#the silent credits made this whole thing even worse

[cherphadetseuk]

Guys, I just watched the newest episode of "The Eighth Sense" and I'm...I don't even know how to function anymore...

[cressidagrey]

The moment I could see it - Part 6 (The End)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: 5 Times that Gianpiero Lambiase thinks that Ariel Cane and Max Verstappen are weirdly similar…and 1 time he is just happy that the two of them are no longer pining after each other. 

Warnings: 

GP's POV, mention of cancer, mention of parent's death

Author Notes: Happy Holidays! Better late than never, right?

If there was a truth universally acknowledged in the Red Bull Garage, then it was this: You didn’t upset Ariel Cane without paying the price. And the price to pay was dealing with an absolutely furious Max Verstappen. 

(Actually they had put that in the inoffical onboarding document a few years ago that every newbie was handed on their first day… After that one stupid strategist had thought that making an inappropriate comment to Ariel was the thing to do. The fallout of that had not been…pretty.)

Everybody knew this. Everybody kept to that truth. It wasn’t about disagreements about work. Ariel was more than capable to eal with that. It was about her being treated with actual respect an not like her whole reason to being there was for her to fetch Max’s coffee. 

Everybody knew that rule. Everybody kept to that rule, if they knew what was good for them. 

Unless you were Jos Verstappen. 

Jos Verstappen clearly thought he was above treating Ariel with a modicum of respect. Jos Verstappen was a fucking idiot. 

GP had half a mind to deck Jos himself, for daring to put his hands on Ariel.

Actually he would have probably done that. If he hadn’t also had Max on the radio in the middle of the race.

That was the one thing that stopped him from physically intervening. The race was his priority. 

GP knew that Max was going to loose his fucking mind over the fact that they lied to him. And quite frankly, he had ever right to it. 

At least, GP got to watch Connor drag Jos Verstappen away from Ariel by the scruff of his neck. Only after the damage was already done…but it was something. 

Something. 

Jos, predictably, didn’t look very pleased to be bodily removed.

"Let go of me!" he shouted, but his protests were in vain. Connor’s grip was firm and unwavering, his own anger etched on his face. Jos had clearly crossed the line.

Which also more than made Christian’s reaction to all of this more than reasonable.

Still, none of this suddenly erased what had happened. None of this fucking fixed the fact that Jos Verstappen had dared to slap Ariel across her face. 

The rest of the race passed by in a blur, GP keeping his focus solely on Max and the race. Max’s voice in his ear was the only constant, a reassuring presence during the chaos.

 When the checkered flag fell, though, the tension of the race was joined by the tension of the impending drama. The radio went silent, the moment before they was all dreading.

Quite frankly… GP had expected worse.

Max let himself be reasoned with. To an extent. 

He also didn’t bite off the head of any journalist even when it was clear that he wanted to…

To his credit, Max showed remarkable restraint. He was clearly seething with anger, his expression tight and his hands clenched into fists, but he somehow managed to hold himself back. 

GP could see the storm brewing just below the surface, but Max somehow kept it together.

Even when the journalists clearly wanted to get a rise out of him, asking about the confrontation with his father and with Ariel, Max managed to stay (relatively) composed.

He kept his answers short and clipped, his jaw clenched shut as he did his best to keep his temper in check.   

Max's responses were sharp, and it was impossible missed his obvious disdain for the question. He answered curtly, his body taut with tension. GP winced every time Max opened his mouth, knowing the press was going eat up the sound bites.

Still, all of them breathed a sign of relief when Max disappeared into his driver room. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving everyone else in a silent daze.

There was to hope that Ariel would be able to work her increible magic…somehow talk him away from the brink. 

GP just hoped that everything that ha happene in the Garage that day wasn’t going to destroy Max an Ariel’s friendship.  

The fallout of that particular scenario would be catastrophic. 

He wasn’t the only one who was thinking that, he was quite sure. 

30 minutes later, Max showed up again, to take his trophy home. 

And to the shock and surprise of everybody...he was calm.

Max, who had stormed off in anger only half an hour ago, returned to the public eye with an almost eerie calm. His expression was neutral, his body language relaxed, as he accepted his trophy.

The contrast between the fiery, angry Max from before and this almost eerily calm version of him was jarring.

Whatever Ariel had said to him… Whatever it was, it had been effective. 

GP could see the change in Max. The anger and tension from before were gone, replaced instead by that…calm. The tension having bled out of his body, his fists no longer clenched. 

God bless Ariel and her innate ability to stop furious blonde dutch racing drivers to go down the warpath. 

She was the only one that had this effect on Max. Regardless of whatever other shitty thing was going on, when Ariel was there as well, then Max would manage to hold it together. 

Sadly, GP had given up years ago that the two of them would ever actually admit the feelings that they clearly had for each other...but…there was that hopeless romantic somewhere deep inside him that hoped that one day the two of them would realise how absolutely perfect they were for each other. 

After the trophy, Max and Ariel disappeared back to their hotel room (GP didn't believe for one second that it wouln't end with Ariel curled up in Max's room, because he could be worth than a fussy mother hen…) and GP decided that he needed a bloody drink. 

So he ended up dragging Connor to the hotel bar and buying him a drink because that was clearly the least he owed him.

They weren't alone. Hannah, their strategist joined them as well, for a bit of a...gossip session.

And the topic, of course, was the usual. Max and Ariel. The two of them were always a source of intrigue an speculation within the Red Bull Team and today’s events ha only aed more fuel to the fire. 

"I am not definitely not envying Gemma right now," Hannah said with a snort as she sipped her cocktail. "She’s supposed to get Max to give out a statement. How high are the chances he’ll even talk to her?"

GP chuckled at that. "I'm sure she'll manage," he said, although he did not envy the publicist's job either. Max could be a handful even at the best of times, and today he would be… particularly uncooperative.

Not that anybody would fault him for that. 

Connor took a large swig of his drink. "Poor Gemma," he sai with a sigh. "She has her work cut out for her."

Connor was texting, his phone not stopping vibrating and he sighed.

"Who is it?" GP wondered.

"Who do you think?" Connor gave back drily. "Percy.”

Ah. Ariel’s brother. 

“That was quick,” GP said drily. Word had gotten out fast. 

“Sky has the whole thing on video,” Hannah said with a grimace. “I am surprised it took this long. Besides…the entire garage has been buzzing.”

GP sighed, taking a sip of his own drink. “Of course it did,” he said. “This team loves their gossip.”

"I didn't think Cane was actually going to care though," Hannah said carefully. “He has never seen…particular…” Hannah was clearly struggling for words. 

GP sighed. In the near ecae that he knew Percy Cane now, his opinion about Ariel’s brother had changed drastically. From “asshole who in’t actually care about his sisters” to “emotionally stunted genius who loved them very much, was absolutely horrible at showing it, but was actually a great guy once he stopped talking in riddles”. 

It took a while to look behind the facade. Percy Cane ruled over the electrical engineering epartment with an iron fist, didn’t accept anything but the best from the people who worked for him…but was also the first one who woul defend any of them if they had done nothing wrong. 

“He’s actually a nice guy, once you get to know him better,” GP said pointedly. “And Ariel is his little sister. He may not always shows that…” (or at least not in any way considered normal…) "But both of his sisters are very important to him."

“Percy can be…difficult,” Connor agreed drily. “But he is really, really fun once you get to know him. And he is also very protective over Ariel and Emma,” Connor acknowledged. "I've seen Percy in full big brother mode, and it's not something I'd like to experience myself. I am pretty sure he is going to destroy Jos Verstappen's whole life," Connor said drily."Not that I am going to stop him."

Hannah snorted, taking a sip of her drink. "None of us would," she said. "He can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be."

"I would not want to be on the receiving end of his wrath," GP added with a grimace. "Remember the one time that engineer spilled coffee all over his tablet?" he asked with a snort. "How long did all his emails come back as undelivered again?"

Hannah chuckled at the memory, a grin on her face. "Two weeks," she supplied with a snort. "So is he going to do the same thing to him?"

"He did that over a piece of tech. This is Ariel," Connor responded drily. "His revenge will be much worse."

"I need a drink," Gemma said at that exact moment as she slid into the seat next to GP. "Right about now."

"Well, looks like you came to the right place," GP replied with a smirk, gesturing to the drinks already on the table. "What do you want? It's on me."

Gemma reached for the bottle of tequila. “Apparently we need to celebrate.”

Hannah chuckled, "What exactly are we celebrating?" she asked curiously. 

Hannah wasn’t the only one who was wondering that. GP did too. 

"The end of a half a decade of stalemate," Gemma said drily after knocking back her drink. "Guess who finally figured things out?"

GP just stared at her. "No."

"Oh yes," Gemma agreed with a smirk. "4 hours ago, and it's as serious as it can be."

GP's eyes widened as Gemma spoke. "You're kidding," he said, his disbelief evident in his tone

Connor and Hannah simply looked at each other, their mouths slightly agape.

"No way," Connor finally said, shaking his head. "They actually stopped dancing around each other?"

Gemma nodded, a wide grin on her lips. "Oh, it's true," she said, taking another swig of her drink."They've finally stopped being idiots."

GP could only stare at her, still somewhat in awe. "This is...unbelievable," he said finally. "I honestly thought they'd never figure it out."

He had thought that the whole Max and Ariel thing was going to end in the worst kind of heartbreak to be completely honest. 

Hannah huffed, a mixture of disbelief and amusement on her face. "About bloody time," she said bluntly. "I was starting to go grey over here, waiting for them to finally get their act together!"

"Tell me about it," GP agreed, rubbing the back of his head. "It's been obvious how they feel about each other for years now. But they were so damn stubborn about actually acting on it."

Connor snorted, taking another swig of his beer. "You're preaching to the choir," he said wryly. "I've been ready to lock them in a room together for about five years now."

"Don't think Percy would have approved of that," GP pointed out with a smirk, and Connor chuckled.

"He's going to lose his mind," Connor said with a shake of his head. "The two of them...in a relationship. It's going to be an interesting time, that's for sure."

Connor's phone pinged again. He just sighed.

"Is he losing his mind already?" GP asked with a laugh.

Connor's face was a mixture of amusement and resignation as he glanced at his phone. "Yes," he replied simply. "Apparently Percy has written a whole 40 pages pdf document, which is his version of a shovel talk, so now he wants me to give him Max’s email address."

The table burst into laughter, the tension of the day finally easing into a lighthearted mood.

"A pdf document," GP repeated, almost unable to wrap his head around that. "Seriously?"

"With footnotes and all," Connor confirmed, a hint of amusement in his voice despite his words.

Hannah let out a bark of laughter. "Percy really knows how to go all out," she said, shaking her head with a grin.

"How many of these words aren't three syllables or more?" GP asked drily. "Maybe we should ask him to dumb it down a bit if he actually wants Max to read all of it and understand it. "

The group laughed again, with Connor snorting into his beer.

"Yeah, I don't think Percy has ever heard of the concept of dumbing it down," he said, shaking his head. "Guy is a literal genius. If anything, he's probably wondering how to use even more obscure words."

GP chuckled, raising his glass. "To Percy's incredibly thorough and undoubtedly terrifyingly effective shovel talk," he said with a grin.

The group laughed again, glasses clinking as they toasted to that.

"Here's to Max and Ariel finally getting their act together," Connor chimed in.

"It only took them five years," GP added.

"And countless missed opportunities," Hannah added with a smirk.

"Better late than never," Gemma agreed, taking a sip of her drink.

[neteyamssock]

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !! 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷 𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂

★ ˙🧷 ̟ pairing: neteyam x fem!reader

★ ˙🧷 ̟ summary: when you thought nothing could be more devastating than his death.

★ ˙🧷 ̟ wordcount: 0.6k (a drabble)

★ ˙🧷 ̟ content warning/tags: agedup! characters, established relationship, major character death, angst, a lil plot bunny (about tsaheylu), implied attempted su!cide (just implied, but be warned), unexpected pregnancy, grief, mourning.

★ ˙🧷 ̟ text divider credit to @/enchanthings

MASTERLIST

When Neteyam returned to Eywa’s embrace, as his mate, you felt the world had turned gray. The tsawke no longer shines, the eclipse had become a lot colder without his presence by your sides. Oftentimes, you would wake up with your face full of tears, not even remembering what you have dreamt before. You’d sit alone in the shore of awa’atlu, hoping that after blinking he’d still be standing in the water, playing with Tuk and Kiri. You’d sing his songchord every morning, savoring the bittersweet taste in your tongue as you call his name. 

Neytiri understood your pain, as she would join you in singing his song. A mother and a wife who both lost a big chunk of their heart. She’d lull you back to sleep every time you wake up in distress, calling for Neteyam’s name, begging him to stay. She’d cry with you, and you’d look at her face that resembles him so much, and you’d cry even further.

Everyone is mourning in their own ways, even those who loves to laugh and too innocent for this world had turned silent, crying when she misses her older brother.  At times, you’d wake up and ask yourself, why still go on? Why keep living when your lifeline had already left you behind? What’s the point of deluding yourself that you can keep going, when’s he’s the only reason you’re fighting? 

You thought nothing could be more devastating than this. Waking up knowing the space beside you will no longer be warm, no arms to hold your waist, no lips to whisper sweet nothings to your ears as you bask in bliss. You thought nothing could destroy you how his passing had shattered you to pieces.

“You’re with a child,”

The sinking feeling in your stomach became an abyss that swallowed you whole. Just when you’re about to be free, he shackled you to life of pain once again.

“N-no! It can’t b-be! Please tell me its not true!” You let out a wail, pain tearing through you as you call for him. Neytiri cried with you, hugging you as you flail in disbelief. She’s trying to calm you down, but how can you? How can you calm down knowing that another child in his world would live without a father? How can you calm down knowing that he’ll never be there to teach your child the way of the world?

How can you care for another life when you’re barely able to stop the crumbling of your own?

“They said that pregnant na’vis will always be in constant pain, and the only way to ease the pain is to have tsaheylu.’Teyam, I’m scared…”

“I’d always be there, yawne. You do not have to be afraid.”

“Liar…he’s a liar, LIAR!” You screamed as you continued hitting your stomach. You want it out. It cannot live. It cannot!

“______ please, stop! Please, i’m begging you!” 

He said he’ll always be there with you every step of the way. He said he’d never abandon you. He said not even death could take him away from you. When he was kissing you he’d whisper that he’ll do everything to be with you forever, that he will never make you experience pain and sadness. But he’s simply a liar. He abandoned you. He made you feel pain worse than death. All of the things he said were lies. He left you to deal with the world of pain, leaving you alone in this dark world. 

And now, he even left you a child. How cruel, Neteyam. How cruel of you.

Why did you leave me alone? How can you do this to me? Don’t you love me? When you promised me an eternity you didn’t say you wouldn’t be there with me. When you promised me a big family, you said you’d build them with me.

But now i’m alone. With this child you left behind.

Just when I was about to follow you, you gave me another reason to stay living in this world of agony. 

[avengersassemble-fics]

All I Wanted

chapter 01 "just to relive the start" master list word count 3.3k ☆ cursing songs mentioned

This all started two years ago.

Diagnosed with a chronic disease, your life changed. You knew something was wrong when you started to experience extreme fatigue no matter how much rest you got, the pain that frequently flared through your body, and the rash that came and went over your cheeks. Discomfort and illness racked through your body more times than you could count, and the diagnosis made sense. It all suddenly clicked, but so did the reality of your situation.

Working, keeping your insurance was fucking hard. You seemed to have more bad days then good, and after losing your coverage you started to get overwhelmed with bills. Medications that sometimes didn’t work, doctor visits that cost an arm and a leg (not really but it was still expensive per visit), it was like drowning in paperwork and credit card bills.

So.. your best friend came up with an idea.

You’ve known Jake Seresin since you both were in high school. That ‘more than friends’ line was never crossed, at least not ever that you two would talk about it. You went to college while he joined the Navy, and he became a naval pilot, but that connection never got lost on you two. Truly, you both were thick as thieves.

So selling the idea that you two were getting married was.. Fairly easy to convince everyone else. They all kept saying things like “we knew it!” or “about damn time!”.

But it was fake. All of it. Sure, you two cared about one another, but it was just an arrangement that mostly benefited you. Him? He was putting his entire career on the line if anyone were to find out what you two had done.

That was a year ago. A year of a married life that you and Jake weren’t expecting, but you two made it work. Jake spent a lot of time away from home due to his job, and as time passed you found yourself always looking forward to when he did come back home.

You had moved in with Jake shortly before your wedding, just outside of Austin city limits in a ranch home you had always told him was too big for one person who barely got to enjoy their time there. He always would just roll his eyes and point out that now, you were there. Still.. It was gracious of him to even offer.

This whole arrangement was more than you could ever repay him for.. It made you feel guilty sometimes for accepting all of this. Because what did he get out of this besides a ring on his finger that forced him to no longer chase ass and a weight on his shoulders to stay in line or else face the consequences?

Guilt always ran through your mind when Jake was away on missions, following you through the days and into the nights - much like tonight. Jake, on the other hand, had accepted this little charade. Honestly?.. He didn’t mind it one bit.

While you were stewing in your guilt, Jake was heading home, early, which he was hoping would surprise you. He had been cut loose from his mission a whole week early - all thanks to his skills in the skies. Driving to your shared home, Jake’s mind was practically shut off from exhaustion, basically driving out of Austin on autopilot.

There were worse things in life than coming home to someone already in bed, spending time with them on roadtrips, dinners together, laughing because you were their best friend. Sure, it was a marriage and commitment out of false pretenses, but that never changed the fact Jake and you were close, always had been, always would be.

The only thing on his mind was getting home and getting into bed with you. The thought of sleeping in an actual bed, not some flimsy cot or airport bench or plane seat, made his muscles ache in anticipation. Even while he pulled down the driveway, grabbed his bag from the truck, and quietly stepped inside the silent house - his first thoughts were you.

Making his way to the bedroom, he carefully peeled the first layer of clothing off, pulling his shirt over his head as he could just make out your figure in bed under the covers. Next, he undid his belt and slid his jeans down his legs so he was bare in his boxers, his eyes not leaving your form as he watched to make sure his movements didn’t wake you.

He had to admit - you were cute when you were sleeping.

Pulling back the covers, Jake eased himself down onto the opposite side of the bed, the soft sheets making him groan. Immediately, he felt you stir and he cursed himself as you rolled over to look at him.

“Jake?” your raspy voice sounded in the room. Jake let out a soft sigh and rolled onto his side as well so he could face you, your figure dimly illuminated by the moon outside the window.

“The one and only,” he responded quietly, which made you let out a small grunt.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early,” you said, ignoring his tease. He can see your eyes open and his shrugs. “I could’ve stayed up-”

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Jake interjected. “Can I hold you?”

You nodded, rolling away from him to face the other way. On cue, Jake scooted closer to your back and wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. Immediately the scent of your shampoo hit him and he was a goner, relaxed against you like his life depended on it. 

“You've been okay?” He asked softly as he moved your hair from his face so he could rest his chin near your neck. You didn’t ever mind him holding you like this, he said it helped him ground himself when he’d come home. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Mostly good days.”

“Good,” Jake said and let out a soft sigh. This was what he had been looking forward to for weeks now. He was such a fuckin’ sucker for it. 

“Are you okay?” You asked him quietly, checking in with him this time. Jake inhaled deeply, his exhale hitting your neck and it tingled slightly. 

“It was smooth sailing,” Jake responded, tightening his arm around you slightly. “Helps that I’m a badass in the sky.”

“Shut up,” you laughed softly. Jake grinned and you both fell into a silence. Your breaths were the only sounds in the room, before you shifted closer into him. 

“I missed you.”

Your admission was soft but he heard it. Jake found himself running his thumb over your arm, and you in turn found it comforting. The littlest of his touches seemed to do that nowadays. 

“I missed you too, sunshine,” he whispered near your ear and he swore he felt you shiver. 

Jake hadn’t been honest with you recently. For months, actually. Not since his last deployment. Something had changed these last 5 months. Jake had found himself unable to get you off his mind, unable to stop thinking about how good it felt to hold you like he was right now, or how much he wanted this to be real. Hell, for him it was becoming real. 

And it was starting to scare him. Even more so because he didn’t know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours. 

He was more than happy to have this for the rest of his life, have you as his live-in best friend turned fake wife, but the mere thought that there could be more here is what made his stomach twist. 

Jake wasn’t the sappy type, he never really wanted anything serious because of his career. He liked women, he liked sex, he liked detachment. Yet, there you always were, since high school. 

Things changed. And he didn’t know how to admit that to you or even to himself. 

He could tell by the way you went lax against him that you fell back asleep, your breaths low and soft. Jake took this opportunity to press a kiss to your shoulder before he let himself finally doze off.

With Jake settled back in at home, you realized just how nice it was having him around. Sure, both of your families still lived near Austin, but they couldn’t be with you 24/7. But when Jake was home, he tended to keep close. 

Today was no different. 

He dragged you out to do errands, bustling about the city in his truck with the windows down and music blaring and it was the most comfort you had felt in weeks. Jake was singing along obnoxiously loud to country music, even over the wind that blowed through the open windows. Behind his aviators and that perfect smile you couldn’t help but feel..

Well. Something. 

He was really into it. Who wasn’t? ‘Big Green Tractor’ was a classic. Eventually, when Jake looked over to you for a split second while he drove, when his hand went over the center console to rest on your knee encouragingly, you finally caved in. 

Belting out the chorus with him over the wind reminded you of this very scenario, but the two of you in high school, weekend nights down back roads in a more aged truck back then. Just.. good times. 

Getting to a light, Jake’s hand was still placed on your knee, his fingers drumming lightly against your skin. You pulled out your phone when it went off and squinted through your own sunnies at the dark screen. 

“Bradshaw is in town,” you said and Jake turned the radio down to hear you better. 

“Bradshaw?” He asked. 

“The one and only,” you joked this time. Jake grinned and squeezed your leg. “Actually, sounds like your whole squad is here.”

“No shit,” Jake said as he resumed driving when the light turned green. 

“He wants to hit up 6th street tonight,” you said to him over the wind. 

“Would you want to?” Jake asked and tossed a glance your way. 

“I guess so,” you teased him and placed a hand over the one he had on your leg and gave him a squeeze this time. Jake flipped his hand over and caught your wrist, bringing your hand up to his lips and placed a chaste kiss to your fingers. 

Jake hesitated for a moment when his eyes caught a glimpse at your hand, the wedding rings he had given to you proudly on display. Something inside him stirred at the sight. 

You were his.

Bar hopping wasn’t how you typically spent your Saturday night but here you were. Three bars into the bar crawl and you were feeling it. No amount of water would let you keep up with these guys. 

Bradley, Javy, Bob, Mickey, and even Natasha had flown in special. Natasha was your wingwoman for the night as the guys mostly kept to themselves, all except for Jake who did occasionally catch your gaze and give you a wink. 

“You two make me sick,” Natasha said, bringing you back to reality. “Like genuinely make me want to throw up.”

You laughed a bit and lifted your beer to your lips and took a swig. It wasn’t the ideal choice but it would do. 

“Jealousy doesn’t fit you, babe,” you chuckled and she rolled her eyes. 

“Jealous? I’m not ready for the level of commitment you two got goin’ on,” she remarked and you bit back a smile. 

Little did she know..

“Any chance he gets he’s looking over here,” she said before you could fully collect your thoughts. You looked back over and sure enough, there was Jake stealing a glance this way before turning back to his bro group.

“We’re..married, what can I say,” you said nonchalantly. Natasha laughed.

“Eye fucking you more like, and again.. It’s sick.”

Her comments lingered in your mind for the rest of the night, as you all regrouped and were onto the fourth and final bar experience of the night. By 2AM, you were wrecked and ready to fall out into bed. But they all had other plans- a “friendly” game of pool.

“Shirts versus skins,” Bradley joked, earning groans from the rest of the group. “What?”

“We’re gonna be an odd man out,” Bob pointed out, since there were seven of us present. You happily hummed into your drink, before putting a finger to the tip of your nose.

“Noes goes,” you said and Natasha glared at you.

“Please don’t leave me to play them,” she begged and you shook your head. “Traitor.”

“Gotta be faster than that,” you grinned and Jake’s hand grazed your arm, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Mind getting me a beer?” he asked lowly. You tensed up slightly, his breath on your skin felt hotter than normal.

“Sure,” you responded after clearing your throat. As you stepped away and his hand slowly trailed down your arm and away from your skin you felt a rush of air in your lungs. What the fuck was that? When you got to the bar and managed to get the bartender's attention, you just ordered one beer and tapped your fingers on the bartop.

No that was.. It was just the ruse. Just this charade we had going on. An act for the group of friends.

Just as the beer was placed before you and you reached into your back pocket for some wadded up cash, an arm extended past your shoulder with a hefty AMEX..

“Put it on my tab,” the voice, groggy and low, said from behind you. Of all the things happening tonight, dealing with a drunk wasn’t what you expected. Or wanted.

“I’m good, thanks,” you declined, trying to hand the bartender the cash, but the man behind you came up by your side, pushing his card further over the counter.

“I insist,” he nearly growled.

“Insist all you want,” you said, placing the cash into the waiting bartender’s hand, who was watching the whole exchange. “I said I’m good.”

“What? Too good for me to buy you a fucking drink?” the stranger asked and immediately you felt your temper flare.

“Actually? Yeah,” you said and picked the beer off the counter with one hand, and held up the other to show off your rings. “And happily married, asshole.”

“I don’t see him anywhere,” the man grinned as he rested against the bartop, eyeing you up and down. 

“See him now?”

The voice made you turn to the side, and there he was in all his glory. The smile and lightheartedness that had been in his eyes and over his face all night was now replaced with a cold glare and furrowed brows. Jake never did like it when men approached you unwelcomed, even back in college.

Guess it stuck.

“Everything alright?” Jake asked you, his eyes not leaving the strangers increasingly agitated stare.

“Fine,” you answered, not fully believing it. You stepped back from the bar towards Jake’s body, and he immediately brought his hand behind your back, ushering you behind his body. His eyes searched yours for the truth and you gave him a nod. Finally, he turned back to the stranger and scowled.

“Have a good one,” Jake spat out, not truly meaning it.

The rest of the night was filled with tension. For the remainder of the pool game, as everyone said their goodbyes for the night, when you and Jake took an Uber home, when you got through the front door.. Just tension.

Jake tossed his wallet and keys down onto the counter as he neared the kitchen. You watched, closing and locking the front door as he kicked his shoes off and ruffled his hair.

“Are you hungry?” he asked suddenly. “I’m fuckin’ hungry.”

“I.. Sure, yeah, could eat,” you admitted, following him into the kitchen.

“Grilled cheese?” He asked and a quiet rumbling sound escaped your throat.

“You know I love those,” you mumbled and Jake was already pulling out everything to make one.

“I know, I’m the best,” Jake said over his shoulder as he started to prepare one of his masterpieces.

A grilled cheese sandwich was simple, but so delicious. Especially when you’re tipsy. You watched as Jake warmed up a skillet, tossed in some butter, made the sandwich with ease, and grilled it in the pan.

Domesticity looked good on him.

Immediately at that thought, a wave of guilt hit you. This was wrong.. Look at him! This Jake was meant for someone else, someone he actually loved, someone he actually wanted to spend the rest of his life with.. You were fucking that up for him.

“One perfect grilled cheese,” Jake said as he plated the sandwich and cut it in half with the spatula. When he turned around to set the plate down on the kitchen island, he immediately saw the look on your face. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said and took one of the halves of the sandwich, it was hot to the touch.

“Oh, come on,” Jake said. You finally noticed his accent sounded heavier tonight after all the drinks. “Don’t do that to me. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

You drop the sandwich back onto the plate and stand from the barstool. Jake watches with a raised brow as you pull away, back to him as you faced the living room, lost in thought. He circles around the countertop and comes up behind you.”

“Sunshine-”

“You deserve better,” you said suddenly and Jake falters. His brows furrow slightly, even if you can’t see it. And, he thinks he felt his heart stop for a moment.

“What?” he asked again. Maybe he didn’t hear you right.

“Look at you! Pure fuckin’ perfection,” you said and finally turned to face him. Maybe he did feel his heart stop, because the look in your eyes were sad and he hated that. “You could make any woman happy and here you are, stuck with me, stuck with this.. This fake setup.”

It was Jake’s turn to frown now. Where was this coming from? Things had been good, great even. He didn’t know how to ease the turmoil in your mind. Well he could tell you how he felt, set you straight..

But the smallest inclination you might not feel the same way made him decide otherwise.

“Sure, I could make any woman happy,” he said after a few moments of pause. Jake took a step closer, his hands able to reach yours to engulf in his own. “Right now? All I wanna do is make you happy.”

“Jake-”

“Listen to me,” he cut you off and you bit your tongue. The way Jake’s head dipped slightly to meet your eyes better, the way he slightly leaned in so you could really feel his presence - you felt a knot in your stomach.

“You’re my best friend, nothin’ is changing that, nothin’ ever could. This was all my idea, ok?.. I like it. You were always my rock when I went through flight school, through TOPGUN.. Lemme be your rock now, just please stop fightin’ this.”

As Jake spoke he entangled his fingers with yours and you slowly nodded. Looking like he accomplished ending the next world war, he straightened himself and planted a kiss on your temple. If you felt even just a little more at ease tonight, he was happy with that. And maybe one day he can tell you everything else he thinks about you.

But tonight, over a shared grilled cheese sandwich and putting on reruns of Yellowstone, the two of you forgot anything about the tension, about your turbulent thoughts. Instead, you both curled up on the couch, and he held you under his arm until you were asleep.

Coincidentally, you both spent most of the night thinking the same thing - maybe it’s time to tell one another how you feel.

“The polestar that will guide you into a more loving future is already shining bright in the night sky of your soul. But to see it, you must accustom your eyes to the fertile darkness you have tried to avoid.” - Sam Keene

[beingsuneone]

The One

SYNOPSIS: it would’ve been fun. If he would’ve been the one.

FANDOM: Harry Potter

PAIRING(S): Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Goyle, Crabbe, Draco, Theo, Pansy, Enzo, Blaise, Tom, Voldemort

GENRE/AU: Angst, Unhappy ending, Arranged Marriage Au!, reader is married to Goyle (not by choice),

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Angst

A/N: *cough* the 1 by Taylor Swift was my inspo. *cough* header and dividers made by me. I would also like to make a part two to this. Note: Voldemort/Toms son Tom Jr who looks exactly like him! (Pre-Voldemort)!AU hope this helps.

DEDICATIONS: the people who voted for him in the poll :)

CREDITS: N/A

The silver band on your finger glistens in the bright lights of the wedding hall, looking anything but enticing; instead of a symbol of love and comfort, it was like a shackle that tied you to a man you didn’t love forever.

Your eyes scan the crowd for the millionth time this evening, trying to seek out a pair of familiar brown eyes— your heart drops for the millionth time this evening, and you realize all over again that no matter how many times your eyes search for his, it will not make him appear.

He won’t come, you know that now as your new husband leans over to ‘kiss the bride’.

You try to wipe the disappointment off of your face, let go of his messy brown curls and smooth words, his rough hands and intoxicating scent.

Mattheo Riddle wasn’t yours to think about anymore; the man in front of you was.

Why your father thought a marriage alliance with Gregory Goyle would help your family, you’ll never know.

Worse, Goyle was, at one point, at least a decent friend of yours; You, Mattheo, Draco, Theo, Enzo, Blaise, Tom, Goyle, and Crabbe, used to strut around Hogwarts like you owned the place— let’s be honest, you damn near did. You and your protective group of Slytherins.

You allow your lips to touch Goyle’s for only a moment before you pull back and smile cordially; the two of you walk arm-in-arm down the aisle until you reach the doors at the end.

The moment you’re through, you push him away.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says sadly. “If I could have said no, I would have.”

You shake your head, not even listening. “He didn’t even come, Goyle. I thought he’d at least try.”

Goyle sighs. “It wasn’t up to any of us. Not even Mattheo.”

Your eyes sting so you force your face to go deadpan and stare at Goyle. “I will always love you as a friend, Goyle, but I will never love you as anything more.” You say, retreating towards your dressing room.

He says nothing in return. He doesn’t need to. The feeling is mutual.

You enter your dressing room and release a strained breath, resting your head against the door after you close it.

Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to daydream; to think what this day would be like if Mattheo was the one wearing a suit, the one saying his vows and sliding a ring onto your finger. You let yourself imagine all of the things you would’ve shared with him in this alternate reality, all the joy you might’ve felt. The future you might’ve been able to look forward to.

A tear slips silently down your cheek as your throat closes, suffocating you in the feelings you wish you were feeling.

Someone clears their throat and your eyes fly open, as your whole body snaps stick straight.

It’s your father, sitting eery and alone in a dark room. “You had to grow up one day, Y/n,” he says as his cold gaze sweeps over you. “Stop running around with that Riddle kid and risking your future.”

You shake your head. “The only real future I had was with him, Father.” You tug on the skirt on your wedding dress, and then your hair. “All this— this glamour and camaraderie is you, father, you playing puppeteer with real live people. I don’t know what status you think you’ll get from Goyle, of all people.”

Your father just sneers and pulls up his sleeve— an elaborate tattoo meant to symbolize his allegiance to Voldemort. The dark mark. He says, “You know exactly who that boy’s father is, and exactly where that puts me in relation.” He pauses. “This is what the Dark Lord wanted, Y/n.”

“…what?” Your mouth hangs open, and you wonder why the dark lord would want to torment you personally. “Why would he… I don’t understand.”

Your father just brushes past you and twists the door open. “If the Dark Lord doesn’t tell, you do not ask.”

……

“You’re going to marry him, right?” Pansy asks, smiling at you in the way that friends do when you have a crush on someone.

You shrug, playing it cool but despite your heart going a thousand miles a minute; excitement courses through your veins at the thought of Mattheo. “I think we’d have to become an actual thing first, Pansy.” You laugh.

She winks at you playfully. “I don’t think that’ll take too long, Y/n, He is whipped for you.”

You shake your head. “He is not.” Your heart still flutters.

“He is.” A new voice cuts in, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You turn to face Mattheo, who is now leaning in the doorframe.

What an entrance.

Pansy looks between the two of you and smirks mischievously. “I‘ll leave you two alone and go bug Blaise.” She slips past Mattheo.

You can’t meet his eyes as you grin stupidly at the floor, and the shirt in your hand.

“You talk about me often?” He says, settling on the floor next to you; he breaks you out of your stupor by gently tugging the shirt out of your hands.

You finally look at him. “No, only when Pansy brings you up. Which is always.” You bite your lip as you smile. “I don’t mind it though, you’re one of my favourite subjects.”

“That’s good,” he agrees, toying with a lock of your hair. “I think the guys are sick of hearing about you.”

“Of course they are,” you banter, “They already know everything about me.”

Mattheo leans in closer. “I don’t think they know everything.” His head dips down until his lips are just millimeters from yours. “They wouldn’t know what your lips feel like, would they?”

He bridges the gap and the two of you spent what is probably several minutes just kissing, and when he pulls away you’re breathless.

“No, I don’t think they know that.” Your voice comes out high-pitched, still trying to catch your breath both mentally and physically.

“I hope they never find out.” He says quietly.

You nod absent-mindedly. “Me too.”

….

You sigh deeply and set down the box in your new living room. Trying to put a positive spin on it, you think about how it won’t be terrible living with a friend instead of your parents, who were never there when they needed to be and always there when you needed them to leave.

Emotionally and physically.

You and Goyle are throwing a housewarming party, per his mothers request; so, technically this box really shouldn’t be in this room right now. It needs to be prepped for the party.

Goyle walks into the room. “Malfoy wants to know if he should invite Mattheo.”

You shrug. “Tell him to invite him, I don’t think he’ll show up either way.” Getting over Mattheo has not been easy, and when you think about him, his absence still sends several intense stabs through your heart.

You can still feel the ravines where the cracks in your heart formed. If he did show up, it would either put you on the path to healing or destroy you all over again and possibly forever.

You were fully prepared for the latter if it meant seeing him one last time.

But he won’t show, just like he wasn’t there when you really needed him just a few months ago, when some other man’s ring was being slipped onto your finger and you were near powerless to stop it.

Goyle stares at you for minutes, as if you’re fragile and need to be handled gently. “It is short notice.”

You pick the box back up and walk past him, just to stop at the foot of the stairs. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Then, you go upstairs and place the box in the guest bedroom. You have all this space in your new house and absolutely nothing to do with it.

Rooms filled with expectations and soured dreams.

….

Parties should be fun; this cake, considering it’s your favourite flavour, should taste good. You’re surrounded by the faces of your closest friends, all your family— though you aren’t fond of many of them— and all of Goyle’s family. Yet, all you feel is unfulfilled aching for Mattheo.

You feel so pathetic, always thinking about Mattheo, always relating everyone moment to your first love.

But you had wanted him to be your last. Your only. Your everything.

Draco is here, and he’s the one who asked about inviting Mattheo, so you’re pretty sure he’s not coming and you know you absolutely shouldn’t ask.

Instead, you stare at Draco as you eat the tasteless cake, wishing he’d somehow understand what you wanted to know.

Doesn’t help that he’s across the room.

“Y/n, come upstairs for a minute.” Pansy says, dragging you away from the party and into your bedroom. Or what will be your bedroom, anyways.

When the door has shut and she’s locked it, she turns back to you. “You can’t spend the whole party pining over the possibility of Mattheo showing up, Y/n; I know how much he means to you but you have to accept that you’re married and it’s over. You’re only going to hurt yourself more if you keep obsessing over this.”

You reel back, though you’re thankful for how bluntly Pansy says it. “I know, Pansy, I know. I just— I don’t know if can ever get over him. I mean…” You trail off trying to find your words. “Goyle was probably the last person out of our group that I would’ve chosen if I couldn’t have Mattheo. Truly, I think I could live if it was Enzo, or Theo, or even Draco, but not Goyle.”

She sighs. “But it’s not them, and it is Goyle.”

“So, what now?” You huff. “I’m just supposed to… I don’t know, keep his house and have his kids?”

Pansy’s eyes soften but she doesn’t respond; its a rhetorical question and there really isn’t any proper answer for it.

Then, there is a knock at the door. Pansy unlocks and opens the door, just enough for her to see who it is.

When she does, she says nothing. You watch her slip out the door before you even see who is behind it.

And then he steps in.

Mattheo Riddle.

“Hello, Y/n.” He says, so plainly as though he hasn’t just affected you in more ways than you could ever possibly count.

You look away. “You actually came.”

He clears his throat. “I did.”

You can almost picture him a few years back, standing in your dorm room door, smiling at you in that teasing way that made you knees weak.

Except he’s not smiling, and there is absolutely nothing blissful about this moment.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Mattheo shuts the door behind him. “If it changes anything at all.”

…..

“There’s something I want to tell you, y/n.” Mattheo says one day, cryptically. “I’m just not sure if I should yet.”

You brush his hair out of his face. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, whenever you’re ready.”

He shakes his head, but he’s not disagreeing. “I’m worried you’ll see me differently.”

“There is nothing in the world that could make me see you differently, Mattheo.”

He seems sated by your words, and pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head. The two of you stay like that for a long while before he finally says, “I’ll tell you, but not today.”

You nod silently and focus on the feel of his arms around you, not wanting to take a single moment with him for granted.

…..

“What is it, Mattheo?” You say exhaustedly while you sit down on the mattress. “What could you say that would change anything?”

He takes a deep breath and sits beside you. “I know why this is happening, why Voldemort singled you out.”

You look up at him. “Mattheo…” trailing off, you stare at his sleeve in horror, dreading what you think he’s going to say. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

He furrows his eyebrows, following your gaze; when he realizes, his eyebrows shoot up again. “No! No, That’s not why I know.”

You visibly deflate with relief. He instinctively curls his arm around you but then quickly pulls it away. “Okay,”

He chuckles dryly. “My reason is actually much worse.” Mattheo pauses, blowing out a breath. “I’m his son.”

.

.

.

After a moment's hesitation, you shoot up from your spot, your eyes blown wide with disbelief. “Mattheo, you cannot be serious.”

He stands up, and sits you back down, trying to keep you calm. “It’s not like I want to advertise that my father is the most notorious dark wizard in history.” He reaches out and pushes a strand of hair out of your face, like you used to do to him so many times. “But he didn’t want you with me, Y/n, all of this is happening to you because of me.”

He sinks down to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

“So,” You start. “I was personally targeted by the dark lord because you couldn’t bother to mention what’s probably a very important detail.”

His fingers tighten around yours. “I was so scared that you wouldn’t love me anymore if I told you, and then, by the time you were engaged, it was too late.”

You push his hands away. “Mattheo, I would have loved you no matter what you told me.” The hurt in your voice makes him back away from you and you can see the pain swirling in his eyes too.

“I told you. You know. Now, we can fix this.”

“No, Mattheo,” You stand up and push him towards the door. “It’s too late. You’re too late.”

He shakes his head rapidly. “No. No, it’s not.” Mattheo tries to stop you from opening the door but ultimately you push him over the threshold. “Please, Love, We can make it work— we could run away, do anything— please.”

You can’t look at him as you speak, while tears flow freely down your cheeks. “We were something, don’t you think so?”

His face falls, and you can see his heart shatter— you can feel your heart mirror his.

Perhaps, though, the most painful part is when he replies; “Yeah, we were.”

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[melkyt]

Hanahaki Disease LawLu AU, where for the disease to end, one has to voice their feelings and hear them returned.

Marigolds are believed to represent the sun's warmth and light, and their radiant colors are thought to guide the souls of the departed back to the world of the living.

Law never thought himself worthy of love even though he carries the signs that people love him on his very skin. It is much harder to ask for love from someone he sees as a bright light, with a much bigger future than him.

Those on death's door should not eclipse the sun with their love. So he stays silent.

The pain gets worse, the bloody thorns cut into his lungs. He can use his power to take them out and watch as the roots of his love spread through his body. It would be so easy to cut them out, to never feel anything again, but that would be a betrayal of Cora's sacrifice. So he stays silent and takes it. On some days, it is a refreshing reminder that he can feel.

The petals of golden marigolds fall from his lips as he coughs, napkins come away with blood.

Death and Love rest at his fingertips.

His crew worries about him, and Bepo is the only one who knows and suffers right along with Law for it. He knows that nothing said will convince his stubborn captain to tell the truth.

It's two years of pain, two years of hiding his truth on that island as he holds on to Luffy's precious strawhat.

Then Dressrosa comes, and the whole world finds out that he is in love. Doflamingo taunts with the flowers that managed to break through Law's skin on the days he was captured and had no power to control his disease.

Luffy knows. That is the worst, he was so careful not to bother him, not distract from the mission at hand.

He waits to be yelled at, called a fool, maybe even called disgusting for feeling such a strong love that it breaks him.

Luffy does none of those things. He picks Law up, yells at Mingo, and promises that they will find whoever made Law hurt this much!

He does not realize that it is him and that being this close, only makes it worse.

Luffy loves everyone, but everyone is not Law. It's not enough.

At least his revenge will be done, and he can die as a feasting ground for flowers that symbolize the life he's lived.

Then he is passed on to Robin, and she knows even more. She has seen how smitten he is with their captain and she needles, she prodes. Until Law breaks and confesses everything to her.

He makes a vow to die, to live, to do everything he can for Luffy. All the speeches that he built up over the years are brought to the surface.

Robin smiles. "Maybe you should tell our captain that he feels more for you than you give him credit, Traffy."

If they survive, maybe he will because what is there after revenge but not life?

[sizebrained]

Christmas Shopping Surprise, Part 1

Ben and Hazel come across an unexpected surprise while out shopping for the holidays.

CW: None? Probably the most vanilla wholesome installment.

***

It was very cold. It was cold enough to snow but it hadn't yet. Hazel was hoping for snow.

She used to dread snow these past few years in the shed, but, for the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to enjoying it safely and without freezing.

She leaned the whole side of her body against Ben's neck for a bit instead of just a steadying hand. He was so warm.

Ben was glad for the chill, it provided the perfect excuse for Hazel to curl up inside his scarf next to his neck. It kept her from being seen and more than that, he liked having her there against his skin. As he thought about it, he felt her whole body suddenly press against him and it made him stop walking. He wanted to ask if she was alright. He worried that maybe she had slipped but that was so unlike her.

There were a lot of people around. There weren't that many days left until Christmas Eve. And so many people who were milling about were also staring or outright gawking at him. So much attention always made Ben hesitate to say anything to Hazel. He stayed quiet and started walking again when he felt her body lift up off of his neck. After several minutes of silent walking, he realized that it was rather nice to share a moment in silence like this with her. He liked their talks, but this was a nice change. Every so often, he felt her one tiny hand pressed against the side of his neck so that her other hand could pull down the lip of his scarf to peer over it. Sam and Cob did not seem to suffer from the same worry as Ben did about being noticed. He had lost track of Sam well over an hour ago. But he knew her and Cob would be fine.

His older sister, as she insisted that he call her instead of little big sister, was dashing in and out of stores like Scrooge on Christmas morning. More and more bags were being added in tow as she went in and out. Ben was pretty sure she had managed to get his credit card again, but he didn't actually mind it for some reason at Christmas.

Sam had added a headband with reindeer antlers and bells on it that made her even louder still at the very first store they went in. He assumed Cob might be hanging on those antlers now for a better view if the bells weren't too loud. Several stores later, in an overcrowded toy shop, Ben had enough and needed air and space. He didn't bother to ask Hazel if she felt like staying as the noise and motion inside the overcrowded store was making his pulse quicken. He much preferred walking through the festive, but still overcrowded, streets of the downtown shopping area. It was older than the rest of the city, and some of the side streets even had cobblestones that would have been treacherous when he was on crutches.

He was glad to be off of them finally and thought how much it would suck for anyone who needed them all the time, or his neighbor and her wheelchair.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?" Ben whispered down at his shoulder breaking into his train of thought not remembering Hazel being this quiet for this long. Hazel patted his neck like she was reassuring her very large circus animal before a show. "Yes that is very sweet of you to ask. But I am perfectly well." She paused for a moment before continuing, "And do not be afraid to actually...you know go into any of these lovely stores and get some presents. I thought you had a list?" He did have a list, but he did not like the stores in this part of town. He was far more accustomed to modern big box stores with warehouse high ceilings and very wide aisles.

All of these stores were postcard perfect and they felt about the same size as a postcard to him. Something about so many people taking selfies or photos made the whole thing worse as he noticed several bystanders take his photo as he passed. "Uh...I will but you know I'm not exactly sure what I want to get for anyone yet...and uh I'm sure I'll know it when I see it you know?" Ben sputtered thinking of a poor excuse on the spot. Hazel knew he felt anxious in such tiny shops. From her spot against his neck, she could literally feel his heart pounding faster underneath and all around her. In the toy store, the thumping had gotten strong enough to shake her whole body. Thankfully, it slowed down fairly quickly when he was out on the street again.

He was getting much better, or at least getting better at knowing what made him calm down. If Ben had jumped, he would have either put a hole in the toy store's ceiling or knocked himself out or both. She wanted to push him to stay but thought better of it.

It was Christmas after all. She thought he deserved a respite from working on his fits.

She found herself enjoying silent walk. Besides, it wasn't like she needed anything in the store or could buy something for herself in any event.

Hazel let herself imagine what it would be like if she was human and she could go shop like all the people she saw going in and out of stores.

She wondered what she'd be like as a human for several long moments. Ben would still be giant but much more manageable. She wondered if they would be a couple if she was human. It was a nice thought. She was getting lost in her own thoughts before something caught her eye and attention.

"Oh! What is that shop! On the other side of the street," Hazel shouted and tugged on the inside of the scarf in the direction of the store.

Ben turned his head and saw a single large window completely filled with a jumble of books. It didn't look like the owner was even trying to have them displayed, just stacked and piled everywhere.

Even from across the street, he could tell it was older and smaller than most of the other stores.

Ben caught himself before he groaned out loud at the thought of having to squeeze into it.

Still, despite his misgivings, he crossed the road and stopped in front of it. He stood there looking down at the window and even smaller than usual door.

"Blackwell at Finchingfield Company's Rare and Desirable Books," Ben read out loud with a chuckle.

"Oh my god this sounds more British than you do," He said down to his neck. "That's near London..." Hazel said flatly back to him as she stared at the words over the scarf as well.

Hazel didn't elaborate any further. Ben sighed as he noticed that there were a few steps leading down to the actual entrance. It was a basement shop but no sign of a store above. Maybe the owner lived above it.

Ben bent down low with a grunt to open the door. It made a bell attached to it jangle loudly.

He sidestepped into the bookstore and immediately regretted his decision. He stood upright and hit his head far sooner than he expected.

The ceiling was abnormally low. It was a basement, but this was ridiculous. He kept his knees bent and felt a tightness in his back.

There were very narrow, angular pathways made their way through floor to ceiling shelves overfilled with books. Ben knew this was going to be an ordeal.

Ben heard Hazel gasp.

"Oh...it's wonderful!" She said in hushed surprise.

From behind a stack of books, Ben heard a very faint voice call out. "Oh hello you two! What a lovely surprise! Come in, come in, please take your time! It's wonderful to have you both! It's been so long."

Ben and Hazel froze in panicked silence. There was no way someone could have spotted Hazel behind Ben's scarf or hear her from that far away. Maybe they were confused anyone actually would come into the store.

"Uh Hello? It's just me...by myself..." Ben yelled out after a very long awkward silence.

Hazel slapped Ben's neck as hard as she could for saying something so awkwardly suspicious.

"Oh! Just you! Right of course dear, just you. I understand. But please come in and take your time. Let me know if you need anything," The voice replied back.

Ben wasn't sure what to do. Half of him thought to just turn around and leave. He stood still for what seemed like an eternity. His back was starting to hurt.

Finally, the oldest, smallest woman he had ever seen slowly stepped out into one of the aisles about 10 feet ahead of him in an aisle. She slowly made her way towards him.

"Dear me aren't you a big one. I swear they get bigger every generation." The old woman said adjusting her glasses and craning her neck to look up at Ben who was still crouching down because of the ceilings.

Ben recognized her British accent through the sheer age of her voice. She was wrapped in a very thick gray button up sweater and looked like she was born in a bookstore hundreds of years ago.

Ben gulped.

"Uh...yeah...but just me...see...and you had said two?" Ben said hoping maybe her mind was going before the old woman interrupted him.

"Oh! Ohhhhhh....Of course, of course, just you dear! And my aren't you big enough for two people anyway. Certainly, certainly, I understand..." the old woman said in a knowing tone that didn't seem like she was missing a beat at all despite her age.

As if to confirm Ben's suspicions, the old woman made a big show of winking up at him and giggled under her breath.

Ben was sure that somehow the old woman knew that Hazel was hiding behind his scarf.

Without saying anything else, the old woman turned and made her way back to her spot again. Ben remained totally still, crouching in place right at the front door. Finally, he had enough and just got down on his knees. It helped.

Hazel popped out from behind his scarf to admonish him in a hushed whisper, "What the bloody hell are you doing?! Get up and go look around!"

Ben looked at her with a grimace afraid to say anything and really make the old woman think there were two people in the store.

"She knows!" he dared to whisper as quietly as he could. Despite his best efforts, his whisper still sounded loud amongst all of the books.

Hazel rolled her eyes huffing in exasperation.

"She knows you are a lunatic the way you are acting right now..." she said while pulling down Ben's scarf.

She walked out onto his shoulder. Then without saying anything, she leapt onto a nearby shelf.

Ben stopped himself from shouting after her. Instead, he decided to turn and awkwardly knee walk down the main aisle towards the old woman.

The sides of his coat were brushing the books and making a swishing sound from the material of it.

Hazel was moving far faster and easier as she disappeared into the stacks far ahead of him. She started looking at the various titles and sections as she raced past them.

She could spend days in here and surely she could avoid being seen by one very old lady.

Hazel was tempted to ask Ben to leave her there so she could explore on her own before she heard him catching up.

After a few labored moments, he finally made it over to where the old woman had shouted at him at the front door. She was standing behind what looked like a very old fashioned cash register with a small, handwritten note taped to the front that read "Cash Only".

Even on his knees, she still had to look up to make eye contact with him. She looked up at Ben with a pleasant expression as if she was waiting for him to speak. He felt the pressure of it and finally blurted something out.

"You've got a lot of books."

Hazel was watching him from a nearby shelf, looking out from behind a small dust covered book. She shook her head in disbelief and rubbed her face.

"Why yes dear. As it so happens, this is a book store," she said emphasizing the word with the same kind of dryness that he noticed in Hazel. She called it wit.

"So I find it does help to have many for sale. Any topics of interest to you or your friend...oh sorry right. I mean are you looking for yourself or someone else?" The woman said correcting herself like she was playing along with a small child over a game of pretend.

Ben stayed silent staring at her. He knew that she knows. He knew that she knows and he knew that she knew that he knows. But she kept up the facade at least.

"Someone else...well she...I mean she likes everything. She's really smart and well read so I don't know what I could get that she wouldn't have already read or could probably recite without reading," Ben replied before she cut him off again.

"A special book for a special someone? I have just the thing." The old woman declared.

Hazel felt her heart flutter a bit at hearing Ben talk about her to someone else like this. She dared to step a little further out from her hiding spot.

Ben started blushing at the long stare from the old woman. She wasn't wrong about Hazel being his "special someone." But it was so weird to talk about it with anyone other than Sam.

"Oh my so large and full of feelings dear..." She said noticing his cheeks. Then she cackled as she walked past him, disappearing into the shelves.

He tilted back and forth on his knees as he waited. She returned to her side of the register holding a small tan book that looked very old. "Does she...Well I suppose that the proper question is do you have this? They never do have their own you know. They're always borrowing in their way but it's fine they never need much and we can always share isn't that right?" the old woman asked with another cackle up as she held out the book to him.

"No I don't have this..." Ben said taking the book. He tried to ignore her comments and not let anything slip. He read the cover, it was The Mentor Book of Major British Poets. It looked like it had a bunch of different poems in it as Ben turned it in his hand and looked at the back.

"Of course they're not all British poets. We have the bad habit of lumping in the whole Kingdom rather than admit the Welsh and Irish are often better poets in our own language," The old woman said.

Ben just nodded in silence and handed her a twenty dollar bill.

"But poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason my boy. You can never go wrong with a book of poetry as a gift." She continued as she punched the loud keys of the register.

"And your special someone? What is her name?" the old woman asked as she made change for him.

"Hazel," Ben said without skipping a beat forgetting himself.

"Oh we never knew a Hazel back home. I imagine she must have been in a different pod. Was she ever in London?" The old woman asked.

"What?" Ben asked stupefied.

"Hazel, was she ever in London? She must have been at some point. They bloody live forever so I'm sure must have at some point," the old woman said like she was remembering more than talking to Ben. Ben felt the sweat on his forehead in rising terror. Hearing this woman casually talking like she not only knew Hazel was there but had come across tiny people like her before filled him with terror.

"Yes I was in London." Hazel suddenly said from a shelf just above and to the side of the cash register. She had made her way over across while the humans were talking.

Hazel dropped down and then stood up on the top of the cash register. Her arms were crossed and her tail swished slowly from side to side.

Ben's eyes went wide and he stood up bringing his hands to either side of Hazel. But before he could grab her tiny body and flee, he hit his head on the ceiling as he rose. The whole place shook and rattled from the impact. Even the bell on the door rang softly.

He crumbled straight down with a loud yelp holding his head with both hands.

The old woman cackled with glee louder than she had since they had come into the store, ignoring him and keeping her eyes locked on Hazel.

"Oh that's just wonderful! I had hoped you would let me see you! It's been so long! I haven't seen one of you since the war. This is just the best Christmas wish come true," the old woman shouted clapping her hands together.

"Hazel it's lovely to meet you, I'm Penny." the old woman said.

"How did you know I was here?" Hazel asked warily.

Ben groaned and muttered rubbing his head in a massive heap on the floor filling most of the aisle.

"Oh but of course I knew you were here dear. A pact lingers even if one of you goes. Although sadly your side never seems to make it if the human gives up the ghost first." Penny said wiping her eyes that seemed to be tearing up.

"You were..." Hazel started saying before the old woman interrupted her.

"Yes I was in a revealing pact with one of your kind for many many years. Jacob was his name. Jacob and his whole family lived with mine for many, many generations." Penny said with a smile at Hazel.

"Ever since, I always could feel when one of you was near. But it's been decades since I felt it. But sure enough as soon as your large lad here came in I knew I could feel it like it was yesterday. I am so glad. We have so much to talk about." *** End Part 1

[13a07s]

Spoiled #1

(Shoyo Hinata)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to oretsuu]

Requested by: Idfk... Jack Frost, maybe?

Word Count: 4,096

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Baby Doll, Brat

Rich Girl/Poor Boy Trope

Part Two to Come

I feel like I wrote Hinata so out of character but idk if I actually did or if it's just self-doubt so beware

———————————————————————

My brother's voice wraps around the gym, easily leaking out the creaked doors I'm heading towards to paint the hallway in his words as well. "In moments of temptation, you should consider not what you may be offered, but instead what you may lose," Wakatoshi babbles, making me shake my head.

He has a habit of talking in some old-fashioned curtsey way, his words usually coming out in tongues when he's talking about something he's passionate about. Most of the time it means he's talking about volleyball, or occasionally, Tendo.

"The man that gives into temptation will lose his focus, his obedience, and because of that, shall lose the trust his team places on him. Perhaps he may not lose that trust, but that is worse than the former." Wakatoshi's arms are in front of him, sitting in the air like a preacher giving a sermon.

Three boys from the team visiting our school for a practice match are standing in front of him. The mean mugged, buzzed-cut boy looks like he's in Lala land, staring off to Wakatoshi's side, watching Tendo wrap his fingers. The boy with spiked hair and a blonde streak looks amazed at my brother, barely holding back his laughter. The last boy, with flames for hair, is looking up, listening but very confused about the lecture he's getting.

I slowly slide into the gym, making sure to be quiet as I slip in and start walking across the room. Wakatoshi's voice becomes background noise as I hyper-focus on being silent. Despite my chance at anonymity, Tendo spots me, one of his eyebrows shooting up as a smile crawls onto his face. I throw a finger against my lips, silently shushing him, a command he obeys.

Blonde Streak catches wind of me too, poking his head around Wakatoshi to see what has the Guess Monster grinning. When he catches sight of me, his eyes start to flicker around, making a sharp triangle as they jerk between me, my brother, and my brother's best friend.

When I'm two or three feet away, I settle into the spot I'm holding, bending my knees to prepare for a swift takedown. My body buzzes in anticipation, excited for this to finally be the time I manage to scare Wakatoshi. "I got you!" I shriek, lunging forward. I wrap my arms around his waist, slamming my whole body weight into his back.

He inches forward, taking a small step to balance himself. Attempt two hundred and fifty-three: Failure. Mission 'Scare Wakatoshi': Slowly growing into a dying cause.

"Hello, Baby Doll," Wakatoshi greets, his voice still even but lacking the lecturing tone he was using a few moments again. His hand latches onto my wrist, yanking on me until I'm standing in front of him instead of clinging to his back. "Did you harm yourself?" I'm asked as he pats me down, searching for any possible injuries.

"No, I'm fine."

Wakatoshi's hands settle under my arms, taking an iron grip on me before I'm lifted off the floor and dangled in the air. He holds me high enough that we're at eye level with each other. "It is dangerous for you to keep doing things such as that. Imagine if I had not known it was you. You could have been hurt. Or worse, I could have made you cry. Do not do such a thing again, alright?"

     "I'm going to do it again," I answer honestly, getting a long, disapproving sigh from my brother.

     He carefully sets me back on my feet before fixating on my uniform. Wakatoshi straightens my bow tie, toying with the loops of it before his next victim becomes my skirt. He gently smoothes it out, picking off a few stray things of lint left over from cleaning the classrooms. When he's satisfied, he focuses on my jacket, fuzzing with the buttons and making sure the lines of it are crisp. "Your shirt is wrinkled," he points out, now obsessing with my dress shirt. "And half untucked. Come here let me tuck it in for you."

     "No," I mutter, pulling away from him, and shifting closer to his friend. "Classes are done for the week so it doesn't have to be picture perfect anymore," I point out, shrugging off my jacket and hanging it on Tendo's arm that's waiting, bent and hanging to take it from me.

     "You look ridiculous in an untidy uniform. Let me fix it," Wakatoshi grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyebrows push together as I loosen my bow tie, letting it hang further down my neck. "Wearing your uniform in such a way makes you look mindless."

     "Oh well," I murmur, shaking my hair loose from the updo it's been in all day. "Hey, 'Toshi?" I whisper, spraying a sheepish smile on my face and tipping my head to the side.

     "No," he answers before I can even get the question out. His posture tights up too, like it'll help him stay headstrong about denying whatever I'm going to ask.

     "Some of the girls are thinking about going out this weekend," I tell him anyway, softening my eyes so they'll blow out and become rounder. I blink them slower too, making sure my lashes look more dramatic. "I was wondering if I could go with, please?"

     "I have a practice game on Sunday and a meeting with a scout tomorrow. I cannot escort you. No."

     My smile melts off my face, a pout quickly replacing it. For extra effect, I will some crocodile tears, just enough to make my eyes glossy. "Pretty please? I don't even need an escort. Even if you are set on me having one, I'm sure Tendo wouldn't mind escorting me on Saturday, right, Chibi-Chan?" I ask, turning my fit toward him.

     Tendo's eyes are glued to the floor, suddenly super aware of his sneakers. Out of the two older boys, he cracks the easiest, hence the lack of attention on me. "Ushijima said no, the answer is no," he whispers, sparing a glance at me before he jerks his head up, turning to watch the first years struggling to put up the net.

     I blink a few times, egging the fake tears to spill down my cheeks. My half-assed crying pulls a sigh from Wakatoshi, his hand burying itself in his jacket pocket. He tugs out his wallet, snapping it open and pulling out the stack of cash he has. "Here's eighty thousand yen," he mutters, tucking the smaller stash of cash away. "Tendo will be going with you and you will be back by nine, am I understand? I'm not talking to the Principal to get you out of trouble again because you ignored curfew."

     "We'll be home by nine." Wakatoshi looks down at me for another beat before rolling the wad of money my way. I happily take it, digging through the pocket of my jacket to add the bundle to the cash in it.

     Papa sends each of us twenty thousand yen every week as an allowance to get what we need for school and food and such, but he says we can use what's left over to do whatever. Dad wires money from the States every month too, usually about seventy-five hundred yen. Wakatoshi tends to have more cash than I do, partly because he's smarter with his money but also because of all those articles and such he does because of volleyball.

     What's the point of being stingy with my money if I know I'm inheriting Papa's fortune? When Papa finally steps down, Wakatoshi's volleyball career will be out of its prime and he'll take over the business. My brother gets the company and the means to make his own fortune, so Papa is giving me his fortune, swearing he won't step down until he's certain he's made enough that I'll never have to lift a finger in my life.

     "Spoiled Brat," Tendo mutters, slinging my jacket over his shoulder when I'm done stashing my money away. His hand settles on top of my head, gently squeezing it as he shakes me around. "I'll see you Saturday. Now, run along and go do something other than be cramped up in this musky gym."

     "Alright," I giggle, jumping up on my tippy toes to plop a kiss on his cheek. I make sure to take my jacket from him before turning away, switching my attention to Wakatoshi. His hand settles on the small of my back, pushing me towards the gym doors with the plan to walk me out. I swear it's criminal how easy I can play him.

———————————

I have no clue why I'm getting lectured. I know why Tanaka and Noya are getting lectured; because they were hitting on Shiratorizawa's manager, but I wasn't. I just happened to be standing next to them. Maybe this is the whole 'guilty by association' thing Daichi was telling me about.

"In moments of temptation, you should consider not what you may be offered, but instead what you may lose," Ushijima continues to lecture, making no sense. What does temptation have to do with a pretty girl? "The man that gives into temptation will lose his focus, his obedience, and because of that, shall lose the trust his team places on him. Perhaps he may not lose that trust, but that is worse than the former."

That makes some sense, but somehow even less sense. Girls are distracting, especially really pretty ones, but his manager wasn't going to distract me from our practice game. Is he lecturing us about girlfriends? That's what this is about, right? Where's Tsuki when I need him? He'd tell me why I was being yelled at.

     I glance to the side, trying to figure out how my teammates feel about the lecture. Tanaka is distracted, looking over the Monster blocker's shoulder to continue ogling over the manager. Noya looks like he's going to laugh, his eyes constantly moving back and forth. What's funny about getting yelled at? We're visitors. We should be trying our best to be respectful.

     With them being no help, I decided to look back up at Ushijima, trying to piece together what he was trying to say. I'm pretty sure he's saying trying to get a girlfriend will distract us from volleyball... I think.

     "I got you!" A soft voice cuts through Ushijima's, ending our lecture.

     The ace stumbles forward, his hand falling down to press against the hands resting on his stomach. They look small, the hands under Ushijima's, and carefully cared for, reminding me of porcelain. The intruder's skin is smooth like they've never been tarnished or exposed to the harmful lick of sunlight.

The person's nails are as carefully cared for as their skin. Long and carefully manicured, perfectly sporting the plaid purple of Shiratorizawa. Three rings decorate their fingers. The two on the right are simple silver circles of metal encasing their pointer and ring fingers. The one on the left, circling their middle finger, isn't as simple. It's shaped with inspiration from vines, wrapped around their delicate skin and the gems alike. Eight purple rocks are stamped into the jewelry, reminding me of roses among thorns.

     It feels too expansive to even breathe with so much beauty and money wafting off such a small section of the intruder. I'm not dumb... I'm not that dumb. I know Shiratorizawa is a school packed with rich kids. I know Ushijima and the rest of the team were going against mainly come from families with money, but I've never really seen it aside from the school grounds.

"Hello, Baby Doll," Ushijima murmurs, his tone notability softer. His shoulders relax like a weight was taken off with the presence of the person holding onto him.

     I glance at my teammates, trying to see how they're taking the sudden lack of tension that he always carries himself in. Tanaka is still busy looking over the manager, but Noya's focus is on the same thing mine is. His eyes shine and his head is titled in the usual way it is when he spots a girl that sparks his interest. I'll safely assume the intruder is a she then.

Ushijima's movements are careful like he's suddenly aware of his size. My assumptions were right, it is a girl. A girl the ace is carefully clinging to as he guides her around himself. "Did you harm yourself?" The words come out so soft I'm convinced I made them up. The squishing of my competitor's eyebrows - the only hint of emotion he's ever shown to me - telling me otherwise. Well, aside from careful hands patting the girl down, in search of injuries along her ribs.

The rest of her breezes expensive just as much as her hands do. Her hair is up, twisted, and curled in a way that would make YouTube Hair Tutorial artists envious, held in place by a hair clip. A hair clip fashioned in the shape of four small white flowers enveloped by pastel greens. It glints under the gym lights, almost like it's made out of glass. Maybe it is made out of glass. Either way, I'm sure the accessory alone costs more than my volleyball shoes.

     Splashes of purple, blue, and white are wrapped around her, looking like the least expensive thing but still somehow seeming worth more than a simple school uniform. Her floral scent seems to fill the whole gym and has settled on my chest, my lungs almost feeling flower pedals rubbing against them with every breath.

     "No, I'm fine," she answers, her voice sounding like the bells of heaven. I get why Ushijima called her baby doll. She looks like one, everything so perfect, even her imperfect dress shirt spilling out over her skirt. It's all just too... too... too meant to be. Like the universe adjusts just for her.

     The personally caused reminder of Ushijima calling her baby doll weighs on my chest, quickly burning up her floral scent and leaving behind ash to fill my senses. When his hands slide up and cup under her arms, the fire is quickly frosted over by ice. She looks even more perfect elevated in the air, raised so the taller boy can look straight into her eyes. Like this, she looks like an angel, her wings simply hidden underneath the material of her jacket.

     "It is dangerous for you to keep doing things such as that. Imagine if I had not known it was you. You could have been hurt. Or worse, I could have made you cry. Do not do such a thing again, alright?"

     The icy grip of jealousy is quickly melted away with the flames of anger again. How dare Ushijima lecture such a perfect being? Especially over something as simple as grabbing at him. Doesn't he see how her touch is made of gold? How lucky he is to have someone so beautiful, so perfect, so luxurious willingly touch him? How could he possibly think of her crying? I bet she still looks like perfect porcelain when she cries. I bet her tears are made from diamonds.

     My anger is smothered and some of my jealousy dies down when Ushijima places the girl back on her feet. My eyes fall, taking a glance at her shoes. They're the new black and gold Jordans that dropped last month. They're spotless and crisp still like she just took them out of the box this morning. Considering the energy wrapped around her, that scenario is hard to believe. I'm sure she had them preordered and delivered before their official drop.

     Ushijima starts fussing over the girl's uniform, tugging on the purple bow tie wrapped around her neck, making her look like a present. I wonder what it would be like, unwrapping her like a present.

     My sense quickly comes crashing down, embarrassment for my silent thoughts caressing my neck. I bet that's what Ushijima was talking about when he was rattling on about temptation. I was tempted by this shiny rich girl and instantly through my morals to the wind. That's not any way to think of a lady, much less a lady I know nothing about.

     "Your shirt is wrinkled," Ushijima grumbles, rambling up another lecture and successfully grounding me back to Earth. Still, embarrassment, a bit of guilt, and a cup of disgust with myself eat at my stomach. "And half untucked. Come here, let me tuck it in for you."

      A bit of annoyance flickers across her face as she pulls away from Ushijima, leaning more toward the middle blocker who seems terribly aware of her. "No," she hums, her arms and shoulders flexing in tune with her sliding off her jacket. "Classes are done for the week so it doesn't have to be picture-perfect anymore." Tendo jumps at the chance to play coat hanger, letting the girl hang her jacket on his arm.

     The longer the two of them peer down at her, Ushijima's face softer than normal and Tendo grinning from ear to ear, the harder I picture their downfall on the volleyball court. Why do they get to enjoy her beauty? Her sing-song voice? The soft way she flows like a river sliding down a mountain? Because they go to an expensive school? Because they're 'better' players? No, they're not, and I'm going to prove it.

"You look ridiculous in an untidy uniform. Let me fix it." The girl rebels, loosening the bow around her neck and letting it hang loose, which only seems to irritate Ushijima more. "Wearing your uniform in such a way makes you look mindless."

Her hands bury into her hair, pulling pins from seemingly nowhere before unclipping the clasp from her hair, all of which Tendo happily takes from her and stuffs away in his jacket. She doesn't even seem to notice the blocker's silent and blind obedience.

"Oh well," the girl finally responds, shaking her hair before letting it waterfall down her back. I wonder what it would feel like, running my fingers through her shiny locks. I bet it's soft. It looks soft, like her hands. I wonder if it has the same floral scent as -

"Hey, 'Toshi?"

- who the hell is 'Toshi' and why did she say his name like that?

"No," Ushijima grumbles, answering one of my questions. Jealousy bubbles in my chest again, fueled by the stone stare he looks down at her with and the doe eye, soft smile combo she returns to him. At the moment they remind me of a rock and a feather, complete opposites but somehow being a pair. It's not fair.

"Some of the girls are thinking about going out this weekend. I was wondering if I could go with, please?" She asks, tone hesitant like she expects a harder no in return.

"I have a practice game on Sunday and a meeting with a scout tomorrow. I cannot escort you. No," He repeats, hardening his eyes as he peers down at her. She doesn't need an escort. Look at her, she's a young adult more the capable of going out with her friends by herself. If she needs an escort that bad, I'll very happily escort her. Just hand her over already Ushijima.

"Pretty please? I don't even need an escort. Even if you are set on me having one, I'm sure Tendo wouldn't mind escorting me on Saturday, right, Chibi-Chan?" she rambles, tears in her eyes, shimmering like diamonds just like I guessed. She looks as beautiful upset as she does happy.

Tendo's face tightens as he looks between his two classmates, uncertainty and reluctance mixing in his expression before he decides to look at the ground. "Ushijima said no, the answer is no," he whispers, choosing to side with his captain.

Anger flickers across her face, quickly chased away by tears spilling over to coat her cheeks. She's fake crying, completely faking it. A bit of a snicker settles on my face as I watch the two of them slowly fall apart at the tantrum she's throwing. They don't believe this is real, no way... right?

Ushijima caves, a lot quicker than I thought imaginable. Within seconds of the center of his attention shedding her alligator tears, his wallet is out and enough cash to cover mom's mortgage, and then some is being counted out. "Here's eighty thousand yen. Tendo will be going with you and you will be back by nine, am I understand? I'm not talking to the Principal to get you out of trouble again because you ignored curfew."

Instantly, the water workers are put away. The girl snatches the money, her teeth shining in a smile and eyes sparkling as she looks up at her school's ace. "We'll be home by nine," she agrees, stuffing the money into her wallet like it's normal Friday and not like she was just handed enough money to cover my grocery bill for the next two months like it was chum change.

"Hey," Noya whispers, shoving his elbow into my side. "Your jaw is on the floor. You might want to pick it up," he teases, softly laughing at my shock.

"That...That's... that's half my mom's mortgage."

Noya shakes his head, his eyes glued to the angel of money, apparently, as she gets dotted on by Tendo. "Well, when you're the granddaughter of the CEO of Ushijima Incorporated, I'm sure you get used to being handed a paycheck worth of money simply for batting your eyelashes."

"Ushijima Incorporated?" I ask, trying to bite down the jealousy forming as I watch Tendo play with her hair. Anger muddies my jealousy when he calls her a 'spoiled brat'.

     "The king company of the volleyball world?" Tanka butts in, looking at me like I'm stupid. "They make literally everything we use. The volleyballs, our jerseys, the nets, they own like fifty percent of the volleyball shoe companies. They sponsor almost every Japan official team. Ringing any bells?"

     "No," I whisper, turning my attention back to Miss Queen of Volleyball. "Wait..." I slowly say, watching her kiss Tendo's cheek. "She's a Ushijima?"

     "Ya," they both say slowly, their amusement only growing with the more lack of knowledge I show.

     "So..."

So, Ushijima isn't into her or with her or anything. They're just siblings. That also explains her brother's tenseness about volleyball. No wonder he tries so hard to be the best.

"Do you feel stupid yet?" Tanka asks, looking at me rather wickedly.

"Why would I feel stupid?"

     "Because you've been drooling since she's shown up."

     "I have not," I mutter, my eyes trailing after the Volleyball Queen, watching as her brother walks her to the door. His hand on her back still tickles my jealousy, just not as bad as before. "I just think she's... interesting."

     "And way out of your tax bracket, bud," Tendo cuts in, chuckling when my embarrassment coats my cheeks. I totally forgot he was here. "Trust me, it's impossible to keep up with the bankroll her dear 'Papa' offers her."

     "You must be doing something right. She seems pretty attached to you," I point out, sending out a feel for what exactly Tendo's relationship is with her.

     My statement must not have been as subtle as a thought. The corners of his mouth turn up, drenching my spine with ice water. "Money doesn't speak to Papa Ushi'. He couldn't care less if you had a hundred thousand yen or one yen in your bank account. Make the Apple of his eye cry and he'll bury you alive and then piss on your grave. Make her laugh and he'll pay your tuition." From the look in Tendo's eyes, I'm guessing he's speaking from experience.

"That's all I have to do? Make her laugh?"

Tendo cackles, the sound scrapping against the gym walls. "No, kid. Grandma Cunt-tress and Mommy Dearest aren't so easy to win over. Lucky for you, the Spoiled Brat doesn't care about their opinions. She does care about Ushi's though. If he doesn't like you, you might as well be dead when the Brat is concerned."

     "How do I get Ushijima to like me?"

     "Be good at volleyball. Step one of that is stop receiving with your face," Tendo mocks me, his hand waving in front of his face as he walks away from me.

     Alright, I can handle this. Step one, make her laugh. Step two, make her brother like me. Step two, point a, don't take any receives to my face during our practice match. Easy peasy... hopefully.

———————————————————————

[corellianhounds]

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Ugh okay yes I have like a bunch of these, but I did settle on one that I just don’t know when I’d be able to figure it out. There’s too much setup involved to make it what I want. The context is that it’s a Prospect/Mandalorian crossover, the events of Prospect happening differently where Damon lives, but Cee still ends up escaping with Ezra.

Damon hires Mando to find Cee and their harvest after she disappears with Ezra, and once Mando finally tracks them down he’s shocked to see someone with his face walking around in the open. The whole time the plot’s happening he’s suspicious and unnerved by this stranger sharing his voice and face, and though his research into the backlog of Guild cases doesn’t reveal any details of this guy’s origin or personal life, it does give him plenty of information regarding Ezra’s colorful criminal history

However, Damon’s history isn’t much better, and Mando suspects he’s just better at hiding some of the more unsavory things he’s done. He also finds that Cee, according to his research, has been logged as Damon’s harvesting partner for almost ten years despite the fact this girl is clearly only about fifteen years old, and the kind of harvesting Damon’s done in the outer reach is a two-man job; you can’t afford dead weight, even if it’s to keep your kid with you. Does Damon want his daughter back, or does he want his assistant back?

Mando’s having to deliberate over who between Damon and Ezra is a bigger threat to this girl’s safety. Did Cee really choose Ezra because she trusts him and Ezra is trustworthy, or because she's being forced to choose the lesser of two evils?

—

Mando kept his pistol on Damon, but then he unhooked his rifle from his back, cocked it one handed and aimed it at Ezra—

— Only for Cee to step in front of him.

There was a scuffle of protests— Ezra tried to wrest her behind him but she shoved him back. Mando primed the charge on the rifle and Ezra raised both arms, hissing at Cee— Damon made as if to move for the girl, Mando grunted and stepped closer to Damon. Damon halted his approach, and Ezra and Cee argued while Cee blocked Mando's aim.

"Don't," Cee growled. "We trusted you."

"Listen, kid," Mando said levelly. "I don't know which between the two of them is worse, and I don't like the idea of you having to choose the better of two bad options."

"He's— He didn't coerce me," Cee protested.

"Didn't he?" Damon snarled.

"Shut up." Mando continued to watch the girl. "I don't know that, Cee. And I don't know if you're only saying that because you feel like it’s the only way to get away from your father."

Damon seethed. Ezra's wide eyes were stricken, watching the Mandalorian as Cee's shoulders tensed further. Either he was as good of an actor as Mando thought, or he truly did care for the girl. If it weren't for Cee's stubbornness shoving him back, Mando might have believed he'd step in front of her.

"Cee, I'm telling you to make the decision you want and know that if the answer is neither, you can walk away and get on that freighter of your own accord and go wherever you want. There's a bag of credits on my belt. I have a vested interest in bringing both of them into the Guild, and I won't move until you're safe. I can stand here a long time."

The silence between them hung like a ship in stasis as Cee glared. There was only a moment when Cee's gaze flicked to Damon, some silent conversation happening between them, and then she hooked one hand into the shoulder belt of Ezra's flight suit, pulling him just to the side, still behind her. "He's coming with me.”

Damon swore in a litany of languages as Mando nodded. "Okay."

"And we're going with you."

Meta Ask Game

[sunlightandsuffering]

Bruh i think I gave Eren too much rizz, he's supposed to be bad with girls, BUT MIKASA JUST BRINGS IT OUT IN HIM!!

Mikasa is lingering in the Purdy’s chocolate line nervously, mulling over her purchases, to buy or not to buy. 

She’s a ball of nerves as a group of university aged guys slinks into the store, eyeing up last minute Valentine's Day chocolate purchases just like herself. 

The only difference is that their chocolate are probably for their girlfriends… not their moms. 

She should feel more embarrassed than she does, but Mikasa only clutches the container of candy hearts a little closer to her chest, she has nothing to be embarrassed about. She loves her mom! And well, she nervously eyes up her other purchase, a rather expensive and rather large box of assorted chocolates that she’s bringing to a Pal-Entines party tonight. She cringes internally at the name, stepping another spot ahead in line. 

They’re not the best plans she could have, but at least she’s not sitting home by herself writing fan fiction like a loser. 

Although the thought does sort of appeal to her because her nerves are going to devour her whole as she steps up to the counter, placing her spoils for the shopkeeper to ring up. She’s been invited to the Pal-entines day party by someone who is definitely not a palentine, she’s still unsure if that’s a word. 

She’d been invited by none other than her current situationship, Jean, a very tall, somewhat good-looking if not a little horse-faced guy she’d met in her political science course. And now here she is, contemplating every life decision she’s ever made as the Purdy’s chocolate employee judges her silently over the cash register. 

Mikasa taps her credit card against the debit machine sheepishly, taking her purchases before the employee can make some sort of snide comment about leaving things to the last minute. She needs to get the hell out of the mall, she’s already seen several men in business suits walk by with oversized teddy bears or bouquets, and she can’t have the sadness of her romantic relationships shoved under her nose any more today. 

So, Mikasa heads off, jetting out of the mall and towards a party she doesn’t really want to go to, but really, how bad could it be?

It’s definitely not great, to say the least. So far, the event is mostly composed of Jean’s male roommates, Connie, Armin and the third one who is conspicuously absent. There are exactly two girls at the palentines day party, and she is one of them, Connie’s childhood best friend Sasha is the other. 

Mikasa awkwardly throws back another swallow of her cheap tasting solo cup beer because she fucking needs it if she’s going to get through this night. Jean keeps reassuring her that more people will come, that he invited more girls, that it’s still early yet. 

But he’s been saying that since she got here an hour ago, and the longer she waits the less true it feels. There is a pizza, and Connie and Armin are nice, friendly, and she actually does like Sasha, she’s really cool, so it’s not the worst party she’s been too. But it’s still not great, made even worse by the fact that this seems to be Jean’s introduction of her to his friendgroup as perhaps a bit more than a situationship and Mikasa isn’t sure how to feel about it. 

His palm rests on her lower back as he makes some joke to Armin about their third roommate, something about him definitely not having a date on Valentine’s day. 

Mikasa laughs where she should, cringes into her beer when Jean’s hand skims just a little too low over the curve of her ass to rest there. 

She is saved from an awkward removal by the door opening to reveal a surprisingly large group of people. “Sorry we’re late, Ymir got lost,” A tall man’s boy’s voice booms through the small apartment and Jean visibly slumps in relief. The tall blonde man, Reiner she learns is followed by an equally tall dark-haired boy named Marco, a small blonde girl with pixie like features they call Historia and a lanky freckled girl who she assumes must be Ymir. They settle into the apartment easily and Mikasa thinks that maybe Jean’s friend group isn’t so bad at all, that maybe she could see herself fitting in with these people, although maybe not as Jean’s girlfriend, she’s still not sure. He’s cute and all, and the way he keeps smiling at her is endearing, but she’s just not sure if there’s a spark, not sure if it’s right. 

“Where’s Eren?” Historia asks from beside Mikasa, where she’s been excitedly cooing over her outfit and how pretty her hair is, Mikasa finds she quite likes the blonde girl, she’s very sweet. Mikasa looks around curiously, did she miss someone? Jean squeezes her bicep affectionately as he notices her stare, before tugging her under his arm, “He’s out getting snacks, but I sent him to the grocery store a while ago he should be home by now.” Ymir cackles, wiggling her eyebrows, “Maybe Yeager is getting some Valentine’s Day action after all.” 

Jean scoffs, “No way, not Eren.” The group around her laughs, an inside joke she’s not a part of, and Mikasa’s lips pucker into a pout, who is this boy, and why does his friend group think he’s so bad with women? She gets her answer about ten minutes later. She’s awkwardly lingering in the kitchen near the door as she refills her solo cup with red Valentine's Day punch when the door opens beside her, and she yelps a little as the handle digs into her back. A boy appears, and it is at that moment that Mikasa experiences true love. 

“Shit I’m sorry,” A deep gravelly voice hums from behind her, and there’s a hand on her waist steadying her as he kicks the door shut.

Mikasa turns curiously, figuring this must be the infamous Eren, and it feels like time stops.

He’s handsome, too handsome to be in this crappy little apartment on Valentine's Day, if you ask her he should be in her bedroom, taking her clothes off…with his teeth. At the very least, he should be out taking some other girl’s clothes off, he’s too good-looking to be here at a mostly singles party on Valentine’s Day. He’s well-muscled, broad shouldered and wearing little more than a black-t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats that Mikasa thanks god for. 

This is the guy everyone has been making fun of all night, this is the boy that's not good with girls? 

He bites his lip, his gaze dragging down her form and a thrill goes through her as he checks her out, beautiful green eyes roving over the curves of her waist, the swells of her breasts and finally she’s thankful she wore this low-cut t-shirt. 

Like he can’t help himself, his hand dips over her waist, a fleeting touch, and before she can say more, he’s tugging her shirt up just enough to expose the taut skin of her stomach. 

His touch is like a zap of electricity, thousands of volts shooting through her all at once, rough pads of his fingers skimming over her stomach, up her rib cage, stopping just shy of the line of her bra. “Did I hurt you?” He questions curiously, his mouth quirking into a little smirk because he fucking knows what he’s doing to her, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

A little sigh escapes her as he drags his fingers back down her side and this time lingering over the waistband of her jeans, and fuck she hasn’t even spoken to him yet and already he owns her. 

She struggles to respond, her mind focused wholly on that hand, his thumb now caught in her belt loop, the rest of his fingers rubbing affectionately over her hip, perusing for bruises that won’t appear just yet. “I’m okay,” She finally struggles out, bringing her eyes up to his and shit he’s so pretty, too pretty, a strong nose, sharp jawline and those eyes, green eyes that could consume her whole soul and she’d let them. 

“You sure?” He asks again, making zero move to remove his hand from its spot on her waist and Mikasa nods weakly in return. “Good,” He hums, “Sorry I wasn’t expecting to find a pretty girl in my kitchen, and Jean’s an idiot I don’t know why he put the punch right there.” Mikasa shrugs before taking a long pull of said punch, just to take the edge off she promises herself, there’s no way she’s going to make it through this without alcohol. “I’m Eren,” He introduces himself, finally moving his hand away, but not without an affectionate squeeze to her hip and Mikasa inhales sharply, he has such big hands and he’s so warm. “Mikasa,” She replies, almost in a daze, as she sticks her hand out for a shake. Eren’s expression puckers up into a pout as he takes her hand in his own, and fuck does he have nice hands, warm and calloused and so much larger than her own, god the things he could do with those hands. 

She represses a little shiver at the thought, because fuck yes his hands are really big and Eren is very tall, and judging by those grey sweats Eren is most definitely proportional. 

“You're Jean’s girl,” Eren says, and it’s almost sad, mournful. She’s quick to nip that in the bud right there, moving a little closer to him in their kitchen alcove, thanking her lucky stars they haven’t been seen yet. “Sort of,” Mikasa tells him airily, and she’s very purposeful, moving her hand up to his forearm, silver eyes locked with emerald green, “We’re not exclusive.” God, she hopes she hasn’t broken bro code just now, hasn’t acted like a complete and total whore, but fuck she wants this boy more than she’s wanted anything in her life, something about him is just electric. Eren’s mouth pulls into a wicked smile that has her heart skipping several beats in her chest. 

“Jean didn’t mention that.” She shrugs innocently, he can do with that information what he will. “A pretty girl like you, liable to get stolen from him, he should really do something about that.” “He should,” Mikasa comments slyly, and they’re so close now, gravitating towards each other like magnets, his hands find her hips again easily, like they belong there, fitting perfectly over her sides, his fingertips just brushing the curve of her ass. 

She takes another sip of her drink before shooting Eren a knowing smile, issuing her challenge, “Before someone else does the job.” “I’ll make sure to let him know.” 

“You should,” She tells him huskily, her voice teasing because she absolutely wants this boy to steal her away from her current situationship, Jean isn’t even a blip in her mind. 

Eren’s eyes are on her mouth, caught on the pink of her tongue as she wets her lips, and before she knows it she’s leaning in, up just a little because he’s so much taller than her. Eren is leaning down too, and if she does kiss him in the front entryway of her sort of boyfriend’s apartment she wouldn’t care, it’ll be worth it. 

But just as she leans up on her tip toes Eren pulls away, the rough hands on her waist pressing her down and planting her firmly to the floor. 

“Where are you going?” She asks as he extricates himself from her, trying not to show her disappointment, pressing her lips together to stop her pout. Eren smiles at her darkly before he gives her ass a swift smack that sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, the ‘slap’ reverberating in her ear, “Gonna let Jean know if he doesn’t get his shit together, it’s not his bed you’re gonna be in at the end of the night.” Mikasa watches him go, lip bitten between her teeth and still holding her punch tight in her hand, “Shit.”  She is so, so fucked. 

[acciocriativity]

PAYBACK (IT ISN'T OVER) - JYH

(Pictures aren't mine, credits for the rightful owners)

Pairing: Actor!Yunho x Actress!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings/ Tags: Actor! Yunho; Mentions of smut and angst, but not real life; Ateez is still a kpop group in this; pure chaos

WC: 865

N/A: This was requested by @ynxxho! I'm so sorry it took me so long, dear and I hope you enjoy it <3

Payback I

Ateez Masterlist

He was dressed like an angel that came from above to bless people with his mere presence for an hour or so.

But you knew better than to believe the innocent smile on his face right now, he IS the definition of wolf in sheep’s clothing.

They all should’ve known better, so you don’t even feel bad for what was about to happen.

The ringtone echoed through the walls of the dorm.

Seonghwa was the one that got the honorable mission of retrieving the food safely.

The food arrived right on time as everyone got as comfortable as possible to watch the very last episode of the drama you both did together on Netflix

It was Yunho’s request, one that nobody thought anything of it because it made sense, right? It was an event worth celebrating for in every ateez member’s mind, the end of a very promising drama, that could lead to a very successful career in the future, for both Yunho and you.

They were elated for this. Everyone promised to watch on their own and wait for the last episode.

They were dying to know if the couple got together or not, even it was obvious it was supposed to be a romance-focused drama. It was engaging, ok? No one can judge them for caring way too much about those fictional characters. (Maybe there was a huge debate about who was right or wrong on the last episode three days ago on their group chat, but that’s normal!)

The last episode ended on a high tension scene, both characters were hurt, and now they were confronting each other, saying things that they didn’t mean and making everything worse than it was before.

Wooyoung came barging in Yunho’s room to hit him with a pillow for being so dumb that same night.

“Why did you hit me??”, it was Yunho’s response.

“You know why”, Wooyoung said and left the room.

Yunho texted you about the incident, first confused and then extremely offended that he got punished for his character’s actions when he found out, but more importantly, because Wooyoung was on YOUR side.

Wooyoung, in fact, was on your side since that traumatizing day, because you weren’t on Yunho’s plan and therefore, you were now replacing Yunho as his favorite.

“It’s time”, Jongho said as he pressed play on the 16th episode.

You exchanged glances with Yunho before the room went dark.

He smiled as he held your hands in his, that same smile you learned meant business.

Up until now, the spiciness of the drama stayed in the first episode for the most part. The rest of the scenes were the perfect mixture of fluff and angst, something the viewers could relate to and then get to know the characters to a deeper level, but now there are only a few knots to tie and some happy endings to show, including yours.

What’s better than a full ending cycle?

Close to the 20-minute mark, you excused yourself to grab some water in the kitchen.

You waited for the chaos, for some screaming and curse words, the absolute drama that only them could pull off, yet there was silence.

Silence in their dorm always means something’s up. It’s a warning sign for trouble. In this situation? You could guess the whole group fell dead on the ground all of a sudden.

The scene you walked into was just as amusing as it was in the first episode.

The 7 of them were still on their seats, mouth agape, eyes wide as the scene kept on going.

Yunho sat there with an easy smile on his face, just as entertained as you were. He was having the time of his life as he watched their expressions change to pure shock.

There wasn’t much revealing than it was already done before, no, that wasn’t the cause of the silent commotion. It was the bold dialogue, to put it lightly. It wasn’t cringe, otherwise all of them would be rolling on their backs laughing right now, it was good, the writing of the drama was excellent in general, something you’d always be thankful for, it made your job easier.

“Damn, that’s hot”, Wooyoung broke the defying silence in the living room.

After that, it was a chain reaction. Mingi laughed, then Hongjoong, who pushed Wooyoung to the ground. Then everyone was laughing.

You laughed so hard, you felt tears pooling in your eyes.

When you managed to find Yunho again, he was laughing on the floor.

The rest 30 minutes of the drama was completely forgotten after that.

"What do you mean that's hot?", Jongho was the first to ask, still flabbergasted on his seat.

"Because it was, come on, every single on of you though the same thing, don't act like you didn't!"

"It kind of was, I mean, the writing is good and it's Yunho, he's a good actor", San said as he shrugged.

"OK, let's stop with whatever conversation is this and finish the episode", Hongjoong said.

And his wish is a command so, that's exactly what happened.

But it was clear that no one was going to forget this drama anytime soon.

[rosietrace]

「 Jewel 」

Central Character ; 『 Ellis Clawthorne 』 | 『 Davidson Novellion 』

Others ; Victoria Shard

Mentioned ; Sumeragi Yuuta | Chizuko Miyato

Pairing(s) ; Ellis & Davis

【 All Ocs belong to their respective owners and will be credited at the end. 】

AU: Grishaverse AU

Synopsis: “You with the dark curls, you with the watercolor eyes.”

Warning(s): Grishaverse AU, may or may not require knowledge of Leigh Bardugo’s series to make sense of some stuff so um sorry pookies, potentially ooc, Davis is his own warning, mentions of slavery (but not actually shown)

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

⊱────────────────────⊰

⊱────────────────────⊰

Every morning, and every cold, inglorious night— Ketterdam was an unforgiving place to call home. It was hardly believable that people in Kerch would actually consider it home. Let alone live there willingly.

But strangely, as she grew more and more used to the inconsistently dug out canals, the dastardly gorgeous facade of West Stave’s pleasure houses, and each and every tussle with another gang in the barrel; Ellis started to see Ketterdam as… well, a home.

An unhygienic and dangerous home, but home nevertheless. It was a little more dangerous for someone like Ellis, living and walking the streets and keeping her abilities — the gifts with which she'd been born — a secret.

Being a Grisha and wandering the streets of Ketterdam was about as risky as any of the meticulously complicated jobs Yuuta often assigned to Ellis and Chizuko.

Doing little in hiding her abilities as a Grisha would only get her in trouble with the Stadwatch, and she'd either be stuck in an indenture she wouldn't be able to pay— or worse, bound to a slaver ship, and even more horribly, a ship branded by Fjerdan ‘witch hunters’.

Although officially, they often referred to them as Drüskelle.

But all of that was the least of Ellis' worries at the moment.

A tussle with a member from another gang was one thing, but undergoing a chase with members of the Ravkan triumvirate was one whole other thing.

Saints, Ellis thought with a drawn breath, slipping past every passerby and tourist that came her way and meaninglessly destroying a food stall in her best efforts to escape the Grisha hunting her down.

Every so often she'd look from the corner of her eyes, and she could only swallow harder with each hard breath. Shadows. That could only mean one thing.

General Lucretius, her heartbeat quickened at the thought and not in a good, giddy, lovesick schoolgirl way.

She'd never seen the General of Ravka’s second army in person, but she's heard countless stories. From what Ellis could recall, it was likely he was taken in by the Lantsovs not too long after she made her retreat from the suffocating too-white walls of the Little Palace.

Cold, ruthless, all with a temper worse than the late king of Ravka himself. Ellis shuddered whenever she thought about it for too long— though, right now, it was probably the weather.

Damn it! With clenched teeth, Ellis shoved past everyone in her way to get every bit further from the shadows crawling up the grounds, walls, and possibly the skies like death had finally had enough of her cheating in its own game.

It was a shame she couldn't use her abilities as a Heartrender. It probably would've made a bigger difference in her escape. But the streets of East Stave were crawling with Stadwatch, and Ellis would prefer to avoid getting in trouble with them again— Yuuta's already mad as is after last time, thought Ellis as she spared a passing glance at the officers narrowly missing sight of her running like it was the last thing she'd ever do.

If things didn't turn out the way Ellis hoped, it probably would be.

Then her haphazard steps across the streets came to an unsteady halt. She thought it was her imagination, but she felt an arm snake around her waist and a hand — gloved with velvet — clasp over her mouth and nose.

“Shhh,” said the silent voice from behind her. How unfair it was, the soothing tone in their voice.

With added pressure, Ellis tried to wrangle free. The one behind her had been smart enough to clasp her wrists behind her back with… something. She couldn't make out the texture, but it felt so odd. So strange— so abnormal.

The last thing Ellis saw was the caution, the sheer terror in the eyes of Ketterdam’s citizens eyeing at her; or rather, eyeing at whoever had successfully kept her in check.

⊱───────────────⊰

Davis stared at the unconscious brunette limply sitting across from him, long and hard, dark circles under his amber eyes after a particularly petty argument between him and Victoria. It hadn't been pleasant.

It was always, “don’t do this” and, “don’t do that” with that snake of a woman. No matter his authority and power over her, Victoria acted like the attitude she had to him — and by extension, the Lantsovs, whom he'd spent the better part of several years to win the favor of — had no consequences.

“Are you not going to wake her up?” Entered, Victoria, the woman of the hour, and another Heartrender Davis couldn't be bothered to remember the name of.

“She can do it herself,” Davis spat, crossing his arms and resting his legs atop the table that kept him and the girl across him at a respectable distance.

“She is currently lying unconscious.” There was a subtle narrowness in her eyes as she added, “assuming you didn't somehow kill her.”

“I'm not stupid.”

“You make that hard to believe.”

“You think it's a good idea to question your superior?”

“Do you think acting so constipated and childish is doing anything to improve my opinion of her.” Damn her.

With a roll of his eyes and a scoff leaving his lips, Davis was more than ready to say something in reply until the girl just barely managed to stir awake.

“... Where… am I?”

Davis smirked, lowering his legs from the table and crossing them beneath it. “Ellis Clawthorne?” He questioned.

Just seeing the subtle — if you could even call it that — reaction to the name told Davis everything he needed to know. But he treaded carefully, needing to make sure that she truly was the missing Grisha they'd been looking for the better part of a couple years.

Again, he asked, “That's your name, I'm guessing?”

The girl's nose wrinkled. “No.”

He needed to test that theory. Looking over her shoulder, Davis' smirk widened. A Heartrender at the ready, waiting for her to lie through her teeth and catch her in the act.

“Then,” Davis leaned a tad bit closer against the dark wood of the table. “What is your real name, sweet, pretty thing?”

“I'm not a thing,” she spat, “and I don't trust you enough to tell you my name.”

“What's not to trust about a face like this?” He motioned to his painfully porcelain skin, whiter than snow from the Fjerdan north.

“Everything.”

“That's not a good answer, little jewel.”

“I'm not one for good answers.” She shrugged whilst acting far too casually for a girl being interrogated. Then her eyes narrowed to give him a look. “And my name isn't ‘little jewel’.”

“Then what am I to call you if it isn't?” Davis knew that Victoria knew; when it came to dodging questions, it wasn't usually him being on the receiving end of the responses.

“... Maude Ivory on some days. Other days, I’m Lucy Gray, and on rarer ones, I'm Eva Jacks.”

One hard look to the girl, he redirected it to the Heartrender behind her. Steadily, they shook their head. A lie.

“Tell me the truth, sweetheart,” pleaded Davis in his most condescending. “There's much good to come if you're punctual enough to be honest. Especially if you're trying so hard at being cryptic.”

She didn't say anything about that. She looked like she wanted to strangle him, maybe even shoot back a remark she's been itching to say to get on his last nerve— it was probably both.

Sighing dramatically, Davis held out a hand to Victoria standing behind him. He didn't need to turn his head to know that Grisha Squaller rolled her eyes while she bequeathed a velvet pouch full of coins to him.

Briefly, the girl eyed it. Davis took that as an obvious assumption that she could probably spit out whatever he wanted her to spit out for just the right price.

Surely 100,000 kruge was enough. If not, he'd be in a bit of tizzy.

He leisurely tossed the pouch to her from across the table, a gesture more threat than promise.

“Should you cooperate with us, you'll be given a hefty some of Kerch cash.” said Davis, his head cocking to one side. “We'll even take care of revoking your contract to whoever you're indentured to.”

“That won't be necessary,” said the girl. “I'm not an indentured Grisha. You might be mistaking me for someone else.”

Painfully, that ended up being her answer to every question Davis could throw at her. He had a hunch that she was lying, but the lack of hints from the Heartrender was starting to itch at him tirelessly.

Davis very nearly threw his hands up in frustration. Is she bluffing, or does this girl have a few screws loose?!

“You're a Heartrender.”

“I'm not.”

“My sources claim that there's been word in the barrel that a Heartrender’s taking up residence in one of the gangs.”

“It could be anyone,” said this girl, whom he was more than sure was Ellis Clawthorne. “It could be a Harley's Pointer, a Black Tip, maybe even a Dime Lion, or a member of the Dregs.”

“All I know is that as far as I'm aware, there's no Grisha lurking about in the Midas Touch.”

“That's a lie, and you know that.” Davis insisted. He wasn't going to let this fly, not until he got his confirmation.

But she was ever, ever ruthless in making sure he didn't get the answers demanded of her. “You can't have your cake and eat it too, sir. Maybe you need a moment to tuck yourself in bed and pay someone to burn your kruge to keep the furnace warm.”

Davis' hands slammed on the table. Whatever hiss Davis tried to suppress from the sting didn't show up.

“Now listen here, you—”

“Davis.”

His head whipped, eyes locked on Victoria. Her black hair, for once, lying down instead of her usual updos. Sometimes, in battle, her hair looked purple.

But that was the least of Davis' worries, right now. Not when Victoria placed a hand on his shoulder and expected him to react calmly to that when he was already in a sour mood.

“Now is not the time for—”

She cut him off with a quick shush, her eyes subtly trailing downwards and urging for Davis to see what she was looking at.

He did. He couldn't have felt prouder when he did, because now it all became clear, then and there— the girl sitting across them was Ellis Clawthorne, lost Corporalnik among many in Grisha’s second army, alleged enforcer for Sumeragi Yuuta.

And the most migraine-inducing trickster in all of the continents. Saints, Davis wanted to rip his hair out.

He rounded the corner in seconds, grabbing for her wrists while she was in the middle of steadying her heartbeat; a crude, but all-in-all effective way for Corporalniks to evade lie detection from their captors— especially if said captors had indentured Grisha.

But Davis was no Ghezen-worshipping merch, and he was no King of Ravka. Yet he was the general of the second army, and even through his silliest, most humiliating moments, he always finds a way to get the upper hand.

“What are you—”

“What's your name?”

Ellis — he was sure if it, more sure than ever — stared at him with wide eyes and a disgruntled face as she tried to break free. “I told you already, it's—”

“Maude Ivory? Lucy Gray, what's next, Aurora Borealis? I'm not stupid, sweet thing.”

She hissed when his grip tightened to a point it became full-on painful.

Davis said nothing to her while she tried to break free. If he had to give her any credit, it would be thinking she had a chance of getting past him.

He cast a glance at Victoria, still standing from the doorway, elegant as ever. “Prepare the ship. And tell the Council of Tides in advance that we're departing from Ketterdam.” He ordered.

With a huff and a more exasperated look than usual, Victoria stepped out of the room, closing the door so Davis could get his ‘precious’ silence and privacy.

Now it was the Heartrender behind Ellis' turn to get that long and hard gaze from General Lucretius. Not a pleasant experience in the slightest, but it was an effective method of making others do what you expected them to do.

“Tell me.” Davis said. His voice devoid of feeling, and wanting nothing more than an honest answer out of her. “Tell me, honestly, or I'll make sure you won't come back to your little barrel thugs with a tongue in your mouth.”

Ellis kept silent, her body stiff and waiting in anticipation for what he had to say. He could see the gears turning in her head, and it didn't take a genius to know her heartbeat quickened at both the proximity and the threat that came upon his lips.

Yet all Davis asked was, “Are you Ellis Clawthorne?”

It was a simple enough question. And the only question that truly mattered to Davis— more so than any of the others, at least.

If she said yes, all would be well, she'd be taken back to Ravka with an easy heart and 100,000 kruge lining her pockets. If she answered with no, however…

“I am.”

A simple and straightforward answer for a question of that same variety. That was all he needed; and she knew that was all it took for his suspicions confirmed.

He was surprisingly gentle as he let go of the hold he had on her wrists, and even stranger, he was a gentleman among other things as he helped her to her feet and escorted her out of the room.

What wasn't gentle, Ellis seemed to realize, was his voice. And more so than that, the way he stared down at her like she was the one thing he couldn't stand to look at for too long.

“You have exactly two days time to prepare before we take you back to Ravka, miss Clawthorne.”

Ellis' eyes widened. “Wait, what do you—”

Davis shushed her, lifting a finger. He didn't want to deal with another word out of her mouth.

As he sauntered out of the room with the other Heartrender, leaving Ellis standing there in her lonesome to process what exactly he'd said.

She supposed that Ketterdam wouldn't be ‘home’ any moment longer.

⊱────────────────────⊰

【 Taglist / Credits 】

↳ In order of OC appearances/mentions

Ellis Clawthorne — @starry-night-rose

↳ Enforcer for the Midas Touch, Heartrender (Corporalki, order of the living and the dead)

Sumeragi Yuuta — Me 😈

↳ Barrel boss for the Midas Touch, Durast (Materialki, order of Fabrikators)

Chizuko Miyato — @sakuramidnight15

↳ “Spider” for the Midas Touch

Davidson Novellion — Also Me 😈

Victoria Shard — Also (x2) Me 😈

@jasdiary | @authoruio | @fumikomiyasaki | @nem0-nee | @twsted-princess | @hallowed-delights / @terrovaniadorm | @geminiiviolets | @mystery-skulls-ghost | @absolutelyobsessedkiya / @twistedsongstressofstarz | @valse-a-mille-temps

[totallynottinsel]

Warnings: none. Just some tooth rotting fluff for the soul. and maybe a little angst

Ship: Chreon (+ some Jill x Claire sprinkled in for fun)

Ty to my wonderful mom for this whole idea of the gang getting to have a chill day out for once, she's amazing so all credit goes to her for the prompt (: (i've dragged her into the Chreon cult)

Finally, with the world saved once again by the skin of everyone’s teeth, there was that silent, open void left over; it was a bit funny how these top tier government agents and so on had a hard time figuring out what to occupy themselves with when not stopping bioterrorists or shooting zombies. Though most of them had gotten used to that same empty space by now. 

After Dylan had been successfully put to a stop, as well as the events on Alcatraz Island settled—the near exhausted group of friends wanted to at least spend a little time all together before each of them had to return to their own set of work again. Yet the question was…what would they do? None could seem to agree on one thing throughout the various ideas and suggestions spat out, though at least someone had a decent choice. Rebecca ended up saying they should simply go out for ice cream, to which they all happily agreed to. Who wouldn’t though?

They all decided to carpool to make the trip easier. “I’m calling shotgun!” Claire exclaimed as she dashed to the side of the car, sitting herself inside right next to her brother, who’d already been the chosen driver—whilst Jill and Rebecca got stuck with the backseats. But at least it wasn’t too squished for the two of them, or so they would think for a good minute. 

“Hey, can I ride with you guys? I’ve kinda lost mine” A low, unsure voice kindly asked the rest of the group, which was quick to catch everyone’s attention. It belonged to Leon of course, who stood just a few feet away from the vehicle, arms crossed as he patiently awaited a response.  

“What happened to your bike?” Chris asked with curiosity towards the other, his arm resting on the rim of the car’s open window. 

“I…don’t really wanna talk about it.” The blond replied in an underlying tone of remorse, his gaze fluttering down to the ground below him, almost in a shameful manner. 

"Not again…" Claire murmured from her side, leaning forward to try and get a better look out her brother's window, not all too surprised by the revolution. Especially seeing who it was coming from.

"What does she mean again? Jesus, how many bikes have you recked?" Jill raised an eyebrow to the topic, staring at the apprehensive man outside the car with a slightly distasteful, yet nonetheless intrigued look on her face. 

"Too many for my liking." Leon mumbled under his breath as it was mixed with the tiniest tinge of annoyance, which was fair in his defense. He made his way over to the car, and slid himself inside the backseat alongside the other two—who were now stuck being squished next to each other. 

"So what I got from that was, is that I get to sit next to the guy who's known for wrecking bikes and or vehicles? Just my luck." She remarked straight back, her tone riddled with sarcasm as she kept on trying to lean far from him, making their limited space even worse no doubt. "Wanna swap seats?" She asked the woman next to her.

"I'll pass." Rebecca gladly declined, knowing fully well she wasn't about to be the human shield in case the curse of the vehicle wrecker was real all along. 

"Don't worry, we'll get you a new one, again. It's no big deal." Chris didn't hesitate one bit to put up an offer towards the other man, his usual warm and inviting smile coming across his face as he started up the car, one hand leisurely placed on the wheel.

"You don't have to do that, Chris—really. I can get my own this time, eventually…" He denied the gracious offer with hesitance; it wouldn't be the first time he's said no, yet came home to a snazzy new bike regardless. 

"He just likes finding any excuse to buy you things." Claire couldn't help but comment with a grin towards the two, shifting to look back at Leon, who rightfully was trying to avoid direct eye contact. Even if everyone was staring at him with intrigue. "You know he'll get it for you no matter what you say or do." He sank right into his seat after hearing that. 

—-------

"Are you going to pick or just stand there?" Chris asked with a gentle sigh, waiting for Jill to finally order whatever flavor of ice cream she was so deeply contemplating for what seemed like years. At this rate, she'd been holding up the line of impatient kids—whilst Claire and Rebecca had no issues ordering and taking a seat outside the place.  

"Give me a break! It's been awhile since I ordered anything, let alone ice cream." She gave a snappy response before eventually making her decision out of the bajillion flavors this place had, and was glad to leave the devilish gazes of all those kids waiting for their daily sugar intake. 

"Did you order anything yet?" Chris directed his attention back to the silent man standing off to the side, seeming a bit fazed out—as if he'd been distracted this entire time, which might've been true. 

"Huh–? Oh, yeah… I'll just have whatever you're having, I'm not really that hungry." Leon merely shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands down into the pockets of his leather jacket, having his laid back demeanor as always. 

"You sure?" The older wanted to confirm, though a hint of concern was noticeable in his voice towards the other. 

"Yeah, like I said, I'm not super hungry or anything…but if I do I'll just steal some from yours." He at least had a half smile going, which was better than nothing at all, but something still felt a bit off. 

The two men returned back outside within no time, ice cream in hand as the sun was shining, people out and about, no blood curdling screams of terror. Or big tyrants stomping around. All in all it was…well, a normal, average day, by anyone else's standards. But for this group of pals in particular? This was like a dream.

"Looks like we've been ditched." Leon snarkily remarked at the supposed other three friends who'd left before them, now nowhere in sight. So…that left the both of them, alone once again to either sit in cricket filled silence as they stood on the sidewalk, or attempt at striking up a decent conversation. What the hell would they even talk about at this point? That was always the question when this scene played out, with no mission to swiftly coordinate with one another, or battle to face. Though in all honesty, neither one totally hated the silence—it was almost nice of sorts to just be in each other's company, no words needed.

"You doing okay?" Chris finally spoke up after at least five minutes of just head nodding and gestures of acknowledgement, having already taken notice of the other's odd quietness, and how he kept on resting his eyes nearly the whole time. "You've been pretty quiet all morning." 

"I'm fine, just real tired. I barely got any sleep last night…actually, scratch that, I haven't got any sleep all damn week. I guess it's catching up to me." The fatigued blond rubbed his drowsy eyes with his hand, leaning his back against the concrete wall next to the store. "I can't seem to figure out how to stop having nightmares, and I feel like I've tried everything, you know?" 

"Yeah, I do." Chris gave a weary nod in return; he definitely had similar experiences with dreams throughout his entire life, though he wasn't sure if his were as frequent, and as bad as Leon's. He's heard about them in detail before, and it didn't sound like a pleasant sight to see. He also wasn't an expert when it came to comforting people, so he gently leaned his cup of ice cream towards the other, offering it up with a kindhearted smile. 

Leon let a short chuckle go as he spotted the ice cream, decided to accept the treat, even if it wasn't a flavor he preferred—he didn't mind at all if it was coming from Chris. He pulled out one of the plastic spoons that sat in the side of it, and popped a spoon full into his mouth, pleasantly surprised by it. 

"You'll always have my shoulder to lean on, just know that." The older said whilst taking a bite of his own, happy to have seen his offer of ice cream be taken up. 

"Good, 'cause I'm beat." Leon didn't hesitate much to carefully rest his sleepy head on the side of the other's shoulder, not exactly being able to reach the top due to their slight height difference. He obviously chose to take the Chris's words more literally than figuratively—but hey, the man was exhausted, so what's the harm in it? 

The two decided to stay there, taking in the scenery; sounds of speedy cars rushing by, or the sounds of distant voices and footsteps. It was honestly quite relaxing, and with how tired Leon already was, he was struggling to even keep his eyes open as he took a long awaited rest—which no doubt wouldn't be happening if Chris wasn't here. They made each other feel safe enough to put their guards down for once. It was sort of like having a big fuzzy blanket you could hide yourself under, and you felt as if nobody could touch you. 

"Hey, Chris?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You really don't have to get me a new bike." 

"I want to." 

Leon sighed in defeat, eyes still closed, knowing there was no way he'd win this argument. 

"Maybe Claire was right when she said I use it as an excuse to buy you things, but it's also an excuse to get to see you. Without having to fight bioterrorist's in the same day."  It was true, he was always looking for little ways to try and see or talk to the agent away from anything work related, and it'd become painfully obvious to everyone around that he was trying so hard to spend time with him, well—to everyone but Leon. 

“All you have to do is ask, y’know? It’s no trouble if you ever wanna call me up and hang around, or something. No need to spend your entire life savings on me, Redfield.” He mentally cursed at his own words after some thought over them, wondering if ‘hanging around’ was the right thing to suggest, should he have recommended going out to dinner? Or perhaps another group activity? He was unsure, and the room was a bit hard to read…so, all he could really do was hope for the best. 

“I might just take you up on that, then.” Well, Chris definitely seemed up for it, so…at least he was doing something right. 

—----- 

"That's a keeper." Claire said with a smile of her own as she snapped a good photo of the two men from round the street corner, knowing it was a rare sight they were ever that close in a public setting—and she couldn't wait to see the look on her brother's face once she showed it to him later. 

"How have neither of them asked each other out?" Rebecca asked with absolute disbelief, shaking her head as she finished off her scoop of ice cream.

"Honestly, I thought Leon would be making moves left and right on him, but I realized he talks a bigger game than he's actually got. And that's just based off a few days knowing him." Jill summed it up fairly well as she watched the two, arms crossed with a small smile before she moved her gaze to the other women beside her. "You Redfields are awful at flirting too." 

"She's got a point, I've been around those two long enough to get the feeling that Chris…isn't necessarily great at flirting…" Rebecca chimed in with reluctance. 

"Hey, we're not awful flirters! I can do it just as well as anyone else, and maybe Chris…struggles, but he gets there." Claire defended the both of them with confidence in her voice, one she'd soon come to regret as she attempted trying to come up with a flirt, or pickup line, yet—she found herself stuck with infuriated embarrassment by the end of it. 

"Alright, stop— look, this is how you do it." Jill set her empty cup of melted ice cream down onto the ground, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped a few feet away, then turned around and walked up to the younger Redfield again, who was still speechless. "Hey, wanna go out some time, beautiful?" 

In all honesty, it wasn't that great of a line, and really shouldn't work on anyone. Yet the way Jill said those words—the way she walked with absolute confidence, and her voice was as smooth as ever—it lit something inside Claire that she suddenly couldn't explain, and all she could say was…

"Uh, sure–?" She uttered out with a mix of confusion, surprise, and…an interesting dose of excitement. 

"Great." Jill accepted it, and was content with her work for the day enough to begin walking back—with a flabbergasted Claire and semi entertained Rebecca following—towards the two men who were practically in their own little world—which would soon come to a speedy crash. "Is he asleep…?" She asked in a low voice. 

The sound of Jill's harsh, sudden questioning was enough to jolt Leon awake from his relaxed and peaceful state, swiftly leaving his claimed spot on Chris's shoulder and very quickly deciding to pretend as if that was the last thing he was doing. And totally was not taking an extremely enjoyable nap on his quote on quote ‘friend's’ arm. Yet now he just looked plain freaked out instead of cool and collected. "Where the hell did you all come from–?"

"We were hanging around the corner, just to let you two have some quality time to yourselves.” Rebecca answered with her usual soft tone,  though it was as clear as day she was in on whatever the three of them were conspiring over there. “Well, until Jill had something to say to you, I believe."

Chris audibly sighed, a bit bitter by the fact his moment was abruptly interrupted, but tried in his best efforts to keep calm about it, just for the 50\50 chance that whatever she had to say was important in some way, shape or form.

“What is it?”

“I asked your sister out, and she said sure.” Blunt as ever.

“You what?”

The silence had gotten so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And that soon faded into mindless staring—just waiting for someone to awkwardly cough, or say any sentence at all. Nobody was entirely sure if this was all a planned joke or quite literal. 

“Jill what do you mean? Don’t walk away!” He threw his hands up in utter confusion as he chased after her down the sidewalk, itching to get a straighter answer and much needed context he clearly missed, whilst Rebecca kept on telling them not to banter so close to the busy road. Far too many times.

Leon didn’t give many words to the whole ordeal, and instead chose to simply watch in saddened disappointment as Chris left his side; he had a blatant frown as he put his hands back in his pockets, returning to the same state he’d been in all morning within the blink of an eye. Although he did have one question that took him a bit aback, out of everything that went down. 

“I didn’t know you…well, you know, were into women–?” He tilted his head towards Claire with uncertainty to his own question, even if they’d been close friends for years now—new information still seemed to pop up out of the blue. 

“I didn’t know you were into my brother.” She didn’t even have to look back at him to get her point across, and held back a large smile while doing so. She’d noticed his sudden spring of dismay the moment Chris walked off right away, of course, and couldn’t help but comment on it if no one else would. 

The blond didn’t deny her accusation by any means, and simply took a stand by her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as they watched the other three repartee all across the street, a true sight for sore eyes getting to see them have a bit of fun. 

“I don’t think he knows either.”

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Movin’ Mountains

Chapter 11: Blood in the Water

* Pairing: Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, injuries, technically arson, gun, gun fire, Stella’s attitude throwing Colby and even me for a loop

* Word count: 2,992ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant and @lexixstewart for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all.

Author's note: I’m so stoked for this chapter and the next. Stella is on a different level now. Not sure what snapped, but something did and it’s about to get real. I hope everyone loves this chapter as well!

Stella and Abigail found Colby at the bottom of the hill – shirtless, wet, and shivering in the frigid Montana night air. Without hesitation, she yanked off her dark green Carhartt and draped it over his shoulders. The jacket was a bit too snug, but it was enough to keep him warm. “Put this on, Colby.”

Colby shoved his shaky hands at her in protest trying to keep her from giving up her jacket. “Stella, you’ll freeze,” his teeth chattered violently. “I’m fine. Help me find Teeter.”

“Shut the fuck up and take the damn jacket,” Stella’s voice cut through the silent night. “I’m doin’ much better than you. At least I’m dry.” Stella turned on her heel and stalked away from him before he could push her jacket back into her hands. Her boots crunched through the grass and she drew in a breath, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Teeter,” She yelled into the surrounding area, hoping that the woman would answer back. She could hear Colby behind her, desperately calling out for her too.

Stella used her flashlight to brighten the area ahead of her. She looked through the grass for any tracks or signs of where Teeter could have gone. There were some depressions near the edge of the water. The river rippled serenely, drastically opposing the frantic search for the pink haired wrangler. Because the terrain was bumpy and untouched down here, it was hard to tell what direction the depressions moved in. Stella couldn’t tell if the dips in the ground were just the terrain, or someone moving through the grass. ‘Should have paid more attention when the guys were trying to teach you how to hunt and track,’ she complained to herself.

She called out to Colby over her shoulder, “where was she?”

“We were in the river,” he replied, his voice shook. “After we got trampled, I don’t know.”

“Fuck,” Stella breathed out, her breath vaporizing in the air. The chill seeped into her arms through her hoodie as she scoured the area. A wave of guilt washed over her because she was the one that sent them out to work fences. Adrenaline coursed through her, blood pumping in her ears. She barely noticed the cracks of breaking twigs echoing around her — was it Teeter, or something else? 

A rustling in the darkness snapped them to attention. Stella gripped her flashlight tighter, and Colby instinctively edged closer, bracing for a wolf — or worse. Their hearts jumped into their throats. She quickly shined her light in the direction of the noise.

“Teeter,” Colby yelled.

“I’m here,” a small muffled reply drifted over to them.

Colby and Stella let out a collective breath they’d been holding. Colby froze, unable to react. A very naked Teeter worked on crawling out of the trees. Stella called him to action, “go get that blanket from the back of the gator!” Colby jolted to life and took off for the gator at the top of the hill.

Stella quickly helped her up, placing herself around Teeter’s trembling form to cover as much of her as she could. She didn’t want her to feel more vulnerable than she already was, and wanted to trade some of her body heat with the frozen woman.

A large gash on the side of her face made Stella wince. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Teet. What the hell happened?” From what Stella could see, there were a few more bruises and scrapes along her body, but the slash on her head was the worst physically. Stella knew Teeter was shaken up. She hadn’t planned on almost meeting death today when Stella sent them out.

Colby sprinted back up to them. He didn’t think through his words before telling Stella, “it was Wade and his son.” He worked on taking Teeter from Stella and wound her up in the blanket. “They said to give John a message and trampled us with their horses.” He grabbed at Teeter’s face, checking the wound on her head.

“Is it bad?” Teeter woefully asked Colby.

Stella’s jaw locked and she went silent as she watched the interaction in front of her. If it weren’t for the circumstances, she would have celebrated the apparent feelings between the two. “I’m gonna get the first aid kit.”

As calmly as she could, Stella made her way up to the side-by-side. They all knew Wade was trouble, but this just confirmed her suspicions. She remembered him working on the ranch, but leaving not long after she and Ryan came. At 14, she was more focused on learning the routine around the ranch than really paying attention to the people who came and went. She wasn’t entirely aware of the beef between Wade and John, but she knew it existed.

The Morrows came onto the Yellowstone’s land and hurt her friends. Retaliation already brewed in her mind. She ran through her options. She could waste time going back to the ranch with the couple, or she could take a page from Rip and Kayce’s book and go take care of the problem herself. Her breath came in shallow puffs the angrier she became.

The firm grasp she had on the first aid kit cut into her hand. Rip’s words from a few weeks ago when she was in charge of doing something equally choatic echoed in her head – ‘you’ve just gotta do it and ask for forgiveness later. You’re taking a stand and protecting what’s ours.’ Stella knew that the bunkhouse would retaliate, but that wasn’t quick enough justice for her. She’d leave a message Wade couldn’t ignore, forcing him to confront them on their terms.

With her mind made up, she hopped in the side-by-side and plopped the kit in her lap, turning the engine over. She drove down the hill and got as close to Teeter and Colby as she could. Climbing out, she spotted Colby and Teeter kissing. The illogical side of her mind squealed with delight. Stella had been silently cheering for Teeter to lock Colby down. This hadn’t been the way she thought that would happen, but she was happy regardless. She spotted Abigail not far off keeping a watchful eye on everything occurring.

Wordlessly, Stella handed the kit over to Colby. He knew how to clean someone up quickly, and good enough until they could get the proper care. He helped Teeter sit down on the gator and started patching her up.

Stella’s body went rigid, the anger radiating off her like a simmering storm. “Once you clean her up, you good to get her back home?”

Colby glanced up at her quickly and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He looked uncertain. “You’ll be right behind us, right?”

“Somthin’ like that. Gotta take care of somethin’ first.”

He started to interrupt Stella, “I understand you’re angry, we all are, but don’t go doin’ anything crazy yet.”

Stella held her hand up stopping his arguments. “Get her to the vet, Colby,” her tone of her voice was thick with something Colby was frightened by. He’d never heard that tone from her before.

She let out a sharp whistle for Abigail, prompting the mare to trot her way over. “I’ll be behind y’all soon.” She grabbed the bottom of Abigail’s mane and swung herself up into the saddle. “Get her home Colby,” she ordered one last time and took off. Colby’s mouth hung open as he and Teeter watched Stella gallop off into the darkness.

Stella knew that Wade’s current property was at the end of pasture four. She pushed Abigail to get there like her life depended on it. Buffalo flew by them on either side. She thanked the gods above that the buffalo were used to horses, otherwise she’d have more of a problem on her hands.

The closer she got to the end of the pasture, she could see the lights of the home dotting the horizon. She slowed Abigail down as she arrived at the fence line for their property. The house was about 250 yards from where she stood. She could see in the dim light of the evening that there was a fancy car sitting in front of Wade’s house. That piqued her interest.

She slid out of her saddle and grabbed Abigail’s reins, rubbing her hand along the mare’s wide shoulder. “Please stay right here. I’m about to do some dumb shit, and I don’t need you hurt. You’re my only ride back.” She gave Abigail’s shoulder a pat with a somber chuckle. The gravity of her anger and being by herself finally hit her. “If any buffalo come close, or get agitated, walk away. For the love of god, please don’t get an attitude with them,” she pleaded.

The mare blew out a dragon breath forcefully. She was not only trying to catch her breath from the harsh ride, but agreeing with her girl.

Stella unfastened her holster again, wanting to be prepared depending on how this went. She scanned the area and didn’t see anyone patrolling the area. She crouched and snuck up to a farm truck parked not far off from the house. Hearing the front door open, she ducked further against the truck, hiding the bottom half of her body behind the back tire.

A voice drifted out over the front yard, meeting Stella’s ears. If she didn’t know any better it was Roarke from Market Equities. “Now keep pushing until he does something else we can use in court.” He sounded annoyed.

Stella grinned darkly, “good,” she whispered. “I hope your ass is chapped.”

The proof that Wade was working for the company currently gunning for the Yellowstone land brought back the anger from earlier. The act of trampling her friends was the beginning of a plot to push them to do something drastic. It changed her plans of what she was originally going to do.

“I'm going to bring some more men on,” Wade told his apparent new boss. “I don't want a dozen of his wranglers dragging me through the sagebrush.”

Stella scoffed quietly, “that’s the least of your worries, my dude.”

“Bring on whoever you like, but somebody had better get drսg through the sagebrush. We can't sue for damages if there aren't any damages.”

Stella’s mouth dropped open. They wanted them to retaliate so they could legally force a take over of the land from the ranch. Everyone who wanted the ranch land needed to be reminded that the Yellowstone and it’s employees weren’t as soft as they assumed. Stella worked an idea over in her head. She needed to come up with something that would leave an impression, but not cause an immediate all out war.

Wade pushed back against Roarke, “you don't know John Dutton like I do.”

“That's why the job pays so well,” the evil businessman chuckled. “So keep poking him till that son of a bitch does something he can't take back.” He motioned to his security, “let's go.”

She waited patiently until she heard Roarke’s car pull off, and Wade close the door to his house. She glanced up at where she left Abigail, and spotted her waiting not from from where she originally stood. Her ears were perked up, observing the area around her, one eye always on Stella.

Stella would have liked to say she couldn’t believe these people, but over the last few years, she had learned differently. The lengths that some people would go to just to get a plot of land – rocks, dirt and trees – never failed to flabbergast her. No matter how many times she’d experienced it.

When the shadow from the porch light cut off, Stella stood stiffly from crouching for so long. Carefully she scanned the area, her head just peeking out over the bed of the truck. She wanted to be sure Wade or his son, Clint, weren’t still outside. When she was sure the coast was clear, she spotted a gas can in the bed of the truck. Her eyes lit up with a feral Kayce-like energy that spread through her whole body. Grabbing the gas can, she shook it to make sure there was some of the flammable fluid still in it. With the wild energy still vibrating through her, she darted out from around the truck.

She made her way back up to Abigail, who met her halfway, and grabbed her flint and steel out of her saddle bag. She hadn’t had to use it often, but it was handy to have. She dashed back to the front yard.

The swirling thoughts made her feel claustrophobic. She took a step back to think about what she was doing. If she actually wanted to go through with it. This would most likely set off a series of events that none of them could stop once it started.

She shrugged because knowing Wade, even the tiniest bit that she did, Stella was sure he would confront them first before making a complete scene with Market Equities.

Her first instinct had been to shoot them both on sight, but she knew the bunkhouse crew would want their share of retribution. This wasn’t just her fight — it was all of theirs.

Moving with deliberate, furious precision, Stella carved the rocking Y into Wade’s front yard, the gasoline glinting under the moonlight. They wanted a message? She would deliver it loud and clear. She was sick and tired of all of these greedy and duplicitous people walking all over them. That was a talk she was going to have with John when she got back to the ranch.

Bringing up her flint and steel, and struck the flint so hard sparks flew. The sparks ignited the fumes from the gasoline and the Y illuminated her face quickly. The fire was hotter on the scar that ran across her right eye and casted a dark shadow, but the flames reflected in her galsses making Stella look unholy. The crackling of the grass was almost satisfying as she watched the destruction.

Her voice roared out across the property. “Wade Morrow!” Stella waited a few moments before calling out again. She caught a glimpse of someone peeking out the side window next to the door. The person was Wade.

His eyes widened seeing the flames in his front yard. He and Clint rushed out onto the porch. He screamed at his son, “go get the fuckin’ hose!”

“What about her?!”

“I’ll take care of her! Get the fuckin’ hose so the whole place doesn’t go up in flames god damnit!” While Clint ran off for the water, Wade stomped down from the porch, his shadow flickering behind him in the firelight. Squinting through the flames, his leer twisted into something grotesque. “Little Stella? Well, haven’t you grown up somethin’ nice,” he drawled, the words dripping like rancid honey.

He observed the large rocking Y burning in his grass and Stella standing stoic behind the flames, her gun in her right hand. Sweat sprouted along his brow. Glancing around wildly he looked to see if she had anyone with her. He hadn’t been expecting them to find out this fast. Let alone send one of their own by themselves.

“Why’d they send you?” Wade sneered, his gruff laugh cutting through the crackling flames. “They must not care too much, sending a little girl with a gun and a grudge.” He paused, scanning her. “Figured John would send someone with more bite.”

Stella’s face darkened, but she didn’t rise to the bait.

Wade gestured to the burning Y scorched into his yard. “You think this scares me? You’re just collateral damage. John won’t even remember you and the ranch will move on.” The bellowing laugh he let out cut through her ears. “Are you the new attack pup?”

Stella’s short nails dug into the palm of her hand and her lips tightened against her teeth, but she forced herself to stay quiet against his goading. She wanted Wade to bury himself with information he shouldn’t share. An almost satanic smile spread across her lips.

When he saw the devilish line cut across her face, he started to rethink his arguments. He honestly didn’t know just how far Stella would go, given the fact that he didn’t see her after he left the ranch. Wade held out his hands in a defensive posture, “now hold on a minute. Wouldn’t want to do anything to give Market Equities the grounds to swoop in and grab that land from y’all, now would we? I have legal grounds as of right now to give them the “go ahead” to attack.”

Stella refused to let him try and intimidate her. “You wouldn’t dare go to them first. You wouldn’t wanna let them know how a little girl,” she sneered at the words, “snuck onto your property and lit your shit on fire.” She pointed an accusatory finger. “You’ll pay for your sins, Wade. Trust and fuckin’ believe. By the time we’re done with you, you’ll remember who the fuck you’re up against.”

“If you want war,” his voice dripped with venom, “you better be ready to fight like hell.”

“Ready or not, dickhead.” She pulled out her pistol, tired of hearing what he had to say, and fired off a round right past his head. “Next time, I won’t fuckin’ miss.” She let a few rounds off at the gas can as she ran backwards. The resounding explosion rattled in her ears and the force pushed her further up the hill.

She scrambled up onto Abigail as she heard Wade and Clint screaming behind her. A few stray bullets whizzed in her direction inaccurately. Her breath came in ragged gasps as adrenaline surged, but she forced herself to focus, guiding Abigail to safety. The chance of them actually hitting her in the dark, desparate and rushed, was slim to none. She knew she and Abigail had to get out of there fast so that once the fire was contained, they didn’t catch up to her.

Stella swung onto Abigail, her legs trembling as she kicked the mare into a gallop. She veered onto a rugged path between the properties, knowing Wade and Clint wouldn’t risk following—at least, not yet. She figured they were probably more concerned with their farm not burning down.

Stella pushed Abigail to keep herself sure footed on the rocky path. Both grunted every so often as they maneuvered around the different obstacles. Abigail could sense Stella’s sense of urgency. Her main focus was getting them back to familiar territory.

Stella’s heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest, every beat echoing in her ribs, with the weight of what she'd done. Blood was in the water, and she'd made the first cut.

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, the banquet continues--with or without Trevelyan.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,909. Rating: most audiences. Warnings: symptoms of trauma, discussion of death and murder, brief descriptions of murder.

AN: To give you an idea: content is no worse than anything found in Inquisition itself. However, this chapter is skippable if you need it. Message if you want more info.)

Chapter 25: The Banquet - Part 2

“Well?” said the Comtesse.

Trevelyan had no words with which to answer, no breath in her lungs with which to respond. She clawed it back, desperately, as it escaped from her—more rapidly by the second. Did the air grow cold by itself, or had she made it that way?

Lady Samient dropped her fork onto the table. The clang commanded attention, and drew stares away from Trevelyan. All expected her to speak, but it was the Baroness who took the opportunity:

“What a perverse thing to talk of,” she said, with a smile so forced it could have torn her cheeks apart, “as we are all eating.”

“No more perverse than attending a hanging,” the Comtesse countered.

Lady Samient muttered, “I can think of only one hanging I should like to watch.”

The Comtesse laughed it off. “Lady Trevelyan does not mind my asking, do you?”

Lady Trevelyan was staring at the candle between her and Lady Erridge, trying not to see figures in the flames.

“What about some warmer drinks?” announced Dorian. “I feel a chill. I need something warm.”

The Comtesse ignored him. “Lady Trevelyan?” she repeated. “You don’t mind.”

Trevelyan did not wish to reply. But Maker, she would have to. Eyes crawled over her skin. Whispers inside and out. The other table had fallen silent, too. More seats for the audience.

Flickering, flickering, growing taller. Dorian moved imperceptibly.

The candle went out.

And it was a cough that had extinguished it.

Lady Erridge was coughing—no, choking—violently. In desperation, she patted her chest. A croak was all she could utter from her mouth.

“Boah,” she wheezed, “boah!”

“A bone?” said Samient.

Erridge wagged a finger in her direction.

The Baroness gasped. “She has a bone caught in her throat. Lady Trevelyan, are you trained in healing?”

Trevelyan’s mind sharpened into focus. Yes, yes, she did have training. But—not for this. Still, she shot up from her seat, and hurried to Lady Erridge’s side.

“Tilt your head back and open your mouth,” she said. Lady Erridge did exactly as instructed, and Trevelyan peered in. She had hoped the bone might be caught in her gullet, but Lady Montilyet’s intimate lighting was not designed for a task such as this. “I can’t see it!”

“Take her out to the garden,” Dorian suggested, shooting to his feet. “You’ll have better light there!”

A far more sensible idea than Trevelyan’s plan to conjure a wisp near her face. At once, she gripped Lady Erridge’s arm and rushed her to the garden door. A servant had it open before they even reached it. Trevelyan whispered reassurances the whole way.

They emerged, Erridge continuing to choke. Trevelyan hurried her from the arcade, to the garden proper, where the evening light might lend its aid. Her heart thud as loud as the sound of the door slamming shut behind them.

Yet, as she instructed Erridge to lean back yet again, her Ladyship cleared her throat.

“Is it gone?” Trevelyan asked.

“Oh, it was never there!” said Erridge with a smile. “I simply thought you might want to leave, after… what was said.”

Maker. Though not a player of the Great Game, Lady Erridge was a quicker wit and greater actress than they all had given her credit for.

“No, no, I’m all right,” Trevelyan lied.

But Lady Erridge shook her head. “But I saw the candles flicker, and you are so good with fire, Wicky.” She placed a hand on Trevelyan’s arm, her grip steadfast, yet gentle. “Are you certain?”

Trevelyan bit back an attempt at a smile. The door was shut. They were out. No one would hear them now.

Tears welled. “It’s… it’s all right. Nothing… to do with me, I assure you.”

“But terribly distressing, regardless,” Erridge cooed, wiping Trevelyan’s cheek. “Come, here.”

She spread her arms, and welcomed Trevelyan into them. It was perhaps the softest, most soothing embrace Trevelyan had ever felt. If any of her sisters had ever held her, Trevelyan imagined that this is what it might have been like.

Apart from, that is, when Lady Erridge muttered, “Maker, that woman was quite the dreadful little puddle of druffalo piss, wasn’t she?”

Trevelyan let out a weepy laugh. “That’s what her outfit reminded me of.”

Erridge began to giggle as well—until the door cracked open. In a mere moment, she split from Trevelyan, and turned her giggles back into coughs. For her part, Trevelyan dried her eyes and prepared to tend to her ‘patient’.

To what seemed only Trevelyan’s surprise, the Commander appeared. And as soon as he had closed the door behind him, Erridge gave up her act.

“Are you all right?” he asked, striding toward them.

“Oh—er, I managed to dislodge the bone, and there is no damage,” Trevelyan lied. “She is well.”

But Lady Erridge whispered to her: “I believe he was asking about you.”

Though Trevelyan was doubtful, the look on the Commander’s face confirmed as much. “Oh,” she breathed. “Well, I’m…”

As she trailed off, Lady Erridge perked. “I think I shall take a turn. All that coughing scratched up my throat! Some fresh air will do.” She met Trevelyan’s eye, and with intent, asked, “If that’s all right with you?”

Trevelyan nodded. “Thank you.”

One last squeeze of her arm, and Lady Erridge slipped away, pretending some fascination with the bushes at the other side of the garden. Trevelyan’s gaze lingered upon her, preparing herself, until she found the courage to turn to the Commander.

His focus was on her. Waiting, patiently. Regarding, gently.

“I am sorry you had to find out this way,” he said.

Trevelyan shook her head. “I already knew. It was the talk of Ostwick when I returned. Every party my parents dragged me to—”

She stopped. Poor wording.

“—that I attended, someone would speak of it. The latest gossip.” Acknowledging this fact aloud made her feel quite silly, for the fuss she had caused on this occasion. “Forgive me my reaction, I hadn’t expected to hear of it here.”

“And you shouldn’t have,” said the Commander, resolute in his voice and posture. “You needn’t apologise for this.”

No matter how true his words, there was a still a sense of shame that came with exposing one’s emotions so publicly.

“I had been thinking about it, I suppose,” Trevelyan admitted. “Since I came here...”

Her eyes wandered to a garden bench, her feet drawn toward its promise of rest. The Commander accompanied her without hesitation, remaining at her side.

“I have spoken to some of the mages, those who came from Ostwick,” she explained. “They thought I had died at the Conclave, that we all had, in the Breach. Yet no one seems to know who these other mages were, who were… who were murdered, at the Circle.”

Because the First Enchanter had not let anyone know, save the Knight-Commander. And it was the discovery of this concealment—this betrayal—that had decided Ostwick’s fate.

The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander died in the ensuing rebellion. The truth perished with them. Or so it was thought.

Trevelyan sank onto the bench; felt the heat from the stone that had warmed in the evening sun. The Commander stood as if on guard, but he need not have been so alert. The garden was quiet, save for them and Erridge. Peaceful and quiet.

“It was us, wasn’t it?” murmured Trevelyan. “The delegation, to the Conclave. Their deaths, and the deaths of those unnamed mages… are one and the same.”

The Commander sighed. “I believe so.”

“But if that—if that’s the case, then they think it was our own Templars who..?”

His face changed. Calmness and compassion—to confusion. The Commander dropped to a knee before her, and searched her eyes for answers.

“What do you mean?”

Tears, stinging again. Trevelyan glanced over her shoulder, thinking she had felt Lady Erridge’s presence approach. But Erridge was far from them, occupied with the flowers. Yet, something… watching, waiting.

She had to clear their names.

“That night,” she began, “we had made camp outside a village, in Ferelden. Though it’s… hard, to remember what, what happened. There are only bits and pieces of it left… I…”

The Commander settled where he knelt, and nodded for her to continue. “It’s all right. Go on.”

“I remember… we had all gone to sleep, but the night watch awoke us. There were people in the trees, surrounding us. Templars, but… not like ours.”

Gently, he asked: “Red Templars?”

“I don’t know—I didn’t know what a Red Templar was, then. It was dark—I saw only what the moons and the firelight reflected. They could’ve been, I just…” The struggle to clutch her memories—frayed threads that loosened the harder she held on—summoned forth the tears she was only just keeping down.

“It’s all right,” the Commander reassured her, “it’s all right.”

From his waistcoat he pulled a napkin—clean—and embroidered with leaves that Trevelyan recognised. Same ones as the banquet table.

Appreciative of the gesture, she accepted the cloth, and dabbed her cheeks with it. “I do recall that our Knight-Lieutenant, Aarden, spoke to them. I think—I think they wanted us. But he refused to hand us over. We had twice as many Templars as mages—it, it was safe. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

The Templars had disagreed.

“All I remember then is… seeing the sword sticking out of his back.”

The Commander bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

“We stood and fought,” Trevelyan went on, for it was all she knew how to do. “I don’t think we were outnumbered, but—it felt like we were. I remember Lilley—Lilley Brandt was her name, one of our Templars—shouting, ‘protect the mages, protect the mages’.”

She hadn’t shouted for long.

“When the tide turned, they told us to run. They held the line as long as they could but—they couldn’t hold it forever.” A chill ran down Trevelyan’s spine. “And when our Templars were gone, they started following us. Hunting us down. For sport. For amusement. One by one.”

Trevelyan tried not to think of the sounds. The screams. The desperate last spells. The thud of each body.

“It was just me and Floris left.”

But still they came.

“She told me to run. Go to the Conclave, tell them what had happened.” Trevelyan’s breath hastened, the memory stealing it from her lungs. “Before I could stop her, she ran. Distracted them. So I could escape.” The last of her strength gave way, and she sobbed. “The only one.”

Fleeing from their bodies felt as if running barefoot over broken glass. That pain, of abandoning them, of leaving their fates unknown—it tormented her. For months.

She hoped at least they would be given dignity in death. But, no. Beheaded, cut to pieces, sent back to the Circle with a forged claim of culpability, attributed to the very Templars who had given their lives to defend them.

At least they made it home.

“Your friend would be glad to know her sacrifice was not in vain,” the Commander said.

“But it was!” Trevelyan wept. “I failed! I failed her. I didn’t reach the Conclave in time, nor Ostwick. If only I had…”

“There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“But there was.”

For even though none of the Ostwick mages seemed to know who had been slaughtered by their Templars, unlike the exaggerated stories of the Ostwick elite, they all seemed to be sure of the number. Five.

They believed that the First Enchanter had concealed these five deaths to protect the Templars of Ostwick. Anything to maintain neutrality. But the First Enchanter knew how many mages he had sent to the Conclave. Six.

“The First Enchanter would have known I wasn’t among them,” Trevelyan said, clutching the napkin until her knuckles paled. “He could have checked my phylactery; he would have known I was alive. He was nsot a fool—if those Templars framed our own, he would not have acted without evidence. And he had a living witness. If I had arrived in time… then perhaps—”

She could have told them the truth. No need for concealment. No need to suspect their own. No need to rebel.

There were only estimates of the exact numbers lost when Ostwick Circle was broken. But they were not small. And the guilt of every death, every single one, rested upon Trevelyan’s shoulders. Unbearable, suffocating, weight. She choked on it even now.

“What happened at Ostwick was not your fault,” said the Commander, firm and unerring. “You are not to blame for what those Templars did. You are not to blame for how the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander dealt with it. You did everything you could. This is not your fault.”

Trevelyan shook her head. “But I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. You did as you were asked.” He caught her gaze, held her focus, and told her true: “Your Ladyship, we are the Conclave.”

The magnitude of his words took a moment to be felt. Trevelyan’s mind thought it simply another platitude, at first. But she realised his meaning, as she took in the view of Skyhold around them.

The Inquisition had been forged of the very metals that once made up the Conclave. Though its form was different, what had created it was the same. This fortress was haven. She had finally arrived.

The fresh tears that rolled down her cheeks were of a different kind. That feeling of cold observation, somewhere at her back, warmed. He was right. She was here.

Yet all she could say was, “Oh.”

“You did not fail,” the Commander repeated. Trevelyan, without intending to, nodded.

But if this was the Conclave, then… “If—if I tell you who our Templars were, you could clear their names?”

“If you permit me.”

Trevelyan buckled, a little of the weight slipping from her shoulder. “Please. But”—she hesitated—“if everyone from Ostwick finds out, they’ll know the rebellion happened under false pretences.”

The Commander shook his head. “Ostwick was not as stable as it claimed. The First Enchanter was hoping to outlast the war; that the Conclave would provide a solution before the Circle fell. If it wasn’t this…”

“But it was this.”

“Then whether yours or not, Templars were still at fault,” he admitted, “and the First Enchanter still concealed the truth.” He thought on it a moment. “I’ll let the Grand Enchanter know first. She will be able to break the news sensitively.”

Trevelyan agreed.

“It will help if I can send agents to investigate what happened,” he said. “But only if you will allow it.”

Trevelyan’s mind had already laid down its shovel, tired of digging up the past. But if he wished to take up the tools himself... she would not stop him.

“All right. But—please do not tell me of what you find. Please. Or—at least, ask me, first, before you do.”

“Of course,” he whispered, perfectly gentle. “Do you recall the name of the village?”

“Sudton.”

He recognised it immediately. “Very well. Thank you.” He rose to his feet, and told her: “I promise you, we will do everything we can.”

“Thank you.”

Trevelyan’s eyes drifted to the other side of the garden, where Lady Erridge wandered. The Commander’s movement must have caught her attention, for she glanced at them in turn. Trevelyan gave a subtle beckon, which her Ladyship heeded immediately.

“Are you all righ—oh, Lady Trevelyan!”

Lady Erridge collapsed onto the bench beside Trevelyan, who now realised how red and soaked and puffy her face must have looked. Terribly handsome. Nevertheless, Erridge swept her into her arms:

“Cry onto me all you like. I’ve ruffles enough for a thousand handkerchiefs.”

The Commander told her, “I think it would be best to take Lady Trevelyan to her room.”

“Oh, I can do that!” replied Erridge. “Though I do not know how to get there without going through the hall. And I do not wish any of them to see us.”

“Go through my office,” the Commander instructed. “The guards will let you in. There is a bridge to the library—Lady Trevelyan knows it. You can reach your rooms from there.”

Erridge nodded, rubbing Trevelyan’s back all the while. “Oh, yes, I shall know where to go from there.”

The thought of her room brought Trevelyan no end of comfort. She liked it better than even her room back home. When Erridge stood, Trevelyan took the hand she offered with no reluctance.

The Commander prepared to escort them, but Lady Erridge stopped him. “Commander, if you could return to the banquet and tell them that it is Lady Trevelyan who has taken me to my room to recover, I think it would help quell any rumour.”

The Commander obeyed, but his gaze lingered upon Trevelyan’s face. “I… rest well, your Ladyship. I will do as you’ve asked. And—you are safe, in Skyhold. I promise you that.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

Reluctant, he broke away, and headed for the hall door. They watched until it shut behind him. Lady Erridge linked her arm into Trevelyan’s, and led her in the opposite direction.

“I have a book of recipes in my room,” she said. “Would you like to look through it with me, and decided which one we shall bake next?”

Trevelyan smiled a watery smile. “That sounds lovely.”

[murderoushagthesequel]

The Only Good Thing

from @jegulus-microfic's prompt, warning (827 words)

this one also really got away from me if you couldn't tell lol. i also... cried while writing this (it has a happy ending i swear) i'm just emotional atm lol... anywayyyyy enjoy lovlies <3

“You aren’t listening to me!” Regulus cries desperately. He wants James to scream and yell and run away from him, but every attempt Regulus makes to push him away, he just comes closer. “I’m only going to hurt you,” he mumbles. Regulus hangs his head, letting the anger and frustration seep out of him, giving up.

“The only person being hurt here is you, love,” James’ warm voice says. Regulus tries to hold himself together. Those words cut deeper than he ever would’ve expected them to. “I think you need to let yourself have good things sometimes.” Regulus falls to his knees and sobs into his hands. He needs to get away from James. He doesn’t want to taint the one good thing left in his life but he’s so tired. His body has had enough.

James sits down on the floor next to him and wraps his arms around him. Regulus pathetically falls into his chest, selfishly seeking all the warmth and love that James will offer him right now. James doesn’t say anything else, just sitting and rubbing light circles on his back. He isn’t running away, even when Regulus is in this awful state. He doesn’t know if that makes it better or far, far worse. 

“You’re the only good thing I have left, James,” he chokes out. “I can’t ruin that.”

“You need to give yourself more credit. You don’t ruin things, Reg.”

“But I do!” he protests, sitting up again and avoiding eye contact. “My brother is gone, my parents don’t love me, the whole school hates me-” He slumps down again. “Hell, the only thing that hasn’t gone wrong is I didn’t run off and join the Death Eaters or something,” he chuckles a bit at that, how bad does one's life have to get that just not being a Death Eater is the only upside?

“None of that was your fault,” James says softly. “Just please, let me love you, Regulus.” Regulus’ continued tirade of self-doubt catches in his throat. He takes a chance and looks into James’ eyes. They’re swimming with so much sadness. He caused that. He was right, James should’ve heeded his warnings.

James takes a deep breath and looks away. Regulus braces himself for the rejection he knows is coming. James bites his lip and flexes his hands on his knees.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it,” he starts, fiddling with his fingers, “but you’re the only good thing in my life.” Regulus feels the tears silently begin to flow down his face again. That can’t be right. “Things are pretty shitty right now to be honest,” he laughs, but partway through it breaks and turns into a sob. “Please don’t leave me alone.” And how can Regulus deny that?

“No, fuck, don’t cry,” he says, holding James’ face in his hands like it’s made of glass. “It’s going to be okay, Jamie, I promise,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Fuck it. If this is the hand they’re both dealt, they need to hold on to each other. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll never leave you again.” James looks up at him then.

“You won’t?” Regulus uses all the energy he has left to summon a shaky smile on his face as he nods. 

“I could never really leave you, James,” he admits. “That’s why I asked you to leave me.” James doesn’t say anything so Regulus takes a deep breath and continues. “I could never leave somebody I love so much.” Regulus doesn’t have time to process what’s happening before he’s being kissed by James Potter. It feels like a breath of fresh air after living underground his whole life. His heartbeat quickens and his whole body trembles, but it’s strangely comforting.

They’re both too exhausted to put any real heat into it, but all their raw emotions are still spilled out to each other in a silent exchange. Their faces are both stained with tears and they’re quivering from the weight of their emotions. James moves his lips slowly against Regulus’ and it makes him believe that they really do have all the time in the world, if they only let themselves. James presses his hands firmly against Regulus’ back and Regulus simply melts into him. He’s officially hopeless for James Potter. 

James pulls back and rests his forehead against Regulus’, both of them breathing heavily, inhaling each other’s exhales. It’s the most intimate thing Regulus has ever experienced and yet, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, it feels like this is where he was always meant to be.

“You’re my home, Regulus,” James whispers, barely loud enough to hear. “I love you more than words can describe.” James settles down on his back and Regulus burrows his head into his chest. They spend the night whispering love declarations in the dark and sharing lazy kisses. Their lives are both shit, but they finally have each other.