#this is mostly me just. thinking about poppy never leaving anyone behind in the first movie and then being left behind for

[popppyfur]

biggie and poppy talk post world tour

[sparring-hyena]

the 5 stages.

thanks @cloakanddaggerthings for the gentle nudge with this one.

OR, Poppy’s five stages to accepting that she’s in love.

-

1. denial.

a natural starting point for most things.

Poppy denies most things in the beginning. not because she necessarily wants to, it’s just how her brain’s wired.

she had denied the truth of her paternity when she first found out. had spent years pretending that it didn’t exist all so she could preserve some fantasy of a happy little family.

it hadn’t worked and the fallout had been disastrous. but each time something new comes along, each time she tries to deny again, she always insists that it won’t end that way.

so she denies whatever it is she can feel for AJ. denies it so vehemently that she’s almost able to convince herself that there’s absolutely nothing there.

she says i hate you and goes out of her way to prove it. but sometimes when she says it, AJ will give her an odd look, almost like she can see right through the denial and understand what it really is.

“it’s a self-defence mechanism,” AJ will say so many years later as she gets into bed beside Poppy.

“no it’s not,” Poppy will say, because of course she will. she’ll glance over at AJ through the reading glasses she had insisted she didn’t need, and give her a look that’s lost all its malice but still tries to look intimidating.

but AJ will understand, because she apparently always has, and she’ll say, “okay.” and then she’ll give her a kiss before getting comfortable in bed.

2. anger.

it’s just before winter break in her senior year when the denial stops working. when she realises that she maybe doesn’t really hate AJ at all. and that the hate that she thought she felt was just misplaced frustration because it’s annoying how not annoying she is.

she spends the last few days before everyone goes home stomping around campus and the sorority. she doesn’t say anything to anyone—would never breathe a word of this to another soul—but she lets her actions speak the words that she’s too scared to say.

“alright, what’s wrong?” it’s Veronica who asks, who corners her in the kitchen late one night, and fixes her with a stare that says she’s done dealing with this. “you’ve been in a shit mood all week.”

“no, i haven’t,” Poppy says, because of-fucking-course it’s more denial that comes out of her mouth.

“you have, and it’s obvious that bottling everything up isn’t helping, so spill.”

“leave me alone,” she snaps.

“fine. when you’re ready to talk about it, come find me.” Veronica leaves and Poppy fumes because how dare she try read me.

she goes home for the break and spends most of it angry and annoyed. and when her phone buzzes with a text from AJ, wishing her a happy holiday, she’s fuming because she can’t understand why she’s being nice.

her mother notices. because for all her flaws, she still cares in her own way.

“you know you can talk to me about anything. your father doesn’t have to know,” her mother says as the two of them enjoy their coffee in the morning.

and maybe it’s because she’s tired of being angry or something else entirely, but Poppy says: “there’s this girl.”

“ah. i see.” and then her mother has the gall to smirk as she takes another sip of her coffee.

“there’s nothing to see. it’s just... complicated.”

“oh, i’m sure it is. take it from me, most things that are worth something tend to be.”

they’re talking around the issue again—always talking around, never talking toward.

“just,” her mother sighs and rests her hand on top of Poppy’s, “try not to be angry about this for too long. it’s all time that you won’t get back, okay?”

there’s a small amount of understanding that sparks to life in Poppy. because she does understand. understands what her mother is talking about and how she’s veering dangerously close to following a similar path.

but she still doesn’t understand the how or the when or the why did it have to be her? so the anger remains, but she can see her mother’s words for what they really are—an olive branch, an explanation, an apology. so Poppy says, “thank you,” and finds that she means it.

3. bargaining.

she doesn’t spend much time here. she just thinks what if i had done this instead? and grows frustrated with herself for not doing it.

so it’s mostly just more anger, and then the occasional thought crisis where she imagines how simple her life could be if she’d done just one thing differently. but it’s fine. she’s fine.

except when she’s, decidedly, not fine. it’s when she’s in bed most nights that her brain starts to wander. starts to conjure up all these little scenarios. it’s nothing too outlandish, just little moments where her and AJ are together and totally, completely in—

4. depression.

—love. she’s in love with AJ. but she hasn’t hit the acceptance quite yet, doubts that she ever will. so she falls into a... not quite a depression. she just seems to lose most of her bite.

her words aren’t quite so sharp and pointed anymore, or not nearly as much as they could be. maybe that’s worth something.

she sits alone at one of the picnic tables on the quad during lunch and sorta zones out as she tries to figure out what the fuck she’s going to do now.

someone sits down across from her, and if it were any other time, she’d definitely tell them to get lost. but it doesn’t matter much what she would have done. because AJ is sitting across from her eating a salami sandwich, and Poppy’s first instinct isn’t to tell her to go away, but rather it’s to ask how she’s been

“not too bad,” AJ says with a shrug. “you?”

Poppy shrugs too, unsure of how to answer that. because saying i’ve been really confused lately, but i’m pretty sure i don’t hate you and that i actually love you instead. and also i think my mom and i are getting better seems like way too much. but simply saying good hardly seems like enough.

but AJ looks at her and smiles and Poppy wonders if she understands anyway.

5. acceptance.

she’s known for months by the time she finally accepts it. has known in the way that she feels something so undeniably calm settle over her whenever AJ’s around. has known in the way that all her insults aren’t jaded anymore and are really just i love you’s in disguise.

they’re studying together when Poppy accepts it—AJ on her bed and Poppy at the desk. it’s quiet and it’s a Tuesday afternoon and Poppy knows beyond any sort of doubt that she’s in love.

she doesn’t say it though—not yet anyway. accepting it and saying it are two totally different things. when you say it, you put it out there into the world. you make it real, and Poppy isn’t quite ready for that, but knows that she will be soon enough.

and years later when their feud and i hate you’s and days at Belvoire are so far behind them that it’ll seem like a completely different life, AJ will ask, “when did you know you loved me?”

she won’t even have to think about the answer, it will just fall from her lips like it’s so damn obvious. “when you sat down and ate your salami sandwich,” Poppy will say without looking up from her book.

after a moment of silence she’ll take the reading glasses off that she finally accepted she needed, and look at AJ who’s smiling like they’re twenty-one again and falling in love for the very first time.

[clonecaptains]

LIKE LIGHTNIN’ - an agent whiskey fic

word count | 3k+

rating: m for sexy times, language 

summary: agent whiskey x female reader; you’ve been crushing on agent whiskey for ages - maybe tonight you can do something about it when you’re assigned to be his wife for a mission

a/n: this was just a stab at a fic w/ him so here goes lol hope yall like it! and we’re ignoring what happens at the end of the kingsman movie in this fic

LIKE LIGHTNIN’

From day one of joining the Statesman, you’ve had a crush on Agent Whiskey. Crush is putting it lightly. Your knees shake when you walk towards him. Your heart pounds in your ears if he touches you. Your face burns hot if he talks to you. 

Genuinely you do care for him though, make no mistake.You were at his side in the infirmary after he was shot in the head. He jumped up and called you ‘sugar’ and flirted with you and Ginger Ale both. You almost wish she hadn’t shown him the picture of his lost lover. That brief moment of him flirting with you even if it was superficial - felt nice.

He flirts with you casually, you’re easily flustered by him making you a target for fun. But you’re never the girl he takes home.

After he returned with the Kingsman after the Poppy incident, you’d made a promise to yourself to make a move, or at least TRY to admit your feelings. He’s taken other lovers since the one he lost, surely he might be open to getting to know you better.

Your chance would come on your next assignment. You were to accompany Whiskey to a gala as his wife. It was a recon mission really. It was mostly classified information - need to know. And all you needed to know is you’re posing as Whiskey’s wife.

That alone was enough to make you feel sick. You’d be his date the whole night at a nice party. Even if it was fake, you were going to soak it all up.

You were finished getting ready and were waiting on him. Which was no surprise to you. You were given a dress to wear, it was a classic black dress. No back, and smooth velvet. It fit you like a glove and you felt amazing in it. Even Tequila gave you a whistle when he saw you. Ginger Ale gave you an earpiece to put in, and Whiskey would get one as soon as he was ready.

When he was ready and came to get his earpiece, you almost lost your lunch. He looked so handsome cleaned up. His hair was styled perfectly, and his mustache trimmed. He had a sleek tux on, and you felt dizzy when he smiled at you.

“My beautiful wife,” he winked and pressed a kiss to your cheek. His mustache tickled your skin, and you swear his lips left a burn. Ginger Ale gives you a quick glance as she hands Whiskey the earpiece.

She knows better than anyone about your love for him, She knew before you did.

You fight the blush that fights it’s way up your neck, but you just can’t help it. When he kissed you, a strong whiff of his rich cologne hit your nose. It was all too much to take in.

Playing the part, he offers you his arm and you take it, your hand resting on his firm bicep. You feel like a teenager going to prom with her crush. To add to the scenario, a limo arrives to take you to your destination.

A warm hand touches the bare skin on your back and it sends goosebumps up your spine and a spark of heated pleasure to your core. You’re never gonna survive this night.

Once in the limo, you go over your cover names etc. But just being in the same space is making it difficult to breathe.

“You alright darlin’?” he asks observing you. The pet name sends a jab to your heart and you feel your heart jump up your throat.

“Do you have your flask?” you answer his question with your own. “Things like this make me nervous.” And that’s not a lie. Being with him is making you very nervous, but big parties like this aren’t your scene. This is why you work behind the scenes.

He fishes his flask out of his coat pocket and hands it to you. Your fingers barely touch his during the exchange, and you’re not sure if you can take anymore. You know how this night will go. You’ll do the job and then you’ll go back home. You’ll go to your room, and he’ll go to his and tomorrow will be the next mission. The close moments like this will end. So you make a point to enjoy it even though his touch is too much to bear.

You take a swig from his flask, and taste the smooth whiskey. You wince a little at the burn but swallow anyway. He chuckles as you hand back the flask.

“You’re surprised that I like that?” you ask with a laugh.

“Do you?” he asks taking a swig himself.

“No,” you laugh and he cracks a grin from behind the flask.

“So tell me darlin’,” there’s that pet name again, “why do you work for a distillery if you don’t drink?” he takes another swig.

“Didn’t figure that would matter,” you admit. He shrugs, doesn’t bother him you’re not interested in drinking.

The limo ride doesn’t last as long as you’d like, though you’re grateful for fresh air when you step out of the vehicle. Whiskey helps you out, and his hand finds its place on your back again.

Whiskey has a big mouth and he likes to talk - so you let him do most of the talking tonight. You really don’t mind either, you’re his arm candy and you’re getting a good meal. A whole night by his side hearing him talk and smelling his cologne is enough for you.

And you’ll never tire of hearing him introduce you as his wife.

You know Whiskey is working. You’re so used to watching him on the other side of the camera. Years of aching. Watching him flirt with other women. Now you’re the woman. He’s greeting other guests, and putting on the charm. Kissing women’s hands, he’s definitely working. You’re not even sure who you’re supposed to be observing, but he knows.

As the night goes on, it makes you sad. It’s going to be over soon. Your evening with him will come to a close and you’re not ready.

“Your wife is lovely,” a man speaking pulls you from your thoughts. Whiskey has been talking to him for a moment. You can only assume this is the person you’re here to investigate.

“She is,” Whiskey smiles and gives you a wink. Without warning he leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your face burns red, the only thing saving you is it’s not uncommon you think for a wife to blush at her husband’s compliments.

A tiny spot of lipstick is on Whiskey’s bottom lip, and you wipe it off with your thumb. The action draws his attention, and he looks at you. Really looks at you.

“Hey,” he whispers with a smile. You want to crawl into a hole because somehow you know with this look, he’s seeing you.

The wife of the man just speaking ‘awwed’ at your action, turning Whiskey’s head. His hand is still on your back, and you know he can feel you tremble because his hand is moving up and down, thumb rubbing into your skin.

The rest of the night at the party is a blur after that kiss. You’ll take that with you for the rest of your life no matter what. The feel of his soft lips, the brush of his mustache. The way he looked at you when you touched his lip. His big brown eyes will be the death of you.

And before you know it, you’re back at HQ.

Ginger Ale and Tequila debrief you first. Whiskey disappeared to change clothes during your debriefing. You’re so flustered you forget to give the earpiece back  after the two of them give you a look - they saw the kiss.

Soon Whiskey comes in the room, and you’re headed out. Whiskey says something about ‘being glad that was over,’ and you feel a gut punch. Your heart sinks, and you leave the room as quickly as possible.

With your earpiece in, you hear everything being said, and it makes you feel worse.

“What’s wrong with her? She ok?” Whiskey’s voice comes in.

“Dumb ass,” Tequila claps him on the shoulder. “Do you really not know she’s in love with you?”

“That was the time of her life tonight, and you just blew it,” Ginger Ale tuts.

You don’t hear anymore because you take the piece out once you reach your room. Angry, embarrassed tears flow down your cheeks. You try and get your dress off, but in your frustrated movements, the zipper gets stuck on your lower back. Groaning, you crumple into a heap on your bed.

You almost don’t hear the knock on your door the first time. But you hear the second knock. It’s not loud, you can tell it’s a knuckle tapping quickly.

Part of you doesn’t even want to open the door. But if you don’t, you might miss your chance. Makeup is already smudged on your face from crying, and your dress in the lower back is half unzipped, you look like a mess. But can’t get worse you guess, so you open the door.

Whiskey looks just like you’d imagine him to on the other side of your door, leaning against the frame casually- except his face. His eyes look a bit sad, and his lips aren’t curved in the usual smirk.

He’s already changed clothes, and even though it’s late - he has his usual hat and jeans. A white tee shirt clings to his tan skin. Your mouth goes dry.

“Hey,” he nods. “Came to apologize.”

“For what?” you ask moving aside so he can come in your room. It dawns on you he’s never been in here. You’ve fantasized about this moment, but what’s happening now is nowhere close to what you imagined.

He’s quiet for a moment, looking around your room. You honestly have no idea what he’s going to say. And from the looks of it, he doesn’t either.

“I’ve been a fuckin’ idiot. I didn’t know, you-”

“Didn’t know I was in love with you?” the words spill out of your lips.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs with a sigh. “I guess I did. I just thought you were easy to flirt with cuz ya always smiled at me. But then tonight,” you didn’t notice as he’d been talking he’d also been walking closer and closer to you. He touched your lower back again and it nearly sent you to your knees, “tonight little darlin’ you were shakin’ in my arms. And the way you looked at me, fuckin’ damn baby. Bring a man to his knees with that look. Guess I thought you were nervous at the party, but baby you hit me like a bolt o’ lightnin’.”

His face is millimeters from yours and you’re still trembling in his arms.

“Then why did you say you were glad to be done after tonight?” you whisper, making eye contact with those dark eyes.

“I was just ready to get outta that monkey suit and into regular clothes,” he grins.

“Oh,” you laugh embarrassed.

“Truth is, I wasn’t ready for the night to end with you. It was nice. So don’t you cry any more tears for ol’ me now ya hear me?” he presses a kiss to your cheek. He’s turning to leave, but you grab his arm.

“Wait.”

He turns quick, and before he can ask what you need, he cups your face with both hands and gives you a real proper kiss on your lips. His warm hands are on the bare skin of your back, and your hands are grasping at his t-shirt. A denim clad knee was about to wedge its way between your legs, but your long velvet gown kept him from it. You giggled when he grunted in protest against your lips.

“We gotta get this off,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Wait,” you say again and make him look you in the eye. “Is this real?” you have to know.

He takes your hand, and brings it down to touch the growing bulge in his jeans, “that feel real to you?” he asks, mischief in his tone and he bucks himself more into your hand. He delights in the flush on your cheeks.

“I mean it,” you say pulling your hand away. Quick as lightning, he grabs your hand again, and puts it over his heart. It’s a steady thunder deep in his chest.

“Let me take care of you little darlin’,” he brings that hand up to his mouth to kiss your fingertips. “I told ya, being with you tonight made me realize that I’ve wanted you too.”

“Then help me take this dress off,” you gasp. Your head is spinning. “The zipper is stuck.”

“I’ll get it,” he goes around behind you. The zipper is small on your lower back. First he tries to yank it apart, which doesn’t work. Then he fishes out his pocketknife from his jean pocket. A quick cut and the zipper is free.

Now you’re free to get out of the dress.

Oh.

Now you’re free to get out of the dress. It’s backless, you’ve got no bra on. Once this thing comes off it’s only a pair of panties between you and Whiskey’s damn tight jeans.

You’ve stood frozen for too long, and he notices.

“What’s wrong sweet pea?”

Your back is still to him, and you’re holding the dress to yourself. It won’t fall off unless you pull it but you still feel like you need to hold it.

“I’m nervous,” you whisper.

You feel his mustache before you feel his lips on your bare shoulder.

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about darlin’,” he kisses your skin. The charm is coming on strong. But still there’s a gentleness to his tone. This isn’t like other lovers. The ones who fling themselves at him. He’s looking out for you.

“Whiskey-”

“Sweetheart, call me Jack,” he kisses your shoulder again.

He waits til you start to move the dress off yourself, and he reaches up to help. Soon the dress is off you completely and in a big black heap of fabric on the floor.

You’re clad now only in a pair of underwear, You’ve crossed your arms over your chest, still feeling nervous.

“Turn around,” he says. You’ve memorized what Jack’s voice sounds like, but somehow in your room speaking to you it sounds so different.

You turn to face him, arms not moving from your chest.

“Little darlin’,” he smiles and puts his hands on your shoulders. “Come on, you gonna let me see?” Damn him and his charm.

He wraps his arms around you in a hug, and he pulls your arms off yourself to wrap around him. Now your chest is pressed against his.

He takes one step back. His eyes still locked with yours, and your arms still around his shoulders.

“You gonna let me?” he asks, his eyes are sincere, but his grin is devilish.

One nod from you is all it takes before he looks down between you. He eyes your chest, and licks his lips.

“This was what you were hidin’ from me?” his hands are quick to grab a handful of each breast. That’s when your knees buckle. His laugh in your ear is so playful. You’d smack that cocky smile off his face if you didn’t love it so much.

“Fuckin’ hell, you feel good,” he kisses your neck as his hands massage your flesh. Then he drops his head to a breast and sucks a nipple into his mouth, his mustache brushes against sensitive skin and you cry out. He chuckles again and backs you up towards your bed. Gently he guides you down until you’re on your back. He sucks your nipples and sucks hickies all over your chest.

“Jack,” you whine.

Quick fingers dance down your stomach and into the band of your underwear.

“This all for me?” he kisses your stomach while he feels the slick between your legs. He wastes no time sticking a couple fingers in your heat and pressing a thumb to your clit. Your moan is embarrassingly loud, which only fuels him on. He barely touches you before you’re coming hard around his fingers.

“Fuck, I bet you got a couple more for me don’t ya? How many?”

“As many as you want, oh fu-” you can’t even finish the sentence you’re trying to catch your breath.

He sucks his fingers off, and the sound is obscene. This feels like a dream. A sexy dream you couldn’t even comprehend.

Leaving you on the bed to breathe a moment, he takes off his hat and peels off his shirt. He sits down on the bed next to you, legs spread wide. And he pulls you up over into his lap so you’re straddling a thick thigh.

“You’re gonna ride baby,” he tells you. The pressure of his leg between yours almost sends you over the edge right then. You can’t help but admire his tan skin now that he’s shirtless in front of you. He looks perfect.

Grabbing your hips, he starts to guide you. Your center pressing against him. There’s not enough friction, and you groan and stop him so you can take your underwear off.

“That’s it,” he tells you when you get back on his thigh and move. The friction is delicious, and almost hurts. But soon a thumb works you over, and your juices are leaking out on the denim.

“Good girl,” he tells you and kisses your neck. “You got one more for me?”

Your chest heaves, but you nod. You’ve been wanting him for ages, you’re not gonna waste it.

Shifting back a little on his leg, he makes quick work to unbuckle his heavy belt and unzip his pants. Your mouth waters when he pulls himself out, you’d always wondered what he looked like. Now you know, and now you need to feel. You push his hand away to touch him, he raises a brow watching you. Then he lets out a sharp hiss between his teeth. You shudder to feel him.

His hands find you hips again, and he eases you down onto him. Both of you groan together, and you can’t help but smile into his neck.

“How long you been thinking about this hmm?” he teases and thrusts his hips up.

“Shut the hell up Whiskey,” you laugh and bite down on his neck.

Your bodies move together wonderfully. You’re still sensitive from your last two - and this third orgasm isn’t as sharp but the pleasure is all the same.

And when he finds his release, his groan in your ear is one you’ll never forget.

He pulls back and lets out a whistle, “damn darlin’. I mean DAMN.”

You can’t help but laugh and blush, and fall back into the crook of his neck to hide from his eyes.

When you pull back to look at him, he looks wonderful. His hair is messy (thanks to you) and his lips are plump from the kissing. Even the hairs on his mustache are askew. His eyes are heavy with exhaustion from pleasure, and his grin says it all.

“Don’t leave for your room,” you tell him combing your fingers through his hair. “I couldn’t bear it if you left.”

“Little darlin’ I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

//

@pajamasecrets / @mandoplease / @spacedadheadcanons

[maraudersandlily20]

The Aftermath

(HEY! I haven’t written anything in 1800 years, but I have this old draft that I’ve cleaned up and figured I’d post. And I’m dedicating it to the beautiful and lovely and SUPER talented Ash, @ashes-and-ashes-dust-and-dust . She has put up with me and my incessant need to read fic the last two days and I just really wanted to show my appreciation for her. So here’s some angsty fluff for you, Ash. I LOVE YOU!)

~~~~~~~

Sirius had never been more quiet. It was almost insane to the other boys how little they saw of him. After he had made a huge apology to everyone, he had stood in front of everyone as if awaiting judgement. It came in the silence of his friends. Remus could barely look at him, and so Sirius understood the message. He wasn’t wanted.

Remus hadn’t thought that Sirius would be so good at avoiding them, considering his loud personality. But somehow, he managed it. He stopped sitting with them during class, instead residing at a table at the back, if he attended class at all. He never slept in their dorm room. They never saw him in the great hall for meals. He didn’t study with them or plan pranks with them. He asked to serve detention alone, so as to not have to see the other boys. It seemed like he hadn’t uttered one word in over a month. It was almost like they had invented their Sirius Black and the illusion was finally coming to a grinding halt.

And it was driving Remus mad.

He was mad that Sirius had suddenly disappeared. He was mad that Sirius had put them in the situation in the first place. He was mad that he still looked for him and breakfast, lunch, and dinner and he was mad when he saw no signs of him. He was mad that he was serving detention alone. He was mad that he had seen more of Regulus in the last month than his brother. But most importantly, he was mad because he missed him. 

The other boys couldn’t understand it. It seemed to be all or nothing with them, which made perfect sense to Remus. When he asked James where Sirius was, usually without thinking, James would give him a confused look and reply that he had no idea. He was trying to be a good friend and stay out of their business, but that could be frustrating when he had no idea what Sirius was doing. He was grateful they had taken his side and supported him, but he could almost feel the tension between the three of them, the elephant in the room always being that there was one part of them missing. James looked ill almost every night as he stared at the empty bed to his right. Euphemia and Fleamont were constantly writing him, asking how everything was, and he never how to answer them. Peter often started a sentence that only Sirius would know the answer to. But Sirius was never there to answer it.

The girls had also supported him. They hadn’t fully understood what had happened, but no one pushed him to explain. They simply knew that Sirius was no longer welcome among them. 

It was an almost instant transition that hurt him more than he’d ever care to admit. 

With Sirius’ disappearance, the map had also vanished. Almost like he didn’t want to present a temptation to anyone and he wanted to guarantee that no one would talk to him unless Remus had agreed to it. 

Remus was tired. He was tired of feeling hurt and betrayed and small. He was tired of all of it. It was eating him up every minute of every day until he felt like he was going to go mad. He simply couldn’t focus on anything anymore, especially not his school work.

Lily sat beside the fire, her chin in her hands, as she watched Remus struggle to get a sentence to flow from his quill. Eventually, he threw the parchment and quill down and collapsed into his hands. She sighed. It was terrible to watch her friend suffer so terribly. And with how attached he and Sirius were, she could only imagine the pain the Black boy was in.

“Have you talked to him?” she asked softly, hoping not to stir up trouble.

Eyes tired, Remus looked up at her flatly. “No. I wouldn’t even know where to find him. And that’s IF I wanted to talk to him. Which I don’t.”

She almost smiled. Same old Remus. “Don’t you see him every night?”

Remus shook his head. “He doesn’t sleep in our dorm room anymore.”

“Classes?”

“He’s moved seats. And he hardly seems to be going to class at the moment anyway.”

Lily perked at that. Sirius was doing much worse than she thought. No one saw him and he had completely isolated himself. If she knew anything about him, it was that his abandonment issues must be almost paralyzing at this point.

“You really haven’t seen him?”

“Have you?”

She thought for a second and shook her head. “Marlene laid into him pretty thick after the… incident. He’s steered clear of us since.”

Remus looked miserable. The whole situation had been terrible and now he was likely losing his best friend. He couldn’t understand why Sirius had done what he did and hated him for it, but he was almost aching to see him as much as he despised the very idea.

“Maybe… maybe you should find him. At least, find out where he’s sleeping?”

It was a good idea. One that he had considered multiple times but had never followed through. However, he didn’t want to have a group intervention and make Sirius face all of them, because even though he was mad, he didn’t want him to feel attacked by his friends. Peter was with Mary and James was at practice, so if there was ever a time to find him alone, this seemed like a pretty good option. 

With a sign, he pulled himself to his feet and shook his head. “This is a mistake.” he grumbled, making Lily laugh.

“Just, make sure he isn’t sleeping in the astronomy tower, will you?” He waved at her as he exited the portrait and began making his way through the numerous corridors that he thought Sirius might be in. Every turn was like an old chapter in their friendship, a book he had tried to put on the shelf and had failed terribly at as memories bombarded him one after the other. The place that they had pulled one of their famous pranks. The place that Sirius had hexed a slytherin so badly that the boy never went near them again. The bench where they had laughed so hard that Remus had fallen over. The hallway where Sirius had almost kissed Remus… almost.

Sirius was everywhere.

But he was nowhere to be found.

After about an hour looking, Remus was ready to give up. He wasn’t sure what to do about it. He had gone through as many options he could think of that Sirius would spend his time, to no avail. At the end of this length search, he hung his head. He had really hoped to find him. He was just turning back to go to the common room when suddenly, he found himself at the doors of the hospital wing. He had an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach, but there was something pulling him forward. He didn’t know why Sirius would be in here, of all places. But he had to try. 

With a deep breath, he pulled the door open and was met with the sight of rows of beds on either side. Some had occupants, but none had the familiar black mane that he loved and had many times wished he could run his hands through.

Poppy walked toward him, a worried expression on her face. 

“Mr. Lupin, I wasn’t expecting you for another week and a half or so. Is everything alright? Are you unwell?”

He laughed and rushed to reassure her. “No Poppy, nothing like that. I feel great. I just… I was wondering if Sirius was here.”

Understanding passed her eyes and she gave him a sympathetic smile. “He’s not here right now, but he spends most of his afternoons here, yes.”

This startled Remus. “Really? Doing what?”

“He cleans, mostly. He changes the bedsheets, mops the floors, wipes down the windows. Whatever I ask of him, he does. I have insisted more times than I can count that he needn’t worry or exert himself, that we can use magic just as well. But he insists that he enjoys the labor. It gives him time when he doesn’t have to think.”

Remus could only nod at this. He hadn’t expected Sirius to spend any time in the hospital wing at all. But when someone was desperate to stay away, anything would do.

“Is he coming here today?”

Poppy shrugged. “I’d assume so. Lunch is just about over, so I’m sure he’ll leave the kitchen soon.”

He felt his eyes bulge. “The kitchen?” He clarified.

“Yes, of course. He decided that the best way to spend his meal times was to help the house elves in the kitchen. He cooks and cleans with them during meals. Dumbledore allows it, I suppose out of pity. But no matter how much I insist, he still doesn’t eat much. Says he has no appetite. Poor thing. I know things are difficult for him now, for all of you. But it hurts to see him so.”

Poppy seemed to be a well of information that kept on giving. “Poppy, does he go anywhere else?”

“The library, I’d assume. He’s recieved permission from numerous professors to simply get his homework, which he completes in the library. It’s odd. They have been very accommodating. And still, Sirius thrives, as he always has. The brilliant boy.”

“Anywhere else?”

“No,” Poppy said, gathering her supplies and heading away. “He’ll be around soon, if you’d like to wait for him.”

Remus did want to wait for him. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea that Sirius was spending his days cooking and cleaning and doing laundry. It almost seemed unrealistic. He meandered his way over to one of the armchairs by the windows, where patients could sit and get fresh air, wondering what he was going to say to Sirius when he came in. The chair was an out of the way spot that wouldn’t easily be noticed. He sat and waited, listening to the clock behind him tick away the seconds. After about 20 minutes, the door swung open to reveal the boy himself. 

Sirius looked terrible. Well, terrible for Sirius, that was. He still looked stunning, but there was a weight around him that couldn’t be dismissed. He had dark circles under his eyes and appeared to have lost a bit of weight, making him even skinnier than he had been. His hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of his neck, and he wore a long sleeved shirt, despite the warmth of the room. He walked with purpose to where Poppy was treating a new patient.

Remus watched with curious eyes, wondering if Poppy would tell Sirius of his presence, but Sirius didn’t turn to him. Instead, he grabbed a large hamper and began stripping the sheets off of the beds. It was at this time he pushed up his sleeves and revealed the layer of bandages underneath. His skin looked almost as pale as the white of the wraps where it peaked out. Remus couldn’t help but worry and wonder what had happened.

Sirius finished an entire row of beds and was almost entirely through the other side when he caught sight of Remus in his chair. He stopped dead, eyes wide with horror. For a moment, it appeared he had stopped breathing.

Remus was unsure of what to do. He wanted to talk to Sirius but he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to strangled him and embrace him all at the same time. He was full of conflicting feelings.

Sirius stayed frozen, panic filled him and he wondered if Remus was there to give him a hex. If he was, he was grateful he was already in the hospital wing. 

When neither boy made a move toward the other, Sirius swallowed thickly and returned to his chore of stripping the beds. When he reached the last mattress, pulling the fabric off of it and shoving it into the hamper, he was almost close enough for Remus to touch him. He didn’t.

Sirius quickly walked back toward Poppy, depositing the bag to the side where it would be taken to be washed. He murmured something to the head nurse who immediately waved him off. Without looking at Remus again, he walked briskly toward the main doors, pulled them open, and then disappeared.

Remus shot up and followed him. He raced behind, trying to guess where he would go. He wasn’t expecting him to head up the astronomy tower, and Lily’s words of hoping he wasn’t sleeping there filled his mind. They must have gone up three flights of stairs before it opened up to a balcony, where Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm to pull him to a stop.

He barely registered the wince that covered his face before Sirius yanked his arm from his grip. He turned to face him and the silence between them was thick with unsaid words. Sirius was apparently determined to not be the first one to speak, so Remus let out a sigh.

He ran his hand nervously through his hair before staring into Sirius’ eyes and let out a breathy, “hello”. 

Sirius only nodded.

“I, uh… I wasn’t sure where to find you. It seems like it’s been ages since you’ve been in the gryffindor tower. Lily suggested that maybe you were sleeping up here.”

Sirius shrugged.

“You must have taken the map with you, because I’m pretty sure James has tried to find you on numerous occasions and can never find where the map went.”

Sirius said nothing, his eyes tracking Remus’ every movement, like a spooked animal unsure of its’ safety.

They stared at each other for a beat before Remus felt concern fill him. “Wait, you’re not sleeping up here, right?”

A head shake. 

Remus felt his frustration grow. “Come on, Sirius. Talk to me. I came here to talk. I’ve spent hours looking for you so we could talk. I want to talk to you. So, will you please say something?”

Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.”

The dark haired boy looked at his feet, as if struggling to decide what to say before he looked up and said, “nice weather we’ve been having.”

Remus glared. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

The air between them seemed to heat up with the tension that came alive at his words and Remus could feel it, stretched thin between them,  as if it were about to snap.

Sirius shrugged again. “I don’t have anything else we need to talk about.”

“Oh really? Because I haven’t seen you in a month, we never know where you are, you’ve basically erased yourself from campus without ever coming around. It feels like we have quite a bit to talk about.”

“We really don’t.”

“Yes, we do, Black.”

“Why? We’ve managed to go a month without talking, Lupin. I figured the silence said enough.”

Remus snorted. “Well you haven’t exactly been around to break the silence.”

“That’s what you wanted!” Sirius exploded finally. “That’s what all of you wanted! I couldn’t get three sentences out without someone telling me I had ruined everything, that I had hurt you, that I couldn’t be forgiven. And when I tried to explain or apologize, you all said it wasn’t good enough. That it wasn’t sincere. That it didn’t change anything! And you were all right. I knew that. I KNOW that. Everyone stopped listening to me, so I didn’t have anything to say anymore.”

“You’ve been stewing in your own self pity for a month and never gave anyone a chance to question that. You just disappeared!”

“You all disappeared! You vanished right before my eyes. My friends, my… my family.” Tears filled his eyes that he tried to fight back. “You all hated me. And I know you had good reason and I know that I deserved all of it. But I have been around people who hated me my whole life, Remus. You can’t expect me to stay.”

“We never hated you,” Remus shot back. “We were-” he stopped, trying to calm himself, before continuing; “I was upset because of what you did, but we all just needed time.”

Sirius wrapped his arms around himself. “Time doesn’t fix anything. You know that.”

“So, what, you were just planning on hiding in the kitchen and the hospital wing for the rest of your life?”

“Working distracts me.”

“That’s cowardly, Sirius.”

His eyes shot up to his, anger coloring them. “I know. You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for not feeling safe to sleep in our dorm room? You think I don’t despise the fact that I can’t go to class without wanting to shrivel into a ball and never crawl out? You think I don’t know that spending my meal times in the kitchen isn’t going to get me anywhere? I know! I know what it is; what my life is now. And I think it’s time you knew it too. So, come on, Remus. Just say what you came here to say. That I’m a coward, a fake, a monster, a backstabber, a two faced traitor. Come on. Just say it.” Remus stared at him, wide eyed as he vented, most likely the longest thing he’d said in the past 30 days. He was unsure of what to do. Sirius watched him struggle with himself before exploding again, “ SAY IT!” Remus startled at that, taking a step back. But still he said nothing. Sirius’ shoulders sagged and he turned away from him. “Then just leave me alone.”

Silence flooded between them, Remus watching all of the fight drain out of the boys body, and he felt his heart beginning to break. This was the hardest silence he had ever had to experience.

“I can’t do this anymore, Rem,” Sirius whispered, the tears beginning to streak down his face. “I can’t pretend like not seeing you, not talking to you, not making you laugh isn’t killing me. Okay? I can’t exist in your world when you hate me so much. I can’t. I just can’t. Please don’t fault me for that. Please don’t make me feel more guilty now, just because I’m trying to do what all of you wanted. I want you to be happy. And I ruined that for you. I’ve only ever ruined that. So please… please don’t make me try to explain or justify my actions. I can’t. I don’t want to. I hurt you. I hurt everyone. That was my decision and I’m paying the consequences for that. And it’s easier to do that alone. I don’t know what else you want me to say. I can’t spend my entire life feeling guilty. I know I made a mistake. And I’m so sorry. But you have to leave me alone now. Okay? It’ll just be easier for everyone.”

Sirius made to move around him, but Remus grabbed onto his arm tightly to stop him. When Sirius winced in obvious pain, Remus let him go as if he had been burned. He hadn’t meant to hurt him but then remembered the thin bandages that he had wrapped around his arms. Without a word, he took his arms and began unwrapping them to reveal the skin underneath. 

When the skin was revealed beneath the wrapping, Remus sucked in his breath. There were long, deep criss crossed lines that littered his arms, red and tender looking. Some were backed by large bruises. Remus looked up at Sirius in horror, asking with his eyes what had happened. Sirius shrugged.

“I have found that fighting for you is much easier than fighting with you. I seem to be able to pick a fight with Slytherins now just by looking at them. It’s fine, really. Just a bit of lacero. Nothing I can’t handle.” he whispered.

“Sirius,” Remus replied just as quietly, feeling that familiar pull toward the Black boy, wanting to wrap him up in his arms and never let go.

Sirius tugged his arm away from his grasp and began winding the cloth around his skin once again. When the cuts were hidden, he crossed his arms over his chest and refused to look up at Remus.

“Were you ever going to come back?” Remus finally asked.

Sirius shook his head. “You didn’t want me anymore. I’ve had to live with people who didn’t want me my whole life. I couldn’t do it again.”

“Sirius-”

“No, Remus.” He stops him and holds his hand in front of him, as if stopping whatever assault is about to come his way. “It’s okay. I’m not saying this for you to feel bad for me. You have every right to be angry. You deserve to be angry. You deserve to hate me. I would hate me, if I were you. I hurt you in ways I can never take back and I’ll just have to live with that. But I can’t live surrounded by people who make me feel the way my parents always did. So, please. Please don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Silence. As if the words were covering the both of them just by being said.

“W-what?”

“I don’t want you to be okay by yourself, Sirius. I don’t want you to hide in the library or the kitchen or the hospital wing. I don’t want you to not speak to anyone for days on end. I don’t want you to do this,” He held up his arm gingerly, “by looking for unnecessary fights ever again. I don’t want that.” He took a step closer and tried not to burst into tears. “I want to know where you fall asleep every night. I want to know how your day was. I want to hear funny stories you figured out from your muggle history books. I want to make sure that you’re eating enough, which it’s pretty clear you haven’t been. I want to spend happy days with you so that I don’t have to remember the bad ones. I want you to earn my trust back. I want you to prove to me that you’re never going to do anything like that ever again. But you can’t do that if you disappear.”

Sirius was crying in earnest now as Remus framed his face with both of his hands. “I’m so sorry Remus,” he choked out, barely able to breathe. “I have been trying to imagine what I should have done differently, so you wouldn’t get hurt. I’m so sorry that I did that to you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Remus put his hands on his shoulder. “Hey, that’s for me to decide. Okay? So, let’s work on it.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes watery. Seemingly unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around the taller boys torso and allowed himself to sob loudly. Remus couldn’t help the few tears that streaked down his own face, giving the top of Sirius’ head a tender kiss.

They stayed like that for a bit, listening to each other breathe, holding onto their shirts as if afraid to let go. And Remus didn’t know what was going to happen. He didn’t know what was going to happen now, what would happen with their friends or when he would feel like he could trust him again, but there, on the third level of the astronomy tower with Sirius’ arms wrapped around his chest, he felt like his heart was slowly being put back together.

When the tears dried up and Sirius stopped hiccuping, he pulled back. Remus gently wiped at the streaks on his face and gave him a small smile, which Sirius could barely return, though he tried.

“Want to come back?” Remus asked gently, taking his best friends’ hand in his own. Sirius nodded, trying to steady his breathing at the thought of getting to speak to his friends again. He was terrified and hopeful and everything in between. He wanted his life to feel safe again and was grateful that Remus seemed like he was going to help him get back there.

Remus smiled lightly and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, everyone is dying to see you.”

“Okay.” 

As they started to descend the stairs, a thought came to Remus. “Wait, where have you been sleeping?” He asked, worried about the actual answer.

“What? Oh, one of the Hufflepuff Prefects has been letting me sleep on the floor of his room.”

Remus huffed and rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed.”

They stayed silent as they kept descended the stairs back to their own common room when Sirius perked up. “What do you mean?”

Remus just laughed.

[ohvalleyofplentyyy]

Life, Death, and Between

100 Followers Celebration One-Shot

A/N: Thank you so much for the love and support! I will be posting chapters to Chamomile and Merlin’s Blood soon but wanted to make something special for this milestone :) 

p.s, i’ve linked specific words like flowers and outfits so you can see what i was picturing if you want or if you don't know what a specific flower is :)

male reader insert here!

master-list

Life, Death and Between

“Jasky Baby! Geraaaaaaaaaaalt! Get up!” 

You yelled running up the stairs of your cottage with a newfound spring in your step. The boys were both snug in the two beds you had set up in the attic once you figured they would be staying for a while.

You lived right at the bottom of a huge mountain that was surrounded by a very dense forest, how these two idiots were able to stumble upon your home in the middle of the night three years ago still befuddled you.  

You pulled the blankets off the musician first, then the giant monster hunter and finally ripped open the curtains, letting light stream in.

 Jaskier moaned and put his pillow over his head to shield his eyes. “Y/N, why are you doing this to me?!” He whined.

“Come on! You have to get out of bed and see this!” You said excitedly. Geralt slowly sat up and watched as you ran amok through the room, throwing clothes at them trying to speed up the process.

He chuckled and eventually got out of bed, grabbing the pillow off of Jaskier and whacking him with it. “Come on, we better go before she decides to roll  you out of bed through the window.”

Once the boys were fully dressed (though Jaskier’s shirt was buttoned through the wrong holes making it crumple a bit at the bottom) you ran down the staircase and zipped out the door. “What’s up with her?” The bard mumbled, trying to tame the creature that was his hair.

They came ou the front door and you appeared in front of them wearing a flower crown made up of daisies, baby’s breath, and pink kinnikinnick.

 In your hands were two extra flower crowns that you quickly placed on the boy’s heads and then motioned for them to follow. The two followed you until you stopped at a small body of water that a waterfall ran into from the mountain.

It was a sight to behold.

The water was a serene blue, and the light danced upon it like stars in the night sky. Small water Nymphs skittered on the surface, moving what appeared to be small boats to the center of the pond. These boats were made of wood branches, large leaves and some were mushrooms flipped over.

 But the best part about them was the fairies sitting in them.

All at once, fairies seemed to appear at the pond. So many colors and types, some wore petal clothes and others wore nothing. Wings varied in size, ranging from the size of Geralt’s hand to nail on your pinky.

The three of you watched in awe as a special ceremony was performed on the water. The fairies lined up in two rows on each side, making a pathway from the edge of the pond to the center. In the center, the boats had been enchanted and now floated in the air, sparkles of the pixie dust making them shimmer in the light.

Then all the chattering from the fairies ceased and they turned to the water's edge and watched the treeline as something emerged. It appeared to be a floating carriage made from an old bird nest and flowers. Sitting in this carriage was the most ethereal fairy you had ever seen. She had long flowing lilac hair that flowers were embedded into.

Her dress was made of rose petals, mostly white, sans the bottom hem that was purple tulip petals. It trailed over the carriage side it was so long, making it appear like a wedding veil, floating behind a bride.

 Her wings though were the most gorgeous you had ever laid eyes on, they weren’t very large, about the length of your palm to your index finger. But they seemed to be translucent, the only way you would know they were there is if the light reflected through them, creating a small rainbow effect on the other side.

Once at the edge of the pond, faint music started to play, you looked over to the source and saw several fairies with miniature versions of violins, lutes, and a flute. As the queen of the fairies crossed over the water, the others started to bow as she passed. You immediately did as well when she glanced over to the three of you. Geralt slowly bowed his head and Jaskier did a full bow when you tugged on his tunic.

The band of fairies died out as the queen flew up from the carriage. In a somber voice, you heard her speak.

“Thank you all for coming today, this ceremony has been long overdue since many have treated our kind unfairly, we have had no reason to have it. But now, a true friend has stepped forward and offered their unconditional love to us. It is with great honor that I present our new Guardian of the Forest.”

Jaskier whispered to Geralt, “Do you know who it is?” With a small smile, Geralt answered. “Yes, I do.”

 This greatly intrigued you, so you bent over, “Who is it then?” Geralt made a motion to look forward.

There were two small fairies in front of you, one of them lime green and the other an ivory color. They both wore white tulip tunics and were holding a long shawl out. It was very thin and resembled the queen’s wings. There were small symbols etched into the edge all around it with pixie dust.

“It’s you.”

You watched in awe as the fairies draped the shawl over your shoulders and led you to the edge of the water where the pathway of fairies floated. You took a step into the water, the sweet cold tickling your bare feet and soaking the bottom of your skirt. But it did not matter, as you walked down the path of magical creatures.

You noticed others that had come to watch the ceremony. Some deer with on the opposite side of the pond, small hummingbirds flitted to a branch overlooking the water. Even butterflies flew around, watching the scene unfold.

Once at the center of the pond, the queen flew down to you and bowed her head.

“Thank you for always doing what is best for the forest. Your caring nature has shown us that there are still humans worthy of knowing our powers. You shower us with loyalty and never ask for anything in return, only a friendship. Now that you have proven yourself to be a true friend, it is with great honor that I bestow you, Guardian of the Forest and Creatures.”

With a wave of her hand, a flower crown made of twine, lavender, baby’s breath, poppies, and everlasting floated over and took the place of your other crown that two fairies took off your head. Then, with a kiss to your forehead, magic flourished.

You fell into a small slumber as Geralt and Jaskier watched in awe as you were lifted by magic from the water. The fairies flew upwards and circled around you, dancing and singing a magical chant.

Oh, our Guardian,

Protector of all

Loves and cherishes

Anything big or small.

Oh, our Guardian

Whom we adore

Let us celebrate

This moment they are reborn.

As they sang, the water rose from the pond and encased you in a sphere of magic. Lights flashed through it and sparks of pixie dust sprinkled down from the circle. It was like fireworks were going off inside this magical womb made from the water. 

The faires chanted and sang until the water started to tremor and then bursted out in every direction.

Light flooded the area, coming from you then simmered down. Gently, you were lowered down to the pond’s surface, only this time, you were able to stand on the top and not sink through. Your once wet clothing was now replaced with a new outfit.

The fabric flowed down your body like ripples of water. It was a white dress that had puffed flowing long sleeves that stopped at your wrist and moved in the wind. The bodice came up and around your neck, various designs in lace and jewels coating the front. It went down from your waist to the water, the trail behind it sitting atop the water just as you were.

You now had small baby’s breath woven into the braided crown of hair. The braids seemed to hold with no ties or lacing, only the sparkle of magic showed beneath the sun's rays.

But was most awe-inspiring, were the new wings that adorned your back.

Beautiful blue morpho wings now fluttered out from behind you, stretching and glistening in the light. It was surreal, you touched the wings as they curled around you, now another piece of your body and mind. 

The queen smiled at you. “Thank you so much for trusting in me.” You said to her. You brought your hand up to her and she hugged it, making you grin.

“Y/N!!! Y/N!!” When you turned, you saw Jaskier jumping up and down on the side of the water, Geralt smacking him up the back of the head when heads turned to see the commotion as the bard quite reasonably freaked out.

“You may go to them, you are now the bridge between the fae world and humans.” With one last smile to the queen, you walked on the water’s surface until you stepped foot on land. Jaskier bounded over to you followed by a fast walking Geralt.

You floated a few feet off the ground and spun for them. “Well, what do you think?” The bard gasped, “You, you! You’re a spirit now! You, you, you have wings!!!!!” He spoke very quickly, trying to process his thoughts and emotions on what had just conspired.

As you lowered to the floor, Geralt took your hand and gave it a small kiss on the back of it and then did an elegant bow in front of you. “She’s the Guardian of the Forest, not a spirit you idiot. We wouldn’t be able to see her if she was.”

You chuckled, “I can see so many things now that the human eye cannot, the world is so beautiful! There are so many lives that we cannot see with the naked eyes, it’s amazing.”

Jaskier walked around you and trailed a finger down your left wing, “Well, if anyone was going to watch over the forest it would definitely be you. You spend every day tending to nature and it’s inhabitants.”

 “Including us.” Geralt added, leaning against a tree.

With a wave of your hand, the train of the dress hooked to the back of your waist and you took each of your friend’s hands, walking back to the cottage.

 As you walked, Jaskier asked questions. “Will this change everything? Will you leave and live in the forest? What happens now?”

“Oh Jaskier, I’m not going anywhere. I’m the bridge between fae creatures and humans remember? I’ll always be here for you, now I just have a broader approach to the world around us and some added abilities. I understand that I will have to live up to my title as Guardian and sometimes leave to protect the creatures I love, but I’ll never be gone forever. I’ll always come back to my dearest friends... if they want me too.”

Geralt put an arm around you, “Of course we want you to.” 

You gasped, “Is the great Geralt of Rivia saying that he wants me around? Gee Jasky, did he wake up this morning feeling ill? This is very peculiar for a Witcher…”

Jaskier threw back his head and laughed, Geralt just shook his and smiled.

Then you got a bright idea, “Hey, now that I’m not just another damsel in distress for Geralt to protect on journeys like Jaskier—“ “Hey!” “—maybe I can come with you guys when you leave for adventures!”

“Are you sure that would be safe Y/N?” The Witcher asked. You nodded, “I think that maybe the fates led us to each other because they knew we would be able to help each other. It’s destiny!” Geralt groaned, “Don't say that word.”

You nudged him with your shoulder, “I’m not such a bad destiny to have am I?”

“No Y/N, you’re the best destiny to have.”

With that, the three friends walked through the forest, back to your cottage. 

Some say that many songs were created that day, the day Life and Death and Between came to be friends for eternity.

Toss a coin to your Witcher

O’Valley of Plenty

O’Valley of Plenty

O’

The tales of three are whispered

In the dead of night

As Life and Death, became friends

And joined the quest to fight.

To save mankind from its horrid greed

Greatest of friends, and seldom foes

A human also accompanied thee.

Toss a coin to your Witcher

O’Valley of Plenty

O’Valley of Plenty

O’

And a friend to the Guardian of humanity.

<3

master-list

tag yourself for future writings here

tags: @stretchkingblog97​  @alienemilyyyy​  @angelic-kisses13​  @alwayshave-faith​  @holyhumorliteraturelight​  @emilyhuynhhh @holychic​ 

bolded are tags that didn’t work.

[koiyyo]

hnng i want to request a lot of things but i’m scared to but!!! how would the classes play animal crossing and/or their favorite villagers if it wouldn’t be too hard! thank u

hi, mod kiwi here! thanks for the ask, anon- don’t be afraid to ask us whatever!! :)

(also me and irusu r really cool and helped) -mod corn

here we go! animal crossing time!

dr1 cast!

makoto

- plays daily- his favorite villager is probably poppy- his favorite special villager is shrunk- silly axolotl man- got really confused the first time one of his tools broke- almost started crying- invites every animal he meets into his island no matter what- does EVERY favor villagers ask of him - actually likes bunny day and thinks the eggs are adorable

kyoko

- only got it because makoto BEGGED her to get it- her favorite villager is judy she’s hella cute- her favorite special villager is sable - just chilling- tons of purple flowers on her island - doesn’t like peppy villagers, feel like they’re too hyper for her- puts a lot of care into her villagers doe- likes going to a mystery island and just investigating,,, unless it has tarantulas

byakuya

- surprisingly really likes animal crossing- acts like he doesn’t- his favorite villager is raymond… of course- his favorite special villager is tom nook- chased around makoto holding an axe one time- makoto was literally crying- makoto thought that you could actually kill people with axes in animal crossing- byakuya found this amusing

sayaka

- actually enjoys ac a lot- her favorite villager is chrissy, she just has awesome vibes- her favorite special villager is mabel cause she’s,, blue,, - loves taking videos/pictures of villagers singing- tries to hum along,, fails- her islands are always covered in tons of flowers (mostly blue!!)- enjoys inviting people to her island and showing them around

junko

- takes ac too seriously- her favorite villager is definitely audie cause she’s an embodiment of fashion statement- her favorite special villager is sable cause who doesn’t love clothing- harasses mukuro to come to her island anytime she plays- will dig holes everywhere whenever someone visits- her house should be in a magazine it’s so pretty,,- new outfit for everyday of the month- hosts fashion shows religiously with her friends or anyone she can get her hands on

mukuro

- doesn’t really play just sits back and watches junko- plays on her save every now and then doe- favorite villager is vivian since she reminds her of junko- favorite special villager is sable- doesn’t like talking to villagers, feels like they're judging her- if a villager pisses her off she makes plans to kill them- she can’t, so she settles for bonking them until they leave

chihiro

- avid ac fan- favorite villager is sheldon, he can respect the hustle- favorite special villager is isabelle cause she’s precious- cries if he accidentally hurts a villagers feelings- is hella rich- loves decorating around the villagers’ house as best he can- his island is more nature themed,, its just more relaxing- takes tons of scenic pictures, mostly with mondo and taka

mondo

- “i would never play a BABY game”- next thing he knows, he’s up at 3 am whispering how cute the villagers are- favorite villager is tex he’s so chonky (and his taste in fashion is top tier)- favorite special villager is k.k cause Damn He Vibes- will constantly run over his flower and almost throw his console- asks chihiro for advice constantly- “h-how do i get.. good fish..”- quality bonding time- doesn’t tell people he plays but gushes about it in private

taka

- claims he doesn’t have time for it- he actually does,, and plays it any chance he gets- favorite villager is kid cat cause he’s so funky- favorite special villager is blathers since he teaches him a lot- can’t handle lazy villagers, they didn’t do anything wrong he just feels like they will slack off in his uptight town smh- doesn’t really care about designing his town, mostly completing tasks he needs to- likes having red flowers everywhere tho- will cry if he doesn’t get all the fish/insects he needs on time- beats up any visitor that leaves something on the ground

toko

- attempted to buy Doom instead- favorite villager is coco, she’s just so cute/creepy- favorite special villager is jack he vibes- hates interacting with her villagers cause she feels like she’ll mess it up- tried to get byakuya to let her on his island, or for him to visit hers- is very thorough about decorating her island- tries to have a story behind it so it feels more unique- always ugly sobs when her flowers end up gone

jill

- attempted to buy AC instead, she won- favorite villager is lucky, feels like he has serial killer vibes- favorite special villager is jack- runs over any flowers that toko tries to plant- tries to make the island scary themed- if any villager “looks at her wrong” she harasses them daily- leaves them gruesome letters even tho they cant understand

hiro

- doesn’t even know how he got a copy he just does- favorite villager is sherb- favorite special villager is wisp since he likes getting stuff, he likes harvey too- doesn’t bother putting effort into designing his island- only plays while high so he thinks the villagers are kinda scary- “why are they,, staring at me like that,,,”- has never repaid his debt to tom nook

hina

- her brother was the one who introduced her to the series, loves it- favorite villager is ketchup cause shes cute and can swim!!- favorite special villager is gulliver since he’s goofy- loves fishing anytime she can- always plays when she wakes up early in the morning and before bed- anytime she gets something new she acts like a child on christmas- thinks all villagers are cute and got pouty when she couldn’t have them all on her island- can never outrun tarantulas ):

sakura

- loves playing when hina is around- her favorite villager is maddie, reminds her of hina- favorite special villager is daisy mae she’s just really cute- hina helps her decorate her island since she doesn’t care that much- gets sad if she accidentally hits a villager- enjoys playing at night since it’s relaxing- constantly being stung by wasps pls help her

celeste

- favorite villager is portia she’s fancy as hell- favorite special villager is celeste duh- likes taking slow strolls through her museum to see her progress- her house is very victorian-esque- lots of tables with tea around her island- likes designing gothic clothes- anything on her island that can be black is - has a crime scene hidden on her island just for the hell of it

hifumi

- favorite villager is snooty, wants her to step on him- favorite special villager is isabelle- his island is only anime themed- has anime girl “posters” all over his house, and on his clothing- always gets stung by wasps and claims that it’s unfair- no one interacts with him

leon

- didn’t think he’d be into ac- favorite villager is leonardo- favorite special villager is k.k- doesn’t play this game very religiously- his island shows that smh- says he’ll break his console if he gets another sea bass- likes having a relaxing walk while playing to calm him down doe- outfit is just a baseball jersey

komaru

- favorite villager is felicity- favorite special villager is isabelle- likes playing with makoto and toko- her island is very cute, whenever someone tells her this she gets vry flustered- the shine in her eyes gets 10x brighter when she catches a big fish- loves staring at her aquarium- all her clothing is pastel and cute- has every type of tree on her island,, for the vibe

dr2!!

hajime

- enjoys ac- gets confused every 2 seconds doe- one time chiaki make rosie move out of hajime’s island as a prank. he will never forgive her for this- his favorite villager is rosie cuz she’s just adorable,, also vibes with kabuki- his favorite special character is flick. funky chameleon boy- grumbles about how he misses rosie constantly- loves tangy doe,, calls her orange juice

nagito

- loves to play with hajime and chiaki- only villagers that he likes ever move into his island bc of his luck- one time rosie moved into his island. hajime was fucking pissed- his favorite villager is ruby because she was one of his first animals to move into his island- his favorite special character is jack- likes having green flowers everywhere- got every fish he needed too cause of his damn luck

chiaki

- had her hands on it the second the game was released. plays constantly- always has an absurd number of bells and nook miles- her favorite villager is lolly :”)- her favorite special character is blathers bc funny sleepy owl man- has never seen daytime cause she sleeps during the day- even if she’s lazy her island is gucci as hell- invites hajime to her island just to bonk him and leave him to fight wasps

ibuki

- camped outside of gamestop till it opened, screamed when she got her hands on a copy- her favorite animal is definitely bella- favorite special villager is k.k., attends all his concerts, and has all his songs- anytime she makes a mistake she’ll just yell “NO!”- is actually pretty calm playing- will give all the villagers wacky voices, ends up in snort laughter- doesn’t like fishing cause she always pulls the rod in to early- loves having colors EVEYRRYWRHERE

mikan

- favorite villager is fauna- favorite special villager is lable- anytime she gets stung she’s on top of it, has tons of medicine- cries when she does anything wrong- worries if her villagers judge her- sucks at fishing- all of her clothing has at least one (1) bandaid included cause why not- her actual villager has a bandaid on its face for the aesthetic™- loves when she’s sitting on a bench and a villager joins

mahiru

- has so many random photos of nature or villagers- favorite villager is tasha she’s vry cute!!- favorite special villager is pavé since HES flamboyant and good for pictures- her island is very aesthetic- tons of pretty flowers everywhere, and everything place is just aligned perfectly somehow- loves touring others islands, especially hiyoko’s- her outfit has a drawn on camera for the vibe

peko

- avid fan of animal crossing- if you cant interact with real life animals then games >>- favorite villager is all of them (but favors marshal more,, reminds her of fuyuhiko)- favorite special villager is isabelle- has never bullied or hit one (1) of her villagers, cherishes them too much- will send them letters saying how much she loves them from time to time- her island is very pretty and all her villagers are decorated outside- forgets to eat dinner or sleep cause she plays it so much

akane

- “how many things in the game can i eat”- favorite villager is katt cause she’s so INDEPENDENT- favorite special villager is jingle, always makes her excited- has a makeshift restaurant on her island- all her outfits have food somewhere on them- every fruit tree she can get she has, she requires food 24/7- constantly threatens to fight tom nook for putting her in debt

fuyuhiko

- FAV VILLAGER MARSHAL 100%- also pashmina cause she reminds him of natsumi- natsumi was the one who convinced him to get it, showed it to peko- now they play it every night together before bed- yells at villagers anytime they get in his way then apologizes profusely- peko has to help him design his island he just doesn’t get it- takes her on ac dates, they just stargaze or look at their aquariums- likes to talk to the villagers as if they can hear him,, will blush and deny if peko points it out

sonia

- favorite villager is tia because she “looks fancy”- favorite special villager is pavé- has tons of outfits related to disney princesses- her island is very modern looking, prefers stone things than wooden- has tons of fashion shows- everything about her island is clean and aligned- lets gundham visit a lot to check in on her cute villagers- hella rich has that bell cash money

kazuichi

- compliments sonia’s island everyday even if he hasn’t been allowed on it- favorite villager is freya, loves her colors- favorite special villager is harvey cause he vibes- screams anytime he gets a big fish- island lowkey looks like trash but sonia gives him advice amen- is pretty smart about wasps, but lacks iq with anything else like tarantulas- unironically celebrates the villagers’ birthdays- even if he’s feral he likes to take a chill pill and play ac

teruteru

- ew- favorite villager is merengue- favorite special villager is isabelle- tries to flirt with villagers through letters- all the villagers on his island are wamen- tried to buy nude qr codes,, failed- always has an apron on and has a little cafe on his island

imposter

- favorite villager is keaton since he’s funky- favorite special villager is blanca- scoffs anytime they miss an insect or fish- dedicated to ac after they said they wouldn’t be- their island is actually pretty well decorated, they enjoy having flowers everywhere- until they run over them and regret living

hiyoko

- favorite villager is soleil, tiny and cute- favorite special villager is jack- mahiru suggested ac to her and then she got obsessed- always bullies her villagers, its a miracle they haven’t moved out- pitfall seeds buried all over her island for poor, unsuspecting visitors- her island is akin to hell no one wants to visit her- its a shame since its so pretty tho- likes visiting places with mahiru and letting her take photos- enjoys spinning to pretend she’s dancing

gundham

- his favorite villagers are all the hamsters- his favorite special villager is daisy mae- has played since the first game, religious fan of it- never been rude to one of his villagers- takes designing very seriously and it pays off- despite his very colorful island his outfits are pretty dark- walks around sonia’s island a lot and they stargaze sometimes- played it for 24 hours straight once, almost died- goes on to ac forums and starts flame wars with anyone that bullies their villagers (mainly hiyoko)

nekomaru

- plays every now and then, loves it a lot- favorite villager is kevin since he vibes- favorite special villager is jingle, gets him hyped- anytime a villager starts singing he’ll yell “YOU’RE DOING GREAT”- doesn’t know how to decorate,, at all,,- his house is just another storage room to him- is in tons of debt due to tom, would rather buy expensive stuff with his bells- yells when fishing. doesn’t matter if its a big fish or not, he just does- will hype up someone when he goes to their island

dr v3!

shuichi

- kaede convinced him to get it and loves it- favorite villagers are punchy and beau, he just thinks theyre funky- favorite special villager is flick cause he’s laid back- waterfalls all over his island, says its a memorial to the waterfalls of tears he loses every night- visits his friends islands a lot- has tons of blue flowers and hasn’t ruined them once amen- kokichi ruined them once though. he cried- island is very aesthetic since it’s mostly nature themed- cries happy tears when villagers do ANYTHING- cherishes anything his friends gift him- except for kokichi, he sent him a threat and a shirt saying “nerd”

maki

- doesn’t tell a lot of people she plays it, very shy about it- favorite villager is cherry- favorite special villager is celeste- everything on her island is red and pink- even if she’s tough on the inside she loves having a cute island- has a place specifically to sit and watch the stars (mainly for when kaede and/or kaito is with her)- gets overly defensive when people ask why she loves her villagers so much- “I JUST-” sobs “DO”- gets bullied by kokichi for anything she does while playing- resulted in a broken arm and trampled flowers. F

himiko

- only plays at night until tenko convinces her to wake up earlier- favorite villager is bob- favorite special villager is k.k- just likes vibing doesn’t take anything to seriously- tries her best for her outfits to resemble a magician- preforms “magic” shows ( it’s really just her throwing down items and claiming it appeared magically )- tenko and angie drag her all across their islands daily, acts like she doesn’t love it but its the main reason she still plays- anytime she gets something new she just shrugs- doesn’t like zipper and tenko has to assure her it isn’t a murderer tracking her location

kaede

- favorite villager is bianca- favorite special villager is k.k, unironically likes his music- has a piano in every room of her house- pretends to play said pianos for friends that are visiting- rainbow flowers everywhere- except red because she gives those all to maki- convinces people to have fashion shows with her, no actual winners, but they all win in her heart- plays it a lot in her free time, kind of addicted- likes to hum along with singing villagers- everything about her island is just hella cute

rantaro

- “whats an animal crossing”- and ever since that day he’s been a religious fan, amen- favorite villager is chief, likes making “that ain’t it chief” jokes- favorite special villager is k.k, will listen to his music whenever he’s staring off into space- his island is lazily made but still looks so good??- will just stare at butterflies before remembering he should catch them- “what’s the point of an ocean if i can’t sail it bro..”- loves playing at night cause of shooting stars- always wishes for kokichi to stop sending him hate letters

kirumi

- favorite villager is whitney and tia since theyre,, cool n chill- favorite special villager is isabelle- her house and island are 100% CLEAN- has a zen garden behind her house- anytime someone visits her island she offers them tea- treats the villagers like her own family- likes sending them letters with perfect grammar, just pleases her soul- has never gotten stung by a wasp her iq is large- her outfit looks like a maid amen- kokichi always ask her to clean his island, never happened

ryoma

- favorite villager is rasher- favorite special villager is kicks- doesn’t get the appeal of ac- will play it for like 5 minutes tops- enjoys the fishing aspect doe- anytime he visits someones island he will just sit on the shore and stare out into the ocean- thanks god that his villager is the same height as all the animal ones, now he isn’t short (:

korekiyo

- body outlines, blood, and bloody summoning ritual circles everywhere on his island- favorite villager is lucky- favorite special villager is jack and blathers- keeps scary looking fish in his house- said house is dark and probably has an occult book somewhere- curses his villagers in an unknown language whenever they forsake him- every screenshot of a villager he has includes him behind a tree staring menacingly at them- doesn’t invite people to his island, people don’t even wanna come- if he somehow ends up on somebody's island he’ll stalk them- became an urban legend on all the ac forums

angie

- her favorite villager is ankha- favorite special villager is isabelle and jingle- anytime a villager moves in she says “atua has blessed angie with a cute villager!”- likes yellow flowers- her outfit is just a smock with paint on it amen- sends people and villagers letters wishing them good health every. single. day.- likes tagging along with tenko and himiko whenever they do something- loves chasing butterflies

tenko

- was very hyped over the game since everybody else hyped it up- favorite villager is nibbles and cookie they’re just VIBING- favorite special villager is isabelle (screams anytime she is on screen)- will wake up himiko or angie at 3 am to flex the big fish she just got- got rich just to buy them gifts- anytime a guy is in her presence she bonks them with a net- this is the reason she has no male villagers, and no males invited. periadt.- has matching outfits with da girls- grows lots of flowers (mainly to give to her friends amen)- cherishes this game cause it gives her an excuse to spend time with da girls

miu

- favorite villager is olivia - favorite special villager is shrunk- constant sex jokes- her outfit looks like a stripper deadass- harasses people about not knowing how to play when she, herself, does not have a damn clue- almost ruined her console cause she’ll spit out her drink when she gets a big fish- everything she does is feral- never stops running so she doesnt have flowers- kokichi steals any flowers she may have anyway- decorating? whats that? just throw random stuff on ur island

gonta

- his favorite villager is joey cause he’s funny looking and trying his best- his favorite special villager is blathers- island looks pretty natural, just dirt paths every now and then- will hunt down an insect even if he has it already- was sad he had to give up his insects to blathers, then realized... he can catch them again!!- has a garden and always gets excited when butterflies fly around- golden net to show off how much of a pro he is at collecting insects- gets shy anytime someone visits but his islands so cute,,

kaito

- favorite villager is apollo because he’s named after the apollo 11- favorite special villager is harvey, can respect his vibes- likes walking around with maki and shuichi- tries his best to play it but he’s kinda dumb,,- whenever gets something new he loses all his brain cells in excitement- will probably never pay tom nook back. he is clueless about even being in debt.- mostly plays before bed cause he stares at the stars- will send maki pictures of shooting stars even if its 2 am- island is pretty natural since he forgets to decorate it,,

kokichi

- favorite villager is pietro cause he always compares him to people- loves all the mouse villagers- favorite special villager is jack and blanca- all over his island is just. holes and pitfall seeds.- has fallen into the holes plenty of times himself- sends all of his friends letters, which just consist of him making fun of them- tons of carnival things around his island since “ur invited to the circus clown”- his house looks like jail for no reason- clowns others for having poor taste in fashion when he just cosplays a RAT- also has an outfit that looks like a trash can xoxo

kiibo

- favorite villager is ribbot, they’re practically the same- favorite special villager is snowboy and blathers- anytime he reads text its so robotic,, hella funny to whoever's playing with him- everything also confuses him- “what is a .. c+??”- is actually very efficient and paid off his tom nook debts in no time- respects his villagers a lot and will give them gifts- his favorite part is chasing butterflies, usually misses tho- accidentally shot a gift balloon over water, searched for it for over 10 minutes- anytime someone does something he just does a happy emote @ them,,

tsumugi

- favorite villager is tasha she’s a bad bithc- favorite special villager is blanca- has so many different outfits as different anime characters- her island is so well decorated- loves taking aesthetic screenshots with her anime outfits- takes commissions for designing clothing amen- runs an ac instagram just to flex how pretty her things are- actually enjoys the game a lot, especially with other people

i fucking hate tumblr formatting - mod irusu who edited this

[haloud]

my heart stops when you look at me

An au where Michael is a student at UNM and Alex is a musician just starting his career. They meet at a bar doing a live music night, and they catch each other’s eye across a crowded room...

-- ao3 --

Michael plants his notebook right over his face to block out the sun. Just for a second. If he closes his eyes, he wouldn’t be the only exhausted student passed out on the lawn after one too many pre-exam all-nighters this week. And the paper is so nice and cool against his cheeks…

“Guerin!”

He startles and smacks the notebook off his face. Matt is in three of his six classes, one of them the long-ass lab that is both Michael’s favorite part of the week and an exercise in restraint. He’s a good guy. A good guy with a really loud voice.

“Hi, Michael,” Erin says, looking down at him with furrowed eyebrows. She’s a junior and was Michael’s orientation leader. They’re sort of friends? He helped her fix her car when it was raining and she was stuck on campus at night, and she payed him fifty bucks for it. ‘You take what you get with first semester friends,’ Isobel says sagely, like she’s not also a first semester freshman, and like she hasn’t made a million friends already.

Ugh, that’s not fair. Isobel misses him and Max fiercely. At least as much as Michael misses her. At least there will be time to visit over the holiday—even if it’s forced time, since the dorms are closing and Michael has nowhere else to go.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Michael sits up and brushes grass out of his hair, even though it’s finals week so it’s totally acceptable if he looks like he crawled out of a bush at any given moment.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Erin asks.

“Just more of this.” Michael wiggles his notebook at her. “I have Jayaraman next semester too, so I want to make a good impression on the final.”

“Do you think you could maybe take one teeny, tiny night off?” Matt wheedles.

“Uh…”

“It’s Friday,” Erin cuts in, “And finals don’t start until next Thursday. You’ve totally got time to come downtown with us.”

“Take us downtown, she means. Her car is busted again.”

“You could have said something; I’d have fixed it.”

“It only happened, like, the other day, and we’ve all been busy. Anyway, there’s this great bar that’s having a music night, and I really want to go. I think you’d like it! You have great taste in music, Michael.”

“Uh…thanks?”

“You’re welcome! So you’re in?”

“Sure,” Michael says weakly, wishing he was saying anything else. New, crowded places with people he doesn’t know all that well. Sounds like a great and not at all stressful start to the weekend.

--------

This is the first time Michael has set foot in any of the bars around campus, and it turns out it looks like…every other bar Michael’s ever been in, only with more red and silver around the place.

“This is the best of them for live music,” Erin says as the bouncer digs his stamp into the back of Michael’s hand, printing him with a huge, wet X.

“Is anyone good playing? Or even anyone you’ve heard before?” Michael mostly wants to know how wasted his night is about to be. He has a spare notebook and his textbook shoved under his arm, but with the noise and the people…he’ll be so distracted not much will get done anyway. But, hey, friendship and all that. Friendship and a little light kidnapping, maybe.

“A couple of decent cover bands, some locals. But we’re here for one group in particular—there’s this guy out of Roswell, actually—”

“Oh my god,” Matt cuts in, “Did you drag us here to make us listen to a guy with a guitar sing about alien abductions.”

Matt is just as guilty of the dragging, Michael doesn’t point out.

“I said he’s from Roswell, don’t be a dick. And he’s not just a guy with a guitar, he’s part of a group and they’re really good, but his voice is amazing.”

Matt and Erin bicker good-naturedly all the way inside. The music already playing when they walk in is…fine. Better than the stuff Michael plays on the guitar Max gave him last Christmas, anyway, not that Michael lets being bad stop him from loving the music. But it’s still loud, still crowded, still a distraction he doesn’t need dropped in his lap by people he doesn’t really know

Michael hangs back, letting the others go ahead of him to get swallowed up by the crowd pushing against the low stage. Erin pauses for just a second, eyebrows raised in concern; she hooks her thumb toward the crush of people, asking if he’s coming, and Michael shakes his head, waving his notebook in response. He sticks to the edge of the crowd for a little bit; he edges toward the bar and gets a bottle of soda, just for something to do. Then, finally, someone stumbles out of one of the booths along the wall, and Michael darts for it before it can get claimed again. When he looks back, Erin and Matt are gone. He sighs, forcing his shoulders down. He drove, so it’s not like they can leave him stranded, and they’re together and have been here before, so they’re more fine than he is. And he’s fine.

A little bored, though, as setup ends and the next guy takes the stage and starts plucking out a moody ballad. Michael digs the point of his pen into a page, idly working it back and forth until the paper starts to tear under the soggy weight of ink and pressure. There’s not a formula he’s written down in these notes he doesn’t already have memorized by now, but still somehow it feels like sitting here surrounded by distractions is playing with fire. Or with failure, rather, and then probation, and then expulsion, and then he’s lost, well, everything. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket to check the time, runs through the time zone calculations in his mind. Isobel is states away, Max an entire ocean, but he could probably still call one of them just so they can jerk him out of his catastrophizing. But wouldn’t that be overreacting in itself? It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s going to pass the exam no matter what, or that one exam doesn’t define him (the Isobel answer vs. the Max answer).  He punches through to the next page. On stage, moody ballad guy says a quick thank you to a lukewarm crowd and exits stage left.

Two women take over the stage next. They pull Michael’s eye, the lights off their dark hair, the easy way they move around each other, so comfortable on stage Michael wonders if maybe they play here regularly. They dance around each other, weave around the wires, except when they collide on purpose, elbows into ribs, hips into hips, laughing and shoving past the other. They get set up, guitars and keyboards and all mic’d up, then one of the women comes up to the main mic, so close to smearing her poppy-red lipstick.

“Well, we’re supposed to be getting started, but somebody is running a little bit late.”

“If anyone make an alien abduction joke, we’ll get you thrown out,” the other woman crows from behind the keyboard.

This must be the group from Roswell, then, the whole reason Erin wanted to come in the first place. Michael flips his notebook closed to focus, then opens it again, then closes it when the woman abandons the mic to lean over the other side of the keyboard and talk in close with the other, then opens it again when he realizes he’s staring. He scruffs his hand through the back of his hair and hunches over his notes, as if he can duck from the hum of anticipation running through the crowd.

A hum that only gets louder and feverish when there’s a clatter behind the stage, and a guy, breathless and flushed from being outside, bounds up onto the stage to join the other two members of the band. A bit of a cheer comes up from the audience as he grabs one of the guitars, and he swings his head around to acknowledge them, teeth white and flashing in his grin as he raises a hand, stage lights playing off the subtle muscle in his arm, and Michael’s staring again, hand wandering to his mouth, picking at a chapped spot on his lip.

“Sorry about that,” the guy laughs into the mic. “You guys ready to get going?”

The cheer goes up again, louder this time. They start to play, but Michael--Michael’s gone way past distraction and into full on not paying attention on anything but, foot rattling on the sticky floor, eyes fixed magnetically on the guy at the front of the stage.

The singer has a little scar right over his eyebrow. Michael bites his thumb to make it stop tingling from want to reach out and follow the line down to his eye. He wants to touch him all over, really, wants to cup his face and feel his cheekbones under his thumbs and feel the softness of his dark hair on his fingertips, but it’s that little scar that calls to him most, calls for his fingers and his lips, and Michael bites down harder as another pulse of wanting goes through him.

“Brand new city, no more excuses,” had been Isobel’s mantra for months before any of them left, Iz and Michael to school and Max for his long-awaited road trip. But so far for Michael it hasn’t been much of either. He’s barely seen the city, and he’s been pretty comfortable in his, well, not comfortable but familiar, old excuses.

What’s an excuse, again? He thinks as the man on the stage smiles down at his guitar, eyes closed like he’s in bliss, ink-black eyelashes fanned out across those cheekbones.

Here’s one: Michael’s still never kissed a guy, no matter how sexually free television has reassured him college is supposed to be. This guy, no matter how much he makes all of Michael’s atoms sit up and take notice, no matter how his deep, smooth voice makes the hair on the back of Michael’s neck stand up and his breath catch in his lungs, there’s no guarantee he’s even into guys. And if he is he’s probably got guys lining up and he’s probably confident and experienced and if Michael came up to him after his set and tried to charm him he probably could but then if the singer wants him he’ll have to show his cards and just embarrass himself when the singer can definitely do better.

Better to languish in lonely anonymity with only his PHYS204 notes to keep him warm at night. It’s just better this way.

The slow song finishes, and the man starts in on something faster, something some people in the bar seem to recognize, as a cheer goes up around the stage.

“Yeah?” The man calls over the noise, a blinding grin spreading across his face as the crowd calls back an answer. The girl on bass whoops wildly along with the crowd, pouring more electric energy on top. Even Michael gets goosebumps all up and down his arms. The singer plays the song’s intro a second time with that brilliant smile making the music even better to Michael’s ears, so much so that he considers for a split second abandoning his notes and pressing into the crowd, pushing through bodies until he’s right up front, so the singer would look at him, see him, notice him even for just a split second before he moves on to the next city.

But he stays where he is, ass planted in the booth and feet cemented to the sticky floor, and he chomps on the end of his pen because he ran out of un-bitten parts of his thumb. There are a few people here that know this song well enough to sing along to the chorus, but Michael can’t even focus long enough to hear a single word, too busy watching the way the singer’s lips shape them, the way they shine under the lights like maybe they’re covered in a hint of gloss, and Michael wiggles his pen between his teeth wondering what it might taste like…

This song comes to an end too, and Michael sucks in a deep, slow breath as the singer wraps those lips around the neck of a water bottle and takes several deep gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing, showcasing that long, slender neck. Michael nearly spits his pen across the table as he fumbles to take a matching gulp of his soda, just so his mouth makes the same shape as the singer’s.

And then.

For a moment, just for a moment, and—Michael has to be imagining things, because there aren’t any lights pointing his way, isn’t anything, he must just be scanning the crowd but—for a second, he’s chewing his lip and watching elegant musician’s fingers screw the top back on a bottle, then the very next second he’s looking up and the singer is looking back at him. Michael’s breath freezes in his lungs. He can almost, almost still hear the last reverberating note of their last song, curled up and humming inside of his ribcage.

The moment snaps like an overstressed string a second later when one of his bandmates taps him on the shoulder and he looks around and laughs that gorgeous laugh and Michael melts into a puddle on the tabletop, his brain screaming in his ears.

“One more, then we have to step aside and give someone else a turn,” the singer says into the mic. Michael hears it muffled through his arms over his ears. He sits up so he can watch all through their last song. He’d close his eyes and let the music wash over him, but he wants to drink in the sight of the singer for as long as he possibly can, so he does, transfixed by the way his hands curve around the neck of his guitar, around the mic stand, the way his eyelashes shadow his cheekbones when he looks down, the way his eyes catch the light when he looks up and out across the crowd. For a breathless second, Michael thinks they make eye contact again, and then the second is gone.

The crowd cheers enthusiastically when the song ends, the three musicians thank them, and go to leave the stage. Michael exhales like it’s the first time he’s breathing all night.

The next act is a woman playing something quiet and mellow, and Michael sighs and curls his shoulders in, flipping open his textbook for the first time since that band took the stage. He likes studying, he does, but he likes it a little less in stark contrast to the magic that was sparking through him when that singer was at the mic.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” A slightly hoarse voice says.

Michael flips another page and doesn’t look up. “Uhh…no?”

He’s had it too good for too long, apparently. Fair enough, though; this place is packed. Anyway, maybe now that the Roswell group is done, Michael can go find Matt and Erin and get out of here. The guy slides into the other side of the booth, and, sighing, Michael flips his textbook and notes closed and goes to stand.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Look, man—” Then Michael chokes on his own spit as he finally looks up and sees who he’s talking to.

It’s him. Smudged eyeliner, dark hair glittering with sweat, skintight black t-shirt clinging to every curve and contour of his chest, that little scar on his eyebrow—Michael drops back down onto the seat and rocks back, not sure why he’s here, not sure what he wants, just not sure—

“I don’t want to keep you here,” the singer says, head tilted, almost apologetic as he pulls his hands toward himself, off the table, away from Michael. “But I saw you, and—I don’t know, thought we might get to know each other.”

“Uh, ok, yeah.” Michael bites down on his tongue, trying not to babble. “Um. You guys were really great. My first time hearing you, but yeah. I really love music, and you guys—yeah.”

Okay. Not smooth. But at least he hasn’t hit himself with anything yet, so he’s doing better than Max whenever he’s got a crush.

“Really? Thanks.” His face lights up in a broad smile. Michael’s heart thumps pitifully. The guy says, “Maria, Rosa, and I—” he points to the bar where the two women he was on stage with are sitting, naming them both, “haven’t been playing together long, but it’s still been a dream come true. I’m Alex, by the way.”

He holds out his hand. Michael swallows.

“Michael,” he says, and shakes his hand.

Goosebumps prickle up his arm to his shoulder at the warm brush of his hand, at the feeling of guitar callouses on his palm, at the shivering electric of the two of them touching for the first time. Michael’s hand is slightly clammy, but that’s okay, because Alex’s is too.

“So do you go to school here?” Alex asks, leaning forward.

“Um, yeah. Freshman. Although you could probably guess, considering I’m like the only one here with the mark of doom.” Michael waves his hand with its faded black X. Oh yeah, super cool, way to go, Mikey. Just broadcast to the world that you’re too young to drink and guys who make music and wear eyeliner will just come lining up to beat your door down.

“You’re definitely not the only one. I’d have one too if I wasn’t playing. As it is, the bartenders just know not to serve me anything that isn’t virgin.” He bats those long eyelashes. Michael wants to crawl under the table, half to hide, half to put his head on his knee.

“Are you guys touring?” Michael asks, poking himself in the lip with the gnawed end of his pen rather than spitting up his other question: Will you be in town long? Can I see you again?

“If you count pounding New Mexico pavement as touring,” Alex says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Maria’s family has owned a bar in our hometown for, like, ever, and her mom gets us some gigs through the grapevine. We’ve got a few more things lined up for the next few weeks, but nothing super exciting or anything.”

“Touring or not, you’ve probably got cooler places to be than I do,” Michael says, forcing a flicker of a smile, “my dorm room doesn’t even, like, have any posters in it. Not that cinder brick isn’t industrial chic or something—my sister likes to joke that—oh my god I’m babbling so badly, please put me out of my misery.” Michael’s face is burning with embarrassment, so hot that there’s probably like no way the cute guy can’t tell even through the dim ambiance of the bar.

And this guy—Alex—just smiles that enigmatic little smile (Max would call it a Mona Lisa smile, and oh my god if he’s starting to think like Max this must be serious) and taps his index finger against his lip.

“I might be able to fix your poster problem, or at least contribute to the cause,” he says. “Unless you think it’s just way too arrogant. Although maybe arrogance can be part of my rock star mystique. Does it work on me?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, in a way that ought to be a little silly but actually just makes Michael take another desperate chug of his soda to avoid babbling even more. The little scar moves with his eyebrows and Michael wants so badly to kiss it. To kiss him. Like he’s never wanted to kiss a guy before, not even Danny Giordano who sat next to him in first period and wore v-neck shirts and made him realize for the first time that he even liked guys. Nothing has ever come close to the way this man’s fingers look all long and strong on his guitar and oh my god is he making this weird he’s definitely making this weird.

“Hey,” Alex says, and he reaches out to grab Michael’s wrist before he can sink his teeth into his thumb again. He slides his thumb tenderly across the thin skin of Michael’s wrist, and holy shit he’s going to pass out.

Alex says, “Hey, it’s okay. Are you feeling okay? Are you here with anyone—”

“No, I’m fine—” Michael says, miserable, face bright red.

Even though he basically has to be wearing makeup to make his face look that perfect and smooth, Alex’s cheeks go a little bit pink too. “Um, right. Uh—posters! I can give you one. For the band. If you want it? I mean, not that you were just here for us or anything—I can ask another group if you’d prefer—”

“No! I want you. I mean, uh. Your band. ‘S poster. Would you sign it?”

“Would you want me to?”

“Please,” Michael breathes pitifully. But then he remembers that he’s chewed his pen into a gross nub of its former self and almost whimpers with disappointment.

Alex doesn’t disappoint, though. He gets up for just a second—Michael watches his back as he makes his way across the room, watches the heavy rise and fall of his boots and the sway of his shoulders and the way his ass looks in those painted-on jeans—to talk to one of the girls he was on stage with, the one who played the keys and Alex pointed out as Maria earlier. They talk for a bit; Maria even glances Michael’s way, a knowing smirk on her face, and Michael’s face catches on fire. He’s out of soda, so he doesn’t even have anything to drown himself with.

Maria turns back to Alex and laughs, and Michael squirms, digging his finger into a split seam in the seat’s upholstery. Are they talking about him? Okay, it’s probably sort of funny to Alex’s friends, yeah, that some scruffy college student is trying to talk to him, trying to…flirt? But that doesn’t mean it feels funny to Michael, whose heart is still fluttering, high on adrenaline, on the chance that Alex might come back to talk with him some more. Whatever it is Alex wants—to promote his band, sure, whatever, he’ll send Isobel their mixtape tonight—to hook up, maybe? Michael’s down for that too, even if it sucks to know that’s all he’d ever be. Fuck. Don’t come on too strong. There’s almost zero chance Alex is looking for a groupie. Get your shit together, Guerin, before he comes back.

Rosa shoves Alex’s shoulders and, still laughing, Alex goes along with it, letting her propel him a couple steps across the floor and back toward Michael. Michael’s hands flutter, searching for something new to fiddle with and finding nothing, and he shoves them into his hoodie pockets before Alex gets too close. With that gorgeous smile, and his eyes all sparkling and crinkled at the corners. 

“Sorry that took so long,” Alex says, sliding back into the booth. “Apparently to get a Sharpie from my friends you have to answer three riddles or something.”

Michael lets out a breathy sigh and, like, he’d deny it, but his eyelashes flutter when Alex bounces forward to lean on his elbows, bringing himself closer to Michael, as close as they can be with the table still separating them.

“Oh, no worries,” Michael replies, and he could punch the air in triumph when his voice comes out smooth and normal, “I’ve just been sitting here waiting for you to finish your quest and come back to rescue me.”

There. Is that flirty enough? Is he being obvious enough? Michael doesn’t know how to flirt with guys or how to tell if guys are flirting with him. He still doesn’t know why Alex came over here in the first place.

“No prince would keep you waiting for too long,” Alex responds, his dark eyes glittering, one lid dropping in a slow, teasing wink. Before Michael can figure out a suitably smooth response, Alex uncaps his marker and unrolls the poster he brought with him just enough to scrawl a dramatic signature across it, alongside his bandmates’ names that must have been added while he was talking to them.

They’d been so beautiful looking, together, laughing and teasing each other and having fun. Alex clearly has friends. What does he need Michael for? In high school if he got approached it was usually by girls who knew he was kind of easy, but he doesn’t want Alex to think of him like that—and he shouldn’t, right? Unless Michael just kind of gives off that desperate vibe? Not that he isn’t desperate, mind you, for any sliver of Alex’s attention he can get; not that he isn’t scanning the crowd for Erin and Matt and hoping he doesn’t see them so they can spend more time together until Alex decides to leave.

“Everything okay?” Alex asks for the second time that night. Michael looks up at him and his head is tilted again, dramatic brows furrowed. Slowly, like he’s reaching out to a new animal, he reaches across the table to touch Michael’s wrist, eyes on his face waiting for Michael to tell him no, but Michael lets him, and relishes the goosebumps climbing up his arms again.

Michael clears his throat, knowing this time he basically has to answer. “Yeah,” he says, “It’s just…why are you being so nice to me? You probably have lots of people who’d work way harder for your autograph.”

Alex blinks at that. Then a little smile curves his lips and he says, “Our eyes met across a crowded room. Isn’t that a good reason?”

“Maybe. But, usually,” Michael slips his thumbnail under the label on his soda bottle, “Usually, people tend to have an ulterior motive for being nice to strangers.”

“Really?”

Alex pulls him forward, then, hard enough for Michael to wince when his ribs knock against the tabletop, and Alex rucks his sleeve up, and then the cold, wet tip of the marker is stroking on his skin, and when Alex lets him go there are ten digits scrawled across his forearm.

“Give me a call, then we won’t be strangers anymore,” he says, eyebrows raised, lip caught between his teeth.

Michael just—Michael gapes at him, eyes wide and lost for words, until he’s called by Rosa and Maria and gets up to leave, and Michael reaches out for him on instinct, catches him by the hand.

“I will,” he says, “I’ll call you. I definitely will. Um. Talk to you later?”

“Can’t wait,” Alex breathes, squeezes Michael’s hand, then disappears into the crowd.

[warriorofdragons]

Light in the Dark Chapter 12: An Almost First

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: Language, Mentions of gore, death and blood

Note: {Övüsi is in these brackets}

“Kandomere, I’m scared,” she sobs.

A loud clap of thunder startles the Special Agent awake and he glances behind him at the large windows. He rubs his face with his hands and leans back against the couch.

It’s been like this ever since she arrived and before when…he covers his eyes with his hand and then sits up. He scratches his head and then stares to his right as there’s another flash of light, swiftly followed by more thunder.

The elf stands and walks towards the window.

He pushes the blinds of his office window aside with two fingers and stares out at the building across from him where his Bright is being treated. There’s more lightening that illuminates the area and he watches as the lights in the building flicker again. She’s already blown out the power once, so now they have to work on the backup generators. He removes his fingers and lets the blinds fall closed again and then returns to the couch. He sits down and leans back and places his hand over his face with his forefinger resting on the bridge of his nose.

He did this to her.

He’s the reason she’s in agonizing pain right now.

He’s aware the alternative would be worse, but right now all he can think about is how he should have kept a closer eye on her.

He should have kept her safe!

He moves to cover his mouth and he closes his eyes and he feels tears slowly slip down his cheeks. NO.

She’s going to be alright.

She’s made it through hell already.

He knows she’ll pull through.

Fuck.

He just wants to hold her in his arms again…where she’s safe and warm and….and…his?

He opens his eyes and wipes a tear from his face and then stares at his hand.

They have grown close…

He had never considered that he might be developing feelings for her.

That he might be falling in…

She is beautiful, and kind, and strong, and her scent is becoming intoxicating to him. He tugs at his dress shirt collar and undoes another button, and then stares down and rubs at his bare skin.

He’s stopped wearing his gorget for her.

A gorget that he’s worn most of his adult life.

He was wrong to wear it of course, that still hasn’t changed, it was mostly an influence his father had on him as the only male child among his siblings. And something he hadn’t realized he’d still been carrying around all this time. He stares back at the window, he’s never dropped his guard so quickly for anyone before, but her vulnerability makes him feel like he can be vulnerable too. Like she won’t think anything less of him for not being perfect or strong all the time. When she makes it through this he looks forward to sharing more moments together, that is…if she’ll have him.

He is still an elf and Kandomere worries if she’ll be attracted to him at all.

He knows he’s not exactly built like a typical elf, he’s much more broad-shouldered, not as lean as other elven men. He doesn’t doubt that he’s handsome, no of course not, he’s an elf. He’s just not sure if she’s into elves, especially considering that one comment she made about the crass, casual relations elves have with humans. Elven men have sex with their human assistants for the very reason that they can’t get them pregnant, or at least it’s more difficult to.

It’s a callous behavior regardless and his mother taught him better than that.

Kandomere’s not seeking a casual relationship anyway, he never has.

It’s happened on occasion, but it’s left him disheartened more than anything.

It’s why he had preferred to be alone.

Being aware of his affections for her now, he wishes to do this right if he is to pursue her. He’s not entirely clear on human courtship rules, but surely there’s something.

And if her answer is no then…so be it.

For now though he’s going to try to get some sleep, restful or not, and wait for her fever to break.

                                                                      *******

“Stay with me, Mi Amor,” a comforting voice says.

You’re vaguely aware that you’re being carried or at least you assume so.

It doesn’t feel like you’re on the floor and there’s something….no someone, holding you to their chest.

Kandomere.

It must be Kandomere.

“For my sake, please,” he begs and you feel him bury his face in your hair, “Keep fighting.”

You try to muster a response, but you can feel your throat closing up and no sound comes out. Keep fighting, he said.

You hold onto those words.

You hold onto them even when you feel his touch leave you and your vision fades.

Then you slowly start to open your eyes and you scan the room with your blurry vision. This room looks familiar…

You blink slowly and swallow and wince at the extreme soreness of your throat. You notice that there’s a faint beeping in your ears and you turn to see a heart rate monitor beside you. It’s then that you realize where you are and that you’ve been here before.

You slowly turn your head to the right and smile when you see a familiar face.

The red-haired, dwarven woman is half dozing in the chair next to you with a still steaming cup of coffee in her hand while the other rests under her chin. She’s not wearing her cardigan at the moment seeing as it’s draped over her chair and her hair is pulled into a messy bun. She’s wearing a short-sleeved, white blouse with red poppies covering it and her usual black slacks.

“Hey, Gwen,” you croak.

She stirs and dazedly stares up at you and then her eyes widen and she promptly sits up in her chair. She quickly wipes at her face and you notice her mascara has run.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she says softly, “How…how are you feeling?”

You sigh, “Tired. My throat hurts.”

She tries to let out a small laugh, but her smile quickly fades as you watch her eyes dart to your neck.

She recovers though and smiles at you, “Hey, sometimes tired is a good thing. Are you hungry or anything?”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head, “No, but I am a little thirsty.”

She nods, “We’ll see if we can’t get one of the medics to help you with that,” she says and glances behind her at the hallway, “But um…it’s good that you’re awake.”

You note that there’s a tinge of worry in her voice as she says that.

“Heeeyyy!!” a voice calls.

You both look up to see Hernández enter the room also with a cup of coffee in her hand, “Look at you! Back from the dead I see.”

Gwen spins around in her chair and glares at her and then snaps something in Dwarvish you don’t understand, but you do hear Gabriela’s name in there. Hernández holds up her hand and ignores her cohort and strides up to you both and then stops at the foot of your bed.

“So how you feeling, Muchacha?” Hernández asks.

“Gabriela,” you say in a small, hoarse voice.

“Woah, you sound terrible,” Hernández remarks.

You glance at McTavish and she shakes her head at her partner.

“Not as terrible as that coffee I bet,” you joke.

She looks down at her mug and grimaces, “Yeah…I really just need to start bringing my own shit,” she says and pulls up a second chair that you notice has her jacket on it.

Have they been here all night?

“She’s been saying that for the past four years,” McTavish sighs.

“I’ll do it someday…just not today,” Hernández says taking a sip of her coffee, “It’s good to see you awake though we were all really worried about you,” she adds.

You smile at them both and then you glance at the door beyond them that leads out into the hall. The office building is across from this one and in it, the elf’s office.

“HE was especially worried about you,” Hernández says with a smirk, “In case you were wondering.”

She takes another sip of her coffee and you stare at her and then the door again before glancing down again.

“He actually took the first watch when we went home to our families,” McTavish says.

“Yeah, he insisted on it,” Hernández adds.

“Which is why WE had to insist that he let us take the next watch,” McTavish says.

“Still don’t think he went home,” Hernández comments.

“What?! He was supposed to,” McTavish says turning to her.

“Eh, you told him to get some sleep, you didn’t say where,” Hernández says.

You smile a little, “Is he in his office?”

Hernández nods, “His car is still here.”

“How…um how long was I out?” you question.

Hernández shrugs, “A couple days.”

“A couple days?!” you question and then wince at the pain in your throat.

“Technically it’s still been less than forty-eight hours,” McTavish says hurriedly.

“It’s still after five,” Hernández says with a shrug.

Your right hand moves to touch the injection site on your neck absentmindedly and you find a bandage is covering it and that it’s still swollen.

“Hey!” Hernández hisses and swats at your hand, “Don’t touch that! You’re still not fully healed.”

You lower your arm and set it down on the bed and then McTavish scoots her chair closer and adjusts your blankets again to cover you.

“Easy, Mother Hen, if she wants to be covered she’ll let you know,” Hernández says.

“Well, she looked cold,” McTavish remarks scooting her chair back again.

“Thanks, Gwen, there is actually a draft in here,” you say.

“See?” McTavish questions crossing her arms.

Hernández holds her hand up and relents not wanting to argue about it.

You look them both over and though Hernández is wearing an olive green, long-sleeved blouse, you notice a bandage covering her left hand and then you stare over at McTavish and she has stitches on her forehead next to her eyebrow.

“Are you two okay?” you ask.

They both stare at you in confused, stunned silence and then they exchange glances.

“Are WE okay?” Hernández questions, “You’re the one that almost died!”

“Yeah, this is nothing compared to what happened with you,” McTavish agrees.

You stare at them both and they seem so very concerned for you that it warms your heart that they were so worried.

You glance down, “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you mutter.

“Who would?” Hernández asks, “Hey, don’t feel bad, it wasn’t your fault.”

You’re about to open your mouth to counter when you hear an attractive voice say, “Hola, Hermosa.”

Your heart leaps and you can hear the heart rate monitor accelerate beside you as you turn to stare at the gorgeous man striding towards you…

                                                                      *******

Kandomere is awoken by the sound of his phone ringing.

He rolls over on his couch and swipes his hand across his coffee table groggily and nearly falls on the floor. Which is uncharacteristically clumsy of him, but given his current state, not at all surprising.

He grabs it and hits answer, “Hello?” he groans.

“Sir? Her fever broke,” the medic answers.

“WHAT?!” he demands, “Just now?”

“…About an hour ago,” the medic continues.

“Um…thank you for informing me,” Kandomere says and hangs up.

He sits up and tosses the phone onto the couch beside him and rubs his hands over his face.

God, he probably looks like shit.

He combs his fingers through his hair and then stands up and re-buttons his shirt, and puts his tie around his neck, and slips on his vest. He then grabs a couple of books he had brought from home off his desk and then heads towards the elevator. And as he walks to the building where she’s recovering he runs his hands through his hair one more time.

What will she think of him?

Will she be angry with him?

Or worse will her trust in him be broken?

He’s wracked with guilt as he stops just outside the doorway to her room and then he hears her voice.

It’s still weak and does not carry as far as it should, but he hears it.

Tears well up in his eyes and he closes them and takes a breath to steady himself and then he steps through the door.

When he catches sight of her, he forgets to breathe for a moment.

He approaches her slowly and calls out to her, “Hola, Hermosa.”

Everyone stops mid-conversation and turns to stare at him.

His Bright’s eyes widen, “Kandomere!” she says in excitement.

He smiles wide at her and feels undeserving of her warmth.

He sees Hernández glance at him out of the corner of her eye and then glance back at his Bright, attempting to refrain from smiling. Kandomere doesn’t even care at the moment that she heard his pet name for her, all he cares about is that this woman he has come to care for is awake and smiling. He walks to her bedside and McTavish moves her chair out of the way so he can pass. Kandomere steps beside her and rests his left hand on hers and places a kiss on his Bright’s forehead.

Both McTavish and Hernández exchange a glance.

“How are you feeling?” he asks continuing to ignore the looks.

“Tired,” she responds, “And a little sore.”

He offers her another smile and strokes his thumb across her knuckles and she smiles and looks down at his hand.

“What’s that?” she asks.

“These?” he asks holding up the books in his other hand, “Are a few of my favorite Elvish fairytales, my mother used to read these to me and my sisters as children.”

“Elvish fairytales?” she questions with curiosity.

“Mmhm,” he hums, “Ever heard any?”

“I don’t think so,” she admits.

“Would you like to?” he asks with a small smile.

She stares up at him and smiles broadly, “Kandomere, are you offering to read for me?”

“I am,” he states.

“Hey, Gwen, how about you and me head home, huh?” Hernández asks.

“What? But she just woke up!” McTavish protests.

“Yeah and I think we both need some sleep ourselves, besides the Boss has the next watch,” Hernández continues.

McTavish looks to the woman in the bed and then back at her partner evidently conflicted.

“She’ll be fine, Gwen,” Hernández assures her, “She’s in capable hands.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Besides I can’t get into any more trouble from here,” his Bright says.

McTavish sighs, “Alright, we’ll be back tomorrow to take you home, they want to keep you overnight again for observation.”

“Bye,” his Bright says in a small voice.

“Goodbye,” McTavish says hopping onto the floor.

“Audios,” Hernández says with a wave.

They both grab their things and Kandomere watches them leave and then hears their footsteps down the hall.

The elf clutches her hand more tightly and she stares up at him curiously.

“Let me first start by saying how truly sorry I am for what I’ve done. I never intended to harm you, Mi Amor,” Kandomere apologizes his eyes downcast.

“Harm me? I don’t understand,” she whispers with a tiny shake of her head, “Kandomere, you saved me!”

He meets her eyes in surprise and there’s no trace of fear or anger in them.

Tears form in his eyes again and one slips free and rolls down his cheek and onto her hand. She slips her hand out of his and reaches towards his face and he leans forwards and she caresses his face, thumbing away the tears.

“I’M the one who should be sorry not you, I…I….” she begins.

He grasps her hand on his face, “Amor, what do you have to be sorry for?”

Tears start to form in her eyes now, “I’m sorry, Kandomere, I did exactly what you told me not to do. I wandered off on my own I…I tried to turn back, but I didn’t know where you went.”

So she was not separated from him by the witches like he had thought.

“I also might have…provoked her…or one of them into attacking me,” she continues.

“WHAT?! Why on Earth would you do such a thing?!” he questions.

She winces at the volume of his voice even though she appears to have expected it and his face softens and he gently grips her hand and presses a kiss to her delicate skin.

“Because…” she continues, “She wanted to hurt you. She was trying to coax information out of me about you and I couldn’t…I couldn’t let her…”

More tears form in her eyes and he takes his turn and brushes them away gently.

“You antagonized what turned out to be TWO elven Brights for me?” he asks with a slight tilt of his mouth.

“WHAT? AND LET THEM KILL THE ONE GOOD ELF I’VE EVER KNOWN?!” she demands distraught.

He smiles and glances at her hand and gently clutches it and then his thumb lightly strokes across her knuckles.

Then he leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek.

He hears her inhale and then the heart rate monitor pick up.

He wants to brush his lips against hers but…now’s not the right time.

He must confess his feelings properly first, when she is well again.

He pulls back from her slowly and there’s a furious blush coloring her cheeks and he notes her eyes dart to his lips and then she wets hers. She blinks a few times and focuses on his eyes again seemingly having lost her train of thought.

“It’s not your fault,” Kandomere whispers.

“If it’s not mine, then it’s not yours either!” she counters.

He considers that for a moment, “You’re right. It’s theirs.”

She nods thoughtfully staring off to the side.

“I am sorry for the pain that I have caused you,” he whispers staring at the bandage on her neck and the still discolored skin around it and then the breathing tube that runs down her throat.

“Stop, apologizing,” she says serious, “I can name very few people who would’ve done what you did.”

He nods and looks at the books in his hand and then holds them up for her, “Which of these would you like me to read first?”

She stares at them a moment and then points to the dark blue one with a gold gryphon emblazoned across it.

“Ah, ‘The Gryphon’s Quarry’ an excellent choice,” Kandomere says and sets the other one down on an empty chair and opens it and seats himself in the remaining chair.

He reads to her for several minutes until she stops him, “Wait, could you repeat that last part?” she asks.

He nods, “I slash with both talon and claw.”

“And I am a lion with no roar,” she mutters.

He stares at her and then stares at the page, “Amor, I thought you couldn’t read Övüsi?”

“I can’t. Isn’t that the password you used at the Broker’s?” she asks.

He raises an eyebrow at her, “It is indeed. That password was taken from this story.”

She lifts her head, “That makes sense no one but an elf would be familiar with an Elvish fairytale.”

He glances down, “That was the idea, yes.”

“Can you read me the rest of it?” she asks.

He turns in his chair to stare at her, “Are you sure?”

She nods and smiles, “I want to hear one of your favorite stories.”

He smiles and continues, “I am brave and strong, the protector of my mate and my family…”

                                                                      *******

“Alright, I think you’re all set! Ready to go home?” Hernández asks.

“Yes,” you say softly.

McTavish smiles at you and grabs a hold of your elbow and helps guide you out of the room and down the stairs. They had brought you some clothes from home that you changed into, and your work clothes have been bagged up for you to take home with you, clothes that Hernández is currently holding for you, along with your purse. You’re a little wobbly and weak from your ordeal and the two agents are flanking you on either side as they assist you in walking to the parking lot. McTavish seems to have no trouble helping you despite the disparity in height between you both, not to mention she has an incredibly strong grip. You spot Kandomere standing on the sidewalk ahead of you with his hands in his pockets and he waits for your group to approach him. His silver eyes trail over you as you step away from the two agents and you extend a hand towards him and he smiles softly and takes your hand in his own.

And is surprised when you pull him into an embrace.

He carefully wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your hair.

You tilt your head to look up at him and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“{Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine, and besides I’m tougher than I look,}” you say in Elvish.

He smiles at you, “{I know you will,}” he says his thumb brushing against your cheek, “{You are incredibly tenacious, Darling, truly a sight to behold.}”

You blush a little and smile at him and notice there’s something else in his eyes…something he’s holding back.

“Get some rest,” he says pulling back, “And I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodbye, My Elf,” you say and turn from him.

“Goodbye, Querida,” he says.

Hernández and McTavish join you and escort you to their SUV and as they help you into it, you stare off at the elf now returning to the office. Who seems to sense you watching him and turns to glance at you over his shoulder and raises his hand. You raise your hand up as well and then seat yourself in the backseat.

Your friends climb into the vehicle themselves and start to drive you home.

“So I can’t help but notice things getting real tender between you and the Boss,” Hernández says.

“Yeah and since when did you start calling him ‘My Elf’?” McTavish questions.

You sigh, “He literally saved my life, forgive me for being a little emotional about it.”

McTavish glances back at you and then at her partner, “You know Gabriela has saved my life a couple times and I don’t call her ‘My Human.’”

“And I appreciate that, I would be very weirded out if you started doing that,” Hernández comments.

“So I don’t think you JUST started calling him that,” McTavish continues with disbelief, “I mean he didn’t even flinch when you said it.”

“OK, so maybe…I have called him that before,” you admit.

“All we’re saying is you two have a lot of pet names for two people aren’t together,” Hernández says.

You shake your head, “The only time we were ‘together’ was when we pretended to be an engaged elven couple in the elven district.”

“Wait, you two pretended to be MARRIED? AND I’M JUST NOW HEARING ABOUT THIS?!” Hernández asks in excitement.

“Engaged. Not married,” you correct, “And I WAS disguised as an elf so don’t get too excited, we barely held hands.”

Hernández chuckles, “Wait, until Josefina hears about this.”

“Disguised as an elf?” McTavish questions and then turns around to look at you again, “Is this that spell you used to hide with your Aunt?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “It’s the same one.”

“Ooh I definitely want to see that,” Hernández says.

“We can wait until we get to her apartment first,” McTavish insists.

“Alright,” Hernández groans.

You ride the rest of the way in silence, staring out your window, when you start to feel a little nauseous. Hernández parks and then helps you out of the vehicle and into the building. They both follow you up the elevator and as it stops you feel your stomach churn again in protest. You all step out into the hall and suddenly clutch at your abdomen and the pain that hits you.

“Hey, you ok?” Hernández asks.

“I’m fine,” you lie, “Just feeling a little sick at my stomach is all.”

You straighten again and McTavish looks you over and then at her partner, “Think we should take her back?”

“NO,” you insist, “I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“If the venom’s acting up again then we need to take you back,” Hernández says.

“NO! I’m fine. Besides it doesn’t feel like the venom,” you continue and step forwards.

You walk down the hallway and the agents catch up with you and stand to either side of you to assist you. You see Torva heading down the hall in your direction and she seems alarmed at the state you’re in.

“Hey, are you alright?” Torva asks.

“Huh? Oh yeah I’m better now,” you say.

“Better? What happened?” Torva asks eyeing your neck.

“I got stung by a bee and had an allergic reaction,” you lie.

“Oh God!” Torva exclaims.

“Yeah…I had my epipen with me though so it’s fine,” you lie.

“Is that why you’re walking funny?” Torva questions.

“Yeah, my leg’s just a little stiff,” you mutter.

“You should have seen it, it had swollen to the size of like a grapefruit,” Hernández remarks.

“Eh, it was more like a lemon,” McTavish says.

Torva grimaces, “Well…I hope you feel better and please stay away from bees.”

“I will,” you say and then you wave at her and she waves back as she passes the three of you in the hall.

You all continue to your apartment and you unlock the door and the three of you step inside.

“You know it’s amazing how you can be simultaneously a good and bad liar,” Hernández says.

“When have I been bad at lying?” you question.

“Um…every time I bring up the elf?” Hernández asks with a raised brow.

You sigh and shuffle away from her.

Hernández flicks on the light for the living room and you start to head to your bedroom. McTavish sighs and grabs your arm and helps you so you won’t fall over.

When you reach the doorway to your bedroom, “Oh wait, let me get the light,” McTavish says.

“It doesn’t work-“ you begin.

McTavish steps into your room and grabs a remote off the dresser and presses a button and a myriad of battery-powered lights attached to the walls light up.

You stare around your now dimly-lit room in surprise, “When did?”

“It was ‘Your Elf’ actually,” McTavish states.

You glance around again and then stare down at the bed.

You step towards it and McTavish sets your stuff down and hovers her arms around you in case she needs to catch you. You smooth your hand across the beautiful deep blue comforter with silver bird feathers decorating it. Gingerly, you sit down on the bed and smile to yourself and then you lay back on the comforter.

It’s so soft, he really didn’t have to do this.

He’s honestly starting to spoil you.

You sit back up slowly and then slide off the bed and feel an uncomfortable dampness in your panties all of a sudden.

“Um, I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you mutter.

McTavish fixes you with a look as you try to nonchalantly waddle to the bathroom.

You turn on the light for the bathroom and close the door and when you sit down on the toilet, you grumble at the fresh blood now staining your panties.

There’s a knock on your bathroom door, “Uh are you okay in there?” McTavish asks.

“Yeah um…my period just started, it’s probably why I feel so nauseous, um could you…grab me a clean pair of underwear?” you ask reluctantly, “They’re in the top drawer of my dresser.”

You hear her walk away and then the dresser drawer open and close and then she walks back and knocks on the door. You open it carefully and she’s covering her eyes with her hand as she holds out a pair of plain, black panties to you.

“Thanks,” you say as you grab them and she withdraws and you shut the door.

“You’re welcome,” she says awkwardly.

You swap out your old underwear for the new pair and then place a liner on the inside and finish up. Tossing the old ones into the hamper, you then step out and head back to your room.

“Hey, we were going to hang out here for a while, make sure everything’s okay,” McTavish says.

You stop and turn to her, “Oh thanks I-“

“Yeah we can watch some movies I brought! Hope you like horror!” Hernández calls as she exits your kitchen.

“Movies?” you question.

McTavish sighs, “AND I brought a few romantic comedies because I thought horror might be inappropriate right now,” the dwarven woman says placing her hands on her hips and staring at her partner.

“Is this like a movie night?” you ask.

“Yeah of course!” Hernández exclaims, “I already got some popcorn going.”

You listen and you can hear popcorn already starting to pop and you smile.

“That sounds nice, just um…let me get changed into some comfy clothes first,” you say.

You step into your bedroom and close the door and pull out some leggings and a tank top and then your favorite sweater. You set your clothes on the bed and then pull out your phone from your purse on the floor and take a picture of your room and send it to the elf.

“Did you do this?” you ask.

You start to set the phone down when you see a response.

“Perhaps,” he says.

You smile, “You spoil me,” you reply.

He starts to type something and then the dots disappear and then he starts to type again.

You frown and wait for his response.

“I don’t think I could ever spoil such a pure heart, for yours is more precious than any metal or stone,” he says.

You grin and cover your mouth with your hand.

Can this elf get any more perfect?

You try to think of a response to THAT and after a moment you send a blue heart emoji. He sends you an emoji blowing a kiss and you smile even wider and finally put your phone down and start to get dressed.

Once you put on your clothes, you leave your room and walk back into the living room.

“So you mentioned popcorn?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’s almost done,” Hernández says, “Where are the bowls by the way?”

You follow her back into the kitchen, “They’re in the cabinet next to the stove,” you say and stop when you see a box of a familiar but expensive brand of elvish chocolate.

Hernández opens the cabinet and retrieves a bowl, “Oh hey we cleaned up your kitchen a little while you were gone.”

You pick up one of the bars of chocolate and then spot an envelope with your name written beautifully on it.

Hernández notices you staring at it, “Oh also ‘Your Elf’ left you another little surprise.”

You pick up the envelope and stare at all the chocolate, he literally bought you every flavor they make, excluding their holiday ones of course. You smile and turn the letter over and find a blue wax seal of a gryphon holding a sword between it’s beak and talons. You carefully break the seal, attempting to preserve the pretty gryphon on it and then pull out the letter.

“I promised I would get you the chocolate you requested, but I had forgotten to ask which flavors you wanted, so I got a little of everything.

I wish you a speedy recovery and peace of mind.

Yours, Kandomere.

P.S.

I also replaced your comforter and gave you some minor lighting in your room, I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable while you were resting.”

You smile and stuff the letter back into the envelope.

“So…what did he say?” Hernández asks.

“Just that he got me a new comforter and all of this chocolate,” you say unwrapping one of the chocolate bars.

“Aw and here I was hoping it was a love letter,” Hernández pouts and then she eyes the chocolate, “Hey, can I have one of those?”

“Sure,” you answer biting into one of the white and milk chocolate bars.

“Gabriela,” McTavish hisses, “Look we really shouldn’t afterall…we kind of ate the brownies you had left on the stove.”

“Oh, right. Yeah sorry about that,” Hernández apologizes.

You chuckle, “I made those brownies FOR BOTH OF YOU!”

“What?” McTavish asks confused.

“Yeah, as a way to say thanks for helping me,” you say.

“Oh ok, so we’re cool?” Hernández asks.

“We’re cool,” you reply.

“See Gwen? I told you it would turn out to be no big deal,” Hernández says.

Hernández retrieves the popcorn from the microwave and pours it into the bowl.

“I’ll put a movie in,” McTavish says.

You all walk out to the living room and you sit down on the couch with Hernández while McTavish grabs one of the dvds she brought with her.

“Oh hey could you show us that spell?” Hernández asks.

“What spell?” you question.

“That spell you used to look like an elf?” Hernández asks.

You nod, your mouth full of chocolate and set the candy down on the coffee table and stand up.

You swallow the chocolate first and then clear your throat.

“As I speak make me seem an elven maid,

In clothing that is tailor-made,

With silver eyes, sharpened teeth, and ears with tapered tips,

Elegant from my neck to down past my hips,” you say and then stare down at yourself.

But nothing happens.

There’s no specks of light or anything.

You frown and repeat the spell.

Still nothing.

“Do you only look different to elves?” Hernández questions confused.

“No...it’s…it’s not working,” you say starting to panic.

“Okay hold on deep breaths,” Hernández says.

“Has anything ever happened like this before?” McTavish questions.

You shake your head.

“You think it’s the venom?” Hernández asks her partner.

“It IS from a magic snake,” McTavish says, “It might just mean your own magic had to fight it off.”

“Yeah it’ll probably come back in time on it’s own, like when you lose your voice when you get sick, you’re still a Bright, you’re not just suddenly going to stop being one,” Hernández assures you.

You nod, “So I just need to rest?”

“Rest and don’t strain yourself,” McTavish says, “You don’t need to head back to work until at least Thursday. It’s honestly mostly just dealing with The Northern Light this week dropping off the gold anyhow.”

“And I bet if you asked the elf he’d probably give you more time off,” Hernández says.

You nod, “Okay.”

“Let’s just sit and watch the movie,” McTavish says.

You smile and then sit down on the couch next to them and Hernández extends the bowl of popcorn to you and you grab a handful. You munch on the popcorn as McTavish hits play on the movie and try not to worry about the sudden loss of your magic. And how very vulnerable you feel.

                                                                      *******

“So she’s coming back to work today, right, Boss?” Montehugh questions.

Kandomere looks up from the file he’s holding, “She is,” he states and pulls another photo out and sets it on the coffee table amidst the others.

“That’s good…that’s real good,” Montehugh trails off.

The elf raises an eyebrow at him and rounds the table and sits down on the couch and continues to examine the case files.

“So uh…how’s she been doing?” Montehugh asks.

“From what Agents Hernández and McTavish have told me, she is doing quite well,” Kandomere says leaning forward and grabbing one of the photos.

“From what they told you?” Montehugh questions confused, “What? You mean you didn’t check up on her yourself?”

“Not since she went home,” Kandomere answers setting the file down.

“Boss, that was five days ago,” Montehugh says.

“And your point is?” Kandomere asks.

Montehugh lets out a heavy sigh and removes one of his hands from his pockets to scratch his head, “Look. I’m just tryin’ to make sure you’re not all wrapped up in your guilt that you’re gonna push her away again.”

Kandomere glances up at him, “I assure you everything is fine, I just wanted to ensure she would make a full and unstressed recovery.”

Montehugh glares at him and then the man’s gaze shifts down to the paperwork and photos spread out on the coffee table.

“Is that why you’re painstakingly going over the case involving those elven twins?” Montehugh demands.

“You act as though I would not have done this regardless, we have new information and must proceed accordingly and re-examining the evidence is only part of that,” Kandomere explains calmly.

Montehugh smirks, “So you admit you feel guilty?”

Kandomere sets the photo back down, “I did no such thing!”

“You said you would have done this anyway, which means you ARE doing this because of her,” Montehugh replies.

Kandomere glances to the side and sighs.

Damn.

He just used one of their interrogation methods against him.

Montehugh shakes his head, “What’s eatin’ you huh, Boss? You afraid she won’t talk to you anymore?”

Kandomere slowly meets the man’s gaze.

“Is that it?” Montehugh asks with a raised brow.

The elf lets out another sigh, “I simply do not wish for her to fear me like she does so many others.”

“Yeah,” Montehugh says with a nod, “Except she knows you and why you did it. You told me that Basilisk’s venom stops petrification and there weren’t a whole lotta options,” he says pointing at the elf.

Kandomere glances down, “I know.”

“You know, somethin’ tells me you and her will be okay,” Montehugh continues.

Kandomere huffs half-heartedly, “What makes you say that?”

“Eh, I’ve just noticed things have changed since the two of you met,” Montehugh says with a shrug, “Besides for someone who distrusts and fears elves, she seems to have warmed up to you pretty quickly.”

Kandomere can’t help but smile a little at that.

“I suppose you’re right,” Kandomere says quietly.

“I’m sorry could you repeat that?” Montehugh questions.

“I said you were…” Kandomere trails off when he looks up and sees the man cupping his ear, “You heard me the first time didn’t you?”

“Hey, what can I say? I don’t get to hear that very often from an elf,” Montehugh says tucking his hands back in his pockets.

Kandomere smiles again and then stares down at one of the photos and reaches out to pick it up.

He frowns as he examines a photo taken of the crowd outside the nightclub.

The elven woman in the photo has all Three of her rings, when she should have been missing one already…

“What have you got?” Montehugh asks.

“Proof that both sisters were there that night,” Kandomere says and hands him the photo, “Look at her hand.”

Montehugh frowns and nods, “They’ve been switching places this whole time,” he says and hands the photo back.

“Both sisters presence at the nightclub would explain the use of the mirror by our mystery elf,” Kandomere states.

“Yeah he may think he’s tough shit with that dragon, but those ladies’ had him outnumbered on THEIR turf,” Montehugh says.

Kandomere sets the photo down and picks up the copy of the police report for the stolen scale from Banathar’s shop and the report on the blood found on the empty glass case that housed it.

“The elven male fled the scene, but he was injured in the process…” Kandomere trails off.

Montehugh sighs, “Think he went for the key and found something else? I mean the last thing we know for certain he did was fuck with Angelo.”

“But he couldn’t DO THAT alone, no…” Kandomere muses.

“Angelo’s got kids on the way, right?” Montehugh asks.

“Correct,” Kandomere confirms.

“So he’s more protective than ever, he’d chase off anything that’d threaten his family. I mean shit I remember how I was when my boys were born,” Montehugh continues.

“And a Rival Male Dragon trespassing in their territory would have provoked an immediate response,” Kandomere states.

Montehugh nods in agreement.

Kandomere sets everything down on the table once more and rubs his chin, “Something’s missing.”

Montehugh moves closer and begins looking everything over.

And then he starts to snap his fingers, “Hey, that Broker guy said he arranged a deal between that elf and the twins, but what were they going to trade? We already had the key.”

Kandomere removes his hand from his face and stares up at the man, “You’re right. After hearing what our consultant had recounted to Agent Hernández and McTavish they seemed to know that we had taken it and had even targeted us for it.”

“But why did they walk in there without it?” Montehugh asks.

Kandomere stares down at the photo of one of the twins again and his brows furrow, “Each sister wears three rings on her left hand, why not just two? Why not just one?”

Montehugh’s brows furrow as well and he picks up the photo and stares at it, “AH SHIT!” Montehugh exclaims, “There’s three of them?!”

“The third was going to retrieve the key and that’s when they discovered it was missing, perhaps that is also why the deal fell through?” Kandomere questions.

“So it’s not twins, it’s triplets?” Montehugh asks incredulously.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Kandomere says.

“What do you mean?” Montehugh asks.

“Well, as rare as it is for humans to have triplets, it’s even rarer for elves,” Kandomere states.

“They’re already Brights, who’s to say lightning can’t strike twice?” Montehugh asks.

“I myself have twin sisters, but altogether I have THREE sisters. It’s highly unlikely, but at this stage we can’t rule it out just yet,” Kandomere says.

“Still if we’re dealing with three elves,” Montehugh says holding up three fingers, “Then that means we got a full blown coven on our hands.”

                                                                      *******

You step off the elevator with Hernández and McTavish.

You’re kind of nervous about getting back to work, but at the same time eager to be out of your apartment. The last few days have been uneventful and it was nice to take some time off to relax by just napping and watching movies. Hernández and McTavish did stop by one more time to get you to write down what happened after you split off from them and like Kandomere they also avoided scolding you for it.  Other than that they had all been incredibly busy with work and their own lives.

And apparently so had Kandomere…

You had tried to call him a few times but had gotten nothing more than his voicemail, you don’t what to bother him while he’s at work, but you do sort of miss having him around.

You hope he’s not mad at you.

Afterall you did run off when you weren’t supposed to…

Oh no he IS mad at you.

You’ve never really cared if an elf was upset with you before, and you don’t know what to do.

“Hey,” Hernández says and pats you on the arm.

“What?” you ask confused.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Hernández asks.

You shake your head.

“I said you’re going to be working with us today,” Hernández repeats.

“Oh, I thought I would be working with Kandomere and….I mean Special Agent Kandomere and Agent Montehugh today,” you correct.

“They’re busy reviewing a case and we really need your help on ours,” Hernández says.

“Oh Alright,” you say with a nod.

If they’re reviewing a case then he probably is just busy, right?

Yeah that’s probably what it is….

You follow both of them to their desks and they retrieve some paperwork.

“Alright, first off,” McTavish begins, “Turns out the reason those elves were at the textile mill in the first place was to illegally buy parts from our butchered gryphons.”

“I can think of a few reasons they might want gryphon parts and all of them are bad,” you say.

“And that’s why we need your help,” Hernández says opening a file.

You nod and move around to look at the file she’s holding and there’s a stack of gruesome looking photos and a written report on the inside.

The photo on top appears to be some sort of innard you presume is from a gryphon.

“Yeah they’re all like that,” Hernández says noticing your grimace.

“We’ve got a list of body parts that were missing from the bodies and need to make sure everything is accounted for,” McTavish adds examining her own file.

“Fortunately, we don’t have to handle the actual organs, some poor lab guys did that already,” Hernández says.

“What about the people that were selling them?” you ask as you take some of the photos.

“They were two goblins who were trying to sell some of it, when teams Alpha and Delta moved in to apprehend elven woman A and….then she torched the place, killing said goblins in the process,” Hernández explains.

“Hey…um are the MTF agents who went in there…okay?” you ask hesitantly.

Hernández sucks in a breath.

“You remember those guys we met when we went in there?” McTavish asks.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“That’s about all that made it out,” Hernández says.

“Oh…” you mutter.

“So…back to the goblins,” McTavish says, “We ran their dental work first to identify them and then searched through our database and found them already in the system, having been arrested on numerous occasions.”

“Yeah and get this,” Hernández chimes in, “Those goblins are from the Batteredwings gang.”

You shake your head, “I’ve never heard of them.”

“That’s not surprising considering you live in Fogteeth territory,” McTavish says, “They tend to stay away from the orcs.”

“Well, they were one of the smaller gangs, but after Altamira took some heavy hits they’ve been taking advantage of the situation and made a grab for more turf,” Hernández continues.

“And now they’re birdnapping gryphons?” you question.

“Si, and get this, most of the parts they had brought inside were incinerated by that spell and these,” Hernández says tapping the photos in your hand, “We found inside a van parked in the loading dock behind the building.”

“And that van is registered to another goblin who turns out is also a known member of the Batteredwings,” McTavish adds.

“We already have an arrest warrant for him and the Boss sent Agents Davidson and Hodges to go get him,” Hernández says.

You all slowly begin running down the list and you explain to them during, the various uses of the different parts as components in ritualistic spells. There are a couple of things you have to double check in your Aunt’s books and a few of the body parts were badly removed, leaving you all to scratch your heads and play guess that organ. The three of you break for lunch eventually and then finish the list some time after you get back.

Hernández sits back in her chair and groans, “That’s it! I guess they didn’t have time to take anything.”

You stare at the list and then look over at the photos spread out across McTavish’s desk.

“What?” Hernández asks.

“Where’s the heart?” you question.

McTavish scans the photos and picks one up and shows it to you, “Here it is.”

“Okay, yeah, but what about the other one?” you ask.

The agents both look at each other.

“There were two gryphons, there should be two hearts,” you continue.

Hernández stands up and picks up the charred remains of something, “I thought this was it?”

“Eh, it’s about the right size,” McTavish says uncertain and holds her photo of the uncharred heart next to Hernández’s photo.

You all stare at it for a moment, it’s clearly not the heart.

“Ah fuck!” Hernández exclaims, “They didn’t remove all the same parts from both of them!”

McTavish sighs, “Then we need to check the original report in the filing room.”

You stand and follow them as they walk to the opposite side of the room and then head down a different hallway than the one the elf’s office is at the end of. And then the three of you duck into a sizable room filled with filing cabinets in the middle and all along the walls. Agent Murhpy and that purple-haired elf, both wearing regular business attire, are busy looking through different files and briefly glance up when your group enters.

And you feel like their gaze lingers on you for half a second longer than your friends.

Hernández steps forwards and opens one of the filing cabinets on the right wall and quickly flips through them. She finds what she’s looking for and opens it up and then leans away and makes a face.

“God, who wrote this?!” Hernández exclaims, “What kind of chicken scratch is this?”

The young elf looks up from his file, her loud exclamation having disturbed the quiet of the room and he closes his file and steps over to her.

He peers over her shoulder at the file and also makes a face, “You’re right this writing is atrocious,” he says and squints, “Matthew….Davidson.”

“Ugh, Davidson wrote this?! Remind me to never ask him for anything,” Hernández says.

“To be fair, you were already wearing your gloves and covered in gryphons’ blood when you said, ‘Davidson write this down for me!’” McTavish says.

“Again, I should never ask him for anything,” Hernández says.

“What gets me is the barbeque sauce fingerprints on the edge of the page,” the elf remarks.

“He did eat that afterwards,” Hernández says quietly, continually disappointed by her coworkers sloppy work.

She takes a moment to read through the report turning it in her hands trying to get a better look.

“Well?” McTavish asks.

Hernández mouths a few words as she reads, “Okay! It says here both hearts were removed, and I’d bet money that one of those elven ladies has it now.”

McTavish looks to you expectantly as does Hernández.

“Um…” you mutter trying to think, “The only thing really worthwhile to use a gryphon heart for is a really powerful tracking spell.”

“What would they want to track?” McTavish questions.

You glance to the side for a moment, “Maybe something they lost?”

Hernández’s eyes widen, “Like the-“ she begins and then glances down and grumbles.

“Could it be used to track a person?” McTavish asks.

“I mean technically you could…but you would give them one hell of a headache,” you explain.

You notice the elf step back from Hernández and glance at Agent Murhpy.

Hernández tucks the report back into the folder and then back into the filing cabinet and shuts it.

“Well, we better make a note of this, a legible note,” Hernández says and steps past you.

McTavish moves to join her and you’re about to leave as well…

“You’re that new consultant, yes?” a voice asks.

You stop and turn around and stare at the purple-haired elf, who you notice is not wearing a gorget.

“Yes,” you answer.

“Hm,” he hums his eyebrow quirking slightly, “It seems they’re making full use of your expertise,” he says with a smile.

“Yes…and you are?” you ask.

He smiles again, “I am Arathir.”

You introduce yourself and he nods.

“It’s good to see you back on your feet,” he says.

You give him a polite smile before leaving the room finally.

When you reach Hernández and McTavish’s desk again, you notice Kandomere looking around the room.

He spots you and the two of you make eye contact and he strides towards you.

You fidget nervously and walk to meet him halfway.

‘There you are,” he says smiling, “I’ve been meaning to have a word with you in my office, in private.”

Oh no, you’re in trouble.

You nod, “Of course.”

He smiles again and steps away.

You watch him walk away and just stare after him.

“Alright, well it looks like we’re done for the day,” Hernández says, “You ready to go home?”

“Uh…I have to speak to Kandomere before I leave,” you mutter.

Hernández glances at the elf just in time to see him disappear down the hallway, “Did he say what it was about?”

You shake your head, “No.”

Hernández sighs, “We’ll wait here for you then.”

You nod and slowly make your way to Kandomere’s office.

                                                                      *******

There’s a soft knock on his door, “Come in,” Kandomere calls.

The door opens a crack and her face peeks in, “You wished to see me, Sir?” she asks.

“Yes, please, come in,” he says and he straightens his tie.

She quietly makes her way across the room and the elf waits patiently for her.

She stops in front of him and looks up at him expectantly.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you,” he whispers softly.

She looks at him curiously, “About what?”

He inhales, “About what happened.”

The woman immediately glances down ashamedly. He grips her upper arms and gives her a gentle squeeze, and her eyes move to his hand on her left arm.

“I’m not going to lecture you, that’s not what this is about,” he continues.

She looks up at him, “How is it not?” she asks and shakes her head, “I shouldn’t have run off, I know I shouldn’t have.”

“Shh,” he soothes and his right hand travels down her right arm to her waist, “You couldn’t have known there would be two of them.”

She’s already been through enough he doesn’t want to make her feel any worse. Besides it’s not why he wanted to talk to her…

”Querida,” he whispers.

She meets his eyes and he watches as unmistakably, her pupils dilate.

He brushes his left hand through her hair and tucks a strand behind her right ear and slowly trails his fingers around her perfectly rounded ear. Her eyes slip shut for a moment as she leans into his hand, “I had feared I had lost you…” he whispers.

His eyes dart to her lips and his hand trails along her jaw and finds her chin and he pulls her forwards. She leans in towards him and her left hand finds his waist, while her right, his left shoulder. Her eyes slip closed and the elf holds her closer as his own eyes close…and he feels the barest touch as her lips start to graze his…and then she inhales sharply and withdraws quickly.

Kandomere’s eyes snap open and he stares down at the woman in his arms confused. She’s still holding onto him, but her head is turned to stare at the door behind her. The elf focuses his attention on it and he can hear loud, ruckous laughter coming towards his office.

Montehugh and several other agents.

The woman quickly extricates herself from him, much to his dismay, and strides over to his coffee table and picks up one of the files he had left there and pretends to look through it.

He stares at her for a moment and then the door opens and the agents file into his office, “Boss, we have an update on that case, you said you wanted it at once,” someone says.

“Yes,” Kandomere says turning his attention to the agents in front of him.

Kandomere is only vaguely aware of what they’re telling him, his eyes drifting occasionally to the woman who is now quickly making her way to the back of the group. And when his eyes focus back on the agents, he hears the door click and glances up to see her gone.

After everything’s squared away he briskly strides down the hall in hopes of finding her. He reaches the main area and Montehugh approaches him, “You wouldn’t happen to have seen our consultant around anywhere?” Kandomere asks quickly.

Montehugh’s brows furrow, “Boss, she already went home.”

“What?!” Kandomere asks disappointed.

Montehugh gives him a look and Kandomere tries to compose himself, “Yeah…she got a ride with Hernández and McTavish,” Montehugh continues.

“Then it’ll have to wait until tomorrow, thank you for informing me,” Kandomere says turning on his heel.

“Uh huh,” Montehugh mutters as he watches the elf leave.

Kandomere walks back to his office and upon entering, locks the door.

He stares at the empty room for a moment and then makes his way back to his desk and sits down. He leans back and stares at the space she once occupied in front of him. Then he raises his hand and trails his fingers over his lips slowly.

Did he do something wrong?

Was she embarrassed?

The elf removes his hand from his mouth and wets his lips, he needs to talk to her, find out what he did wrong. He pulls his phone out and stares at it, he might come on too strong if he calls her or texts her out of the blue.

He sets the phone on his desk, he’ll wait until tomorrow then.

Then he can find out how to proceed and whether or not his affections are….unwanted.

He can wait the night and tomorrow it will be easier for him to read if she is repulsed by him.

He hopes that she isn’t.

She did almost…they almost…the elf trails his fingers over his lips again.

Tomorrow then.

Tomorrow he’ll know for sure.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 101:  Just a Cup

The ogres were dead. Mostly. Some he had forced back up and over the mountains to start their population over, others he'd left asleep with his special poppies that would kill them when they woke, but once again he had managed to single-handedly spare a Kingdom by bringing those creatures to their knees. The deal was complete. The friends and family as well as the Kingdom of his new acquisition were safe, and he had a new maid. And he intended to put her to use.

It had been some time since he had a maid. He hadn't had one really since Baelfire was around, and the ones who had requested the job before always proved to be untrustworthy. This would be different though. This wasn't a street-smart girl asking for a job and plotting all along to overthrow him or…what was it the first one had wanted? To be his Queen? He nearly gagged at that particular memory.

No. This girl was nothing like that one or any of the others. To begin with, she hadn't asked or expected this job before he'd arrived in that chamber. A pampered palace brat was all she was. He doubted she'd ever done a single chore in her life, let alone moved anything heavier than a book. She wasn't street-smart, if anything she was book smart, and he would enjoy watching her see that all her education had amounted to was a knowledge that was unsuitable for the life she was about to lead. She'd give it a go for a week, maybe two, then begin to complain. He'd lock her in the dungeon more and more. She'd last a few months, maybe. Then she'd probably get sick, and he'd hand her off to someone else to watch over far from her father where he could find her when he needed her. For whatever it was that he was going to need her for. Hopefully, by the time that came to pass, he'd have discerned what it was that the Seer was trying to tell him about her, what purpose she served.

She'd been a feisty little thing when he'd thrown her into that dungeon, and it hadn't been a terrible surprise to him that the woman who dared to speak with such authority over the men in her life when he'd taken her would be feisty, but he hadn't expected to break her so quickly. By the time he returned to his dungeon with the mind to put her to use, he expected her to still be banging away at the door and screaming at him. But when he arrived downstairs, the only sounds he heard were quiet sobs from behind the door. They knotted his gut. It was an unexpected, and unpleasant, reminder of exactly where they stood. None of the other girls he'd hired had ever cried. But none of the other girls he'd hired had ever been kept here as part of a deal for an eternity. As he listened each small cry reminded him that this was by no means a normal situation they found themselves in.

But that didn't mean it couldn't become normal.

The voices assaulted him with memory after memory, his own and some of theirs, that reminded him exactly why he hadn't had a maid all these years. People were cruel and wretched, and even the dullest among them were conniving and cunning. This maid hadn't come to him as ordinary maids did, but that didn't mean she couldn't be any less a threat. Now that she was here, he couldn't let down his guard as he had with the others, lest this end the same way. She was crying, probably because she missed her family and was cold and miserable, but also probably out of fear. A little fear would do her some good. He'd have to keep an eye on this one.

Without warning, he opened the door to her cell, and the girl came tumbling out onto the floor before him, a cloud of yellow falling backward over his feet. He stepped away, his first instinct to refuse any groveling that she might have wanted to do but then realized that she wasn't groveling at all. She'd merely been leaning against the door and fallen when he'd opened it. Altogether a stupid choice on her part. How wonderful for him that he'd hired a clutz.

As soon as she'd had her own epiphany of who was standing there and what was going on, she scrambled to her feet and wiped the tears away from her eyes, though he could still see the red in her cheeks and the swelling in her eyelids. Best not to dwell.

"Come! Come now, dearie, we don't have all day!" he hollered, turning on his heel and walking away from her so that she might follow. He didn't stop to check on her. He didn't slow down to make sure she was following or knew where she was going or how to get back. That was just going to be something that she had to teach herself. He didn't have time to hold her hand. His observations told him that she was a smart girl, perhaps she'd be able to use that to help her now. Her first test was going to be simple enough.

He led her into the kitchen, located just below the dungeons, and let her take a look around as he lit the fireplace. He wanted to provide her with a test that was passable, not something impossible. She jumped when he moved away from her to leave her there.

"I shall take my tea upstairs!" he laughed before he turned on his heel and left. There. A test. No Princess or King or Queen or even Prince knew how to make their own tea. He might be lucky enough to find a Prince that could start a fire, or a Princess that could pick the most elegant china pattern, or a royal couple who knew how to trade in tea and cakes and pies but learn to make it for themselves? Laughable. And yet, if she was as smart as he suspected, then she'd probably at least seen someone make tea for her at least once in her life. Would she be able to do it? Enter into an unfamiliar room in every way, find the things she'd need to make and serve tea, then make it upstairs to him on her own? He didn't know. And the anticipation was killing him.

When he arrived upstairs in the great room, he pulled a chair magically out of another room and moved it to the head of the table that he used to sit at when he and Baelfire had taken their meals here together. He sat and he waited. And he thought. It had been a long time since he'd had to share this castle with anyone, though "share" when in reference to the help was a bit much. When he was here on his own he very rarely ate. He didn't really need to, his body would live on without food whether he wanted it to or not and if he ever felt hunger, he was quick to suppress the temptation much the same way he did when it came to the old habit of sleep. But just because he could survive without food didn't mean that he had to. If he wanted the girl to stay out of his business and not cause trouble for him, then he supposed he'd have to keep her occupied. It would be three square meals a day for him while she was here, lots of cleaning which he never cared about and would probably take up most of her time, and then laundry. He hated the thought of her going into the room he'd claimed for his own, rifling through his things, seeing his private space. But then it wasn't as if he slept there night after night. And after all these years alone, technically, this entire castle was his private space. It was just laundry. She'd go in, she'd fetch it, and that was it. If he should catch her doing more, then he'd put a stop to it. Besides, he'd said "forever", but he hadn't really meant it, not about this place. He'd meant it more to keep her away from her father who he was certain would never let him anywhere near her again after this. But this job, here at his castle, this was temporary. As soon as he figured out why she was so important, he'd figure out some way to safely get rid of her that would keep the future intact and her away from her father. It was a good solid plan, so long as the Seer would cooperate.

By the door to the lower floors, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over. Well now, test passed! And promptly enough. He'd been sitting there eight, maybe ten minutes. Certainly more than enough time to actually make tea but for someone he suspected had never done it before…bravo!

Though for now, she lingered in the doorway, a tray in hand, looking around as if she were a mouse wondering if she could take the cheese before the trap sprang. Respect for privacy, in an ordinary maid that would never do, for his purposes, it delighted him.

"Come now, dearie," he called out to her in a whimsical tone meant to taunt and scare all at once. "I don't bite…often."

She jumped a bit, whatever it was she had on her tray rattled with her nerves, but eventually she appeared in that hideous gown of hers in his room with her head still held high. She'd learn.

"You will, of course, have a number of duties as my caretaker," mentioned as she came forward to set the tray on the table. He'd rather listen to himself talk than her nerves rattling his dishes. "You will serve me my meals, and you will clean the dark castle."

"I-I understand," she nodded.

"You will dust my collection and launder my clothing."

"Yes," she nodded again as she took a cup and poured the tea. Yes. Her only reaction was "yes"? She was a Princess, she wasn't going to scream or complain?

"You will fetch me fresh straw when I'm spinning at the wheel."

"Got it." Another nod. Another yes. The woman she'd looked in on these last few years was a rebel in many ways. Was she not going to have any reaction?

"Oh! And you will skin the children I hunt for their pelts."

There it was. He'd suggested the ridiculous thing just as she'd taken the cup in her hands and straightened…and there it went tumbling to the floor and spilling all over his carpet as she gasped and went even paler than dear Snow White. He smiled as she stared at him slack-jawed. He'd wanted a reaction, and he got one, it was terribly funny what he'd had to do to get one though. And it might have been even more fun to let her think it was true and have her wait night after night for the day she had to do something so wicked…but he couldn't live with that look on her face much longer than it had to be there. Poor thing had bitten off far more than she could chew. If he'd been standing close, he'd have reached out to put a hand over her arm just to settle her nerves.

"That one was a quip," he assured her, trying not to laugh. "Not serious."

Color rushed back into her face, and she shook her head for a moment, almost as though she'd been light-headed, and then she did the most unexpected thing. She smiled. She snorted! Small and light enough that no one in her polite society would have noticed it, but it was there. She'd laughed right along with his joke. It was entirely unexpected. Yelling. Screaming. A delicate little nose turned up at such a disgusting excuse for a joke, any of that would have done! But a small laugh on her part and to say nothing but "right" as she located the fallen cup and stooped to retrieve it…that was uncharacteristic for the girl he'd watched. Had he broken her or not? Did he want to? He thought he did, but the idea that she might not be the person he'd watched in his ball saddened him. She'd be much more fun unbroken. He just hadn't known that until now.

"Oh…my…"

He leaned over to the side of the table to watch her when she didn't rise. Her face was twisted, nervous and sad looking all over again as she examined the cup she'd just retrieved.

"I'm so sorry, but…ah…it's-it's chipped," she shrugged turning it this way and that.

Was it? It was difficult to see in the firelight, with the jewels of that awful and impractical gown winking at him. For goodness sake, did she know how much cleavage she revealed at this angle? Holy men would have called it sinful. He wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the blush rising in her chest right now.

"Y-you-you can hardly see it!" she commented when he didn't respond. Her words drew his gaze back up to her face, twisted and worried with concern, and he had the urge to laugh, to tell a joke as he had before just to get her to laugh too. Such worry over a cup? Over something so insignificant? When she was so…

He shook his head, chasing away the haziness she'd put there. "Well, it's just a cup," he shrugged away.

Just a cup. And she was just a girl. A beautiful girl. He hadn't been caught off guard like that by a beautiful girl for years. This one…that beauty of hers could potentially be a problem. At least for the small bit of man he had left in him. In truth, he didn't even know he could make note of such things anymore. He was certain that would fade with time, but until then, it was best to be careful around her. It was best not to pay attention to firelight in her hair, or the blush in her chest, or the gentle way she smiled when she rose to pour him another cup of tea into the same cup she'd only just chipped.

She presented it to him honestly at least, a quality he could appreciate in a maid. But as she retreated to the corner of the room like a good servant to wait for him to finish his, drink he looked down at the cup...and his heart stopped.

He hadn't known, he hadn't seen until she'd presented it, which tea set she'd used. It was the one that he'd gotten when he first met Granny years ago. He always remembered a deal, but couldn't have forgotten this tea set if he tried! He'd completed a great task in order to extract something so simple as this tea set. And why? It wasn't terribly expensive or even beautiful for its time. No, he'd wanted it because of this, for this cup! The second he'd set foot in the home of its previous owner, it had called to him. It had practically jumped up and down and screamed, "take me. I'm yours!" But the first time he held it in his hands…it had been imperfect. Whole. It had been whole. And the Seer had whispered words in his head. "Not the right time", "too whole", "too perfect". He'd had no idea what it meant. After a few years of getting nowhere with it, he'd retired the set to some corner of the castle. Apparently, that corner had been the kitchen, for here it was again before him. Only this time, as he held the cup, now blemished and imperfect by a silly little chip he could repair with a wave of his hand if he wished to, in his hands the words he heard the Seer whisper were different.

"Complete, whole, perfect," she whispered over and over again. "Complete, whole, perfect. Complete, whole, perfect. Complete, whole, perfect."

Just a cup…not likely.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Colour Me In Part 4

Eliza woke up to her bed shaking and a red light flashing in her face. This past week had been a nightmare with the James family taking up entirely too much of her time. Zach's ex, Daisy Moss,  had been blocked on all his social media, but was using mutual friends to get to him. All the while posting racy pics with cryptic captions “miss your hands,” “it's never as good as it was with you,” etc. It was working and he was bouncing off the walls an emergency call at 2 am wasn't as unexpected as it was unwelcome.

Sure enough, text messages were flooding in from Evie, Jeanette, and even his mom, Helen.  Daisy had finally gotten him to agree to meet for dinner to discuss where their relationship had gone wrong. That dinner dissolved into a public screaming match and when Daisy started trashing the restaurant Zach took off leaving her there. He'd hidden out at his friend Sam's house and they'd gotten piss drunk for a few hours. Zach got the spins and stepped outside for some air. It took Sam almost half an hour to realize he'd wandered off and raise the alarm. Before anyone could reach Sam's house, Zachary was arrested while banging on the front door of a Methodist Church crying and screaming at the top of his lungs. Evie had been notified as soon as he reached the police station. Her boss was enraged that Jeanette had let it go so far without contacting them, Jeanette was fed up with everybody and threatened to quit, and Eliza was on her way to clean up the mess.

Maggie heard her get up to leave and insisted on coming with her. Eliza hesitated thinking it unprofessional, but she was tired and an interpreter would really help move this along. While Maggie drove Eliza scrolled through her messages to see if she's heard from Calum.

She had barely seen him since that night he'd first kissed her. They'd met for a quick breakfast at Marian's, or as he called it “their spot.”  He'd also surprised her at work and taken her to lunch. Each time he was sweet and a well behaved gentleman, much to Eliza's growing frustration. He'd wanted to take her to dinner again, but she'd been so busy and then he'd gone out of town with his friends for the weekend. Calum had texted her regularly, but it wasn't the same.

Waiting in the West Hollywood police station to get Zach processed Eliza pulled out her camera and nudged Maggie who shook her head.

“What the fuck are you doing? I look like hell, I want to go home.” Maggie always signed slowly when she was tired and Eliza called it whining.

“Please Mags I wanna fuck with Calum a bit,” Eliza pled with her sister.

Maggie pouted but nodded and Eliza told her to look pissed off. She took a few before deciding on one where Maggie looked angry and Eliza looked scared.

I didn't know who to call. I can't reach Kevin and I can't call my mom.

Calum responded quicker than she thought

OMG babe what happened? Are you okay? Do I need to come get you?

Maggie read over her shoulder poking her in the ribs before sitting back and looking smug.

Eliza glanced back and Maggie signed “I told you, I knew he liked you like that,” her hands back to their usual quick precise movements.

Eliza rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she was smiling.

We've been arrested. Evie will help with a lawyer but not with bail or bond.

What the hell? What did you get arrested for? Maggie too?

It's a long story but we're being charged with attempted murder

Maggie smacked her arm, “dummy now he'll know you're lying.”

….. Okay you're fucking with me, you had me going for a second. If you're serious, well this should be interesting.

Calum why would I lie about something like this

Calum sent back a screenshot of TMZ showing the arrest of Zachary James and how neither his manager or publicist had any comment.

My guess is you're waiting for this little shit. I see his ex Daisy Mess is back again.

I heard a rumour Ashton had a thing with her sister, Poppy.

That was Luke actually. All three sisters are batshit crazy. I haven't met the oldest, Iris Rose but I've heard enough.

Oh shit I gotta go…. The family just showed up

Helen's mother, Zach's grandma Lila, showed up minutes after his mother and sister. Due to Helen's hearing loss the entire family knew ASL and Eliza and Maggie got to watch the two women silently arguing while sitting quite some distance apart. It was clear Lila blamed them for bringing chaos and disruption around her troubled grandson. Lila was introduced to the sisters after Zach was finally back with them. An argument ensued and not wanting to been seen by the rest of the family, Lila discreetly slipped Eliza a note asking her opinion.

Eliza wrote back “Take him with you to San Diego, he needs a break. He needs a new manager and get his computers and cameras out of that house and away from his sister.”

Lila nodded and asked Eliza if she'd come to San Diego to help out until they replaced Jeanette.

Maggie shook her head behind Lila but Eliza felt she couldn't say no.

It had been a week and Eliza was out of her mind with boredom. Eliza feigned a cat allergy to politely decline Lila's invitation to stay in her gaudy McMansion in a gated community, and Lila paid for a decent hotel. She missed her friends and family. Maggie was on FaceTime every free minute they had. Kevin bombarded her on Snapchat because he lives for the filters. Calum had stuck to texting along with a few Snapchat videos of him with Duke, or at rehearsal with the guys.

Calum found himself missing her terribly. His pulse picked up when he got her notifications. They were at this weird stage where they were dating but not quite an official couple. Calum wanted to be available, but not clingy, flirty but not creepy. The fact that they mostly had a text based relationship gave a whole other set of problems as words on a screen, lacking nuance of tone or body language, could easily be misinterpreted. It was stressing him out, and he didn't get stressed out. ‘

He was Calum Hood, and he didn't stress out over girls. At least until now, and his friends wouldn't stop giving him shit. He had to just smile and take it because they weren't wrong. He hadn't hooked up since Natasha, when he'd literally kicked her out of bed to go meet Eliza. These past few days he'd been low key tempted, as it seemed every girl he'd hooked up with over the past year was hitting up his phone. Jay had even offered to “just come through and suck him off if he wanted,” and it was hard to say no to that

“Come on Calum, you hardly ever come out anymore. Your girl is out of town, and there's nothing that says you HAVE to pull. Just come out have fun with the guys and then go home and jerk off to anime porn, or is that me?” Michael was relentless about Calum coming out to Lucky's. Finally he agreed and after a couple drinks he relaxed and was having a good time. He even chatted with Natasha, well aware she was very good friends with Kevin, who was also there somewhere.

Everything was fine until Ashley, Michael's ex came stumbling over and randomly threw herself at Calum, trying to shove her tongue down his throat and her hand down his pants. He froze,  hesitating to physically shove her off of him. Fortunately Crystal didn't and Ashley was soon on the floor. There was a bit of a scuffle when her friends tried to jump in but Kevin and security threw them out. Calum didn't feel like staying much after that, and Luke left with him grabbing In and Out before going back to Cal's.

“So have you told Eliza how much you like her? How long till you guys become an official couple?” Luke was only half teasing, he and the rest of the guys had noticed a change in Calum. He was happy and more relaxed, but at the same time bristling with a nervous energy.

“It's barely been a month since I met her, and you know I suck at relationships,” Calum shook his head looking dejected.

“You're doing pretty well so far with Eliza. You're always texting her, and you took her on actual dates. Something I've never seen you do. I've also never seen you go this long without a hookup, your balls must be killing you,” Luke snickered finishing off his burger.

“Piss off, what's your point anyways?” he pulled out his phone to text Eliza.

“You should go see her,” Luke told him.

“That's insane, I'd look like a fucking stalker,” Calum looked at him like he was crazy.

“Come on, she's stuck in San Diego on babysitting duty. She told you herself she's bored out of her mind, and hates going to crowded places alone. Surprise her and take her out, get your own hotel room if you have to. You're just going to drink and pout all weekend if you don't,” Luke checked his phone. “Ashton is still at Lucky's I'm gonna have him ask Kevin.”

“Luke I'll kill you,” Calum glared at him. “Don't you dare.”

“Too late, now let's see what Kevin says,” Luke shrugged.

Evie was thrilled at the way Eliza took charge of the Zachary James situation and had given her free reign to turn it around. Unfortunately it was taking longer than expected to find a manager leaving her stuck in babysitting duty as well as being in charge of the hiring committee. The week had been tedious meetings or emotionally draining sessions with Zach. Tomorrow was Friday,  she had two interviews and a phone conference with Evie. She couldn't go home until Tuesday at the earliest, but at least her schedule was free this weekend. Eliza wanted to go do something fun, but she hated dealing with large crowds on her own.

Luke laughed when Ashton texted him back, “apparently Kevin wants your number so y'all can surprise your girl, and he just found out there's something called the 'Calum Challenge’ to see if they can break you.”

Before Calum could ask what was going on Kevin was blowing up his phone

Eliza stared at her phone in disbelief. Kevin just wouldn't stay out of her business.

He came out last night and everything was cool, until this random thot tried to hop on his dick right there in VIP. Your mans panicked and almost threw that bitch across the room, but he can't lay hands on a female cuz his mama raised him right, so he's trying to pry her off of him without hurting her. Lucky for him I saw the whole thing and told Mikey's girl Crys to handle it.

That's not what I asked you Kevin. Why are you talking to Calum? What are you up to?

I'm trying to tell you, if you'll listen. So these broads have come up with the Calum challenge. They have a bet to see which one can get him to break first.

That can't be a real thing? Why is it that big of a deal?

Because they are all jealous little bitches who never thought Calum would settle down.

Settled down? This is ridiculous

So Calum was worried I'd tell you he was kissing another girl. That's how we ended up texting after he left with Luke. He wanted to surprise you so tomorrow keep your eyes open. Cal also helped me sweet talk Nat into covering my shift Saturday night. So get ready bitch because I'm picking you up at 10am.  I've got a big surprise for you so look cute.

Is Calum coming with you???

I wish that was the surprise, but his friend has that big birthday party Saturday night, and all the boys are going.

I know, just wishing, I know he can't miss something important like that.

Eliza finally got done with her meetings. She was thrilled to find Calum had sent her flowers, which were waiting at the front desk. Since Kevin insisted to dress up to his standards, Eliza went shopping. She found a bold bright blue peacock print tunic on sale that she could wear over her favorite black leggings and some cute blue suede flat heeled boots that were spendy but super comfortable.

Kevin texted her moments after her alarm went off.

I'm about two hours away. Your ass better be dressed, hair and makeup done and ready to walk out the door when I get there.

Eliza grumbled but she got up, Kevin hated mornings more than she did, so if he was making this much effort she had to as well.

She pulled her hair into two curly puffs on either side, it was too early and damp to do anything thing other than try and keep her hair under control. Seeing she had about 40 minutes to kill she made another cup of chai and continued reading a book of love poems from Persia in Farsi she'd borrowed from Maggie. She got lost reading until her phone was vibrating off the table and the strobe light by her bed was flashing.

WTF Eliza I come all this way, and you're not gonna answer open your door you gorgeous bitch

Eliza jumped up and ran to the door knowing Kevin would be in a mood because he had to wait.  Phone still in one hand, she flung open the door an apology on her fingertips, when she saw him she stopped dead in her tracks.

It wasn't Kevin, but Calum on the other side of the door, holding a lovely bouquet and smiling at her. She felt her phone vibrate again and looked at it trying to figure out what was going on.

Surprise!!!!! There's no way in hell I was driving to San Diego this early. Enough with this charade, tell Romeo I’m going back to sleep. Have fun with dog boy.. love you.

@wildhearthood @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @cal-puddies @biba3434 @babygirlcashton @angelbabylu @itstheholls @5sos-ficssmut @cal-pal-cuddles @calumh-excess @1dthewantedlove @you-of-ghost

[whumping-newbie]

It’s Not Your Fault

POV: Irena

Characters: Irena, Matylda, Anastazja

Warnings: idk, self loathing, referenced/implied attempted assault, I’m not sure how to describe this tbh.

Pronunciation:

Anja = An-ya

Laleczka = Lal-etch-ka (means “little doll” in Polish)

The castle was a hotbed of gossip in the days after the incident. Everyone who had previously been indifferent to the everyday actions of the Princess and her Maidens of Honour suddenly had an opinion on how they should have acted - How they should not have been in that area of the castle in the first place, how they should have known not to trust the guard who took them there, on the orders of the General, how they should have known better.

I was not involved in the incident, thankfully, but I was one of the first to find out about it, alongside Karolina and Zofia. I had been in the Princess’ bedroom, awaiting her return with Matylda and Anastazja. I was with the other two Maidens when a Royal Guard had knocked frantically.

The urgency of the knocks had been unheard of in our entire (admittedly short) careers as Maidens of Honour. Barely anyone knocked on the door to the Princess’ room, and even then to hear such panic behind the door was worrying enough.

It was shocking, the guard had rushed in and locked the door. He had been ordered to protect us, he said. He had been ordered to remain here until things had calmed down, he said.

“What’s happened?” we had asked, worried. Nothing like this had happened and our hearts raced, literally nothing in our training as Maidens had prepared us for this.

“I cannot tell you, because I don’t know myself,” he had said, “something serious.”

Something serious.

We had wished he had never said those words.

One thing we were certain of was that something had happened to someone in the castle at that moment. Who was not important, because anyone willing to bring harm to either a guard or servant or cook would be just as willing to bring harm to someone more important, like the King or the Princess.

The not knowing was easily the hardest part. Keeping occupied whilst we waited was pain staking and none of us dare say a word - talking about the ‘what ifs’ was out of the question, talking about anything else seemed insulting and uncaring. Karolina was pacing the room nervously, Zofia was stood at the window with a hand over her mouth, and I was sat on the sofa, my head in my hands, praying not to be sick. My thoughts were filled with terrible things that could be happening.

And honestly, I kicked myself at the fact that most of my awful, intrusive thoughts were correct in the end.

The Princess was confined to her bedroom, more of a personal preference, and probably would be for a little while. She had bruises. The entire incident was kept mostly in secret, and only eleven people in the world know what truly happened, but this did nothing to stop the rumours.

Oh the attack was true, and who the perpetrator was became true eventually, but the why he did it is still very secret.

I only knew based on Anja’s testimony.

There was a guard, who had approached the trio with urgency, telling them that the King wished to see the Princess immediately. They swiftly followed and were led to a part of the castle where the King would very rarely frequent – intelligence offices, mainly.

The room they had been led to, it was not an office, and the man that met them there was not the King.

The General had locked the door and put a very large, very sharp knife to the Princess’ throat, the escort guard had a hold on Anastazja and Matylda had frozen with fear.

It was terrifying, she had said, I kept trying to get out of his grip, and I was barely managing that, he was strong! The… the General had turned around and said to Matylda, with this evil smile… “if you move from there, I’ll slit her throat.”

And Matylda had done just that, paralyzed with fear, but Anja was more accustomed to action. She had escaped and the guard gave chase, and she ran, yelled for help. Anja was an endurance runner, but so was her pursuer, and she only just made it back to someone who could help her.

The Princess had escaped that room too, eventually. Matylda didn’t say anything. The Princess said she hit him and ran, before he could do anything.

Her ripped blouse was a good enough indication of what he had planned, but failed, to do to her.

The fact that all this had happened in less than 15 minutes was scary, since nothing like this had happened before. Us as Maidens still had our duties. We still had to tend to the Princess, perform our activities, but they were moved to her bedroom and anything that couldn’t be was cancelled for the time being. There were certainly to be no public appearances. Matylda and Anastazja were the exceptions, of course - with good reason – except that Anja returned to work almost immediately.

Matylda had yet to.

I was taking a moment alone in quiet recollection in the library when Anastazja, the strong presence that she is, joined me by the window, overlooking the vast ocean below us.

“The atmosphere is so dark around here,” she said thoughtfully, gazing out with me, crossing her arms as she spoke.

“I’m not surprised, honestly. How are you doing?” I asked, careful in how I phrased the question.

“I am fine, I am,” she nodded reassuringly, raising a hand slightly before she continued, “I… Am worried, though,” she said slowly, as though hesitant.

“The General and the guard involved are being punished for their crimes, I’m sure,” I tried to be just as reassuring, but I felt my voice waver. The General used to be such a decent man, and now I didn’t know what to think about him anymore, “the King wouldn’t let them get away with it.”

Anastazja raised a hand completely now, “no, no, not that. I am certain we agree on that. That isn’t what worries me,” she looked away, casting a glance at the door behind us, before facing me again, “it’s Matylda.”

“She told me she was fine, that he didn’t hurt her…” I recalled. I had only spoken to Matylda once since the incident, mainly because of her request for solitude.

“And you’re right. But it’s not a physical pain she is suffering through, and believe me, she’s suffering,” Anja nodded her head as she spoke, “she blames herself. And before you say anything, we all know it was not her fault. No one blames her for what happened. When the General had a knife at the Princess’ throat, he told Matylda that he will slit her throat if she so much as moves. She was never tied up, but she was held in place by those words. When I fought back and ran away, she still daren’t move. I put the Princess in danger with my actions, but I ran for help. Matylda is hurting, Irena, and I think you’re the only one who can help her. She won’t listen to me, but I think she is going to act irrationally. She thinks the Princess hates her for her lack of action, which is certainly not true. Haven’t you noticed how little she has seen the Princess since the incident?”

“So surely the Princess is the better qualified person to speak with her about this?” I countered.

“By the time the Princess is ready to talk to her, I think it will be too late.”

“And… what, you think she’s going to quit?”

“I do, I don’t want her to, but I do, and I think once she’s set on it, she will quit.”

The idea of Matylda leaving her duty as a Maiden of Honour was heartbreaking to consider. She was good at her role and respected in it as well, why would she want to give it all up? Well, she has just been through a scarring incident that the Princess is unlikely to forget in a rush, and Matylda is so much younger than us. As sobering as it is, Anja is probably right.

It would also mean that I am so close to losing a dear friend over something she had no fault in.

“Please, just go see her. She needs a friend, someone to talk to, and I don’t think she’ll listen to anyone else. You’re both so close to each other, please,” Anja pleaded, taking a hold of my hand and looking into my eyes.

I nodded, “I will, Anja.”

---

"Matylda, are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet,” I asked, after having knocked on the door to her bedroom, just two doors down from the Princess’. To get to our rooms, you have to go through the Princess’ herself. There is a small corridor to the side of the room, which connects our five generously spacious rooms to Anjelika’s. All of them had a stunning view of the gardens below us, but only the Princess had a balcony. Our windows opened, but it was too cold for that at this time of year.

Matylda didn’t open the door straight away, and she took her time answering me at all.

"I… I’m fine, Irena,“ she said weakly through the door.

“Please, let me in, Laleczka. I just want to see you again,” I asked gently, my head against the door, waiting for a sound to indicate that she was moving either towards or away from me, “please...”

It took a few seconds, but I did hear the click as she finally unlocked her door. She didn’t open the door to let me in, so I did it myself, slowly and as quiet as I could manage.

Matylda’s room was adorned with flowers. She loved to paint, and was quite skilled at it, and most of her paintings were of the flowers in the gardens below us. They were full of life and colour, just like she should be. Her other painting is something of her pride and joy, and only hung it up because I had seen it before she could hide it. She had done a self-portrait, of sorts, of the six of us performing ballet, with her next to the Princess in the centre. She had captured us so perfectly, and I loved the way she painted the dresses like they were flowers, the flowers in the gardens below us.  She was decked in a dress that looked like a yellow and orange iris, Anja’s was covered in red and white corn poppies. Karolina was purple with tulips, Zofia was a blue lotus. The Princess was a daisy, and I was a “euphorbia redwing charam”. I had never seen this flower, as it was not a Kosmosian native, but Matylda had chosen them for us, decorated our dresses in a way that envisioned us, she said. She was going to hide this beauty away from us, until I showered it with praise that it rightfully deserves. She had painted the flowers that she thought were us, around the room, every one of them. She hangs it above her bed, a proud reminder of what she can accomplish.

It was sad to think that she would leave us behind, after everything we have done together, as Maidens and as friends. At least, if me and Anastazja are correct in our assumptions.

“You’ve seen me now,” she said from her desk, “I’m fine, honestly.”

"Please don’t lie, Laleczka, something is wrong. Please, tell me what it is,” I asked gently, closing the door behind me. I knew it was a stupid question, but I didn’t think about that as I spoke.

Matylda was watching me. At my words, she turned back to the desk and looked down at whatever she had been doing. A blank sheet of paper, and a pen rested on top of the pristine desk. It was not normally so devoid of anything, there were normally her sketchbook and pencils there, maybe an unfinished picture too, maybe her paints. Seeing just the pen and paper spelled out everything to me, confirmed it, even.

She curled her shoulders forward, and I heard her voice crack, “I… I failed.”

“Failed at what?” I asked, sitting myself down on the spare chair just beside her desk.

She continued to look at the paper, and I could see the tears well up in her vibrant blue eyes, “I failed in my duties. I’ve thought about this. I want to resign from my role as Anjelika’s Maiden of Honour,” she spoke quickly, as though getting them out quicker will somehow make them hurt less, as if treating a wound.

But also like treating a wound, it can hurt much more to remove something quickly instead of carefully.

"Matylda, please think this through,” I pleaded.

She nodded, her untamable blonde hair bounced as she did, closing her eyes, "I have. The Princess hates me, I didn’t do anything. Anja, she fought and kicked and got away… I just let them try to…” she hitched her breathing as she sobbed, letting the tears stain her pale cheeks and fall onto the paper she was trying to write on.

“I promise you, Laleczka, that no one sees it that way except you,” I tried reasoning with her, holding out a gentle hand and resting it on her shoulder, I hope she sees this as a comforting gesture, yet something in me nagged to not touch her, so I released her after only a few seconds.

She shook her head, "I did a dishonourable thing, Irenka…”

I pulled my chair closer to her, “Matylda, you did not. Please listen to me. I am so sorry you all went through that, truly,” I put my hand on her shoulder again, but this time she looked at me, glassy eyes swimming with tears and sadness, “maybe this is too soon to talk to the Princess about, but go talk to Anja. I promise she will tell you exactly what I am telling you now. Me? I would have probably done what you did. You have to remember that Anja has been in a high stress situation like that before, neither you nor I have.”

“But…” she stammered, her face blotchy and red.

I didn’t let her finish, I spoke over her, “What is your duty as a Maiden of Honour, Matylda?”

Matylda thought for a moment, thinking on her answer. She looked down at my feet and spoke to them instead of me, but this was good enough, “… um, to be a companion to her company. To offer her guidance, support and advice. To be loyal and trustworthy…“

"Now where in those duties you just told me, does it mention having to protect her from an active threat?” I asked, she looked me in the eyes again briefly, but quickly darted them over my shoulder, “where does it mention having to sacrifice your safety for her own? That duty belongs to the guards assigned for her protection - not to a Maiden of Honour, not to me and certainly not to you,” I shook her shoulder slightly as I spoke, speaking with enough confidence and conviction to hopefully get my message across, “I promise you, Laleczka, that Anjelika does not hate you for being forced to watch. Anja does not resent you for not acting the way she did. You were in an unpredictable situation because you did not expect the General to do what he did. He is the dishonourable one, Matyldka. Not you. Do you understand?”

She nodded slightly, sniffling, “… I understand, Irenka.”

Somehow I suspect that she did not believe her own words, “I want you to repeat after me, alright? I did nothing wrong.”

“But, I did -” she protested, but I knew that she would react this way.

“I did nothing wrong.” I repeated calmly, but slightly louder, looking her straight into the eyes. She looked into mine, I could see something in hers. A glimmer of something, beneath all the sadness. I’m not sure what it was, but there was something there.

“… I did nothing wrong.”

“I am not responsible for the General’s actions, he is responsible for his crime.”

She looked down, breaking our eye contact, before she repeated me again.

“I am not re… Responsible for the General’s actions… He, he is responsible for his crime.”

“The Princess does not hate me for being too scared to help her.”

This is where her silence was truly a shock. Even I did not expect her to believe this. How much had this one thought eaten at her, in the two days since the incident? How lonely must this have been, for her to live thinking that one of her only friends in the world must hate her? How could she have conceived this idea in the first place?

“The Princess does not hate me for being too scared to help her,” I repeated, blinking quickly to supress my own tears.

She gulped, and then repeated my words, "the… The Princess does not hate me for being… Being too scared to help…”

I pulled her close, into my arms. I heard her sob, face buried in my shoulder, clutching at my front, her own shoulders jarring from crying. I heard her weak attempts at words between her hitched sobs, but they were so incoherent that I didn’t attempt to ask her to speak. I squeezed my arms around her, hoping that she understands that I am here, I always have and always will be, “and don’t you forget it,” I said quietly into her ear, through my own tears, “the only person the Princess blames for that night, is the General.”

Matylda pulled away from me after a while, truly opening the floodgates of her emotions to me. She wiped her teary eyes with her fingers before speaking again, “… I understand. Thank you Irena,” she spoke with a small shadow of a smile hanging from her lips. I could sense the gratitude, and I smiled in return.

"I’m only looking out for my friend,” I smiled, wiping my own tear from my cheek, “come on, let’s go get you something to eat. You can see the others, if you want to,” I nodded my head in the direction of the door, my hand held out for her to take. She took one look at her desk again, before standing up and leaving with me.

If all she needed to know was that she still had her friends believe in her, then that is what I will give her every time.

I hope she truly understands that, now, that none of us will turn our backs on our friends in need.

[doughtahturn]

11 Questions

Tagged by @anassarhenisch.  Thanks chica!

Rules:

Answer the 11 questions you’ve been asked

Nominate 11 other bloggers

Ask your nominees 11 questions

Let them know you’ve nominated them!

Questions:

1. What are you reading right now?

Right now, actively, I am reading The Lies of Locke Lamora and The White Queen. I’m kinda on a royalty kick, which The White Queen is somewhat fulfilling. The Lies of Locke Lamora is a book I’m buddy reading with a friend and I’m only on the first page.

2. What’s one new release you’re looking forward to?

Honestly, I couldn’t think of any for a while until I recalled that the second Aru Shah book is supposed to come out this year. :D So, Aru Shah #2

3. What’s your favourite piece of classical music?

I don’t have a favorite, to be honest. Or at least not one that readily comes to mind. I do enjoy classical music though. My mom had tapes and I found them and a radio that played tapes and she had these little cassettes from the 90s from Victoria Secret that were classical music pieces. They were very romantic and for a couple months I played them nearly on repeat.

4. If you could redo any film or TV adaptation, what would you choose? Why?

I’d take the 2005 Pride and Prejudice aesthetic and feelings (it’s my favorite over the 95 one, apologies to anyone who’s offended) and turn it into a short series (maybe three episodes), just so we could get Bingley’s other sister and some other little bits and scenes into the production. I always wished that they’d been able to bring in Bingley’s other sister and the meeting of the Bingleys and Elizabeth at Pemberley where Lizzie and Darcy’s sister bond a bit. So I wouldn’t really redo anything, I’d just expand it.

5. Do you write fanfiction?

I do. I’ve written stuff just for me and stuff I’ve posted online and they’ve all been in a big variety of fandoms.

6. An author announces a sequel to what you thought was a stand-alone. Who is it and what is the book about?

The Power by Naomi Alderman came to mind. The sequel is about men in the world she ends the story with and continues asking her question of ‘how does imbalance occur and can balance ever happen with how we’ve treated each other in the past?’

7. Which book characters would you go to the carnival with?

If I was going to the state fair (one way of interpreting carnival), I would go with Harry Potter and co. because 1) it’d be fun to bring wizards around an American state fair (deep fried oreos and twinkies, I wanna see what Arthur Weasley would make of those) and 2) I think they’d get a kick out of some of the rides that we’ve got.

If I was going to carnival as in the just-before-Lent festival (the other way I’m interpreting carnival - I wasn’t sure which one you meant), then I’d wanna go with probs Jesper Fahey and Nina Zenik from Six of Crows. I’d mostly wanna go with those two because they seem like they’d be the most fun to have at a big, blow-out party like carnival. If the other Crows tagged along, that’d be fine, too, but they seem a bit like downers for the most part. Though maybe Inej and Waylan wouldn’t be too bad.

8. A mysterious door opens in thin air. Do you go through it?

I peak through it first, y’know, stick my head through the portal. I’d probably observe it for a while and maybe ask a friend to bring me some supplies or something and then maybe I’d go through it. I’d be super nervous that the portal would close behind me.

9. What’s your favourite baked good? Can you make it yourself?

Chocolate croissants are probs my all time fave. The nice, crispy on the outside, soft and melty on the inside with the chocolate there (sweet chocolate, mind u) - yum! Unfortunately, no, I can’t make it myself. I don’t do much baking except for bread.

10. Are there any books on your shelves that you’re not totally sure why you even own?

Yeah. I went kinda crazy when I got to the Big City after months of not buying any English books and bought stuff that I haven’t touched and idk if I will before I leave the country in a couple months. They’re all nonfiction, too, so they won’t be easy reads, haha.

11. Are there any orange spines on your shelves right now?

I had to check! But yes, two: The Rape of Nanking and Destiny Disrupted. Both nonfiction.

My Questions:

1. What are your top 5 tv/movie/stage adaptations?

2. What’s a genre that you tend to avoid, actively?

3. What was the last book you read? Can you give us a blurb about it?

4. Would you rather have an endless library but you only had a week to read each book you check out before you never have the opportunity to read it again anywhere, or a small personal stock of maybe 40 books that you could read over and over but you would have to only read those 40 books from now until your death?

5. Can you cook? What’s one dish you were especially proud of?

6. Can you read during transit (plane, bus, train, car, etc.)?

7. Do you have a Type when it comes to favorite fictional characters? Do you want to share what that Type is?

8. Do you prefer standalones or series?

9. What was the first book you ever truly enjoyed?

10. What, if any, are your reading traditions?

11. Do you read at work?

@sometimesreading @six-of-ravens  @zoueriemandzijnopmars  @greycatstations  @sometimesreading  @faebinding  @thiswaitingheart  @underthetweed   @ink-on-poppies  @shadowtearling  @beautifulpaxielreads

If you don’t want to do this, no worries! I hope y’all have a great next 24 hours!

[misterrightscenarios]

A Flower Called You

To you, it’s quiet time in your little garden; to Seungcheol, it’s a series of unofficial dates.

△ 2,599 words | fluff | oneshot | neighbor!S.Coups | requested by: @letsdreamnow | flower boy date game: accepting requests | beta by: @half-way-happy​

“Flower Boy Seungcheol (literal flower boy)” NEVER HAVE I HEARD TRUER WORDS THAN THESE. sorry if my seungcheol trash showed.

The high humidity in the air and sun peeking through the ferns above your head were signaling the beginning of summer. It had been a quiet Saturday morning so far; you had woken up early, grabbed your usual breakfast, and had set out for the forest just off your backyard. It had been at least two weeks since you'd last come out, with your daily life taking its toll on you, and you knew your precious garden would be paying the price for you unavailability.

It wasn't anything to brag about, just a small plot of land a couple of steps off the main trail you'd happened to find on one of your treks. It had seemed a little dull when you had originally found it, and you had been in dire need of a hobby. You had known next to nothing about gardening then, but now you were crouching on the small plot of land, your favorite gardening gloves on as you tended to your recently-planted poppies. 

This was the place you never felt you needed to play music, simply letting nature lull you into a sense of calmness; it felt like the stress of the last few days were melting off with every weed that you pulled, even with the sweat beading on your forehead and seeping through your shirt.

You weren't sure how long you had been there, only that you had moved on to the gardenias when the crunch of gravel alerted you that you now had company. Still, you kept working, almost cringing at how familiar the soft steps sounded.

The soft crackling stopped somewhere to your left, and then there was some shuffling, the dropping of a bag, the sound of rubber. You huffed a small breath through your nose, willing yourself to think that the blush was the result of the summer heat and not because of who you knew was now preparing to assist you.

You weren't naive enough to believe you were the only one who knew of the trails in the forest that surrounded your neighborhood, but you never saw anyone there, so you had taken to thinking this was your special, quiet place.

A couple of months ago, when the weather was starting to finally turn warm, you had ran into a visitor for the first time. You recognized him as a schoolmate--Choi Seungcheol. He was student body president, resident heartthrob jock, and apparently your neighbor. The first time you had found him, he was crouching on the side of the trail and studying your garden--it was an image that you couldn't get out of your head to this day. He had been wearing an oversized grey sweater, dark washed jeans and had his dark hair tucked into a beanie. The early Spring sun had just barely been peeking that day, but it had been enough for little rays to catch on his dark lashes and side profile, making him look almost ethereal as he reached out to touch the flowers with gentle fingers, as if he might've broken them had he been too rash.

You had never really understood the phrase "love at first sight" until that moment--not that you'd ever admit it to him.

Still, you would be lying if you said you hadn't grown accustomed to his presence. Ever since that first day, Seungcheol had made a habit of coming back. At first, he would watch you and try to talk to you--it had been a little irritating then. You had taken to your garden for the lack of human presence, it was a place you could always count on for some alone time, but as Spring turned to Summer, the little garden felt odd on the days Seungcheol didn't visit.

Over the last few weeks he had taken to helping you; at first, he would try to watch you and mimic your movements, which had led you to stop him before he ruined your precious little flowers, blushing even as you patiently explained to him how to properly tend to them and which ones required attention.

He was a quick learner, and now he simply sat next to you in companionable silence, helping you wherever he saw the extra hand might be needing, but never touching the flowers you had warned him not to bother.

You glanced a little at him as you shifted to get to the smaller of the flowers; he was wearing a light t-shirt today, his dark hair parted down the middle and a little overgrown, just barely brushing his long lashes. He was still beautiful, and you wondered when you would have the courage to speak up and ask him questions in turn.

Seungcheol looked up, the corner of his lips pulling up into a soft smile. "It's really warm today," he noted, his brows twitching a little.

You looked back at the flower you were working on, humming your assent and trying to concentrate again. At first, Seungcheol had spoken much too loud for the quiet of the forest, but he seemed to have picked up fairly quickly that the noise made you uncomfortable and now he spoke in low tones, his voice wrapping around you like the warm summer breeze. It made it hard to forget when you were back in the safety of your home hours later.

Seungcheol carefully tugged at a weed, and then he stopped, wrapping the small fern around his glove-covered hand. "So...You didn't show up for a couple of weeks there." He started, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face.

"I had a lot of work." You replied softly, glancing up at him. His brows were scrunched and his lips pressing together to form a small pout.

You could almost feel the way this conversation was heading--it had happened a few times on the days you disappeared like this.

"I was worried you didn't want to see me," he admitted, catching you off guard. Usually, there was a pick-up line thrown your way, one you wouldn't catch onto until you were lying wide awake at night, head filled with thoughts of the boy with the pretty eyes and gummy smile.

There was silence, and then you were copying Seungcheol, playing with the leaves in your hands. "Why would I not come here because I didn't want to see you?"

You missed Seungcheol shrugging, but you heard his loud sigh. "I know you don't exactly like me declaring these little get togethers unofficial dates." His tone was almost self-deprecating, a rare thing for the always-confident brunet. He was hanging his head, his forearms tense as he tugged the weeds in his hands into smaller pieces.

"I never said that." You were almost surprised--you didn't think you had come off that uninterested.

Seungcheol had been kind and respectful so far, if a little excitable, and his smiles when he got you to talk about your flowers always startled your heart into overdrive. "I just assumed..." he motioned between the two of you, scratching his arm.

"You assumed wrong." You cut him off calmly, tucking the weeds into a small bag sitting between the two of you.

There was another long stretch of silence, and you did your best to get back to work. Seungcheol's words were bothering you now, and you tried to think back on any time you might've led Seungcheol to believe his presence made you uncomfortable enough that you would have disappeared because of him. Maybe at first, you mulled, but in the last few weeks all you could remember was returning his smiles with shy ones of your own, and packing extra waters in your rucksack because Seungcheol never brought his own. You weren't great with words, but you hadn't shut down any of his remarks as of late.

The rest of the morning passed in relative silence, with the exception of Seungcheol throwing a few compliments your way that you simply replied to with a "thanks", eliciting a laugh from him every time. As usual, you called it a day around lunch time and started packing up, the dark haired boy next to you following along and packing up his own supplies.

You were usually the first to leave, but today you lingered, packing up slower than him. You weren't sure what the motivation was behind that--maybe the fact that you'd gone a while without seeing him, or that you never knew when the next time he'd show up would be. The only thing you really knew was that his presence was warming and comforting, and had added to the beauty of your little sanctuary in the last few months. Today was one of the days you wanted to bask in all that Seungcheol offered for a few more minutes.

Seungcheol finished packing and stood up, taking the few steps out towards the trail. You fiddled with your zipper while you mulled over your own thoughts, plenty aware that he was waiting for you. Today felt a little different than every other day.

You were thinking on all the times Seungcheol had probably sacrificed his social life, the times he'd gotten sunburns and had never once complained because "we spent the day together. I don't mind." The time you'd cut your hand on your small garden shears and Seungcheol had tried to clean the wound with the water bottle you'd given him, and a few tissues. You thought of all the questions he asked, and ones you'd yet to learn the answers to because you had never bothered to ask him in turn.

"Everything okay?" Seungcheol asked carefully.

You stood up slowly, keeping your back to him and taking a deep breath. "Yeah. Just thinking," you mumbled, looking at the flowers. Your eyes landed on the small plot you had reserved for your daisies. Seungcheol had once asked you the meaning of all of the flowers in your garden; you'd explained to him that each flower was chosen mostly for aesthetics, but you also liked the meanings behind them. It was one of the many things you'd grown to like about Seungcheol.

It had gone quiet again, so you jumped when Seungcheol spoke from right behind you. "Penny for your thoughts then?" He encouraged gently, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder when he saw you were startled, even if accompanied by a low chuckle.

You took a deep breath, turning to him. "Why do you come here so much, Seungcheol?" you asked, point-blank.

The boy seemed a little taken aback, his brown eyes widening slightly. He didn't answer right away, but instead the surprise wore off; you were now pinned to your spot, his eyes having melted from surprise to quiet affection, his lips tugging into a close-lipped smile and his head tilting down as if to look at you better. "I like you. I thought that was obvious."

You should have known--really, you should have, but the confession still made your heart stutter, only to restart so loudly you worried he'd hear it. "How was I supposed to know?" The words were almost robotic, and you blushed when you registered your own question.

Seungcheol laughed lightly, but his eyes never wavered from yours. He reached out to cup your cheek in his hand, his thumb gliding over your reddening skin. "Well, I all but said the actual words." His tone was amused, btu you could tell there was an underlying exasperation. "I did think of these as dates, you know." He nudged your chin, grinning now.

You huffed a little, but it was hard not to lean into his touch. "I don't know if declaring these dates as I'm walking off exactly counts."

"Maybe not," Seungcheol allowed, his grin slipping back into his affectionate smile as he saw you tilting your head into his hand. "In that case, I should do this properly. Would you like to go on a date with me? We could grab some food, maybe go look at some more flowers." He was teasing at the end, but his  steps pulled him closer into your space.

Your breath hitched a little as he dropped his hand from your cheek, his fingers finding yours. "I would really like that." You answered when you were able to get your scattered thoughts back.

Seungcheol's eyes lit up, your favorite gummy grin of his breaking through. Maybe the beauty of your small little garden was your sanctuary, and maybe you always knew, but it seemed like a great epiphany to realize that it if the boy holding your hand as you left it behind were to be gone tomorrow, the garden would never hold the same kind of warmth again.

[thatcanadianfangirl]

Colours  -Part 2-

Jackson Whittemore X Jen

Requested: yes

Plot: Every single soul sees in color until they lose the hope of finding a soulmate. 

Word Count: 2,949

A/N: I'm still struggling. Sorry, but here the second part to colours. I know it took forever and I'm truly sorry. Also only most of this is edited, not all of it. If you are younger than 13 please don't read my works, mature content.

part 1

 It’s been a week of hiding out in my apartment and that day had become unspeakable. Avoiding life’s reality became my new routine, even if the voice deep down inside whispered ‘Snap the fuck out of it. That’s your damn soulmate.’ I never did,  It wasn't known as logical in my anxious working brain.

I replayed every step of that day in my head over and over again. The moments of my heart having a panic attack in my rib cage. The way Jackson’s now blue eyes sparkled, vibrantly, and the way I dashed off from him and away from my favourite café. I was scared, I was overwhelmed. If I’m being honest I thought I would never find him. As the horrid thought started to settled in ,he suddenly rolls up out of fucking nowhere.

I was startled, like a spooked horse from a gunshot. 

In my mind there was nothing else I could do, I believed I was destined to level down for less. I was wrong and it happened incredibly fast, one minute I was okay with only having a soulmate. The next, I was facing my true soulmate, In my mind everything was unfolding too fast.

The anxious and eager knock on my apartment door threw me out of my strangling mind. I settled the chip bag I was devouring just seconds ago, down beside me. Grabbed a hold of the remote, pausing the Disney picture on the screen. Searching for a clearer sound of who decided to disturb my depressed peace. 

Jen don't ignore me, I left you alone for a full seven days. You know rule number three. I bribed your co-worker to cover your ass, so I better get a thanks because it wasn't easy. Also I know your in there, I could The Little Mermaid playing before you paused it. I mean where else who you be, lets be real.” Monica yelled through the door, only coming out as a loud murmur. Though I could hear every word perfectly fine.

Rule number three:

If something emotional or personal happens to the other. Leave them alone for a whole seven days, then you can act like a psycho . 

Rule number Four..

I sighed loudly rolling my eyes to the back of my head, I yanked the comfortable blanket from around me. My seven days are up and I'm not too happy about it. I’m glad Rule number three wasn't made any longer, because I don't think I’d ever go back to reality if more days were added. 

once the Seven days are up it’s time to let reality flow again, no matter the conditions. Within those days on vacation from the real world my house has turned into a disgusting hibernation cave. 

Turning off the T.V I scooted my butt of the couch and towards the door to let my crazy bestfriend inside. I pushed the door in a little bit with my body before turning the dead bulk and swinging the door open. 

I had to admit she looked different, maybe it was because I’ve always saw her in a colourless state. Or that she actually did change within the days we haven't seen each other. Her hair now a dirty blonde, almost reaching a light sandy brown. Her eyes a dull grey with  small hints of blue specks. Monica’s skin was peachy with a tinge of a tan, flawless like the rest of her. 

“Whoa” The word was shared between us. like and echo through an abandoned house. I faintly smiled at her, I didn't know what that meant. “I never thought I’d see you again.” Monica spoke defiantly sensing my confusion. 

“I know the colourless me was almost like an alter ego, a depressed alter ego that hid me under multiple layers. That Jen is a distant memory now... God I missed your ass.” I spoke understanding where she was coming from. 

We’re both captured in silence before colliding into each other’s embrace. My arms wrapping around her neck as her’s circled around my waist. I breathed in relief, god I missed her more than I would of liked to admit. We stayed into each others arms, taking this moment all in. Without her. I couldn't see a life without her, She’s my sister.

“I missed you too.” She mumbled but I heard her clearly. I started to pull away while she continued to talk. “But I knew you needed the time and space to gather yourself again. And of course rule number three.” Monica said light heartily. 

“Yeah I did and I’m ready to return to my life, clean my apartment. Go back to work and when I’m ready, I’ll find him at the cafe down the road. And Jeremy is a sweet guy all you have to do is tell him that you already have a soulmate. He’d understand.” I smiled at her, happy to have her back.

“It’s okay you can tell him for me and while you're at it tell him I’m a lesbian too.” We laughed together at her comment. Jeremy was a dork and so damn clueless, but I couldn't ask for better co-worker. 

Monica obviously chose to stay over, helping me clean up the pig’s den I’ve been currently living in for the past week. I truly don't know how I survived in this filth, it was absolutely disturbing. After taking my beats pill from the bathroom, Monica played her music an we began our cleaning marathon.

We danced and goofed around, having fun and making the most out of it. With her anything can become fun, she was that kind of person. Though through the process I heard a lot of ‘Holy shit you’re so disgusting’ or ‘I think you’re brother came to visit early’ which got boring after the first ten times she said them. 

But what can I do, I love the girl. 

waking up to a clean and quite atmosphere felt refreshing for a recovering mind. I remembered just days ago, I woke up to a loud TV playing something from the Disney Channel.  I didn't usually fall asleep watching T.V, but when I do. I’m mostly likely not feeling the best and always something Disney. 

Disney is my comfort blanket bringing me back to my childhood-self. Guarding me from the adult world that happened to be my reality. 

I tapped on my Shawn Mendes playlist from my phone for it to be heard from my Bluetooth speaker. I loved the way Shawn’s voice soothed me to a calming state that felt so unbelievable. Gathering myself in the shower today felt different, maybe it was the first time in forever I felt like my old self again. 

The cold water cascades down on my body waking up every tired muscle and cell. feeling more refreshed than I’ve felt in a very long time. It was amazing. My hands slipped all over my body, once they reached my left shoulder blade they slowed. Feeling the soulmate mark embedded into my skin, rough and texturized. I could the shape at the tips of my fingers, it’s a simple leaf. 

what’s the meaning behind it, there has to be a reason why it’s that, right? My mother and father share a poppy on their wrists. They say they know what it means, but didn't want to tell me till I found my soulmate. Now they can, but I don't think I want to know. It’s their mean I didn't want to intrude. 

I had gotten out of the shower and began to get ready for the day ahead. somewhere deep down I could feel this day is going to change my life forever. 

Pulling my olive green bootie on I said goodbye to the cat and I was out the door. Hoping that they give me enough courage to enter the café that my soulmate was employed at

To relief stress from taking controlling of my body,  leading me back to the apartment. I lost myself to my workout playlist, finding the beat and slightly dancing to it. Surprisingly it felt amazing, my spirit felt free and happy.

It wasn't long before I found myself standing in front of the beautiful café. Removing my earbuds with a quick yank I stared at the café’s big words. ‘The Black Rose’ The place I adored and happened to hold my mate hostage. 

One thought crossed my mind, why haven't we made eye contact sooner? I mean I have been going to this coffee shop since I moved here. I think I've seen him a few times before, but no eye contact. It seemed weird, almost unnaturally strange. 

“Miss are you going to go in or stare at it like you're banned from it?” A smooth and gentle voice flooded my ears. My head snapped to the source, a little boy, no older than thirteen. “Um-.” My words got caught in my throat, I must of looked deranged just staring at the sign. 

The boy smiled at me sweetly before walking forward and opening the door. Still the smile stayed as he held the glass door open for me. There was no chance for me to deny him now, especially with those brown puppy dog eyes. Brown was a gorgeous eye colour, But blue seemed to be above it. 

I looked around quickly, not catching anyone who had saw my strange staring. I return his bright smile as I walked in , “Thank you, you're such a gentlemen.”  words spilled out before any thought. “Of course, my mom taught me to be.”

I was a little amazed at his manners, because I’ve bumped into teenagers around his age before. They didn't have anything close to what he had, rude, anxious little demons. This boy a pure angel with his adorable smile and politeness. 

“Than she was doing something right.” Was my last words to the young boy, my mind no longer distracted. My mood changing from happiness to determination, it was now or never. 

This is my soulmate, nobody else's.

This is my life, nobody else's 

I walked my strong path up to the barista having one thing on my mind. I need to talk to Jackson, not even worrying, if he was working or not. 

 Melting brown eyes stared into mine, “Is Jackson here?” I asked breathless, his name just rolled off my tongue like it was the most natural thing. Amusement showed on his face. his one eyebrow lifted, as if testing me like I wasn't worthy. 

“And who are you exactly?” He asked carefully, 

“His soulmate.” With those words the guy’s head was over his shoulder immediately. “Jackson!” He hollered loudly and waited. My heart pounded hard in my chest, this was it. I’m going to see my soulmate, actually see him. 

“Yeah?” His husky voice muffled behind a door. My mind slipped out of confidence, this was a terrible idea. What was I thinking, I obviously wasn't!

“There’s someone here for you.”  

Well it’s too late to back out now. remember, now or never. 

“I’ll be a few seconds.” 

You know never seems like the better option.

The barista’s head whipped back towards me, “Tell him I headed outside, thank you.” I spoke before walking towards the door. Outside I glanced down at a broken crack in the pavement, it felt strange, in a perfect world nothing was meant to be broken, maybe bent, but never broken. It reminded me that this world was far from perfect. 

“Listen,” Jackson’s voice wavered, I turned around startled by the way it had affected me. Seeing him forcing his vibrant eyes to the ground was confusing. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Last night was a complete and utter mistake. It was only a distraction, not an attachment. Honestly it didn't help like I thought it would, but it cant happen again. I have a soulmate...” He trailed off.

It took milliseconds to put two and two together, he slept with someone else to forget me. it didn't work, but my soulmate had sex with another women. I didn't want it to hurt, but god did it ever. Like a rope wrapped it’d self around my heart and pulled until it  cut into two. It was a bloody crime. 

My throat grew to a throb as my eyes stung as tears lined my eyes. Fuck it hurt. “I know because she is me.” I choked my words out before turned my way back home. My hand clutched towards my mouth trying to stop my sobs. 

“Shit.” Jackson mumbled under he’s breath. I heard his feet charging after me, I wanted on of those unnatural cracks to open up and take me under. It was too late, Jackson hooked his hand in mine. Tingles erupted and made their way through my body. Making my mood change rapidly. He yanked me back and towards him.

My free hand made it’s way under my eyes and wiped my warm tears away. My throat’s throb no longer in tact. “Wow you're breathtaking.” His tone dreamy as I raised my eyes to his blue ones. 

I’ve never seen anything more memorizing than the shade of blue in his eyes. His perfect and sharp features, his skin having no flaws. He was perfect and couldn't be more blessed. 

“She really meant nothing, It-” 

“Stop, Jackson, I know.” I said softly. 

“God your voice sounds as if you stole it from an angel.” he said in the same tone as before. It made a giggle erupt from my chest at the way he said it. “I think you just took my breath away.” He spoke seriously as his expression was blank. 

“Jackson I think we need to start again if you want your slip up to be left behind.” I slide my hand out of his as my rational thoughts came back to me. Regretting it because I was know missing how his physical contact made me feel.

“Okay, well at least I'm on break.” He said lifting up his wrist and checking the time. “I have thirty minutes, now walk a little ways down the sideway.”  He directed. I smiled with a confused expression I started walking backwards, “And why exactly I am I doing this?” I asked him still looking into his vibrant eyes, I don't think I could ever get tired of that color. 

“You wanted to start over, so we are. You’ll come walking back, distracted my your phone or that cute dog across the street..” I whipped my head to the other side of the street when he said ‘cute dog’ and there was in fact a beautiful dog. 

It was a white German Shepard, It was almost like I was colourless again. except the colour of it’s fur happened to be brighter. I had spotted it’s light honey coloured eyes once it glanced in my direction. One beautiful creature. 

“Jen” At the sound of my name rolling off his tongue I mentally purred. I loved the way he said it. I turned towards him pulling my lips inward as I got distracted before I was meant to. “Sorry.” I laughed out. 

He rolled his eyes but nevertheless his smile remained. “anyways. you’ll get distracted and ill bump into you. Its an easy plan should go easy.” He said and at that moment I realized he was being completely serious about this. I know it wont be that hard to fall in love with Jackson cause I already adored him. 

I did exactly as told and bumped into him, my shoulder pressed against him and the sensation of sparks had me gasping. I dropped my phone that I used for my distraction, Jackson held onto my waist and skillfully rescued my phone from hitting  the cement flooring. 

A sly smile made it’s way onto his lips as he said “My bad I didn't see you there.” I wanted to laugh because this was already planned out, but I kept my act on. “It’s fine I wasn't watching where I was going.” I responded back. “A beauty like you shouldn't have to.” He spoke out. I couldn't help but feel the blush creep up my neck. 

“The names Jackson and I think I just found my Soulmate.” I giggled slightly at the way he said it. He handed me my phone back after I watched him save him number into my phone. 

“Jen,” I smiled up at him as he pulled my body closer, “Well, Jen Let me take you out for a cup of coffee.” 

I frowned and loosened  his grip on me, his face fell just slightly. Just the reaction I was wanting. “I don't do coffee.” I spoke with a vaguely disgusted face. 

“What are you talking about? The day I met you. you had a coffee with two sugars and two cream. and you have the audacity to say you don't do coffee.” He spoke in some kind of rant. I rolled my lips in to stopping my laugh, But I knew I couldn't hold it in as I raised my hand to my mouth and laughed. 

“That wasn't funny.” He said through gritted teeth playfully. He captured me into his arms and squeezed my to his chest as I continued to laugh. It felt as if we’ve know each other our whole lives instead of a few moments.

Jackson still held me in his arms as our giggles began to diminish in the air. his hold on me loosened a bit and I enjoyed the moment we were in before he had to go back into work. 

“Yes I’ll have coffee with you.”

“You didn't have to say I already knew.” 

[trailsofink]

Inktober Days 5-7: Multiple Prompts

I got a little behind here, so I decided to write a three part story since it was a good way to catch back up. So here’s a continuing story in three parts:

Day Five: Deuteronomy 2:10 - a song about deep, unassailable loneliness after loss

Day Six: Orange Ball of Love -  a mix of love and distrust

Day Seven: Harlem Roulette - another song about loneliness, though this one is more related to feeling ineffectual and hopeless

I promise I make these softer than they appear. It’s me, it’s what I do. 

Here’s 3,824 words of me catching up

Deuteronomy 2:10

Rain could taste the fear on the wind like roses gone to rot. She tried to convince herself that this was a positive step. A change in the world could go either way when the coin hit the pavement. But she knew better and her intuition would not let her find hope in the false shadows those thoughts cast.

Once the city’s winds tasted like joy, though a capricious aftertaste had run beneath them. She found it difficult to put a name to the emotion for the longest time. She had thought perhaps it could be envy, but that wasn’t it. Perhaps it was more distrust? It was only after months of idle deliberation that she found an answer. It should have been obvious from the start. Detachment or, as she eventually came to call it, Independence.

Her city, Blackness of the Ocean, had been a powerhouse, the planetary capital of influencers. There had been great priests whose follower counts were unlike anyone else’s. There had been media enough to cover the clock a thousand times per day and at least two percent of it was worth watching. And all the while all the tools of integration and networking somehow only insulated people. Followers were not people, they were a number and the higher the number went, the deeper the commodification of the self. Every window became a mirror and every skyline a canvas for promotion.

At first, Rain had been glad to see things start to collapse. She had spoken to her two friends about how beneficial this could be. The mirrors were shattered, literally and figuratively, and she thought that it would finally lead to self-reflection. And it did. The problem was, none of the people who saw a need to change decided to stay, including her friends. And all of the people who were won over to her way of thinking at long last, all of the people who realized that Vanity had reigned over Humanity and might become her allies were gone.

She had thought to leave, she really did. It would be easy, really; there were plenty of rides out of town and she was even offered one by half of her friends. But she declined the second she scented the air, the second the rosy joy turned to rotten fear, decomposing the very cityscape like a field gone fallow.

“Why?” Trust had asked her from the driver’s seat of their car. “Why do you insist on staying here?” Confusion swirled along the wind.

“Because they’re afraid.” Rain had said. She had raised her chin high, defiant, ready to argue the point.

“Yeah, that’s a perfect reason to leave.”

“That must be where we differ.” Rain had replied. It was an unhappy revelation at best, though she put a smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Trust. I really can’t.” Trust tried to hide their displeasure, though they could never hide it from Rain. Not that they knew it. Rain had never said what she was.

“Well good luck.” Trust sighed at last and resignation flooded Rain’s senses, smelling of poppy. Red or white she couldn’t tell, it was a small distinction. “If you change your mind, give me a call.”

“You would come back for me?” Rain asked, genuine surprise on her face. Trust scowled at her expression or at her surprise. A yellow carnation beneath her nose. Disdain or was it disappointment?

“Rain, I know you never really believed I was your friend. Maybe that’s my fault, maybe it’s not. But you have to believe in someone. Priv and I are leaving and just. Promise me you’re going to look after yourself.”

“Of course.”

“By finding someone. You need people.”

“I don’t-” Rain began and the scent of geranium rose so thickly in the air that she stopped even before Trust hardened their expression in a way that signaled digging their heels in and dying on that hill if they must. Rain bowed her head. Trust may have been many things, but when determination was their primary emotion there was no winning. “Okay. Maybe you’re right.” She wasn’t sure if she believed it, but she couldn’t handle the drawn out discussion, she couldn’t deal with more of these strong emotions, her sinuses were killing her.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Rain said. Whether she agreed with Trust or not, she wouldn’t deny them their last request. Trust nodded. That settled, they simply drove off, leaving Rain all but alone in the city.

And now she walked with the scent of fear in the air, thick as smog. She did nothing but surf the emotions, walking through the city square and trying desperately to find something different, trying to find someone with hope or with joy.

It seemed impossible. At least until she found the first broadcast.

Orange Ball of Love

There were hundreds of broadcasts where there used to be thousands, their content ranging far and wide. Some people still held to the old ways, streaming their breakfasts, their daily routine, a trip to work filled with all their thoughts about how electrofolk would be affected by the fall of the city. Rain knew the latter to be precisely the kinds of broadcasts they claimed to be. It was the strange, earnest ones that turned out to be liars in the end. They seemed to care so much and, though she couldn’t scent emotion through broadcasts, she knew people well enough to know their tones, know all the ways in which they lied for the camera. It made little sense after the decrease in viewership, but people clung to their old rituals, their old religions.

All of that was to say, she thought she knew the scope of the world. Even in the apocalyptic exodus of streams, she knew the score. Which is exactly why she burned her eggs when she found something new. She had been aimlessly flipping through channels while she cooked her breakfast, more interested in getting a sense of who was broadcasting rather than what. But then a soundless broadcast came up and she had to check to make sure that there wasn’t a problem with her Veil interface. The picture was coming through fine, the shoreline at some isolated portion of the beach. She waved her fingers to mute, the screen hanging in the air showing a small speaker with a red line through it and then the red line disappearing as she unmuted. Nothing.

“Hmm.” She said, dismissing the window and then tapping the air in front of her again. A black ripple ran through, as if she had tapped the surface of quite a bit of ink and as the ripple widened, it slowed down and became the screen once more. Still no sound. There were people who did this, though typically it was over something like a painting they were making or an amateur doing an interstitial point in their broadcast in a particularly artsy way. This looked like an earnest video, which made her squint her eyes waiting for the hook.

And then the sound came in.

It was slight at first, the camera walking along the beach to the tune of seagulls and waves. But soon she heard a gap and realized that the sound was looping for some reason, even though the picture was not. She reached out and enlarged the screen with another ripple effect, staring and trying to discern what was happening. Some avant garde filmmaker trying to make a statement? That wasn’t the way of Blackness of the Ocean, not without the artist in the frame. She was still considering this when the sound began to form into a pattern, the loops overlayed onto each other along with new sounds, a rock thudding into another, the sound of stepping on sand amplified. The world was slowly forming a song. She smiled. The eggs burned. No, that was a lie; the eggs positively scorched.

“Fuck.” She swore, hurriedly fixing her mistake as smoke started to rise from the pan. She had to scrape them off and then she held a dehydrated mess of blackened egg powder in what she hoped wasn’t a ruined pan. Well, she couldn’t eat those, could she? She pulled up another screen with another ripple and her refrigerator display told her she was out of eggs. She only had it tracking eggs, otherwise it would’ve read: “and everything else.” She took a deep breath before switching to her account. Enough for eggs. That would work. Finally, she went to get ready, about to dismiss the window of the broadcast before thinking better of it, bringing it with her as she got ready, letting it lock to its position relative to her as she put on shoes and threw on a hoodie before making her way outside, switching the window to private and shrinking it so she wouldn’t accidentally walk into traffic or start up a conversation.

The city was a blur. She made the walk mostly on rote, instead watching as the broadcaster found various creatures along the seashore and fed them various things. The turtle received some greens and the birds received birdseed, presumably for this purpose all the while the music went on. It was only when she had her eggs in hand that she realized she’d gone through the entire trip on memory and ambient information. The thought terrified her, but the fact that she hadn’t scented the fear on the air was incredible.

Another thought occurred to her: whoever was broadcasting? They were from this city.

A final thought occurred to her: the beach looked an awful lot like hers.

She had a choice to make. She could make a dumb decision or she could take her eggs home and actually eat something. They weren’t technically mutually exclusive actions, but by the time she cemented herself back into her routine, the call of foolishness would leave her and she would be back in her life. Perhaps she would’ve done that on a different day. If the world had continued on, if Trust hadn’t made her promise to look after herself and find people. But here she was, a half dozen eggs in one hand, the beach not so far away and the video of the beach showing someone feeding some crustacean a piece of lettuce.

She turned away from her house and down the street that took her to the beach. And when the foolishness of it began to set in, she walked faster. By the time she made it to the beach, she was jogging, eggs in hand as she quickly scanned the horizon, her heart racing. Her mind tried to ask her why she was doing this, what she hoped to gain and she ignored it with the frantic pursuit of this weird streamer and their weird stream whose music was a noted absence from her world the second she muted. She unmuted and lowered the volume instead as she tried to find a landmark in the video. At last she did, a craggy cliffside with an outjutting that looked- yes! She found a silhouette exactly where it should be and realized belatedly that it could have just been someone streaming a recording. She was glad it wasn’t.

Even as she bridged the distance, sand finding its way into her shoes. Even as she realized she had no idea how to start this conversation. Because beneath the spray of the sea she could scent roses, not the cut bouquets the city used to resemble, but a field of wild ones. And the closer she got, the stronger it got until she was at last a few meters out from the person.

“Hey!” She called. The figure didn’t turn, but she heard her voice fall into the  recording and then start to get remixed in along with the other sounds. She frowned, muting the stream. Confusion scented the air and, if she could sense her own emotions, she might have confused it for hers. As it stood, she watched as the figure stopped walking and turned to scan the horizon, finding her at last. She waved, a small smile on her face. They began to sign back, their hands casting slow words into the air and she rapidly switched her video feed to a translation one, the words hanging in the air in front of her.

“Can I help you with something?” They asked and there was no sense of concern, either on their face or on the wind, just a genuine question? For a moment, Rain was stumped and then she switched on a translate function and started to speak.

“I…was… watching…” She said and signed the words that came up as best she could. Other words appeared on screen and she glanced at the streamer to realize they were speaking before reading the words.

“I can read your lips.” They signed.

“Oh.” She said, clearing her throat. “Well, uh.” She dismissed the signing instructions, though made a mental note to start learning them if she was going to talk to this person. “I was watching your stream and…” How to phrase it? She watched their face and they waited patiently, the start of a smile on their lips. Their curly hair fell over their brown eyes, matching prettily with their dark skin. “I wanted to say I’m a big fan.”

“Thank you.” They signed back and they were grinning. Warmth spread across Rain’s cheeks and she swallowed, unable to keep herself from smiling. Their genuine pleasure scented the moonflower touching the air. They didn’t mention that she could’ve just texted or started a window. They began to sign again and she looked to the words as they appeared. “Did you bring me eggs?” Confusion, though laced with amusement.

“Oh, I was just on the way home from the store…” She paused, realizing this far into suburbia, the closest store really was the one she had left from. Meaning…

“A long way.” The words read and she laughed.

“I wanted to do something foolish.”

“What’s your name?” They asked through a quick sign.

“Rai-…” She paused. She had grown accustomed to giving only the part of her name she had everyone call her by for so long, but this was a formal introduction in some strange way, wasn’t it? “All the Rainbow’s Heavy Tones in a Joyous Chord.” She said and then smiled. “Rain for short.”

“I like it.” They signed with a smile. “A very happy name. I am A Connection Made in Broken Stone.” They shrugged and continued signing, though at a rapid pace now that they knew her to be using the translator. “It doesn’t abbreviate well, I go by Conn.” They spelled the letters out one at a time and the translator put a dash between each one.

“Conn is a nice name,” She said, winking as she bridged the distance. “A little criminal.”

“I love crime.” They said and she laughed. “I was going to have lunch, bring your eggs and we can have egg lunch.”

“What’s egg lunch?” She asked, grinning already. This was easy. She realized to some extent that their easy happiness was infecting her but she was long past the point of being troubled by that sort of thing. For the longest time, the independence had affected her and made her less likely to make connections, maybe it still did, but she learned how to interpret what was hers and what wasn’t and take what she wanted from the stream of scents.

“Toast and eggs?” They signed with a shrug and she smiled, nodding. The two of them walked down the shoreline.

“How often do you stream this?” She asked, making sure her face was turned towards them so they could see.

“Every so often. It keeps me sane.” Came the reply and she frowned. There wasn’t an extra emotion on the air but the wild rose ebbed slightly.

“What does that mean?”

“Work is…” They frowned and mint rose into her nose, suspicion? No, not in this context. Worry, maybe? “I am a reporter.”

“Oh,” She said. Somehow she hadn’t expected that.

“Business and economics.” They replied and she winced. They smiled, though the scent of roses didn’t get any stronger. “Exactly, not the kind of thing that gets you friends you like.”

“Why do you do it?” She asked, frowning. “If you don’t like it…” A series of rapid signs came and she read along quickly as a paragraph formed.

“Because someone has to do it. Everyone else is on their payroll and at the end of the day, I can say that I gave my editor the facts and that I did my part no matter what the rest of them say.” They looked to her, frowning and signing. “Did that sound convincing?”

“I thought so.” She said as the scent of mint rose higher. “Did you not believe it?”

“I’m trying to.” They signed. “It just feels like I’m not getting anything done. Especially with the way everything has gone in the city, I just feel so-”

“Powerless.” She said and they nodded, dropping their hands before signing the word. “I’m going to tell you something.” She said and they stopped along the beach, turning to her and giving her their attention. The scent of sunflower rose and she smiled at it, loyalty was it? To her? “I’ve never told anyone this.”

“Why me?” They signed, more confusion spilling out.

“Because I don’t have anyone left in this city.” She said. “Because it’s killing me that I don’t. Because my friend Trust was right? Because I wish I had told them and I didn’t and I just.” She took a deep breath. “You might not believe me, but not believing me is at least a start.”

“Go on,” They signed when she hit a long pause.

“I can sense emotions. I have been able to for the longest time and I…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I keep feeling all the fear on the wind from this city and you’re the first person who has felt like anything but fear. You feel like hope and happiness in a way I’ve never really understood so.” She took a shuddering breath, realizing how close she was to crying and stopping herself before she could. “That’s it, that’s what I have to say and God I just realized I told a reporter all of that.” Her world was awash in the scent of Geranium, the determination equal to what Truth had smelled like when she made Rain promise to do exactly this. Well, not exactly, maybe.

“I believe you.” They signed in the air, making slower, more dramatic signs. “Why would you come to a stranger and lie? Besides.” They shrugged. “I know when someone is lying.”

“Because you’re a reporter?”

“Because I watch carefully.” They signed and she smiled, her nerves still alight even as she tried to process what had just happened. “Would you like a hug?” They asked and she nodded. “Watch the eggs.” They signed and she laughed, holding the eggs away from her body as the stranger stepped in for a hug, holding her tight. She didn’t know when she started crying, but they held her until she stopped and when she finally stepped away they signed and she had to readjust her translation window from having moved when they hugged before she read, “Ready for that lunch?”

“God, yes I’m starving.” She said as they continued their walk along the beach.

Harlem Roulette

Weeks passed. For awhile it looked as if the city would collapse beneath the weight of the exodus, but that didn’t last for long. Companies came in and found plenty of uses for the heavy consumption streams of Blackness of the Ocean. Soon everything was revitalized and Rain and Conn could only watch in dawning horror as the world they thought they escaped rebuilt itself in a more horrible visage.

“We could just leave.” Rain signed as the two of them sat on the couch, the Veil window before them holding streams of a dozen ads.

“We could.” Agreed Conn in a series of rapid signs that Rain barely had to think about. “But you wouldn’t be happy.”

“How do you figure?” Rain replied before taking a sip of her whiskey, setting it down again so she was ready to reply when Conn was done.

“You didn’t leave the first time.”

“I was dumber then.”

“Or smarter.”

“Fine,” She sighed. “I won’t be happy if I leave, but…” She gestured at the four rows and three columns of windows. “This can’t stay like this. These ads are terrible, they’re all for things like untested medications that are either snake oil or sponges sold as weight loss. There’s all these political attack ads and I only know the politicians from the attack ads? This whole city is thriving in a way worse than it ever has before and…” She flexed her fingers and rolled her wrists.

“You could still let me lip read.”

“No.” She signed back and continued. “I just. Someone has to do something.”

“Another exodus?”

“No.” She signed. “An exodus makes a power vacuum. What we need is someone to take the offensive. There’s a way to break this down. There’s a way to use attack ads to our benefit. I…” She paused. “I can tell which ads are effective and which aren’t. I’ve got a knack for this.”

“Because of your power?” They asked and she nodded. “Could you change minds by…”

“No.” She signed. “Or rather I could, but I refuse to. I’m not changing anyone’s emotions without their consent, you know that.”

“I do.” They signed. “Sorry. But Rain, making ads won’t be enough. We need to do more than that if we’re going to act at all.”

“What more can we do?” She asked.

“Expose.” Conn replied with a quick sign. “You know I can broadcast anything. I’m a reporter with a strong channel.”

“Wait…” Rain frowned. “Are you saying…” She drank the rest of her whiskey and poured herself another.

“Look, you’re right.” They signed. “We can’t leave, we can’t stay here like this, so let’s do something.”

“You’re dreaming.” Rain replied. “This is an awful dream.”

“Even awful dreams are good dreams so long as you’re dreaming.” They signed back and she laughed. “What do you say? Let’s do some damage.”

“Sure.” She signed at once. “I’m in. But I’m not nearly drunk enough to deal with it.” She said as she worked on her second whiskey. It was going to be a long night and whatever happened next would be even longer, but. Finally.

Finally there was something on the horizon worth looking towards. She didn’t know if this was what Truth wanted for her. Actually, it was more like she was absolutely sure it wasn’t. However, here she was and she was going to do the best with what she had.

[insomniac-arrest]

Poppy

genre: humor, coffee shop, getting together

words: 3k

Summary: Alex has never seen anyone destroy their food like that before. And she never wants to see it again.

The woman tearing poppyseeds off muffins has her full attention, and internal wrath. They keep meeting like this.

She picked the poppy seeds out the muffin.

I think I hate her.

Her long pink nails dug into the soft yellow skin of the muffin top and picked them out. One. By. One. Setting them aside on the plate like she wanted to spend the rest of her life in my coffee shop doing the impossible.

It was the worst moment of my life, and I almost smokey-the-beared myself in the 6th grade (only you can prevent forest fires kids! Say no to lighter fluid and bad decision-making skills).

I wrinkle my nose and wish, not for the first time, that my sheer power of will could do some sort of Darth Vader magic on her. She was obviously already part of the dark side, you don’t forfeit your soul for nothing, and apparently, trade it for very bad taste in food etiquette.

“Alex,” I felt a coworker growing concerned, “Alex, there’s a spill on the corner table.” Abigail was snapping her gum at me like she was going to smack me into the next shift. It was one of those days.

Days when woman in bright pink scarves and fuzzy sweaters picked out poppy seeds from perfectly good muffins.

I keep my head stiffly pointed toward her as I make the rounds to the tables, delicately wiping them down as I imagined being a ship’s cabin boy scrubbing down the vessel. I’m not sure if that ever helps.

“Waitress!” I wasn’t a waitress. “Excuse me.”

I turn slowly, like I had wooden gears in my neck instead of tendons and a bad stress knot that may one day kill me- which was likely enough.

I walk stiltedly, stiffly over to the Poppy Woman table. She was smiling at me with the sheen of someone who used chapstick.

I bunch the rag up, “How can I help you?” I smile, all of my training had been preparing me for this. Poppy woman.

She looks both ways, “I was just wondering,” she holds up her small plate, “where could I throw this out?” In all fairness we did hide our trash can under a low overhang, obscuring the mouth of it with no concrete sign to tell people, yes, yes, we are a reasonable business that wants your money. That sign would be good.

I lift my quaking finger, “over there.” I reach my hand out, “I could take it.” My voice was still crowded with sugar sweet customer service. But it was fading, my willpower was compromised.

“That’s very considerate, I mean, if it’s no trouble.” She reached for her purse, I stand there frozen.

I chew on bottom lip like a dog toy before opening my mouth again, “was...was there anything wrong with the muffin?” My strongest defense was a bold offense.

“Oh,” she looks down and then back up again, she tugs on her purse. “I just think there was a mixup.” She smooths out her long honey-colored ponytail, “I little hiccup.” “Uh,” I blink a couple times and tilt my head, “I’m so sorry about that. What was the matter?” The woman lifts her chin, still exhuming sunshine like I was a solar panel. “Well, you see. She asked for my name. But I think she wrote down what kind of muffin I wanted at the same time.” She woman flattens her skirt out. “So… it was an easy mistake.” “She wrote down poppy muffin?” I could feel question marks forming above my head like I was a cartoon character.

“No, no, my name is Poppy.” “Your name is Poppy?” “My name is Poppy.” I feel a creeping embarrassment crawling up my neck, I just made the woman confirm several times that she was named after a flower/muffin.

“I am sorry about that, again.” I hurry to take the plate away and get back to the authority of my station. “Can I get you a blueberry one instead? On the house.” The woman beams, “Really? I didn’t want to start a fuss.” I shake my head and I’m a little annoyed with her again (who doesn’t try return the muffin??), “It’s no problem, that was our fault after all.” She followed me smoothly over to the case and I see her round figure and practical shoes.

I take the tongs and fish a blueberry muffin out, “there.” I turn, “I hope you like this kind.” We were running out.

“I do,” she cheers and reaches out. “I’ll have to come to this shop more often.” I want to tell her no, never come back here again and forget that we exist, but it was a little late for that. I smile, creating an ecosystem of renewable energy around my face. “We’re happy to have you! We love our guests.” If I was a programmable bot I imagine that’s also along the lines of what they would say. She laughs a little bit and waves, “goodbye then Alexandra.” I wish I could throw my name tag out the window, I still holding the carnage remains of what used to be a muffin.

My coworker glances at me and whispers, “why are you so dramatic? Stop staring.” I turn around and fluff my curly hair, “I was threatened.” “No. You’re a theatre major.” I stick my tongue out and turn back to the case, I hoped didn’t find her way back.

----

Flower women all across the globe were determined to ruin me- though it was mostly this one.

“What is she doing?” I whisper, ever so softly, holding the attention of our newest team member, Mike something.

“Is the cappuccino machine supposed to foam like that?” He was sweating, voice cracking like the san antonio fault line.

“She is ruining that cake.”

“It’s making the whirring noise, Jeff didn’t mention anything about a whirring noise.” Mike something was holding a cup like it was a life support system on a flooding lifeboat.

I keep my eyes focused on the real issues, “you can’t just literally cut off all the icing and eat the middle part. You might as well just eat bread! Bread!” Poppy was back. Muffin woman, her rompage unending.

“Alex-”

“Against the geneva convention.” “It’s making that sound.” Mike sounded like he wished he was still living on his mother’s couch.

I hear the rumbling of the machine’s behind me, no doubt planning it’s own self-destruction and trying to bring us with it.

“Yes yes,” I turn back to my job, slinging another rag over my shoulder as I go to dart behind the counter. “It’s just overheated, give it a moment.” I see more of the morning crowd gathering in line, Maisy was brushing them off easily as she explained that it might just be another moment. I go start on the second cappuccino machine.

“Let’s just fill the coffee orders first.” I say briskly, “And then investigate.”

“Didn’t you just say it was overheating?” I turn to him, “No. The lady.” Mike covered his face and rubbed her eyes a little bit, “I think…” “Chop chop,” we have drinks coming out and a hot cinnamon roll that someone yelled at us about, but I had worse mornings.

I wondered why she was coming in, and if I had just done this to myself to begin with. I tempted her with the blueberry muffin and like a tamed deer she became attached.

She sat upright with her computer in front of her, perfectly upright and focused. She was typing something and leaving the icing to the cake completely off to the side. Why did she order a cake? My eyes were getting red, she was still in my shop.

“Alex, if you get any more creepy I am going to apologize to that lady myself.” Maisy was tapping her foot, freckles popping out as she gave her a disapproving look. I turn slowly, “Yes. Before she takes you out. Soviet style.”

“What?” “Like a Soviet Spy? Who’s never been outside before. Or interacted with people.” Maisy flicks me in the shoulder, “please, either use that imagination to write a memoir, or sweep my floors this time.” I wrinkle my nose, I logically knew that the sooner we swept the easier closing would be. But that was still hours away.

And she was still here.

I go to start my routine of finding where an older gentleman had devoured a cookie with crumb casualties spread on all sides, I work my way up past the back tables and toward the front.

Maybe it would have turned out differently if I hadn’t already opened the floodgate, passed the line into her domain, already crossed the summoning line. I am almost right next to her, she was glancing at me, most likely for good reason.

I open my mouth, brushing my hair aside and smiling, “was that one better?” I point to the cake and try to speak casually.

She shrugs, “I like the inside of cake.” She moves it around, “so yes, this was very good.” “I see.” My smile was straining into a grand canyon. “Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do.” I turn away, thinking it was the best way to control myself.

“Can I ask you a question?” I freeze, this was the part where she asked me for American nuclear codes.

I clutch my broom and see the lights in the cafe brighten, the sun was going down.

I nod, “sure, of course.” Poppy sits up straight and takes out a notepad, “I didn’t want to ask you right away since you’re at work,” she shifts from side to side, “but I was looking for someone to get a couple brief questions from.” I tilt my head to the side, “why?” I couldn’t help it, this wasn’t what I was expecting. And had planned for a lot of different scenarios.

She clears her throat, “you see,” she glances up with large brown eyes, “I’m writing a novel and I need reference material. For working in a shop like this.” I resist wrinkling my nose, that didn’t sound like something I would want to read. “Shoot.” I finally say hoarsely.

She practically bounces in place, “how long have you worked here?” “Five years.” I look my nail beds as I say, disinterested, cool, “started in college and then… kept going.” I feel like a dog with its tail between its legs as I admit that.

“Perfect,” she was still jotting things down, “what’s the average morning like?” My theory was bridging from ‘soviet spy’ to ‘alien.’

“Well,” I am tempted to sit down, “well, where to start.” Her eyes dart out, “start at the beginning.” I can’t tell if she’s telling a joke or not, “first there’s the 5am crowd, sometimes it’s empty for a little bit before they arrive, but it’s a mix of bus drivers and mega-business people. The occasional college student.” “Good good,” she was nodding and I was sitting up taller.

“It’s best not to make eye contact with those folks, most of them have the fact that it’s 5am on their minds. In their beings.”

I hear a little laugh and look up, Poppy was laughing a little bit, she had the type of Real Smile that ate up sceneries and filled up poetry books. I gulp.

“You’re funny.” My eyebrows raise, that wasn’t that funny. My cheeks heat up, “well, then we have to get 6am-” “Alex,” I hear my manager calling out to me, “What are you doing?”

I make a face and realize that I had been absorbed in being actually interviewed. I turn my face away quickly and go for my broom like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

I glance back to Poppy who was writing things quickly down again.

I give her a little salute, she laughs. “Duty calls.” I jog back over to Maisy who wanted me to take the trash out early, “What were you doing?” I heave a sigh, Poppy was still caught in the corner of my eye like a stray piece of dust. “Do you ever flirt with the food devil?” “Stop talking, no. Go, trash.” I hunch my shoulders over and try not to play that scene over and over in my head. Poppy. Questions. Calling me funny. I walk like a wobbly fawn outside to the dumpster and stay there for a for a long time.

I was suddenly not rooting for her to get lost on the way through the door. I bury my face in my hands, I was apparently easy like that.

--------

I was at the counter when she came in again the next day. It was 9am, one of the busiest hours and I only numbly recognize that she had joined the line.

And then I really realized.

“Oh,” I say softly and my eyes find the end of her honey ponytail. “Oh?”

“Is my order too big?” A teenager questioned me and I questioned him in my head on why he was here on a school day.

I turn back, “3 frappuccinos, one with no whip to go?” I continue. I sort and press buttons and whisper instructions to Mike when he gets overwhelmed, I smile. And the menace, the pleasant menace draws closer.

I’m a little nervous, but for different reasons this time. Mostly I think it’s because I’m easy.

“How can I help you?” My voice almost cracks like a broken violin string.

Poppy stepped up to the counter, tilting her head and leaning forward. “Do you work here every day or is this just coincidence?” It was playful.

I look in both directions, “No breaks for me. Almost every day.” “I suppose it’s because I’m here a lot too.” She reflects mildly. I flick a half-smile up, a real one. “I assumed you just wanted to move in here. We have the room.” She laughs, “If you have enough coffee cups I can build something, I was awfully good at building forts as a kid.” Why was she like this? I was bad at keeping enemies.

I chuckle back, “I’ll join you, an inhouse sick day. Even though I don’t get sick days.” It was almost a grumble, I notice the people in back of Poppy getting ancy.

“That’s a shame.” She seemed genuinely concerned.

“It’s okay. What can I get you then?” I take a deep breath, “nothing with poppy seeds I assume.”

She grins, “not this time. I’ll have a latte and everything bagel.” I nod and punch it in before I can open my mouth to keep this going. She waves, “good talking to you Alexandra.” “Alex,” I correct her before she leaves, “It’s Alex.”

Her smile was so slow and warm it felt a sunrise, “Alex then.” I was dying in new and interesting ways each second.

--------

“Why?” I was finishing up emptying the coffee grounds as I stared, “Why would she…?” Our war of attrition was back.

Could I outlast this temptress though? She was cutting up her bagel like it was a delicacy, with a fork and a knife and putting cream cheese on the little triangle bits. My jaw was almost on the ground.

“She’s so cute… but so wrong.” “Are you mumbling to yourself again?” My second manager, Jeff, was squinting at me.

“Alex has been doing that.” Mike was not on my side, I shoot him a warning look, he takes a step back.

“I’m just saying,” I try not to point, “that’s the worst possible way to eat a bagel. Possibly not human.” My alien theory was coming back into play.

Jeff rolls his eyes, “isn’t that the one you held up the line for?” Mike mouths something that looks like ‘flirting’ and I mouth something like ‘snitch.’

Jeff nods at me, “You should talk to her, your shifts almost up, right?” I start to sweat, “kinda.” Jeff wags a finger, “I’ll tell Maisy you couldn’t go through with it.” “I’ll tell Maisy about your huge crush then.” He whacks me gently on the side of the head, fair enough.

“Alright, alright.” I straighten my shirt just as the clock ticks by. “I’ll go clock out.”

My heart was beating loudly, et tu, bodily functions?

I take my time taking off my smock and punching in my employee number like I had forgotten the combination.

I take a deep breath, hoist my bag on my shoulder and wonder if she’s still even sitting there.

Poppy was sitting perfectly in place with her computer in front of her when I leave the back room.

I creep toward her general direction, like I was just going to pass her and exit through the back way, she looks up, her round eyes flashing.

“Ah,” she grins, “I was hoping I would catch you.” I stop in place, she was hoping things.

“Why do you destroy our foods?” I blurted out because I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Her face goes slightly slack, “what’s that?” I point down at her bagel remnants, “food…”  She glances down and suddenly feel terribly out of place, “why.” “Oh,” Poppy seemed taken back.

I backtrack, “not that it’s totally a bad thing.” I look for forgiveness in my heart.

I’m about to apologize again and leave when I hear her little laugh again.

“You were upset about the food, oh my God.” She pushed her ponytail back, “I thought...well I guess it doesn’t matter.” “What did you think?” I sit down in the seat across from her. She shuts her laptop.

“I thought I either offended you beyond belief or…” She fidgets from side to side, “Well, I was being silly.” I reach out like a dying man reaches for water. “Tell me. I’m game.” “I don’t really know you.” “I know you don’t like poppy seeds,” I smile, “and that you’re writing some sort of novel.” Her face pinks gently and she ducks her head for a moment, “well, you make all your drinks with extra foam.” “I try,” I shrug.

“And studied theatre at Metro.” I sit up straight, “I mean, I did,” I eye her, “how did you know?” Her eyes go wide, “I wasn’t stalking you.” I snort a little bit, “And I thought I was the off one… well, good to know.”

“I just saw your facebook.” I laugh again as she looks like a deer in the headlights.

“Go on,” I lean forward, “what is it that you thought?”

“That I shouldn’t go on Facebook any more.” She puts her face in her hands.

“Don’t worry about it.” I wave a hand in the air, “I am still curious though.” I prompt her again. She shifts from side to side, “Well, it was a very intense stare…I was being silly, like I said.” “Uh-huh,” I lifted an eyebrow, “I like silly.” She groans, “Look, I thought you liked me and that’s what was with all the looks. There. So I came back.” She puts her laptop quickly away and I have to grab her wrist like an impulsive skydiver. My face heats up, “I don’t not not like you back.” She gives me a coy smile, “spoken like a true wordsmith.” I wanted to roll my eyes, “okay, now I don’t not not not like you.” “I’m teasing,” she pushes on my shoulder, “This is why I thought you were cute.” “You thought I was cute?” “If you’re into it, then yes.” She straightens up, “if you’re not into it, well, my name is Catherine Heigl and you never met me.”

I laugh, “Catherine Heigl?” She twists her hair up, “or Laura Bush. Anyone else really.” “How about Poppy?” I offer, “no seeds. And I’ll take you out to dinner.” She beams and starts to scribble something out on a napkin, “am I ever going to live that down with you?” “Never,” I say hotly, “you’ll have to make it up to me.” “A tough customer.” She pushes her number over to me.

I giddily pick it up and look over at her, “You’re a better one.” I reach my hand out, “walk you home?”

Poppy accepted.