wound me” Harry pouted and Draco glared at him for a moment, before abruptly leaning in and kissing him briefly. Harry stuttered and collapsed back into the seat.

“J-j- you- oh my god,” Harry’s mouth was agape and he was blushing as violently as before as he stared in shock at Draco. Draco was smirking, but he was blushing as well.

“Did I just break you?”

Harry made a strange gurgling noise in response. He worked his lip between his teeth before turning and facing Draco again. He studied Draco for a moment, and Draco gave him a worried look. Without warning Harry reached up and grabbed the back of Draco’s neck before pulling him close and kissing him. The kiss was longer than the first, and more heartfelt. Harry pulled back slightly after several moments and smiled softly at Draco, who smiled in return. Draco lifted and arm and wrapped it around Harry’s shoulder, resting his forehead on Harry’s.

“Never thought we would get together like this,” Harry murmured.

“So you knew that this would happen inevitably, then?” Draco asked, smirking slightly.

“Yup,” Harry whispered, kissing Draco on the nose.

***

Might do a pt. 2 but idk, I gotta return my school laptop tm so it’ll be harder to write (ps but sorry for lack of content!!)

[kaitkerrigan]

HOW TO RETURN HOME - The Millennial Problem

I really pushed myself into a corner this weekend when I promised a teacher that I’d write about “How to Return Home”. Most of you don’t know the history of this song, which is a pandora’s box. 

I’ve long been planning to write a post about THE FRESHMAN EXPERIMENT. At the time of conception, this is how we defined it: 

living musical ['liv[ng] 'myü-zi-k&l]

a musical based on the lives of living people

a musical existing in real time

a musical created on the internet by the award-winning writing team Kerrigan and Lowdermilk based on the lives of two young bloggers as they share the story of their freshman years of college 

I’ll leave it at that for now and come back to this in depth in another post. 

ChristineCoke, the handle of one of the freshman writers, was an incredible voice. She wrote these earnest and beautiful posts that flowed into some of my favorite songs that we’ve ever written:  Last Week’s Alcohol My Heart Is Split (and you guessed it) How to Return Home. 

It’s funny how memory works. I had created a fiction about exactly what we got from ChristineCoke when she first wrote about going back to her home for Thanksgiving break, but I just went back to our website archive and found this (and everything else you’re about to dig into): 

I pulled my luggage into a house that is exactly how I’d left it - dirty and empty with a silence that gently hummed in my ears. There was no one to greet me so I ran up the stairs calling out the names of my siblings and mothers. More silence and peeling wallpaper.

And this is how I wanted to return home. My barefeet sliding along the wood floors as my cat criss crosses her way through my legs. To sit on my bed and wrap myself up in the thin blanket that could barely warm me during the winter months. Slowly, I came back into a place that I hadn’t truly thought about until I was five minutes away.

Eventually my brothers and sisters came filtering in and our home had a pulse again. Then Mamajay came and I ran to her before she had time to open the door.

I had a three minute fight with my brother today. It feels great to be here.

A couple weeks after this first post, Brian posted this - with audio that I can’t find: 

hey it’s brian. so i wrote this thing while i was home for thanksgiving and didn’t have a chance to post it until now. i played it for kait at some point and she was pretty underwhemed - possibly for good reason. the lyrics aren’t great, and they depart a lot from what CC was talking about. but this is emotionally what spoke to me, and i think the music might be interesting. (sidebar: lots of time kait and i start out with a song that i write music and lyrics to and then she swoops in and redoes the lyric) So these may be dummy lyric, and i may also just start from scratch musically on something else. Particularly because while I was home for t-giving my sister and i listened to a lot of dashboard confessional. so in addition to a) being a song fragment and b) not very good, this is also potentially c) a little too much like a dashboard song. wow. yea. but i definitely think there’s something to be done w/ the phrase “How To Return Home.” And this is certainly something…

“I’m pulling my luggage into a house that is dirty and empty A house that is just how I’d left it Dirty and empty and silent. A silence that’s gently humming in my ears. And I’m waiting for you to come rush down the stairs. I’m calling, I’m waiting, I’m watching the driveway. Hoping that something is still the same. I’m calling, I’m calling your name.

I guess I’m learning How long I’ve been gone I guess I’d forgotten I miss these walls Now I’m relearning everything All about silence And how to return home”

Brian says I was underwhelmed but it was a long time ago, so I don’t actually remember. Isn’t it weird to imagine the songs that never were? I bet that my response was more to the music than to the lyric. As he said, I often would change the lyrics anyway. I do remember both of us really struggling over how to use the hook. How do you put “how to return home” into a sentence. It sounds like a recipe title, not a song hook. I remember really arguing over how it could function in the song. 

Anyway, the next significant step was Brian again and this wasn’t until February (so I bet we had some off-line conversations): 

Okay, so here’s a new version of How To Return Home I’m trying, music first. There’s a PDF and a terrible scratch vocal of me singing. Not sure how much this will mean to anyone, but hopefully Kait will write some lyrics - and then the whole thing will mean a bit more!Happy February everybody…

He posted music that is EXACTLY the music that makes up the verse and chorus of the song now. That is magic to me. It’s one thing to piece together the perfect words, but to somehow knit together the language of a melody into something iconic and memorable - and in one go? How do you do that??? 

Then the writing started to pick up speed. A week later also in February I posted this: 

Here are the lyrics to at least the first draft of the beginning of “How to Return Home”:

Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards, Home at last and silent but still you’re shaken, like walking into a museum, somehow out of time. It’s all the same except the girl in the hallway, Where she’s been and who she will ripen into, Your childhood’s on the other side of a gulf to damn wide to climb.

Take silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. It’s the only way you’ll get through this holiday. Count the hours. Pick some flowers. Make a nice bouquet.

Clearly, the dumby lyrics come at the end, but I’m still not sure about the entire chorus. I’m kind of thinking that it probably changes based on whatever happens at the end of the chorus. Plus, it has to work throughout the song, right Bri? This probably doesn’t change each time since it’s such a pop chorus. Perhaps 2 lines change - the “it’s the only way to get through…” which I would assume will change too. And I’m pretty sold that we want something more like “get through this day” with the three notes on day.

Anyway, this is where the song is at currently. Updates to arrive throughout the weekend. I think I’ll have the whole thing done by Sunday or Monday at the latest.

You guys, this is where you get to see our baby pictures - or my baby pictures. I vlogged this lyric in 2008, so quite literally ten years ago. Kudos for me for not giving a good goddamn about my hair or anything. This was before the days of vloggers really. We were early adopters to be sure and so I had little awareness of the idea that looking presentable might be, er, helpful to our cause. 

Oh my god, did you watch it? Those pre-mac days were rough, let me tell you.  We definitely hadn’t figured out how to use the hook yet. A week or two off-line, where we inevitably went back and forth on that hook (and the occasional pop-misaccent of “how to REturn home” which gave me agitas). But here comes another draft on March 1st in a post called “HOW TO REVISE”: 

I feel pretty good about this one. I’m not going to sing it for you today - unless I miraculously learn how to play the guitar (doubtful). My changed lines are in italics.

Before you read on, I feel like I need to say something about perfect rhymes. I’ve been thinking about them a lot because this song both begs for them and also eschews them if they aren’t precisely what you mean. So I’ve definitely struck a bit of a deal with them - borrowing from pop, country, folk, and musical theater to figure out what to do where. But as I thought about these things and did my research, I’ve come to the conclusion that perfect rhymes are having a resurgence. Surprising, I know. Nothing ever seemed more lame or unlikely until lyrics became virtually unmemorizable and rap reclaimed rhyme’s significance. In addition to the rappers (too many to mention but Eminem and Blackalicious still being among some of my favorites for clever - without sacrificing meaning for the sake of - rhyme), the popularity of Fiona Apple, Regina Spektor, and new to my itunes line up Vampire Weekend (thanks Rachel Lowdermilk!) all mark a significant upswing in real rhyming’s trendiness. Of course, none of these writers act like hall monitors on the subject. We musical theater writers still have that all to ourselves - remarkably we act like narcs about it whether pro or con.

Now, back to the previously scheduled reveal of new lyrics! I think this is really fun to sing Brian’s melody. We will, of course, test drive sometime this week.

How to Return Home

Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards, Home just as you left it but still you’re shaken, like walking into a museum somehow out of time. It’s all the same except the girl in the hallway, Where she’s been and who she will ripen into, Your childhood’s on the other side of a sprawling divide… too wide.

Take silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs.  It’s the only way you’ll get through today. Count the hours. Take a shower. Wash yourself away.

The house is pulsing with an alien heartbeat, Was it always here but you never listened? It’s calling you to be the girl that you were way back then… again.

Take a silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs. Put away your clothes, take it nice and slow.

Be their daughter. Nothing’s harder when nobody knows

How to return home, and how to survive, There’s no written guidelines. How to go back, How to show up and unpack. How to show up.

How to grow up. How to take a breath. Take a silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs. You still share a name

But you’re not the same. You don’t fight now. You don’t hide now. It’s a whole new way of how to return home.* How to return home. How to return home.

Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards, home just as you left it but still you’re shaken.

*I originally had “It’s a whole new game. How to return home.” Which I’m pretty sure I don’t like but sometimes I get something right and then go straight past it. This adds a pick up before the “how” but I think the meaning is much better and it’s a little less played out / more unexpected and leads to a better conclusion for the song.  The only other thing that I tried and rejected is replacing “Take a shower. Wash yourself away.” with “Only hours. Teach yourself to pray.”

Thoughts?

It’s nice and rare when you get a resounding yes to the thing you made. How sweet to have that back and forth captured in the comments: 

BRIAN: wow that’s gorgeous. i’ll write more, and probably sing it back to everyone either later tonight or tomorrow morning. amazing work, kait. KAIT: Maybe tomorrow after the cap thing? I’ll bring my camera. Maybe they’ll let us steal a piano for a bit? BRIAN: since we had plans for natalie weiss to make a recording for us anyway, want to ask her to do this? later this week? and yes, let���s record tomorrow. this thing f-ing rocks. KAIT: Maybe. Let’s mull it over as we sing through it today.

Oh, Brian and Kait, you so-n-sos. Always so on brand. Kait ever cautiously low-key, Brian so deeply enthusiastic and raring to go. 

Do you care about any of this? All of this is about how a song got written, not about how it landed itself as a center piece of THE BAD YEARS. What is THE BAD YEARS? A song cycle? An immersive house party? Both? What does that have to do with the alien heartbeat of this house and ChristineCoke? 

Everything. “How To Return Home” found its way into a song cycle we made called TALES FROM THE BAD YEARS, which was the brainchild of a conversation that we had with a licensing company that wanted us to make something commercial that could go directly to licensing. Would that not have been lovely? It didn’t pan out. But the idea that we hit - to write a show about the people around us - the generation of millennials who would never fulfill their parents’ American Dream, did pan out and evolve. 

“How To Return Home” was always one of the songs that felt like a linchpin to these songs and as we built it out, it became something that parents of millennials would hear and grab us by the arm and say “Thank you for telling me what my daughter is going through. She just moved back in after college.” We realized that in writing something a bit broader than just about coming home for Thanksgiving break, we were writing about the larger lack of employment after college, the depression of a generation who didn’t have the opportunities that they assumed they’d have. We leaned into this. 

When we had the opportunity to take TALES FROM THE BAD YEARS and turn it into an immersive house party, this song was both beguiling and bewildering. It does not take place at a house party. But the sensation of being at your family’s home in the center of a party can be beautifully transfixing. The song became a centerpiece for Rachel’s arc. 

Rachel was an optimistic and ambitious millennial who’s surprised to discover that the world wasn’t waiting for her. She is one of the youngest at the party and she is just beginning to realize that she’s going to have to claw her way into the world rather than have it handed to her. In more recent drafts, the house has actually become more and more of a character. The history of the house is also oppressive. This is a place where some bad things happened and it’s going to be destroyed. But right now, Rachel is facing her own nostalgia smashed up against the glass of her reality. 

Ultimately, “How to Return Home” is about the simple sensation of walking into a house after having grown up there and feeling like the whole place is smaller, different. The fun house affect of your reality having outgrown your childhood cocoon. I moved around a lot. I haven’t been back to a single place that I grew up except my grandmother’s house. Every time I walk in, I’m struck by how low the ceilings are, how small the kitchen is, how narrow that backyard that contained my fantasies is. Once upon a time, my whole world could fit inside that kitchen. I remember a graduation party (something that I also can barely believe ever happened  - my grandmother entertaining) and sliding past adults through the back door to get to the refrigerator. But even as I say that, my memory is wavering. She remodeled her kitchen a few years ago and moved the back stairs and I have to consciously conjure that old set up. My memory has transformed to adjust to her new layout. I remember a couch that was long and s shaped in her music room. The room is so small. Where exactly did it go? Memory is so slippery but the visceral feelings you have when you return to a site of your childhood - especially the dark looming ones - is not. It’s immediate and pulsing and both familiar and alien at once. 

The question of how to return home is really a question of how to hold onto your slippery sense of self when you’re just discovering who you are and I think the answer (or at least the answer that we landed on in this song) is mindfulness - mindfully telling yourself to breath, to hold in the things you know to be true about yourself in spite of all of the old neural pathways that are lighting up with triggers. 

[captainswanouat]

fish out of water;

A/N: merry christmas @cocohook38​! decided to also write you a little fic as well for your present! found this list of mermaid AUs and the second to the last one jumped out at me and i just HAD TO WRITE THE THING. like i said on the manip, i’m super glad you share my love for mermaid!CS/mermaid AUs :) you’ve been so fun to santa for, and i hope you had an absolutely wonderful day today!

SUMMARY: Killian Jones truly just wanted to live a normal life. Go to class, come home, finish his education, and hide the fact that he is, in fact, a merman. He was into his final year of school and so far, nobody had caught on to his charade; but all good things must come to an end sometime and truly, it was his own fault it happened.

Based on the prompt: “I know it's late and I don't know you but I hear you can talk to fish and I'm worried my goldfish is depressed”

on AO3

Killian Jones truly just wanted to live a normal life.

Go to class, come home, finish his education, and hide the fact that he is, in fact, a merman.

It was a simple request which was granted by the God's of the sea, allowing him to walk among the human race (with the help of the enchanted bracelet around his wrist). There was a simple catch, however; if his feet touched the ocean, then it was back to growing a tail and waiting until the effects of the water wore off.

He was into his final year of school and so far, nobody had caught on to his charade.

But all good things must come to an end sometime and truly, it was his own fault it happened.

He had chosen a small school just off the coast and only hundreds of yards from the beach. While he had to stay away for his own sake, he couldn't stomach the idea of isolating himself from the ocean for the majority of a year. So this school was the perfect combination of a a good education while being close enough to home. Dorm living had served him well in his first two semesters, but when the lack of space began to drive him stir crazy, into an apartment he went. After an entire life of living in the ocean, the cramped dorm living just wasn’t going to cut it.

The apartment complex he inevitably chose had immediately piqued his interest due to the large fish tank that sat in the middle of the lobby- it was like a little home away from home that he could enjoy when he was missing the water more than usual. Every now and then he found himself drawn downstairs, towards the tank, before finding a seat and quietly speaking to the fish. He kept quiet so nobody would hear him, cause the last thing he needed was his entire complex thinking he was a crazy person- even if they wouldn't realize he was actually conversing with the fish.

And it was one day in the middle of his last semester that he realized he was not nearly as subtle as he had thought.

It was late. He wasn’t even sure how late it was, but it was late enough that he was unfortunately aware of how dreadful his 9am class was sounding. With a steaming hot cup of tea in his hands he made his way towards his room, when a knock to his door nearly sent the mug sailing towards the ground. Correcting himself, he glanced towards his front door with a scowl on his face. He had friends in his classes, but he never allowed anyone to get to close on the off chance they'd find out his secret (and really, who would calmly react to finding out someone is part fish?). So the fact anyone was at his door was.... surprising to say the least.

That, and the fact that it was well past a respectable hour to be stopping by someone’s flat.

He set his mug down on the counter and made his way to his front door, jumping slightly as the person frantically knocked again.

"Bloody hell, I'm coming," he grumbled, retching his door open.

A woman, not much younger than himself, was standing in the hallway; a distressed look on her face, and a guppy in a bag of water in her hand.

Her blonde curls tumbled over her shoulders and black rimmed glasses framed her face; he'd seen his fair share of sirens in his life and, at this point, wouldn't be surprised if this blonde goddess was one.

"Can... I help you?"

The woman looked up, pleading green eyes meeting his and really, how was it possible a woman was this gorgeous?  "You're the guy that talks to the fish, right?"

That was the second time in a minute he felt the air leave his lungs.

"I uh... talk... to the fish?"

Real smooth, Killian.

"Yeah, the guy that sits in the lobby and talks to the fish in the tank."

He was mentally smacking himself. "I believe you might have me confused with someone else, I'm sorry lass-"

She held up the bag, a reassuring hand reaching towards him. "Please. I know it’s late, but I'm not here to make fun of you. I really, really need your help."

He let out a deep sigh, raking his hand through his hair. “What do you need, love?”

She glanced inside the bag, nose scrunching way too adorably. “I think my fish is depressed.”

His eyes widened near comically. “Your fish is depressed?”

If looks could kill, Killian was sure he would be dead from the glare she lowered in his direction.

“I’m not making fun of you for talking to fish, don’t make fun of me for being worried about Flounder.”

Oh my God I think I’m in love.

“My apologies, love. Why don’t you… come in.” He swept his arm into the entryway of his apartment, reaching up to nervously scratch the back of his neck as the mysterious fish worrier followed him in. Glancing in her direction, he saw her taking in the space, still cradling the small bag in her hand, before hopping onto one of the stools in his kitchen.

She smiled timidly at him while gently placing the bag on the counter. “So how does this work?”

“Well a good starting point would be for you to tell me your name.” He reached into a cabinet and pulled out two mugs. “Also, how do you take your coffee?”

“Black, like my soul,” she replied, a sardonic smile curling on her lips.

Yep, definitely in love.

“Well, we’ve got at least one thing in common,” Killian replied, turning on his coffee pot. He grabbed the forgotten (and now cold) mug of tea off the counter and poured it down the sink; he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. Glancing backwards, he expected her to answer the first part of his question and give him her name- but she remained silent on her stool, and something told him not to push it.

He didn’t really need to know her name, anyway.

Not 2 minutes later he had two mugs full of black coffee, sliding one towards the siren in his kitchen before turning his attention to her fish. Killian had been presented with many difficult situations in his life but in this one he truly was stumped; what exactly was he supposed to do in this situation? Normally when he talked to the fish, he was alone and not being watched (or so he thought, at least). The whole thing didn’t seem right when he was standing in front of a human who would be watching his every move.

He must have been quiet longer than he realized as the woman spoke up. “Is there anything you need from me?”

“I just…” Killian reached up to scratch behind his ear; a nervous tick. “I mean, you don’t find this a little weird? The idea of me… talking to the fish?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly? Not really. One of my foster homes growing up had a cat, and I used to talk to her like she could understand me.” Killian noted the way her eyes widened, and she shook her head slightly. “Would it be easier if I left?

Probably. “No!” He answered much too quickly, causing his guest to arch an eyebrow at him. “I uh… I mean as long as you’re not put off by it, no, you… you don’t need to leave.”

“No judgement here. I just appreciate you doing this. To be honest, I thought you would find me crazy because I thought my fish was depressed.”

Laughing lightly, he motioned towards himself. “Well I guess we’re both worrying about things we needn’t. Let’s see the little bugger.” She slid the bag across the counter, and Killian pursed his lips together. “To be entirely honest, love, I’m sure he doesn’t enjoy the tiny little bag much.”

The woman immediately groaned while leaning her elbows against the counter. “I know,” she whined. “But I thought it would be too weird to just come up here and invite you down to my apartment because ‘hey my fish is depressed’ and I didn’t want to seem like I was coming onto you-” She groaned again, this time putting her face in her hands. “Not that- not that I WOULDN’T come on to you-”

“Lass, it’s okay, I’m simply teasing. Mostly.” He cleared his throat before she can respond and turned his attention to the guppy in front of him. Here goes nothing. “Good evening…. Flounder.” He glanced up and she nodded encouragingly, face still partially hidden behind her hands. “So your mum here tells me that something seems off with you.” As he talks, he can hear the quiet noises coming from the fish, so he closes his eyes to focus on understanding the poor thing. “Well, yes, I already informed her that fish don’t quite enjoy these small, enclosed, plastic bubbles.”

The woman gives an indignant huff. “I had no other choice!”

Killian chuckled and kept his attention on Flounder. “You hear that? She had no other choice. This was the best way to help make sure you were okay.” He can hear more guppy sounds, smiling as he listens. “You know, your mum was quite worried about you. So worried, in fact, that she came marching all the way down to my apartment in the dead of the night so as to make sure you were okay… aye, yes, I understand, Flounder. If I make sure to tell her, will you promise to perk up more for her? No more sadly swimming in your tank?” He takes the small response as promising enough, and gently pushed the bag back towards the blonde goddess on his stool.

“So, what’s the verdict, fish whisperer?”

Killian arched a brow at her. “I thought we weren’t making fun?” His lips curled into a smile before continuing. “Don’t worry love, there’s nothing to be concerned about. Flounder here is perfectly happy back at home in his tank. The stress you were giving off due to being worried about him, in return, made him stressed out. Not to fear, he promises to perk up in his tank more. He also requests that you feed him more than once per day; he gets a bit hungry between meals.”

The infectious laugh that bellowed from her belly makes him feel more alive than he has in years and he seriously cannot believe this woman is real. “You truly are a lifesaver,” she said while picking up the bag. “I’m sorry again for coming over so late… I was just starting to panic and didn’t know what else to do.”

“No apologies needed, love. I’m happy to help.”

Killian walked around the counter, offering the (still) nameless woman his hand to help her off the stool. She started making her way to the door, and he has to resist the urge to put his hand on the small of her back.

Snap out of it, Killian.

When she reached the door, he fully expected her to say goodbye and walk out of his apartment, never to be seen again- but she surprised him by stopping and turning around, looking up at him expectantly. After a few beats of unusual silence, he decided to take one more chance to at least get her name.

“Well, have a wonderful night, mysterious fish mom.”

She smiled at him, offering her hand. “My name is Emma.”

“Emma…” he said quietly, while taking her hand and brushing a feather light kiss across her knuckles.. “It’s lovely to meet you Emma. I’m Killian.”

“Well, thank you again, Killian.” The emphasis on his name sent a shiver down his spine. “And you don’t have to worry, your secret is safe with me.”

What? “My secret? What secret?” he asked, confusion lacing his brows.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious how you can talk to fish.”

His eyes blew wide, and he was nearly sure his heart was going to beat straight out of his chest. “I… I uh-”

She waved him off with a flourish of her hand. “You don’t have to pretend and you don’t have to hide it. To be honest, I think it’s pretty fucking awesome that an actual merman is living in my apartment complex.” Killian’s eyes widened and Emma lips curled into a smirk. “Meet me in the lobby around 10am tomorrow, I’ll treat you to coffee and you can explain to me how you-” She gestured to his legs “-got those. Deal?”

He isn’t even sure what to say (or if he could even speak, to be honest) so he simply nods. Emma reached up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, before slipping out the front door.

After a few beats of staring blankly at his front door he was sure of 2 things:

1- He was in deep shit.

and 2- There was no way he’d be making that 9am class in the morning

[jessicaroseshepherd]

contaminated.

As they got on the jet to fly back home, Beth asked her if she had told him yet. Jessica shook her head, “No.” “Are you going to when you get home?” “I don’t fucking know, Beth. Jesus Christ, can you just drop it?” And with that the short flight home was filed with silence. Even though they got in at nearly eight, she texted Alex saying the flight would be getting in late due to delays but she would get an Uber home. She got an Uber to Alki Beach and sat in the sand with her bags just watching the waves come in and back out. She sat pondering what she was going to do. He had told her that he didn’t want kids anymore, just her but she kept picturing his face when they got back from Bora Bora and visited Tristan and Micah. His face lit up and he didn’t stop smiling the entire way home. As it got to be nearly pitch black, she ordered an Uber before sitting up on a bench by the street lamp. When she got home, he was already asleep. After taking a long shower, she crawled into bed next to him. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her which made her want to throw up. She felt so guilty keeping things from him. When she woke up the next morning, he was still next to her playing video games. “How was the trip, babe?” “F-fine, uhm, would you mind playing video games downstairs until you leave later? It’s kind of loud.” “Of course, babe, you feeling okay?” “I think I just caught a cold or something, I’m fine. I just have a headache.” As he packed up and went downstairs she let out a sigh of relief. Not being able to face him, she made sure she was asleep when he came home from class that night. The day after she spent at the mall and at Beth’s with Sky before dance class. The next day was even worse because he wanted to ask her about the trip and she couldn’t even look at him. “I’m going to head to the hospital before class, I got a few acceptance letters back and I want my dad to look them over.” With that she gave a small wave, quickly grabbing her things and leaving. She was going to the hospital, it wasn’t a total lie. She just wasn’t going to see her dad. She had set up an appointment with Arizona and Meredith and even though she knew what they would say, she was going in anyway. Once they confirmed that she was pregnant, she didn’t know what to do. Her and her mom tried to have a discussion but it was hard to talk about irrational feelings with Meredith. After a while, she gave up and sat in the surgical bay watching her dad perform surgery. Soon enough, it was time for class and she got in her class and drove. Class was always her outlet, she was never herself at dance class. 

When it was finally her turn to dance, she did so with all her heart and the emotions she had been carrying the past week. Jessica felt the tears falling from her face before she could even stand up straight as the song cut off. As Will hugged her and patted her back, she gave him a small hug before letting out a small sniffle, “I need to go home.” “Are you okay?” He asked looking down at her concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Was all she could manage to get out before turning to grab her bag and run out the doors. When she finally got to her car, she broke down completely sobbing holding onto the steering wheel. Her entire life was going to change again after she had just gotten back to a place of normalcy. Taking a few deep breaths, she slowly leaned back in the driver’s seat and reached for her bag on resting on the floor of the passenger seat. Grabbing her phone, she sent a text to Beth saying she was coming over and to Alex saying she wasn’t coming home tonight. When she got to Beth’s house, she walked in the front door and behind the couch that had both Beth and Brad watching some Netflix show and right into the guest room. Laying face down on the bed, she started to cry again into the baby blue pillows which she was sure Beth would make her pay to have cleaned after getting them covered in mascara. With a sigh, Beth pulled herself off the couch and slowly sat on the bed next to her rubbing her back, “What happened?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Was he not happy about the news?” “I haven’t fucking told him.” “Jessica!” “Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!” As Beth sat there still rubbing her back contemplating what to say, Jessica shouted at her to get out while still crying into the pillow she was holding.

Jessica didn’t know when she had fallen asleep but when she had woken up it was still dark outside. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she let out another sniffle before rubbing her eyes and standing up. Grabbing her bag and her keys that Beth must have put on the dresser, she slowly opened up the door. Making her way out of the house, stopped to pet the cat that was laying on the rug in the living room before opening and closing the front door as quietly as she could. After getting in her car, she reached over and grabbed her phone seeing messages and calls from Alex, Beth, and Tristan. Jessica drove around Seattle for what felt like hours but was probably not even close to that long. She couldn’t go to Tristan’s because of the baby, Ryan would probably be asleep, Skylar… She couldn’t complain to Skylar, not about this. One way or another she ended up at the hospital. Roaming the halls, she remembered the rehabilitation rooms that they had set up in the older part of the hospital.

Andrew was walking the halls when he noticed lights on in the plant room causing him to peek his head in. Jessica turned her head slightly to look at him before giving him a quiet hello. “Hey, Jess. Uhm, what are you, uh, doing here at-“ Andrew looked down at his watch, “4:38 in the morning?” She shrugged, “You guys said this room was supposed to reduce anxiety but it’s not working.” He looked at her before looking out the hallway and noticing Derek. Andrew quickly stepped out to tell him that Jessica was in there. Confused, Derek told him to go check on the lab work for their patients before sticking his head in. “What are you doing in here, kiddo?” He asked quietly before walking in and locking the door. Jessica shrugged, “You said this room helped people and I thought it could help me. I have been in here for an hour and nothing’s happening. If anything, I just feel worse.” Derek gave a sad smile even though she wasn’t looking at him. Sitting down in the recliner next to her, he looked over at her, “Mer told me, about the test. She thought we would be having a dinner by now for you both to announce it.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before Derek looked over at her and reached out his hand, “Do you want to talk about it?” “I just… I knew something was wrong. I knew it, I felt it, I didn’t know what it was. Something was just very wrong. I’ve never felt more emotional and disconnected from myself in my life. Some days I would wake up and I would feel fine and other days my body felt so foreign. I don’t…” Derek squeezed her hand, “You want to.” She shook her head causing him to nod. “You want kids but you’re afraid of the failure that inevitably comes with them. You thought if you just waited until you were content with your life that the unknowns of children and the fear of being a bad parent would go away, but it doesn’t. That feeling never goes away. I never look in the mirror and go, I am the best parent in the world. I have raised my kids exactly right. No one’s like that. You’re never going to be ready if you think like that.” He gave her a small smile that caused her to break down into tears again, “I’m just so scared.” Derek let out a sigh and tugged her up and over into his lap.

Jessica continued to cry in her dad’s lap as he rubbed her back. “You’re going to have to tell him and soon.” “I know.” “Are you going to when you get home?” “No.” “Will you tomorrow?” “I don’t know.” “Jessica Rose.” “Dad, it’s not that simple.” “Yes, it is. That’s what marriage is for, to experience and work through things together.” “This is different.” “How?” “He wants kids so bad to the point it was nearly a deal breaker for him and kids were always an after thought for me. As soon as he knows, he’s going to light up. He’s going to be so overjoyed and I can’t watch him react that way when I’m not happy. But that’s the entire problem, I’m going to have to pretend to be happy for him and I can’t figure out how to do that.” Derek let out a sigh as he thought of the different ways he could try and comfort his daughter before she leaned back and wiped her tears away, “See?” Derek shook his head and put his hand on her cheek, “It’s going to be okay in the end. You have to believe that… And if you can’t, then at least try. For me. Okay?” Jessica gave a defeated shrug before taking a deep and shaky breath. “He’s not your enemy, he’s your better half. You have to start looking at him as that.” He hugged onto her and patted her back before his pager went off, “Alright, I got to go.” She nodded and stood up. Derek got up and ruffled her hair, “Tell him, this week. Okay?” He pointed at her halfway out the door. “Okay, dad.” Her response caused him to snap his fingers and give her a thumbs up before closing the door and making his way back into the hallway.

Taking a deep breathe she sat back into one of the recliners and opened her phone. Her most recent text was from Tristan. Clicking on the message block, she saw texts reading (Okay I've been stressing the fuck out and now Alex is over here saying you wouldn't come home, so I'm blaming you) (Where are you? (What is going on?) (You know you can talk to me.) (I’m at your house enjoying some peace and quiet. It’s just me. Come here and let’s talk about it.. She sent a text just saying she would be there soon. As she got back in her car and started the drive back to her and Alex’s house it started to rain. Getting out of her car, she ran to the door and let herself in. Putting her keys on the hook by the door and dropped her bag. “Can you just say your peace so I can go upstairs and try to sleep?” She asked sitting on the chaise part of the couch to better face her sister. Giving a small sniffle, she rubbed her face noting it was probably still swollen from crying into her dad’s scrubs. Tristan scrunched up her face before letting out a laugh. “Do you want to say your peace? Because obviously there is something bugging you so bad that your husband would come over to my house and offer to watch my baby because he couldn’t be alone in your house. Since you decided to leave dance class in a rush which caused your instructor to call him and worry about what happened to you.” Tristan gave a look to her spiraling sister before reaching for her coffee next to a box of donuts. Jessica started to shake her head before lowering it into her hands as her sister spoke. Her elbows dug into her thighs causing her to sharply inhale and lay her head on the side and let out an exhale. Looking at the window in the corning of the room as the raindrops fell down it, “I’m pregnant.” She said quietly before hugging onto herself, “I’m pregnant and I don’t want to be and I don’t know what to do about it.” Tristan sucked in a sharp breath of air before sucking in her lips as she tried to process what exactly Jess was saying. "Oh well shit.. how far along are you?" “I don’t know… I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to do that, I just needed to know.” "So.. we have two options, you tell Alex and go through your options with him or we don't tell anyone and I'll go with you to the doctor." She didn't like the option even as she said it, but if it meant getting Jessica out of this spiral and she truly didn't want this baby... Tristan would keep the secret for her twin. "It's a battle between what you should probably do as a wife and what you want, but.. you helped me see that a baby does not mean the end of your life and can be a great thing and let me just say I have never had more purpose than I do now as a mom, and you're not alone. You've got a whole village here to help support you and your baby."

Jessica shook her head quickly, “I can’t do that to him, but I can’t do this to myself. I can’t- I just – I’ve been trying so hard to make peace with this so I can tell him, and I can’t. I can’t figure it out.” Starting to cry again she scooted back into the corner of the couch. Jessica tried to take a deep breath but failed and started to cry more hugging onto her knees. “I just got my life back after the wreck and now I have to accept that I’ll never have that again?” "No, you just have to accept that your reality is changing a little bit. You can Alex are going to split classes or have a babysitter. Leave the little one with me and Cam to have play dates so you two can still have some normal, but this is... our luck. We did the fun sex shit without taking enough precautions and now we have responsibilities. If you need to grieve this old normal you wanted back then you need to do it and get through it because your life isn't over, it's just changing." “I got married, my husband hit a deer causing our car to fly off a cliff, I broke my femur, had to relearn how to walk in the course of nine months, and it has to change again?” Jessica looked at the ceiling taking a few deep breaths, “I just need… More time. I need time because as soon as he knows it’s going to get real and I need it not to be. I don’t need him smiling and talking to my stomach, I don’t need to baby clothes shopping, or watching what I eat. I just need to know how to not… resent him for being happy.” "So take a little bit of time and write all this down. You have to get it out or it'll boil over and you could resent him forever. They say you have to acknowledge your part in it, allow yourself to feel how you're really feeling - scared or angry, whatever it is. Feel it and imagine it and let it become something you want to focus on less." Tristan gave a little sigh, hand reaching out to rub Jessica's back. "He's going to be happy because that's a common response. He's going to be happy, but that doesn't mean you have to pretend to be. Tell him you just haven't reached that wavelength yet and let him focus on channeling his joy into helping you see a positive future or just tell him to shut up and have him let it out with Cam while you work through imagining this new future." Jessica slowly let go of her knees and wiped her eyes. “If he knows how I feel he’s going to feel guilty and shut down. When he learned that I didn’t want kids, he shut down and just tried to block it out until he wouldn’t think about it so it wouldn’t bother him. He compartmentalizes the things he doesn’t like. It’s just… Its messy.” Sniffling, she got up off the couch, “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed… You can stay here if you want… I don’t care. I just can’t talk about this anymore.” "And that's for him to handle. Of course you want to help him, but you can't just compartmentalize instead because that's how you're going to end up resenting your own kid for your lack of a 'normal' life and you can end up resenting him a ton too." Tristan nodded and gave her sister a wave. "I may rescue the boys in a few hours from baby duty, but I think I'll use this chance for a nap. Wake me if you need anything."

After getting out of the bathtub, Jessica put on her robe and walked into her bedroom. She saw a composition notebook on the bottom shelf of the nightstand. Opening it up she saw that the assignments in it were dated back three years ago. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a pen and started to write in it. She wrote about how much she hated change, how she wasn’t ready to be someone that a kid had to look up to for advice, and how she had wished things hadn’t turned out this way for them. The more she tried to write, the more things came out in broken sentences and were partially ruined by teardrops. The way that their love story played out was her fault, she knew that. It was hard for her coming to terms with that, but she knew. She wrote in there that she wished she would’ve died on her birthday. That it would’ve made everyone’s life easier and that she was sorry that she had so many emotions about everything that they did. She wished that if it ever came down to it that he would forgive her for ever bad thing she had done. After three pages, she finally was able to sign her name, date it, and write and I love you at the bottom before closing the book and throwing it back in its original spot. Taking a deep breath, she climbed under the covers and faced Alex’s side of the bed. She didn’t know how long she laid there, but when she woke up and checked her phone it was two in the afternoon. She sent a text to Beau saying she needed advice from an outside person that wasn’t directly intertwined in their lives. After getting dressed and making her way downstairs, she saw Tristan was sitting on the couch with the box of donuts watching some show. “So you’re really just going to camp here huh?” Jess asked before grabbing a donut as Tristan nodded in agreement. Jess shook her head, “Well I’m going to Beau’s and then Ryan’s if Alex decides he wants the house back.” Tristan started to talk with her mouthful, “You know, you should reall-” Jessica shut the door to cut her off. She already knew she was going to tell her to call Alex and she would, but later.

Jessica was excited to get to Beau’s house. He had pastries and coffee ready for her when she got there and she was more than ready to sit on his couch and vent. Her and Beau hadn’t been friends for long but he was the only dance partner other than Alex she really enjoyed the company of both in and out of dance class. As they ate the different snacks, she told him about her and Alex’s life over the past year before asking for his advice. Beau shrugged, “Well what made you realize you loved him?” “I don’t think that there’s a simple answer to that question. He was my childhood best friend, so I guess I always loved him”. “Fine, let’s try this a different way. What are your favorite things to do with him?” “Dance.” “Other than dance, be more creative for fucks sake.” Jessica made a face and him before taking a drink of her smoothie and thinking about his question. “Oh come on, every couple has a thing. Like hiking or cooking together, something.” He argued causing him to hold up her finger to wait a minute before putting her cup down. “Well, I remember after dance class we would normally drive through somewhere or order something, but I loved eating breakfast for dinner at Luna Park Café with him. Or on weekends when we would go to food trucks and the park or walk pike place. When we would get cupcakes from Cupcake Royale, he would always put icing on his finger and tell me I had something on my face before smearing icing on me. On days when I didn’t feel great, he would skip school and we would take a ferry over to Little Norway, Going to Sluy’s and maybe even the aquarium. Water gun or nerf gun fights for no reason other than he saw it and that’s all he wanted to do. When we would get so high and be so hungry that we would go down and cook but then make it into a competition. Laying in bed playing video games with him as the LED colors circled my ceiling. I loved bubble baths with him, but his bathtub isn’t big enough for that.” Beau gave her a look while judgingly drinking his coffee, “You guys sound like a cliché teen movie.” “We kind of are.” Beau shook his head before taking a drink of his iced coffee, “My point was I think you should do those things, all of them, in one day.” “Beau, that’s a lot of-” “You need to schedule your perfect day with him, remember why you love him, and then telling him won’t be that scary. I know you felt it once before, otherwise you wouldn’t have married him in 36 hours. Well, I guess you could’ve if you were clinically insane but I don’t think you are.” They both laughed before Jessica shook her head and took another drink. Beaumont reached over and patted her knee, “Once you tell him, you’re going to feel a lot better. But if you’re going to have your perfect day, which probably involves dance, let’s do it tomorrow!” “What?” “Yeah, you can help me choreograph it and it’ll be great.” “Whoa, I don-” “I said what I said, get up. You think you’re getting advice for free? I need content to give out, let’s go!” They had spent the next two hours choreographing something until they were both satisfied with how it had turned out. Before she left, he gave her one more hug and told her that it would all be fine. And as she got in her car and drove home, she really wished she could believe him. Getting back home, the house was empty with a note on the stairs from Tristan saying to text Alex. With a sigh, she shook her head and walked into the kitchen to grab a pudding cup before pulling out her phone to text him.

[wingletblackbird]

The Fabric of Life

Prompt: Destiny

Note: This is for @klorophile who read Follow One Thread, and wanted the sequel which was the, in her words, “the YES after the No.” This is for you! Also, this may technically be AU. Oh well...

The tension between the not-couple could have been cut with a sneeze, let alone a butter knife. Padmé is acutely aware that this is the first time in two weeks that she and Anakin have been alone together. It doesn’t help that this awareness is found as he’s escorting her to her chambers at the palace down an isolated corridor with low-lighting that somehow just seems to enhance the ambience, the ambience they definitely aren’t speaking of. They aren’t speaking of anything, in fact, but Padmé feels certain she can not be the only one to feel this…tension. Nor does she think she is the only one to feel the sense of anticipation, dread, and coming finality: The approaching of a decision of significance. This tension stems from the fact that this is the first time they’ve been alone since Geonosis, the first time since Padmé told Anakin what had been her most guarded secret: She loves him.

She had thought they were going to die. That is why she had told him. They were going to die, it had seemed inevitable that they would die, which had placed a burden upon her insisting she must tell him, because he simply could not die, his beautiful light could not be extinguished from this galaxy, without him knowing how greatly he was cherished, how sacred his existence was, if only to her. It had seemed wrong in the deepest sense to not tell him he was beloved. He was her beloved. Who could say if it had been logical? It hadn’t mattered really. They were going to die, but while Padmé feels that the logic of her actions might be debatable, she knows that the desire had sprung from something vital inside of her that had felt as ancient, and indomitable as creation: That was a realm which defied the rational or the irrational; it was existence. She had had to tell him. They hadn’t died though. It had seemed crazy that they could survive. She hadn’t known there was a clone army, hadn’t believed that the Jedi would get there in time anyway, but now they had survived, and she couldn’t take her words back. Padmé isn’t sure if she wants to or not. They had not died, but Anakin is going off to war after this assignment anyway. It can't hurt for him to know. He could still die. Hadn’t that been the point? Surely the same logic applied, but somehow it felt different, probably because his demise is not guaranteed which left the words just hanging between them, drawing taut, creating tension, a thread to bind them.

The Naboo have long known the power of words. They have the power to destroy and to save. All that is known is known through words, is explained through words. What is said can even distort the action taken. There is a Basic expression that goes “Actions speak louder than words,” but there is no such phrase on Naboo. The Naboo know that even the most powerful actions can be distorted with time, and the right wordsmith. Words are powerful and very, very dangerous, not to be thrown around lightly. Despite how innocuous, even common, they might seem, “I love you” are powerful words indeed. They are words she can not take back, and words make things real. You speak, and you create. There is an analogy which is that a cat could be locked in a box with poison until the moment of death, but it would be dead and alive simultaneously until the box is opened, and one or the other is observed. The state of being only exists when observed. It is used as a means to show the futility of quantum mechanics past a certain point, (the cat is dead whether you see it or not), but it is entirely applicable to words. When Padmé keeps her feelings to herself, they remain present, and non-existent, dead and alive. Now that she has spoken them, she brings forth their existence. It is a truly living creature now. It cannot be dead. There is no undoing it, no hiding it. It is done. It is now real. It is real, because she said it. Words create. The process is not reversible, and she has torn through her own armour. Words are dangerous tools. She should know. She’s been in politics long enough.

The problem is that nothing has really changed for the better. They are at war now, but she is still a senator, a well-known, high profile, and royal one at that; he is still a Jedi. It isn’t so much the end of her career that bothers her too much anymore, as terrifying as that admittedly is, she’d have to leave the Senate anyway if she wanted a family. The Military Creation Act is certainly something of a moot point now too, but Anakin could be expelled. That is the greatest fear on the horizon. It’s the reason they haven’t been alone in weeks, because the Jedi know. They suspect how they feel for each other. Obi-Wan had been sent to her by Yoda to tell her in no uncertain terms that any romantic relationship must be terminated. She’d told him he needn’t worry. The subject had come up while on Naboo, and she’d turned him down flat. It had already been taken care of. It had been the truth. The best lies are always careful truths, and Obi-Wan had agreed that Anakin would escort her back to Naboo where her security team, with her new handmaidens, and new ship, were waiting. Prudently, Obi-Wan’d requested a diplomatic ship, complete with a pilot, and co-pilot, making it clear Obi-Wan didn’t trust the two alone, but hoped they’d clear things up between them once and for all. In other words, terminate the relationship, (which didn’t exist), but neither she nor Anakin had felt comfortable bringing the subject up with others around. Neither one of them had wanted to ruin what might be their last moments together. The only thing she had done was hug Anakin, and tell him she didn’t care about his right arm, as long as he was alive and well. That was what mattered. She had told him quietly about the Jedi; he’d known anyway. He’d quietly told her that he was sorry she’d been put in that situation, but that he still wasn’t too worried about expulsion; she’d said that it was her fault for acting so obvious when he’d been injured…and they’d talked about nothing else of true importance afterward. Now, they were here, stuck.

Padmé finds herself walking slower, and slower as the destination approaches. She feels like she is walking through custard. It’s hard for her to move, but she is also moving too quickly. She wants to preserve this moment she has with Anakin; it might well be her last. She is aware of every echoing footstep, of every breath she takes, of every breath he takes, and of how very, very close they are, but never close enough.

“Here, Ani.”

They have reached her private rooms. He nods, and walks her over to the door. Turning to look up at him, she finds him looking down at her with an expression she has never before seen on his face. It is awe, and admiration, and pain, and raw, wrenching grief, all focused on her as he seems to be trying to memorise her, to take her all in before he turns his back, before he never sees her again. Padmé recognises it; she is looking at him the same way, watching the contours of light and shadow on his face, the dark blonde of his hair, the piercing blue eyes…

Anakin sucks in a deep breath, steps back, and nods again.

“Senator, I’ll take my leave.”

She nods vaguely, words catching in her throat, although she does not know what words they are, as he turns stiffly on one heel to head down the hallway where he will be lost from sight in the darkness, to war. As he walks, she feels her heart swell with the pain of love. It is almost as if she can feel the connection, the tension of the thread that ties her heart to his being pulled taut, as her heart strains after him. She can feel that thread like a visceral, physical thing. It pulls her heart more and more with every step Anakin takes away from her, causing it to swell larger with the rage of separated love. If it keeps tugging, it will pop the balloon in her chest, and the connection will snap. It will be torn, and then where will she be?

“Anakin,” she gasps. The sound comes unbidden. It had never been a word trapped in her throat, but a name, the name, his name, the most important name in this universe: Anakin. In the hallway she sees him pause. His back stiff. He looks almost like he anticipates a blow. “I can’t watch you walk away twice. It’ll destroy me.” 

She would have laughed at the irony were the moment not so grounded in intensity. Once she had claimed that to be with him would be the destruction. Who knows? Maybe it will be. It almost certainly will have consequences, but she had told him on Geonosis she felt that their lives were “about to be destroyed anyway.” She doubted she was wrong. War won or lost brought devastation. May she not choose her on demise? She laughs internally as she remembers Ithané, the goddess of war and of love. Padmé had been wary of the dangers of passion, and the dangers of being ruled by it. She had never considered that losing love might be just as destructive. She knows one truth now: That either option, to have Anakin or to not, will come at a high price. She would rather be destroyed by her fire than by her ice. War is here now, and she wants the equal strength of her love to see her through it. They will burn together. Anakin has not turned. He’s still, like a predator, or prey. Is there a difference now? So, she adds, 

“If you’re suffering as much as I am, please tell me.” 

She has the greatest admiration for him. How courageous to have made himself so vulnerable to her that night! She has an idea of how much she must have hurt him now, and he has never once held it against her. She doesn't deserve such devotion, but she craves him. He turns around, and looks at her. There is dim hope in his eyes.

“Do you mean that?” he whispers. “I mean, yes, I do feel the same. I always have. I just...Do you really mean that?”

She smiles at him. He hesitantly walks over to her.

“Yes, Ani, I mean it. We can keep it a secret for now. You haven’t even been knighted yet--” She was not going to take his career from him. She was not going to chain someone who was meant to fly. She’d sacrifice her reputation, and career first, if it must come to that  “--and we’re both needed at the moment, you especially, but, yes, Ani, yes.”

The light in his eyes goes from dim blue to blazing azure, and he moves so quickly she couldn’t have seen it, but he was kissing her so she didn’t care. They’ve never kissed like his before. Well, they have only ever kissed twice. She buries her hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, and grips so hard she must hurt him. It doesn’t matter though, because he is gripping tight too, and the pain is its own pleasure, because nothing could draw them close enough-

-which brings a thought to her mind that has her moving one hand to open the bedroom door behind her as she pulls him through.

She isn’t sure where this falls in the spectrum of “follow one thread,” as her grandmother had been so fond of saying, but she feels she has tied hers to Anakin’s. If she is following any thread, it is his, because they are tied together now. It might be that much harder to follow two threads, even if they are joined into one, but they will also be that much stronger. There will be that much more impact, and meaning, and they will need each other’s strength in the time to come. The timing of these events is so uncanny, that Padmé can't help but feel the guiding hand of destiny. This connection has always been there between them. She had felt it even as a teen on Tatooine, when he had taken her hand to guide her through the storm. Certainly, Anakin had known it, had always known it, and been far more honest with it than she, but their lives had always been meant to be weaved together. This knowledge is an enduring truth. That is why it had felt agonizing to cut the thread. Whether it is the will of the Force, as Ani believes, or the Mornae like she's been taught, to deny Anakin is to oppose the fabric of life.

[willsherjohnkhan]

Complicated Little Emotions

Chapter 1: Uncertainty

***

OUTSIDE MOLLY’S FLAT

Sherlock stood, his gaze fixed on the door in front of him, uncertain whether he should knock, or simply turn and walk away.

Uncertainty was not something Sherlock Holmes, the World’s only consulting detective was used to feeling.

In fact, Sherlock ruefully acknowledged to himself, it was one of a whole array of emotions he wasn’t used to dealing with. But it was one of many that were now bubbling to the surface, finally released with the revelation that he had a sister, and all that she had done...

Eurus, the very thought of her, what she had put him, John and Mycroft through.

And Molly...

The emotions he’d felt during and after the phone call were still very raw. They were what had brought him here, to her flat in the early hours of the morning.

Yet the hand he’d raised intending to knock still remained frozen, hesitant. What would be her response when she saw him? Would she allow him to explain?

What finally had his hand connecting with the door was the knowledge that in truth he couldn’t hide away from this, he owed Molly Hooper a full explanation.

What happened after that was entirely her decision.

*

MOLLY’S FLAT – HALLWAY

Molly had been unable to sleep, the phone call with Sherlock still going round and round her head. One moment tears were pouring down her face, and the next she was so angry all she wanted to do was punch him.

She’d been in the kitchen about to make a cup of hot milk in the vain hope it would help her sleep, when she heard the car pull up outside her flat.

She heard someone exit the car that immediately pulled away. Then she’d listened as familiar footsteps made their way to her front door.

Of course instinctively she’d known who it was even before he’d got out of the car. Who else but Sherlock bloody Holmes would turn up at her flat at two o’clock in the morning?

As she stood in the hallway, dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and t-shirt as Sherlock finally knocked on the door, the only thing she didn’t know was whether she would be strong enough to never let him back into her heart again.

***

Chapter 2: Fear and Concern / Shock and Exhaustion

***

OUTSIDE MOLLY’S FLAT

It felt like forever, but at last Sherlock heard Molly unlock the door.

*

MOLLY’S FLAT

What she expected upon opening the door was for the consulting git to barge in, and give her a quick-fire no-nonsense explanation for the humiliating phone call, before requesting that she completely forget the whole incident so that then they could carry on as they had before, as though nothing had happened.

But as soon as she saw him, all her hurt and anger instantly turned to concern. Sherlock looked shattered, his expression one of sadness, loss and utter devastation. With his shoulders slumped, he looked totally beaten. It broke her heart to see him that way.

When he didn’t immediately move, Molly all but dragged him indoors, before leading him into the living room. Only then did she reluctantly let him go so that she could get a fire started.

Sherlock remained where he stood, his eyes downcast.

Moving back to his side, she managed with some effort to get his belstaff off. Almost immediately Sherlock began to shiver uncontrollably, and Molly realised he was going into shock.

Leading him over to the fire, she settled him into the overstuffed armchair, before grabbing a warm blanket from the closet and wrapping it around him. She then headed to the kitchen to make him a mug of hot chocolate, which she placed into his shaking hands and assisted him in raising it to his lips.

A quick examination revealed injuries to his hands. She grabbed a pair of tweezers that she used to remove several splinters, before rubbing antiseptic cream inter the more nasty looking wounds. But other than that none of the injuries he’d sustained could account for the shock. That left psychological trauma. But what could be so traumatic as to leave him in this state.

And then she thought of Mary, and her blood ran cold as another possibility presented itself.

Taking Sherlock’s face in her hands, she forced his unfocused gaze to meet her fearful one. “What’s happened, Sherlock? Is it John? Rosie?”

The agitation in Molly’s voice worked its way into Sherlock’s numbed sub-conscious. The events of not only the phone call, but all that had happened since he’d learned of the existence of his sister hitting him without warning the moment she’d opened the door. Rousing himself from his stooper, he now focussed on reassuring Molly that all, as far as their friend and goddaughter were concerned, was well.

Mirroring her actions, Sherlock gently held her face in his hands. “They’re fine,” he assured her.

Sighing with relief, Molly felt much of the tension within her ease.

“They’re safe,” Sherlock continued. “As is Mycroft... And you.”

Molly realised in that moment that there was so much more going on here than just the phone call. So much more that she had no knowledge of.

But as she looked at Sherlock, exhaustion finally taking its toll, she knew now wasn’t the time for explanations.

So she hauled him out of the chair and down the hall, thankful years of dealing with cadaver dead weight meant handling a nearly comatose Sherlock wasn’t that difficult at all.

*

Once she’s manoeuvred him into her bedroom, she undressed him and got him into bed.

As soon as she joined him under the covers, Sherlock pulled her to him, her back to his front. With his arms secure around her waist, and his nose buried between her neck and shoulder, he let out a contented sigh as his mind and body finally relaxed.

In the blink of an eye he was sound asleep.

***

Chapter 3: Comfort and Forgiveness

***

MOLLY’S FLAT

Molly was jolted awake. Sherlock was thrashing about and moaning, caught up in the throes of a terrible nightmare.

“Redbeard! Victor!” he called out frantically, and then he began sobbing uncontrollably. “Why Eurus? Why did you do it?”

Desperate to offer him what comfort she could, Molly attempted to reach out to him, but Sherlock would have none of it, battering her hands away.

Shortly thereafter he seemed to calm down enough to settle back to sleep, when, without warning his whole body went rigid, and he started screaming her name.

“Molly! Please Molly! Say it, say it, just say it damn you!” Then the scream turned into a snarl, with his teeth bared he announced triumphantly. “I won Eurus, I won. I saved Molly Hooper.” But the triumph was wiped from his face, and he let out the most deafening roar before appearing to rip something apart with his bare hands.

Molly remembered the slivers of wood she’d removed from those same damaged hands. This wasn’t a bad dream, this was a recent memory.

When she reached for him a second time, Sherlock came willingly. Awake now, he clung to Molly as all the emotions he’d kept so carefully buried rose up once again, threatening to overwhelm him.

With Molly’s cheek resting against his forehead, and her fingers weaving their way through his hair, to gently kneed and stroke his messy curls, Sherlock felt the threat ease, leaving him calm and at peace.

Only then did Molly get up and out of bed. Walking over to her wardrobe she grabbed two dressing gowns. Sherlock’s she placed at the end of the bed before putting on her own.

“I’m just going to get breakfast ready. Why don’t you go have a shower, and then we can talk.”

Sherlock made no response, now lost in his Mind Palace.

Molly left him to his thoughts. Whatever she was about to learn, she wanted to know it on a full stomach.

*

She’d just placed their breakfast on the low table by the sofa when Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, dressed once again in his suit.

Once seated, he looked around him, clearly looking for something. Not finding it he frowned and turned to Molly who’d joined him on the sofa. “Where’s Tobias?”

Molly’s expression instantly triggered another recent, painful memory...

**

“Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent, because I’m not having a good day?”

**

Why had he not seen it earlier, no ratty old blanket adorning the armchair, no toys for him to trip over, the cat scratching tower missing from where it usually stood. All led to one inescapable conclusion.

Had Eurus known that Molly’s beloved feline had passed away that day?

Of course she had, given the surveillance cameras she’d had installed in the flat for God knows how long.

Sherlock closed his eyes at the realisation of how he’d been used a second time, though unwittingly to cause Molly more unnecessary pain.

“I’m so sorry, Molly. I know how, fond of him you were.”

Molly gave him a small smile in thanks. “It’s all right Sherlock, you weren’t to know. He went peacefully.” Feeling the familiar burn of welling tears she quickly changed the subject. “Let’s have our breakfast before it gets cold.”

Sherlock acquiesced to her suggestion without argument.

But once the breakfast was eaten, the coffee drunk and the dishes washed, they knew they could no longer delay the inevitable.

Sitting back on the sofa, Sherlock turned to Molly. “Where do you want me to begin?’

“Who’s Eurus?”

Sherlock nodded his head in acceptance and approval, Molly was never one for taking the easy way out.

“Eurus is my younger sister,” he began, watching Molly closely.

Clearly surprised, she waited quietly to hear more.

“According to Mycroft her intelligence was described as ‘era defining genius, beyond Newton’. Unfortunately she was also a psychopath, and an extremely dangerous one.”

He told Molly all there was to know: - About her jealousy over his friendship with Victor Trevor. And what she had done to him. - Burning down Musgrave Hall. - Being sent away. - How what his sister had done had traumatised him, and how he had dealt with it. Forgetting his sister existed while turning his childhood best friend into a dog. On and on right up until the events that happened the day before.

“I’m so sorry, Molly,” Sherlock said sadly. “I never meant for you to be in such danger. I’ve always tried to keep you safe, but you continually put yourself in harm’s way, despite my best efforts.”

“Sherlock, you must know by now that I will always be here to help you in any way that I can, the consequences be damned.”

“I know,” he assured her with a smile.

“And,” she continued, taking a deep breath. “If we’re talking apologies, then I need to add my own.”

Sherlock frowned in confusion, “Whatever for?”

“I should never have made you say...what I did,” she replied, her eyes downcast. She felt so deeply ashamed, now that she knew what he’d been put through.

“Molly, look at me.”

Once she had, he continued.

“You have nothing to apologise for. You were just another pawn in Eurus’ game.”

Before Molly could respond, Sherlock’s mobile rang. Upon checking the call ID Sherlock said regretfully. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”

“Of course.”

Sherlock got to his feet as he finally answered the call. “Hello, Mycroft...”

***

Chapter 4: n. 1. Warm liking or affection. 2. Sexual passion. 3. Loved person. 4. (in games) No score, nil. v. 1. Feel love for. 2. Like greatly.

***

MOLLY’S FLAT

While Sherlock spoke with his brother, Molly went into the kitchen to put the dishes away, to give him some privacy.

When she returned to the sitting room, the phone conversation was clearly nearing its end. “I’ll be there shortly.”

As soon as he’d pocketed his mobile, Sherlock walked over to where Molly had placed his belstaff, and put it on.

Realising that this might be the only opportunity for them to openly discuss the elephant that was still hanging precariously over their heads, Molly walked up to the detective.

Reaching up she turned his coat collar down, before running her hands nervously up and down his lapels. “Sherlock,” she began cautiously.

Sherlock braced himself, knowing full well what was coming. But instead of making a comment based on what he had already deduced he remained silent, waiting patiently for Molly to continue.

At last she looked up at him, meeting his gaze straight on.

“I can’t unsay what I said, Sherlock. I have always loved you, and I probably always will,” she paused a moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Knowing what I feel for you... It won’t destroy our friendship, will it?”

Sherlock responded by enveloping her in a warm embrace, his chin resting comfortably on top of her head, as his arms wrapped themselves around her petite form.

“It’s true that the dynamic of our relationship has been irretrievably altered by that phone call,” he agreed. “But has it destroyed our friendship? No, not even close.” Pulling back so that he could look Molly in the eye, he continued. “You were right. I have always known that you loved me. But as I’d convinced myself that sentiment was a defect, I dismissed it, and your romantic feelings for me as irrelevant,” he paused briefly, continuing again with words chosen with obvious care. “It was only when you forced me to say those words out loud that the one secret I had kept hidden, even from myself, was finally revealed for all to see. As unbelievable as it may seem, it is nonetheless impossibly true, I do love you Molly Hooper.”

His words confirmed what she’d believed when he’d said the words the second time. But when Molly looked into his eyes she saw not only his affection for her mirrored there, but also sorrow and regret.

“One day, maybe, I’ll be able to say those words to you in the full knowledge that I mean them with every beat of my heart. But I don’t believe I’m there yet.”

Molly reached up a hand to gently sooth the frown that marred his brow.

“No, I don’t think you are,” she acknowledged. “And that’s okay. Take all the time you need,” and then with a cheeky grin she added. “When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

Sherlock felt an immense relief wash over him, thankful he had someone so caring and understanding in his life as Molly Hooper.

But when after a couple of minutes he still hadn’t made a move to leave, Molly felt compelled to remind him.

“Don’t you have to go and see your brother?”

Sherlock’s expression immediately became more serious. “Yes I need to go. Mycroft has arranged a meeting with our parents. There’s a lot to explain.”

“Then you need to get going,” Molly urged. “They’ll need your strength.”

Sherlock leant down to press a chaste kiss upon her lips. “As I will always need yours,” he told her, knowing full well that his pathologist already knew.

Just as he headed out the door, he paused and turned back. “By the way, Mycroft is sending some of his people over to remove all the cameras.” Then with a playful wink, he turned, to stride purposefully towards a new and infinitely more exciting, if unpredictable future.

***

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Thoughtful Impracticality

Title: Thoughtful Impracticality - Kidge Week Day 7 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Keidge Summary: They say the best gifts come from the heart, right? Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: Just call me Chester, because I’m a filthy cheetah. Anyway, same forewarning for the other two fics; read through once for problems so be aware.

She wasn’t really expecting to be so completely blindsided by him.

She knew that Keith was smarter than some people they knew – Lance – gave him credit for. She’d spent enough late nights talking with him and too many hours bonding through training exercises for the improvement of their teamwork to not know a great many things about him; all these facts ranging from being trivial to important. The two most important – in her expert opinion – were that he was a sentimental soul who actually called his Lion partner Rose in secret because it made her feel special, and that he could be quite clever with his tactics when devising an attack plan. He was pretty good at stealth, sneak attacks, and was extremely observant, so his being a great strategist wasn’t too terribly surprising. The only person more observant than him on the team would be Pidge herself, or maybe Shiro.

Keith had a bad tendency at being impulse and stubborn, though. He’d charge in like a starved wolf without thinking over current risk factors or later consequences, focused only on taking down his opponent and the victory closest at hand. She didn’t have too much room to talk, seeing as she herself could be just as impulsive and brazen as him, but she still found herself floored by his thorough planning and ability to lead when he actually took the extra time for strategy.

Perhaps that was why she fell for him as hard as she did.

They’d been on Team Voltron for three years and had been dating for nearly one year. They hadn’t told the rest of the team about their relationship, though, due to fear of the reactions they’d receive. They knew they really shouldn’t be keeping secrets and that, when the mechanical cat was inevitably let out of the castle-sized bag, there could be terrible repercussions for their deceit. They felt awful about it and were dreading the day, but they also knew that they were professionals at this point and didn’t want to get lectured about fraternizing being a risk to themselves and their teammates. They’d proven time and again over this last year that their personal feelings for one another could be placed to the side when it was necessary for the safety of the team. Pidge feared the others not seeing it that way, and Keith knew that Shiro would have quite a few examples on hand of how it could all go down the drain.

They had docked on their most recent exploration planet only a few hours ago, with the planet’s night cycle on the horizon. Allura and Shiro agreed that exploring would be something best done in the daylight and suggested the others spend the time getting some well-deserved rest. Pidge, thinking the idea of sleep actually sounded pretty good for once, had headed off to her own quarters and dozed off near immediately after swapping into an oversized green tunic that functioned more as a nightgown for her. After only a few hours of slumber, she’d been poked in the nose, causing her to scrunch it up and groan loudly.

Her response was an all too familiar voice, cooing teasingly, “Aw, poor sleepy bird.”

“Go. Away. Sleeping,” She grumbled, turning so her back was facing him and nuzzling deeper into her covers. She let out a contented sigh as well, hoping that it would be enough to coax him into leaving.

She had forgotten who she was dealing with, apparently.

Keith felt a grin turn up on his lips, seeing the challenge and feeling pride that he knew how to approach it. Whether by design, a sense of necessity, or simply her own preference, Pidge spent most of the time she had to herself working on decoding this or programming that or preparing this upgrade for that lion and so on. It made certain tasks easier – such as rounding her up for training – but on the flip side, she was an absolute workaholic whom would occasionally skips meals from being so focused on her work. On days where she was so engrossed in her work that meals and hygiene fell to the wayside, Shiro would be sent in to peacefully extract her. But on days where Shiro was preoccupied helping Coran and Allura with battle plans or navigations or something of that ilk, the other three paladins would typically draw straws to see who would have to find a way to coax the aggressive pigeon from her perch.

Years of being selected as the unenthused bird keeper most often had prepared Keith Kogane for this moment.

Their being in a relationship didn’t necessarily mean he would be spared from taking pointed elbows and surprisingly forceful kicks to the shin; Pidge Gunderson showed no mercy when it came to getting her way. Her fortitude and refusal to give up were admirable qualities but when those same qualities were applied to her temper tantrums, it was far from charming. He tended to be the best at coercing her to deviate from her own plans – second only to Shiro, but he understood why and took no offense to that fact – because he could be just as bombastic and stubborn and just plain mean as she would be.

Her attempts to shove him out of the hanger would typically end with him throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He would retaliate to the jabs and blows she’d dish out in her indignation at being carried with small pinches to the backs of her knees and rounding a corner quick enough to clip her foot or shoulder. And, the cherry on top, was that Pidge herself had taught him how to hack into the controls on the bedroom doors once when they were pulling a prank on Lance. He very rarely ever made use of the skill, but it had occasionally come in handy during spats or disagreements between them.

Keith leaned over and pinched at her side gently, knowing all too well how ticklish she was there. She yelped and shot upright, shifting to try and dig an elbow into his side. He anticipated that move, however, and side-stepped smoothly. She tumbled over the side of her bed and hit the ground, her equilibrium still drastically skewed from her being half-awake, becoming a mess of flailing limbs and tangled covers. She scrambled to sit upright, the blankets pooling around her, and blew a few strands of hair out of her face. “What do you want, Keith?” She growled through clenched teeth.

He squatted down so they were eye level - Pidge noting that he had changed into his Paladin armor - and flashed a huge, proud grin. She’d seen this grin on his face before; he usually sports it right before flipping his opponent flat on their back during combat training. The expression caught her interest, cooling some of her fury with a balm of curiosity. “Get geared up, grab your bayard, and meet me in the hanger. I’ve got a little surprise for you,” He said.

She hummed quietly in thought before getting up. “Alright, alright. But if this isn’t worth it, I’m volunteering you to help Lance practice new pick-up lines,” She warned, scooping up her covers and tossing them into a heap on the bed.

He rolled his eyes and headed to the door. “Whatever you say, Katie,” He hummed before disappearing out the door.

She waited until she could hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway before putting herself back together. She contemplated going back to bed out of spite but she knew that he would just come and wake her up again; or, even worse, he’d find some other thing to do for vengeance. On top of that, the use of her actual name had her especially curious.

It was only in their most quiet and intimate moments that he ever called her Katie. Only Shiro and Keith were aware that Pidge wasn’t her actual name – more because neither Hunk nor Lance had seemed particularly interested in that information – and while she’d gotten somewhat used to hearing Shiro call her as such, whenever Keith called her, it still left her heart skipping beats. She changed into her armor as she was told, grabbed her bayard and a hair tie, and headed out.

She walked into the hanger to find him leaning against one of Red’s paws and checking a stop watch, the hanger doors already open for take-off.

“Okay, what is this oh-so-phenomenal surprise you felt the need to wake me up over?” She asked while setting her helmet down on her make-shift desk at her work station. She then started to comb her fingers through her hair to tie it back. Since revealing herself to her team, she’d decided to grow her hair out again, having honestly missed having long hair to play with.

Keith made a small noise in the back of his throat as he approached her, swiping the hair tie from her grasp and taking over working on her hair. “Why didn’t you tie this back before you even got here?” He asked.

In all honestly, she’d done it because the feel of his fingers combing through her hair and gently working the tresses into quick buns or French braids was relaxing for her; however, she wasn’t going to tell him the whole truth. “Because it’s more fun to make you do it for me. A small price you have to pay for waking my happy ass up. Now answer my question, you dodgy jerk,” She hummed back.

He smirked a bit as he finished up the quick bun for her, flicking the little knot of hair lightly. “First, get in Green. Then follow me, and I’ll show you,” He said before retreating to climb into Red’s cockpit.

She scowled and made her way to Green, tugging on her helmet. “That boy may as well be a damn ballerina with all those fancy moves,” She grumbled bitterly. She could feel Green’s amusement as she headed in to Green’s cockpit as well. She flopped down in her seat and reached for the controls. “Did Red give you any hint as to what exactly he’s got up his sleeve?” She asked as she watched the other metal feline shift and walk toward the exit

Green laughed lightly. “Sorry, little one, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Lion’s honor,”

“Well aren’t you just helpful today?” She sighed before Green lurched forward, following their comrades out.

Once they were a good distance from the castle ship, they went by the mechanical beasts’ paws instead of relying on their flying capabilities, much to her surprise. But then again, that was probably part of his plan too; the planet was certainly a gorgeous one. Red and Keith led them through rolling hills of what she assumed was pastel orange grass, halting at pools of some kind of liquid – or so she hoped, given past experiences they’d had over the years – gleaming a deep, rich purple hue with glittering silver and gold stones of some sort at the bottom. Keith hadn’t said anything over the communicator to her – only pausing at certain points to wait for her to catch up and gawk a little – before he and Red would charge ahead again.

She was left in their dust and in awe at one trail they cut past in specific.

The trees on the planet reminded her of an odd hybrid between birch and weeping willows; pale, alabaster trunks that stretched out high and wide, but their leaves dangled far off the branches like wisps of unruly hair. The leaves were the real game changers, though; they were translucent and came in various shades of yellow, orange and red, catching in the light like stained glass and casting colorful shadows along the ground in the rising light. She felt her breath catch as she looked around, wondering how long Keith had been milling around exploring earlier, before she pulled him up on the communicator. “Keith, this is amazing!” She said excitedly as he appeared on the small holographic monitor.

He flashed a small smile. “I’m glad you’re enjoying, but this isn’t the surprise,”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”

“I mean, I’m glad you’re enjoying the sights, but I had no idea it looked like this. It was really nice at night, though, so I should have figured it would be pretty during the day too. Consider this a happy accident, I suppose,” He explained with a small shrug, guiding Red further into the thicket of trees to settle underneath one. She had noticed he was starting to pick up her habit of occasionally rambling when answering question, though he didn’t do it for nearly as long and he typically stayed relatively on topic. “No, what I wanted to show you is just up ahead, in a ravine, but we need to leave the Lions here to make sure we aren’t detected.”

She wanted to ask why they didn’t just come in one Lion if he was concerned about being spotted – especially since Green could cloak for short bursts of time – but decided not to argue. She supposed he was thinking it’d be better to have two Lions if they did end up in a fire fight with any unfriendly faces. Green sidled up beside Red and settled comfortably for Pidge to disembark. Keith was waiting a few paces ahead for her, smile still in place and his bayard already pulled out.

She slipped her own bayard into her grip as she fell in step with him, matching her footfalls to his. He had helped teach her how to walk more quietly, move more carefully, shift her weight to make her movements a bit more graceful; a skill that was useful for missions and sneaking back and forth from his room when her nightmares made sleep near impossible. “So, were you just out exploring instead of sleeping, then?” She asked.

He hummed lightly. “When we landing I thought I saw something. Allura said to leave it be for now, since it seemed to be a ways off and hadn’t noticed us yet, but it was bothering me. I figured it’d be a good idea to get some intel on whatever it was,” He said calmly, shifting a bit closer to her as the mouth of the ravine came into view. When they walked, his hand occasionally bumped against hers, the soft clack of their armor creating a surprisingly comforting background noise.

As they peered over into the large, deep ravine below, she was stunned.

It was a Galra camp of some sort, but she wasn’t entirely sure at first. There was a huge hole carved into the side of the gorge – or, she reasoned, perhaps it was the mouth of some sort of cave – and that seemed to be where all the action was taking place. There were sentries posted here and there but there were two actual Galra guards standing watch by the entrance. There were two large buildings – windowless, dilapidated husks more than buildings, really – and two small shacks positioned in between the two buildings. Both buildings were in just as sad a state of repair but one of them had a hanging sign above the door; a wooden sign, hanging loosely from chains, with a red cross painted on it. A sick bay of sorts, she assumed. There was a Galra ship settled to the far left of the ravine and a few more guards and sentries were exiting the ship.

As one of the Galra headed toward one of the larger buildings, a blaster and megaphone clutched tightly in his hands, it dawned on her what they were staring at.

“I’ve been observing this place ever since I found it,” Keith supplied, taking her slack-jawed expression for the epiphany that it was. She flinched at the sound of his voice then turned her head to look at him with wide eyes. “I caught them toward the end of the day before, so I didn’t get a good look at the workers, but one of the few I saw looked a lot like you. Did… Did your brother walk with a limp?”

Your father was sent away to a work camp.

Matt and I were sent to the arena.

Matt was scared.

Grabbed a guard’s weapon and struck Matt.

Take care of your father.

Despite how long ago the conversation had been had, she could still remember it clear as day. Shiro had saved her brother Matt from dying in the arena by injuring him. Shiro assumed that the Galra would heal Matt’s leg – they had the technology to do that much, he was sure of it – but assuming that they opted not to, it could make sense. Shiro admitted that it had been a deep cut he had inflicted. If the Galra had only given him basic treatment to get him work-ready then he could have suffered after effects. “You found him,” She finally wheezed out, her breathing starting to pick up and her eyes watering.

He settled one hand on top of hers and squeezed gently. “Happy anniversary, Katie,” He said simply.

She broke down, letting out embarrassing little sob-giggle hybrids as tears started to fall. “You… You found my brother as an anniversary gift?” She blubbered, squeezing his hand back as tightly as she could, but she was smiling.

“Well, I found this place while I was just trying to find a nice spot for, like, a picnic or something. I mean, Lance has raved about how that’s a great way to woo a girl,” He said with a small laugh. He held up his free hand and held out his thumb and index fingers as he ticked off two points. “But then I realized that we don’t exactly have a lot of options for picnic-y foods – because I still barely understand how to cook half the stuff Hunk has found that’s edible – and also that I doubt we could bluff our ways out of it if we got caught on the picnic. So I thought that, as far as woo-worthy gestures go, helping you spring your brother from an intergalactic concentration camp might be a nice alternative.”

She stared at him before she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard to fight back more hiccups and laughs and tears. Of course Keith would be the one to find something like this and put the knowledge to an oddly impractical use. “I feel like such a smuck now! I was just going to upgrade your bayard so that you could alter the length and curve of your blade however you wanted!” She choked out lightly.

He laughed, clinking their helmeted heads together lightly. “Are you kidding me? That sounds like a kickass anniversary gift! Lance will never win another sparing match again,” He beamed, eyes shining in enthusiasm and delight. He gave her hand one more squeeze before looking back down at the ravine. “So, from what I’ve seen, we have about ten minutes before they’ll start sending the workers into the camp. You should get Green and go into cloak mode; you could plug up the cave hole and deal some damage to the ship to prevent an escape. I’ll jump down and keep them from getting back to the ship until you can take it out.”

“They have a decent amount of troops, though; should we call for some reinforcements?” She asked while taking a shuddering breath to collect herself.

“I already got that covered; once you get in Green, Red’s gonna send a distress signal to Black, Blue and Yellow. If my timing is right, then they should show up in time to help finishing taking out the Galra and start the job of taking care of the workers,”

“Shiro’s gonna be so pissed at us,” She said, shifting to slide farther back down toward the Lions.

Keith flashed her a smirk. “He’ll get over it once he sees it’s for a worthy cause,”

She felt her heart beat pick up and she nodded, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. “God, I love you so much,” She whispered breathlessly before darting back to Green.