#this stream......... had a lot of uh......... possible mothers day posts but. i needed to post this one. for me. personally.

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Wear headphones :]

Transcript:

*grunting*

I'm- I'm coming just- Tch

I'm almost there... Agh~

Audio Source

ok fine here's the context

Transcript:

Yay! I'm finally at the top of these stairs! *laughs*

[perishman]

The Prodigal Son

Hey so this is for @nastyburger and their Dannyverse AU.  Just so you know, it’s an AU that may not make sense without checking them out

Danny B. Fenton snorted, ashen grey smoke erupting from his nose as Dani landed behind him. For the first time in years, he was at Fenton Works for christmas, home of now world famous ghost hunters Maddie and Jack Fenton, as well as their elder child, Jazzy. It was once his home too. He knocked on the door. He didn’t know why, since he was expected. He supposed he just hoped it was Jazzy who opened the door. He was afraid to phase in. His parents might not buy that they “just didn’t hear him come in” when he was the most anticipated part of the holiday. 

After a few seconds of silent waiting, Dani turned to her brother, silently asking if he really wanted to go through with this. And B wasn’t entirely sure he was. But, he’d promised Jazzy he would make an effort. The Fentons were old by now; it was why the elder child had returned home. The door creaked open, violet eyes glancing out before it was thrown open to reveal Madeline Fenton, hunched over with hair more grey than red, her hands rough and boney. Danny’s smile was still half formed when she latched onto him with a hug. Maybe it was his Core that had always caused him so much trouble, but she was cold to the touch. Most humans were. Silently, Maddie waved him and Danielle in. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Danny felt the house take aim at them, reacting to their shared ecto-signature. Danny had once removed its ability to sense him and Dani, but Jack had yelled at him when he’d realized. Danny had pointed out that it could’ve been Jazzy, but the Fenton patriarch had rebuffed that by pointing out Jazzy followed instructions. 

Soon, Jack approached from the tree, a somewhat strained smile on his face as he said, “‘Ello Daneil. It’s good to see you. Same t’ ya Elle.”

Danny nodded, “Hi Ja- Dad. and uh, yeah. Glad to see you both as well. Merry christmas.”

“If yer more comfortable callin’ me Jack, call me Sparrow for all I care. Haven’t been yer father in years,” Jack said gruffly. Danny noticed it sounded more irate than sad. More bitter than apologetic. 

The halfa siblings each raised an eyebrow and held up some bags (Elle had food, B the gifts), to which a younger, less bitter voice rang out from behind, “Food on the counter, presents are hidden in the guestroom.”

Danny hugged Jazzy much tighter than his mother had done to him. He’d been meaning to call her for ages, bur grading and hunting had been eating up his time. Despite not being back here in ages, he didn’t need to ask where the guestroom was, given that there was only one option. When he got up there, he snorted. The bright blue walls still had the fades that came from his posters; it was the same desk, so on and so forth. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. 

“They didn’t touch it for years, ya know. They were hoping you’d,” Jazzy said with a pause, “come home.”

The redhead ran his hand through his hair and laughed horsley, “Considering how I left? Why don’t I quite believe it was a bilateral decision?”

Jazzy pursed her lips, not having a response to that. There had been a lot of yelling that night. Ancients, it had been Christmas Even then too. For the longest time, the most that Jazzy, Sam or Tucker had heard was that Danny Phantom was more and more active than had been normal. That his fire had been tinted blue. It had been a terse few weeks, and everyone was frightened out of their minds trying to figure out where Fenton was staying. When they found out Vlad had taken him and promised to hide him… It had been a difficult time. Loathe as the Phantom was to admit it, Plasmius had supported his human half in a way no one else could, and Danny was in his debt. 

Looking around the room some, Danny said, “I need to think about some stuff. You mind?”

Silently, Jazzy nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Danny looked around some more, and eventually found something he hadn’t seen in years. A picture of him with Sam and Tucker at eighteen, with the imprint of Dani in a nearly invisible red spot that almost no one else would see. If Danny had to hazard a guess, he was 19 here, and it was one of the last times he was happy at home. He sighed as he pocketed the picture and walked out. There was nothing more for him in that room, bar whatever present Jazzy had gotten him, he supposed. 

“Look who decided to join ‘is family afta all,'' snorted the old man from the living room. Danni glared at Jack, who snorted. 

Spitefully, Danny glared at his father and blew a smoke ring with his ghost sense. He knew it was childish, but Jack had been nothing but rude the entire time. To his surprise, it was his mother who glared at him with… a contempt usually reserved for Phantom... . Jack, for his part, almost seemed apologetic, before the mask was back on and he scowled. Both Jazzy and Danni rolled their eyes at their brother. 

Sensing the tension bubbling beneath the surface that threatened to lash out, Jazzy turned to Danielle, and asked, “So. Elle? What’ve you been doing lately? Last I saw on instagram you were in, Madrid, right?”

Danni nodded, “Yep. Met a cute girl or two, which was nice. But Spain isn’t for me; not a fan of their food compared to Italian. Actually I spent the last few weeks of my europe trip in Milan. But I guess I forgot to post it…” she shrugged. 

“Ooh, Milan. You have got to tell me all about it,” Jazzy said with a smile before she glanced at the falling snow. 

Danny tried to listen, really. But Danni had already told him about her time in Milan (and the girls she met there in some form.) He felt himself zoning out, before his father jostled his shoulder and led him down to the lab. Danny wasn’t sure what he expected, but the lab was still the best kept part of the house bar hi- bar the guest room. His father had to take an automatic chair to carry him down. The radioactive green of the portal still illuminated the basement, but there was now a glass container that Danny could tell was lined with ectoplasm to prevent phasing. Smart. The eldest fenton offered a beer, which the son silently turned down. But soon Jack had sat the two of them down, like when Danny was a kid. Then, Jack had called them their ‘boys talks,’ but now it was clear what this was. Two broken men, trying to fix themselves by fixing the other. 

“Now, you were always a bit oblivious on your best day. Which this most certainly isn’t. Suppose that’s my fault a bit. But, in case you hadn’t noticed. Your mother hasn’t said a word all day. Why do you think that is?”

Danny knew immediately, “Throat cancer. Jazzy told me a few weeks ago, when I was in Canada with Vlad… I tried calling, but…” 

Jack snorted, whether he believed his son or not being unclear, “Right. Ya know, when you were a tyke, I wanted you t’ meet Vladdie,” a snort, “more than anything in the world. But now? I wish I’d never met ‘im myself. Would’ve saved my family. Would’ve saved him, come to think. Regardless. I want you to tell ‘er. Before she goes. So she knows who you really are.”

The room went cold, as Danny knew exactly what Jack meant, and he tried to force the hurt down in a level tone, before asking, “You knew? For how long?”

“Knew you had powers immediately. Saw you fall through your floor, but you were too comatose from the accident to remember. Didn’t know you were Phantom for a while, but when Vlad won his first term- unanimous votes my ass- I realized somethings about him. Things were cemented when I saw you beat him into transforming back to human. If somethin like that could happen from Vlad’s accident…” he gestured to Danny.

Danny stood, eyes burning with tears and ectoplasm as he snarled, “You knew. You had to know I wasn’t some druggie. And you still let mom send me to rehab? You still wasted weeks of my life. You tore me from my friends. You still sided with Mom in almost every fight. How dare you ask for me to give her my secret now? You don’t care. You just want your guilt off your chest and think I can do that.”

“I’m the reason it was rehab and not the dissection table. Maddie was on to you, you know. By timing alone, and the devices going off. But I lied to my own wife, your mother, for months. I regret what I had to do, but not what I did. I saved my son.”

That gave Danny pause. He wanted to believe it. But years of being alienated from his family made him wary. Part of him screamed that if Jack was being honest with him, he wouldn’t have let Danny risk life and limb with minimal intervention. He wouldn't have shot at him. But the boy that wanted to be a family again ached at the possibility opening up. At being his parents’ son again. 

“Fine. I’ll do it. But after this? I don’t want to hear from you again, You’ll see me at the service, but after that, I’m gone.”

As he walked up the stairs, Jack sighed. Tears streamed down from the old man’s face. It was better Danny was angry at him, than the dying woman who’d nearly convinced him to experiment on his own son when they’d realized what happened. Jack didn’t see the incidents with Danny’s powers, it had been Maddie. And Jack had sent his son to rehab while he tried to talk his wife from the edge. He’d saved Danny, and all it cost him?

 His son. 

[stevenbasic]

Sitting alone in the small chair in front of her desk, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was already being submissive, that he was acting contrite, before the meeting even began. He’d been cowed by what happened last night, and could swear the girls were looking at him funny when he skulked into his office this morning. Did they all know already?? What happened with Randi? It all made him nervous, and he knew it did nothing but undermine his authority and make him look weak.

And then there were the stream of aggressively confident posts Melissa had put on Instagram last night, and those he’d woken up to. “I’m proud of being a woman”? #simpforme, #motheryourman, #getready?  “there’s gonna be a lot more of it”?? #stronger #bigger #successful. And - the baby-bird thing??? Jesus. It was like he was watching her spread her wings and he felt, this morning, like he was just cowering in her shadow. 

She’d texted him this morning, said she’d wanted to meet with him in her office at 9, and had cleared the patients from his schedule. It was 9:05, looking at his watch. Every moment that went by felt like another nail in the coffin of his control of the office. I can’t let this happen, he tried to steel himself, I have to somehow show that I’m in charge.

But then, he heard it. The unmistakable staccato of her heels approaching down the hallway - click-clack-click-clack, echoing like gunshots - was heavier than one would expect in the corridor. The sound made his heart start to race. Why am I so nervous??  The Instagram posts and the events of last night - the girls in his apartment, him stupidly letting Randi once again have her way with him - had him on edge. Plus, he slept lousy. What did Melissa want to meet about?

click-clack-click-clack. She was almost there. 

Remember, he told himself, she works for you. 

But as soon as she walked in, when she entered the room and seemed to draw all light to her, he immediately felt himself to be in the presence of a more powerful person. Reflexively, he stood, and tried to keep from gaping. Oh my god she’s huge, he balked, astounded by her height. The only reason she hadn’t had to duck to get through the doorway was because she’d had such large, eight-foot doors installed.

“Good morning,” she said, her smile ebullient, happy to find him here and deferentially waiting for her, standing at attention, “Oh, so chivalrous! I like a man with good manners.” She watched his face as he took in her outfit, her figure, how tall she was in her new shoes. Immediately she knew she’d chosen right: the aggressively low-cut pink sweater, the high-waisted, dark grey pants that helped make her look both hippy, authoritative and even leggier than usual. And then there were the shoes. 

“th-those are some heels,” he admitted, his obsequious gaze finding the safest place to linger: her feet and the black, patent leather pumps which made her...oh my god...he couldn’t bear to think how tall she’d be. 

“Yeah huh?” she smiled, appreciating the crack in his voice, the submissive body language he was already assuming, standing there for her. She moved towards her desk, making sure to step as close to him as possible. “My friend Abby dropped them off for me this morning. They’re eight inches.”

“w-wow,” was all he could manage, dwarfed as he felt as she - standing well more than a foot taller than him - passed by. He knew he’d already started acting the simp, taken off his guard by her appearance, and was too dazed to resolve himself otherwise. 

“They make me almost six-foot ten,” she stated, seeing how flabbergasted by her height he seemed. Something inside her urged her to step back closer to him, stand above him, demonstrate how big she was and make him feel small. That feeling made her tingle dangerously, rushed blood to her chest, and it was a hard instinct to fight back. But instead she knew she should proceed carefully with him, start business, and so she moved behind her desk. “You’re waiting for me to sit, aren’t you?” she asked with an approving smile, “such a gentleman.”

“Oh, haha, yeah I guess…” he said, still finding himself awkwardly standing in place, fidgeting. 

“Looks like your mother trained you right," she responded, and immediately saw the wince in his expression. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie,” she cooed, as he cast his eyes aside, “I forgot. Forgive me?”  She watched him nod, wanly. It was obviously, even to this day, a tender subject with him. I have to remember, she thought to herself, poor thing didn’t have a proper mommy. 

"Well, every girl likes a respectful man,” she continued, with a munificent smile. Standing behind her desk, she felt the authority the office’s place of power gave her. “Especially one who knows his place in front of the alpha female. But no...sit.”

He looked at her as if confused. She was waiting for him patiently, like she was testing his resolve. Reflexively, though, he began to sit, and felt immediately emasculated as she remained standing. 

“Good boy,” she said in approval, allowing mischief into her smile for the first time. Oooo this is funn, she caught herself musing. 

The shock of that - the infantile little praise, the talk of “alpha female” - was not one he’d expected. She’d played around like this last week, at the beach conference...but hearing it here in the office was another thing altogether. “We’re - haha - w-we’re still doing that?” he asked, looking up at her, feeling a dark shiver of self-abasement and secretly marveling at the perfect hourglass her trim but wantonly full figure cut above him, silhouetted against the white wall behind. 

“oooo remember, sweetie,” she replied, “we’re alone, it’s just you and me.” With that, on cue, she tapped a button on her desk and the door to the office closed behind him; she liked the startled look that brought to him. “We don’t have to worry about what anyone else thinks and just fall into our...natural roles,” she purred, putting her hands on the desk to lean over towards him. She smiled as his eyes predictably darted to her cleavage. “We’ll just let nature take its course,” she stated, “How does that sound, Dr. J?”

“Oh, uh…” he stammered, temporarily spellbound by the sheer volume of bosom she’d put on display. This sweater, he found himself thinking, she wore this on purpose. And just as he was almost able to tear his gaze away from her breasts, she casually squeezed them together and his eyes remained fixed, for more than a moment too long. Letting nature take its course, he thought, might end up with my face buried up to my ears. 

And so she had him speechless, already; that got her grinning. She brushed away an imaginary nothing from the swell of her right beast, keeping his gaze fixed right where she wanted it. Melissa knew what she needed to say in this meeting, the words she had prepared to get him to do what she wanted. But, gauging his reaction, she was seeing already that she wouldn’t have to work too hard. Her tits could do the heavy lifting. 

“Enjoying the view?” she asked, after finally drawing her fingers away from her chest and immediately causing him to look away. He flushed red, caught staring.  ”Omigosh you’re so cute when you’re blushing,” she giggled, only to cause a wave of jiggles to joggle through her chest, drawing his hapless gaze for another brief second. Her breasts were just so big, the huge soft swells of her cleavage the main attraction in the room and a magnet to his eyes. 

She laughed. “So, you know why I’m dressed like this, right?” she asked, a wry smile acknowledging the blatant aggression of her outfit, “the heels, the tight pants…” For a moment she looked down at her own chest, then locked eyes with him. “...the boobage?”

“Uhhhh….”

”You know what I'm going to ask for, of course?” she continued, becoming struck by how adorable he was in his tongue-tied, defenseless denseness. 

“A-a raise?” he asked, struggling with all his will to keep her gaze. 

Her laugh was deep and sultry, one of a woman pleased. “No haha but…” she said, as she then gathered her arms under her breasts, cradling them to exaggerate their size, “…could I get one if I asked really nicely?”

Oh my god, he thought, as he felt his dick start to stiffen, no. this is...too much. But he didn’t have the will to protest, scold her. “Y-you know money’s been tight…”

“Haha I’m joking, you know I’m teasing!” she laughed, enjoying the bewildered look on his face and standing up straight again, “I know your numbers are down. But that’s why we need to talk, about Abby…”

Abby, he thought, she’s the sales-rep friend...from that weird pharm company. He’d resisted meeting with her from the beginning, unwilling to waste precious time on another salesmonkey pushing snake oil. He’d been inundated with their brochures, ignored countless phone messages, avoided their research papers in his email, and still he had no idea what their product really was. It seemed like they made one thing and one thing only: some sort of supplement for women of childbearing age. His was a geriatric practice! Why would they want him to be part of some clinical trial? It really made no sense and he’s really wanted no part of it. 

But he knew Melissa felt otherwise.

Indeed, she knew getting a meeting together was important to Evolution Pharmaceuticals, really the main reason Abby had sent her the posting for this job in the first place. Abby had encouraged her to go for the position even though it was frankly above her abilities. But it was something, a challenge, a job maybe she could grow into…

...and now she fully intended to, in spades. 

Melissa leaned in further again, over the desk towards him, her suddenly soft doe-eyes seeking his out. “Remember..it’s just you and me,” she sweetly cooed, putting her full breasts once again on obvious display for him, “nobody’s going to think less of you if you agree to this…” She allowed her chest to slowly push forward, her shoulders back.  “...just let nature take its course.”

She knew he heard the encouragement in her voice. Her beauty held real power that she knew how to use, and she intended to put him at ease. In the moment, she knew he didn’t even realize that it was already working. Her eyes searched his and saw something they were looking for.  A warm smile formed on her lips and she continued to let her body do all the work. His eyes all but unabashedly on her tits again, this was already happening just the way Abby said it would. 

“So...about meeting with Abby...” she began, letting go just the faintest waft of her pheromones, to drift across the desk, just enough to-

“yes okay I’ll do it,” he answered, without even having to be asked. 

What?? Haha omigod. 

“You...will?” she beamed, her smile becoming a sudden, dazzling grin. It can’t be that easy, can it? Admittedly a bit surprised she was immediately struck by one self-aggrandizing thought: she loved being this beautiful...and this big. She loved the feeling of being stronger and more powerful than those around her. She loved how her body, her buxom sexuality, could be so simply and so extravagantly too much for people; how it reduced them to putty in her hands, paralyzing them for her with nothing more than a smile and a look. And, what’s more, she was beginning to realize what else she could accomplish, given the time. She knew, secretly, that the bigger she got, the more Melissssy there was, the easier it would all become.

So bring it on, she thought to herself, give me more.  She had to keep herself from laughing. Who needs an associate’s degree when you wear an I-cup?

“Ok I’ll call her, put it in your schedule right away,” Melissa said in victory, knowing she had to be gentle and watching as he had begun, it seemed, to sheepishly shrink into the chair below her. This was emasculating for him, she knew, capitulating like he was in his utter defenselessness. It gave her a thrill, she had to admit, flexing her authority here in the office, dwarfing him like this, dwarfing a man. She knew it was possibly unfair, that she’d had the deck stacked against him by coming at him with all this in his most fragile moments...but it needed to be done, and she would show him it was all for the best. And, she thought slyly, she would someday make it up to him, make him forget how little she’d just made him feel. Unless, of course, he likes that sort of thing... 

But in the meantime-“, she knew she had other work to do, and as the saying goes about the hot iron and the striking-

“Let’s talk about new staff,” she said innocently, “I want to hire twelve more girls.”

“T-twelve?” he blurted, shaken a bit back to himself, “Really? Didn’t we lose just, like...five?” 

“It was three, and then three part-timers,” she corrected him, “But I want to bring on twelve full-time people. A nurse practitioner, maybe a PA, a nurse Nurse Asstha...Attess…”

“Aesthetician?” he helped, even through his disarray.

“Yes, that..!” she giggled, “I’ll learn how to say that someday!” Twirling her hair girlishly in between the fingers of one hand, she stood again. “New providers, they’ll all need support staff, plus we have to replace the girls in accounting,” she listed, now starting to step away from behind her desk, “and we need a new supervisor for the front desk, unless you think Audrey is up for the job…?”

He paused, a bit confused, watching as she lazily stepped towards him. Was she actually asking for his opinion? Wait...he thought, why am I surprised by th- This was obviously getting away from him too quickly. “Uh, sure, but…” he began, “are you positive we can handle so many ne-”

“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed, now standing right next to him, above him, noticing how he’d reflexively turned his chair to face her, “we can handle it no problem. Maybe it’s just you that’s having some trouble?” She looked down at him, her employer, and mused on how anxious and small he looked. She reached down to tenderly push a wayward lock of hair behind his ear. “Besides...don’t you want to see us grow?”

What did she mean? “W-well, yes, of course,” he agreed, fighting the urge to turn his head, nuzzle his face into her soft hand as it continued to stroke his temple, above his ear, “of course I want the p-practice to do well. To, uh...grow.” His thoughts drifted to a day, maybe not far away, of an office she’d built for him, of being surrounded by more women than he could count, all young and beautiful, all doting on him...and of course, all beholden to her. 

Is that what she meant by wanting to “see us grow”?

“So, uh, sure…” he said, knowing again it was another little surrender, “hire whoever you want…” He knew this was reckless, foolish even, and could only hope beyond hope that this money from - what was it? Lean In? - would be enough. 

Melissa - thrilled again but now keeping her grin in check - saw the doubt in his face. She understood this was hard on him, watching the reins of his business being taken by another, and knew she should...reward him.

She stroked his hair - oooo he had such nice hair - and thought to herself. 

It was just like Abby said. This was a man, she considered, remembering the type of pictures he’d been hoarding on his computer, who needed a strong female figure. This was a man, remembering what he’d told her about his childhood, who craved a woman’s constant attention, unconditional affection. This was a man - it almost made her giggle - who needed a mommy. 

Just last night in DM Ms. Zazanetti - oops, I’m supposed to call her ‘Sara’! - had told it to her straight, made her understand. It's not taboo that he’d been stockpiling pictures of beautiful, ultra-bosomy, giant women on his computer, but rather the reasonable needs of manchild who never really had a childhood. He had told it to her himself, the night at that bull-riding bar: that he “never really had a mother.” And she’d heard it from Rina - who come to find out used to work here, and was one of his old flings - he’d lost her at a very young age.

Omigod the poor thing!

She knelt down in front of him, heart growing in her chest as she looked deep into his eyes. The desperation, she knew, ran deep in his mind, looking for fully blossomed women. His breast obsession was  a consequence of what he missed as a child, a toddler, an infant - being coddled, nurtured, loved. And, she reminded herself, it wasn’t just pictures of random huge, big-breasted women he’d had on his computer. There were also countless pictures of her. It was a significant moment, when she’d realized what she represented to him, what she could strive to be for him - even if his male pride keeps him from ever really expressing himself, admitting what he needs. 

#motheryourman, remember?

Still gazing at him, wondering what he was thinking, she smiled to herself. Well, he’s not “your man” but - haha - close enough, right?

“You’ve been doing such a good job, being so strong,” she said to him, tenderly, taking one of his hands into both of hers and resting it on his lap, “especially with everything going on.”

”uhhh...what do u mean?” he asked. There was - good god - so much going on. But...looking into her eyes, he suddenly knew what she meant.

“When were you going to tell me? I had to hear it from Marisela,” she said, sounding a bit sad that he would not confide in her, about his troubles at home...or, rather, what used to be his home, “I thought we were friends…”

========================================

Thanks to GTScity reader @sherlock for inspirations and ideas - they really helped the post coalesce. And to FantasticMrMoose - fans may notice that a few passages are all but stolen right from "Sexy Lexie": awesome story!

[multisfabulis]

Only Through Acceptance Will Love Find Us

The Florist of Belleurseul (Chapter 1)

Word Count: 5728

What's this? Another update from me within less than a week? What is this witchcraft?!

I'm joking, of course, but this is, for sure, another update! For those that didn't read the notes for "Land's Trust in Light", you can disregard this but all I'll say is that it is practically unheard of for me to post twice in the same month, much less the course of two weeks, so I'm having a bit of fun with myself.

Anyway, I know I said in the last chapter I wouldn't update this story much because I consider this a backburner project, meaning I wouldn't devote much attention to it unless it was one of the rare occasions I had nothing else to write at the moment. However, I figured that, since I only left everyone a 500 word prologue last time, it'd only be fair to write and post the first chapter so you guys would have something to chew on while waiting for the next chapter. It's after this I'll be putting this story on the backburner to be worked on occasionally, meaning no frequent updates. Have fun with the foreshadowing I put in here!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     “Thank you, have a nice day!”

     At that, Venlithea Virthana slid the gold coin into her pocket. She managed to bring in a good sum of money today, despite the encroaching winter. Pride coursed through her at the thought of having sold that many flowers and she had to stop herself from jumping for joy. She instead settled on walking with a bounce to her step as she wondered if things were finally looking up.

     Days like today didn’t happen very often. Some days had only a handful of regulars show up while others none. Then there were days she’d be verbally harassed or even pushed to the ground, which would spill her flowers out on the ground to be trampled upon by unsuspecting or uncaring passersby. Those happened enough times she stopped being bothered by them a long time ago. She was highly thankful today wasn’t like those days.

     She had only one thing left to do before going home and that was to return the book she borrowed from the bookshop. She planned on exchanging the book with the one she regarded as her favorite so she’d have something enjoyable to read for the next few days while her mother was out of town. Gripping her basket tightly in her hands, she set off for the bookshop.

     Venlithea, or Ven as she preferred to be called, has lived in the small, quaint village of Belleurseul all her life. Anyone could mistake it for being a quiet, sleepy town in the middle of nowhere if not for the people. The village sprang to life every time a visitor dropped by and they would deem the occasion as cause to celebrate. She’s had plenty of sleepless nights from the noise these parties brought to her door. It’s partly due to this she’s wanted to leave Belleurseul for years.

     It’s been her and her mother’s dream to go and find a new place for them to live. A place they could truly, truly call home. In order to do that, though, they needed money and lots of it. Her mother was a traveling merchant, which fetched them a nice amount of gold, but her sickly nature’s prevented her from going on many trips. Once she was old enough to, Ven began selling flowers she grew herself as a way to help out. It wasn’t much but it kept them afloat.

     Working as a florist’s been hard. She wasn’t stupid to believe she’d earn tons of money selling flowers, especially in a rural village like Belleurseul. She just didn’t expect the struggles that came with being a flower girl. Better yet, the struggles of her being a flower girl.

     As beautiful as this village was, it wasn’t perfect. Some of the buildings were falling apart, the scent of fermented waste lingered in the air, and she’s known from experience how cruel the people were. They’ve made no secret on how much they dislike, and even fear, things different from them. She and her mother weren’t like them, thus they were outcasts, pariahs.

     She received the brunt of their harsh treatment. She’d hear the rumors and gossip spread about her when she walked into town. Stories of how she was a changeling born from fairies or how she was a witch sent from hell to curse them were just the tip of the iceberg. She knew they were utter nonsense but what point was there in denying them if the villagers continued to tell those tall tales, regardless of how she felt? The way she looked wasn’t her fault yet---

     She fervently shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. She couldn’t, wouldn’t dwell on painful memories. Today was a good day and musings of the past weren’t going to ruin that for her. She needed to get what she wanted to do done so she could help Mother prepare for her upcoming trip. She hurried off to the bookshop, ignoring the pointed looks people gave her as she passed by.

     Within minutes, she arrived at her destination. The bookshop was a small, one-story building settled on a busy street corner north of the village. It had dark yellow walls that were beginning to flake with age, large windows on either side, a thin, wooden door, and a rusty sign hanging above with the word “Bookshop” carved into it. She’s come to this place ever since she was a child and the owner considered her his favorite customer. She stepped inside, the familiar smell of musty books enveloping her.

     There were stacks of books scattered across the wooden floor. Bookcases that stretched all the way up to the ceiling stood at the back and sunlight streamed in from both the windows. To her left was an old, rickety counter that came up to her chest and behind it was the owner of the bookshop. He was an older man with graying hair and round glasses sitting atop his nose and was reading a book when he noticed her. He grinned warmly at her.

     “Ah, Ven, you’re back!” he said excitedly, putting his book down and walking around the counter. “How’s your day been? Are you returning a book?”

     “That I am--” she fished the book out of her basket and handed it to him-- “and it’s been great, thank you for asking.”

     Fixing his glasses, he squinted his eyes and exclaimed, “You finished this already? It’s only been a day!”

     “What can I say? I’m a fast reader,” she replied with a giggle. “Any new additions for me yet?”

     He let out a hearty laugh. “Not since you asked yesterday but I’ll let you know as soon as I do. Now, go on, take your pick!”

     She practically skipped over to the bookcases in the back. It was a shame she couldn’t borrow more than one book at a time. It wasn’t as if the owner wouldn’t let her, it was just that she’d get too distracted with one she’d forget all about the other. She hated being somewhat of a scatterbrain when it came to books. Still, there was only one she wanted and she was going to have it. Reaching the middle bookcase, she took out the thin, hardcover book.

     “I’ll go with this one.” She held it up to him. “Will that be all right?”

     Taking it from her, he asked, “That one again? Haven’t you read this twice now?”

     “Yes, but it’s just so good,” she replied, playing with her hands. “I consider it my favorite.”

     “Oh, it has to be if you’re saying that! Tell me, what is it you like so much about it?”

     “Oh, uh, well, um…”

     She struggled to come up with an answer. She was a horrible liar but the truth was too embarrassing to reveal. How could she tell him about the deep sense of yearning the book left her with each time she read it? The way her heart hurt when she had to depart from the world that gave her comfort? How it filled the hole inside her by letting her have what she desperately wanted for only a short time? There was no way she could talk about such intimate things with anyone, least of all him.

     “There’s just so many things I like that it’s hard to pick just one,” she answered, hoping it didn’t sound as stilted as it did in her head. She technically wasn’t lying so it might’ve seemed convincing.

     With a guffaw, he put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Tell you what, why don’t you keep that book since you like it so much?”

     “Really?” she asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take this from you without---”

     “Ven, I can think of no one else better to hand this book to--” he squeezed her shoulder before retracting his hand and grabbing his chin-- “but if you’re so insistent on paying me back, bake me the usual.”

     “Blackberry bread, right?” She grabbed the book from him and opened the door with a smile. “I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow morning!”

     She turned to page one right after exiting the bookshop. Her eyes read over the familiar words just as they had twice before. It was a good thing she’d gotten so used to reading while walking in town, she knew what accidents to expect. With that, she fully immersed herself in her beloved fantasy world.

     Flying down some steps with an unusual grace was easy. Pushing the sign above her up to protect herself from getting soaked, she could do with her eyes closed. She was small and agile enough to carefully dodge people barreling past her. It was when she already reached the third chapter she noticed the soreness in her legs. She decided to take a short rest and sat on the rim of the nearby fountain.

     The noises of the world around her faded away as she continued reading. All she heard now was birdsong and the crunching of snow under her feet. She imagined herself to be in a castle’s courtyard, a wintry wonderland. She could almost feel the bitter cold nipping at her hands and face and she shuddered. Her heart fluttered in her chest upon seeing how close she and the princely beast were to each other. She began to wonder if there was there that wasn’t there before and then---

     Loud bleating tore her out of her imagination. She looked up and saw several fluffy sheep gathering around her. One that seemed to be an older lamb pushed its way through the herd, bleating up at her. A smile broke across her face as she petted its head, giving it scratches behind its ear like she always did. She liked animals; they weren’t judgmental and she loved being affectionate towards them. Pets, strokes, scritches, and kisses were part of the whole package.

     Then it tore out a corner of her page and ate it. She let out an annoyed sigh as she continued scratching the lamb’s ear. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t miffed at the small display of destruction but it was better to forgive and forget. It’s not like the lamb did it maliciously and it was only a corner. She could get over missing a corner of an illustration-less page.

     Now was the time to be getting home. The sheep parted to make way for her and she flipped the page before crossing through the main thoroughfare. However, it was hard for her to focus on reading when there was a commotion going on. She looked up to see a crowd surrounding someone, with loud squeals and all. Ah, so the wayfaring Casanova was back in town.

     Renard Géroux stood in the center with his signature charming smile. His blond hair flowed down to his shoulders in waves, not a stray strand anywhere on his handsomely chiseled face. The sun complemented his dark brown skin and the sheer white of his clothes made him seem as if he were glowing. The most striking thing about him, though, were his icy blue eyes. Eyes that were now locked on hers.

     She felt a shiver run up her spine as he approached her. Everyone was like a giant to her but Renard was truly the embodiment of one. She had to crane her head up to meet his gaze, standing just at his chest. What could he want with her and how quick could she get away?

     “Oh, hello, Thea, how are you today?” he asked, flipping his hair back. “It’s rare to see you outside at this time of day.”

     Closing her book, she fought the urge to huff out a sigh and replied, “Hello, Mr. Géroux. I just got done running an errand I had to do after work so I’m on my way home.”

     “Please, call me Renard,” he said while flashing a smile.

     “Mr.---Renard, I’m in a slight hurry here so please, tell me what it is you want with me.”

     “Since you asked me so nicely, I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me later today?”

     She hoped he didn’t see her bristle at his suggestion. The many women that huddled around him gave her glares full of daggers. How she wished she could tell them he was all theirs and that she wanted nothing to do with him. It was rather unfortunate she wasn’t a mind-reader.

     “Surely you know of the rumors about me, right?” she asked in an attempt to dissuade him. “Do you really want someone known to be a witch spending time with you? I’d be tarnishing your pristine image.”

     “I tend to not believe in rumors, gossip, and the like. Now--” he wrapped a svelte arm around her shoulders-- “how about that walk?”

     Quickly shaking off his arm, she replied in a deceptively calm voice, “As much as I appreciate the offer, I must decline. I was going to help my mother prepare for her upcoming trip and I planned on relaxing by reading my book.”

     “Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “I hardly think reading some old, dusty tome is better than taking a nice stroll with me.”

     She felt her temper flare up and forced herself to smile. “Some people may agree with you but I find good entertainment in books. Maybe you should try them some time.”

     “What, like this one?” He snatched the book in her hands away. “How can anyone have fun with these?”

     Her eyes widening in panic, she reached up to try grabbing the book from him while practically begging, “Renard, can you please give that back?”

     “How can you even read this?” He carelessly flipped the book open to a random page. “It’s so wordy and long and there’s not even any pictures in it.” Then he threw the book over his shoulder. “You don’t need that.”

     Her heart stopped when she saw it land in a nearby mud puddle. She dove to the ground and fished it out, praying it wasn’t badly damaged. Relief crashed over her upon seeing that it was only mildly wet. If it had gotten soaked, she would’ve been seriously upset and devastated.

     “So how about it?” he asked nonchalantly. God, she really wanted to tell him off but causing a scene was the last thing she needed.

     Instead, she took a deep breath and answered, “I’m simply too busy, Renard. Maybe when I’m free, then I’ll consider it but for now, I’m saying no.”

     Holding the book close to her chest, she turned to go home. All she had to do was see her mother, bake the blackberry bread, and garden. Tending to her flowers always seemed to calm her down.

     “So are you going to end up like your crackpot mother, then?”

     She stopped walking as soon as she heard those words. Her fingers were beginning to hurt from how tight she held her book and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from shouting. She was pissed, for lack of a better term. She could handle the insults hurled her way but her mother was another story.

     Breathing in, she stormed over to him and asked, “What did you say?”

     “You heard me,” he replied, crossing his arms and returning her glare.

     “I thought you said you didn’t believe in rumors.”

     “They’re not rumors if they’re true. I mean, your mother’s always selling these so-called ‘herbal remedies’ and passing them off as medicine, right? Wasn’t it because of one of those strange concoctions her lover died?”

     “You should fact-check your sources because you’re wrong on all accounts. Everyone knows how her lover died and even if they didn’t, that matter is none of their concern. Secondly, my mother’s a traveling merchant who happens to be an herbalist on the side. Herbalism is just another method of practicing medicine and is not something to be considered as witchcraft.”

     “Thea---”

     “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go help my mother prepare.”

     Turning around, she started going back home when she stopped suddenly and looked behind her shoulder. “And another thing. Go to hell, Renard.”

     Then she crossed over the bridge leading to her house. She was almost expecting Renard to grab her and demand she apologize but thankfully didn’t. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two. He shouldn’t have said those kinds of awful things about her mother. He was just like them.

     She couldn’t begin to imagine how hard it was to raise a child all alone. Her mother tried her best to give her everything she needed, despite the struggles. There were nights she’d hear her crying, nights she’d go hungry, yet she faced her with a loving smile every morning. She became a florist to a town open with its prejudice as a way to repay her mother for all she had done for her. She wasn’t a crackpot; she was a hardworking, devoted mother and she loved her.

     Her anger dissipated when she arrived home. It was a small, two-story house that sat on the outskirts of Belleurseul, with amber walls and pine green accents. It had an equally small stable around the back and a water wheel on the side closest to the stream. It may not have looked like much but it was home. She was going to miss this old house when she and Mother moved.

     She walked towards the stable and she saw a woman. She was tall, olive-skinned, and a little on the plump side but it only added to her beauty. Her rich, burgundy hair was tied back into a thick braid and fell past her shoulder as she spread a handful of seed over the ground to feed the chickens. She turned to face her upon hearing footsteps and eyes the color of toasted pecans warmed at the sight of her. This was her adoring mother, Nithenoel Ravavyre.

     Coming out of the stable, she greeted her daughter with a quick hug and kiss before asking, “Hi, sweetheart, how was work today?”

     “Hello, Mother, it was great actually. Here, let me show you.” She took some of the coin she gathered today out of her pocket and presented them to her. “There’s more where those came from.”

     “Oh my…” Mother said under her breath, bringing the handful of coin closer to see them clearly.

     “Today must’ve been my lucky day!”

     “I’ll say!” She closed her fingers over the coins. “Listen, how about we go inside and put those away so we can talk, hmm?”

     The two women climbed up the stone steps leading to the front door. It was a dark, well-made door with a makeshift peephole in the center. Ven was hit with a blast of warmth when Mother opened the door and it felt very nice against the cold. The fireplace must be lit if it was this warm.

     Upon entering, they passed by the narrow staircase that led up to the second floor and cut across the living room. It was small but it was the perfect size for them. The walls were a nice cream color and hanging off them were several paintings Mother had done when she was younger, way before her time. To their right was a light wood cupboard where Ven set down her basket and book and above it was an oval mirror. On the other side was a small, brown sofa and a low table sat in front of it on top of a big, dark blue rug. At the back was the lit fireplace and windows where sunlight was streaming in, a couple chairs were placed in front of the fireplace with a thin blanket hanging on the back of one of them. The next room they went in was the kitchen.

     It was tiny. There were four cabinets above the four counters that stretched from one honeyed wall to the tall pantry. On the opposite side of the counters was a small breakfast nook that served as their dining table with a couple stools sitting under it. A footstool was tucked in the nook’s corner for when Ven needed to fetch something from the cabinets or pantry, which was every day. She couldn’t wait to have a bigger kitchen when they finally moved.

     Mother sat at the nook while she opened one of the counter doors. Inside were linens meant to come out when they had guests over but that wasn’t what she was looking for. She tossed some sheets aside to uncover a mason jar. It was heavy and she set it down on the nook. Unscrewing the top revealed tons of gold inside from years of working and saving up.

     It was what they called their nest egg. They needed some serious money for their dream to become a reality and this was the result of their hard work. They’d have more if times weren’t rough and they didn’t have to dip into their savings but no use in dwelling on those.

     As she was dropping her coin into the jar, Mother asked, “So, any other news to share?”

     “Well, I returned the book I borrowed yesterday and guess what?” She screwed the top back on as Mother looked at her expectantly. “The owner gave me my favorite book for free!”

     “That’s great, honey. I suppose it’s the one you set on the cupboard back there?” She leaned back on the stool to see it. “For free, too?”

     “Well, I have to bake him his blackberry bread but it was his deal, not mine!” she replied, putting the jar back in its spot under the counter. The sheets she tossed aside earlier were thrown over the jar to hide it better.

     Giggling, Mother leaned forward and said, “I know, honey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. That book’s the one where the beast falls in love with the girl who shows him the true meaning of love, right?”

     “Mm-hmm and it’s all mine!”

     “I’m happy for you, Thea. You know, speaking of, have you found someone you can call your prince yet?”

     She let out a sigh upon hearing the question. It was hard to find and be interested in someone when the whole village seemed to hate her. She had people she’d fancied before but she knew to keep her expectations low and realistic. If she did have a “prince”, they certainly weren’t in Belleurseul.

     “Mother, you know I'm not interested in romance,” she replied, bringing the footstool out of its corner.

     “Not interested or haven’t found anyone yet?” Mother asked.

     “Both!” She set the footstool down in front of a counter and climbed up it. “I don’t see the point of trying to find love here since we’ll be leaving Belleurseul sometime in the future.”

     “What about that Renard fellow? I hear he’s back in town.”

     “Ugh, Mother, don’t even joke about that. That man is an arrogant and pompous jerk who thinks he’s the hottest thing alive. I don’t wanna be anywhere near him.”

     “My, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so strongly about someone before. Did he do anything to you?”

     “No, it’s just…he makes me uncomfortable.”

     “Uncomfortable?”

     “Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it but--” she held a bundle of sugar in her hands before setting it down beside her-- “he gives me bad vibes. He hasn’t said or done anything to raise any red flags for me but he just gives me a weird feeling.”

     She couldn’t explain it any other way. She could sense there being something off about him since their first meeting years ago. He seemed normal, if a little too forward at times, but she couldn’t shake off the apprehension she felt around him. Maybe it was her dislike of people like him that gave her discomfort. Either way, she knew she didn’t want to be alone in a room with him.

     “Thea, you still have your dagger, right?” Mother asked with an unusually serious expression.

     She stepped down from the footstool and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Mother, I always keep it with me when I go out. See?” She walked around the nook and lifted her skirt up to reveal the small leather holster strapped to her thigh. “If he tries anything, I’ll make sure to defend myself.”

     “I know you will, hon, I just can’t help worrying about you.” She turned in her seat to cup her cheek. “You’re my only child, Thea. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

     “I’ll be fine, Mother,” she said, laying her hand atop hers to comfort her. “Trust me.”

     Without a word, Mother stood up and kissed her on the forehead. Then she hugged her, her arms wrapped tightly around her tiny body. She returned it in the hopes it’d ease her anxiety. They’ve only really had each other for as long as she could remember; they were each others’ world, in a sense. It’d shatter if something happened to one or the other so she understood her mother’s concern. The best she could offer were words of assurance and those had to be enough.

     Mother pulled away and resumed their conversation from earlier. She was good about alleviating the gloomy atmosphere so she welcomed the change in topic. It shifted back to her lack of interest in love, with Mother expressing that she only wanted her to be happy and her saying that she had a whole lifetime ahead to find love so she wasn’t worried. One of a kind, the words Mother used to describe her. She wondered if she really was so special.

     She stayed in the kitchen to bake while Mother went down into the cellar to make some last-minute elixirs. The cellar was where she worked to create her herbal medicine to sell during her time on the road. She wouldn’t need to travel so far if the villagers believed she wasn’t going to poison them but her reputation was considered to be unsalvageable at this point. Ven was only allowed to tend to the herbs down there because Mother refused to let her help in the synthesizing process. There was a safety risk involved, or so she said.

     Baking was a mindless activity. She didn’t need to read the labels on the measuring cups or fill the spoons to the brim, she’d done this so many times. Kneading the dough let her focus on her hands and work out any energy she may have needed to spend. It gave them food if they had none, it gave her an outlet. The last thing she did was stick the blackberry dough into the fireplace to cook. She watched as the dough expanded into its loaf shape and her mouth was watering at the smell of it. She took the newly-baked bread out and waited for it to cool down before cutting it. One half was for Mother while the other for the bookshop owner.

     Then it was time to pack. They began loading up the wagon with the goods Mother wanted to sell, making sure she had enough oil in her lantern to last her for several days, and stocking her with plenty of food for both her and the horse. Dahlia was a beautiful Clydesdale, large and powerful but sweet as can be, with a chestnut coat, blonde mane, and the most soulful brown eyes. She’s been with them ever since she was a young foal and was used to taking long trips such as these.

     “Well, I think I’m set to go,” Mother said, fastening her hat as she walked up to the wagon. “I’ll be back in a few days so remember to feed the animals and---”

     “Take care of myself, I know, Mother, don’t worry,” she cut off. “Everything will be fine.”

     Letting out a small laugh, she gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Thea.”

     “Love you too.” She returned the hug. “See you soon.”

     Mother climbed up to the seat and took hold of the reins. Ven approached Dahlia to stroke her neck, asking her to keep themselves safe till they were home again. With a cry, the wagon began to move and turned on the road heading out of the village. Mother and Ven waved each other goodbye.

     “Stay safe!”

     “You too!”

     It was late in the afternoon when Mother left. She went over her mental checklist to see what else she needed to do. The animals were fed their lunch, she’d done all her chores for the day, and she took care of the bread for tomorrow. She had the rest of the daylight hours free and she knew exactly how she wanted to spend them. She strode back inside to read her book.

     Before she picked it up, she glanced at the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her as she thought about the rumors the villagers spread of her. She wasn’t a witch or a changeling, that much she knew for sure. But what other explanation was there for how she looked? No one looked like her, no human in the whole world ever looked like her, so why did she? Books held the answers she wanted but those were fantastical and she lived in reality. A reality that couldn’t apply to her.

     Her face seemed normal enough, even if it resembled a fairy’s from an illustration in one of her books. Bright, round eyes, small button nose, rosy cheeks, and full lips were all the defining marks of a fey. Maybe her skin counted as well, since she’s heard it described as being pale as moonlight. Long, snow white locks of hair framed her face in a way that matured her as the rest, although tied back, cascaded down her back like a waterfall to her waist. Then there were her eyes.

     Everything else could be explained away but not her eyes. They were truly a mystery, an impossibility made possible. They were a vivid violet, similar to dark amethyst gems or bellflowers in full bloom. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could determine why she was born with them but that didn’t stop the villagers from making their own interpretations. They weren't quiet about it, either.

     Maybe the reason she loved this book was because she could sympathize with the beast. She understood what it was like to be feared, hated simply for her looks. They were both cursed but his was a spell that could break. Hers was a matter of permanence, something she was stuck with till the day she passed on from this world. Who could love a beast like her?

     She needed to escape. Her emotions were starting to get the best of her and staying in reality any longer would surely cause them to overflow. She gingerly grabbed the book, sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace, and began to read from where she left off at. This was fine.

     Be patient, she told herself. Just wait a little more and you won’t feel this way ever again. You’ll find your prince. You won’t be lonely anymore. You’ll be loved and accepted, you just need to wait a little longer.

     She hoped that day would come soon.

[artificialqueens]

Little Lights [Chapter 1] (Trixya) - mrgtmcs

A/N: Hi pals, this is a first time post from a longtime lurker.  This will be a canon-compliant multichapter because now I have invested myself.  I fully wrote this on my flight to Israel and was half asleep so apologies in advance.  Also also, I promise 

The music in the venue started to fade, and Katya had already walked offstage, holding heels in one hand.  He tiptoes back to the dressing room, sliding past the propped open door.

“Hello,” Trixie practically sang as he spun around in one of the chairs. 

“That was awful,” Katya responded, grabbing at his curly blonde wig and sliding it off his head. “No.  Worse than awful.  Deplorable.”

Trixie tried to stifle a laugh.  “Alright, drama queen, calm down.”

Katya was rapidly de-dragging, back turned to Trixie.  “I didn’t know any of the lyrics.  None of them!” he shot back in rapid fire, tugging at layers of tights.  He turned around to face Trixie again.  “And it’s a song I’ve done FOR YEARS! But today of all days my brain went, ‘No Brenda, we are not going to give the people what they PAID to see.”  Katya took a breath and stuck a baseball cap on his head. 

Trixie gasped and said, in mock horror, “Oh no, not a sequel to Glamazonian Airways!”

Katya laughed wildly.  “Shut up, you cunt,” he shouted, reaching past Trixie to pick up a pack of cigarettes from the table.  Gesturing towards the door, he asked, “You coming?”

“I will watch you from the door,” Trixie said.  Katya extended his hand to Trixie, and as he stood up, Katya pulled him into a hug. 

“I love you, bitch.”

“You too, incompetent whore,” Trixie laughed.  He kissed Katya’s forehead quickly.

Katya pulled out a cigarette from the pack and held it between his fingers.  “Mother, I’m going to increase my chances of lung cancer again.”  He squeezed Trixie’s shoulder and Trixie followed him outside.

It was pitch black outside the club, Katya’s face, still fully painted, illuminated only by the momentary flicker of his lighter.  “Do you ever think,” he started, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette.  “About, like, changing your name and getting a full face transplant and, like, starting over as an ER nurse or something?”

Trixie was watching him from the doorway, a smile appearing across his face.  “I don’t think you can just go get a face transplant,” he said.  “Isn’t that just for, like, burn victims?”

“Dollar bills, mama,” Katya responded. 

“Also do you personally believe you have an aptitude for a medical profession?” Trixie started.  “Because I’ve seen you try to do math and I don’t think you’d be much of an asset.”

Katya laughed loudly.  “You know what I mean, Tracy Martel, now answer the question!”

Trixie looked directly at him and smiled.  “Sometimes,” he said. 

Katya paused, taking another drag.  “We should, you know,” he said.  “One of these days.  Just be Brian and Brian, ER nurses.  Or Stanley and Charles, or whatever.”

“Who are you? Charles?” Trixie asked incredulously.

“Obviously,” Katya responded as he walked closer to Trixie. 

“Excuse me, please keep your fumes over there,” Trixie said, placing a hand on Katya’s shoulder.  “I enjoy my clean air.”

“I just wanna stand next to you, bitch!  Is that such a crime?” Katya shouted.

“When you’re infecting me with your toxins, yes,” Trixie retorted

Katya dropped the half-finished cigarette and smashed it beneath his shoe, making sudden eye contact with Trixie when he looked up.  “Better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Trixie responded.

Katya sidled up to him and rested his head on Trixie’s shoulder.  He felt fingers gently grip the side of his waist, and he could hear his heart beating loudly in his ears.  They stood in silence for a moment, staring out at the empty lot.  “Guess we have to do this all over again tomorrow,” Katya said, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah, Maria, not like it’s our job or anything,” Trixie said, gently bumping Katya with his hip.

“I know,” Katya said, letting out an exasperated sigh.  “Just let me complain a little longer.  If I don’t get to bitch about my amazing life sometimes, I think I’ll go crazy.”

“Oh, it gets worse?” Trixie laughed.

“You are a rotted bitch, Trixie Mattel,” Katya said, shoving him lightly.  He took Trixie’s hand and asked, “If I’m bored later, will you come over?”

Trixie feigned exasperation.  “How far will I have to walk?”

“Several doors perhaps, and I’m offended you would even dare ask,” Katya said, pulling Trixie’s hand close to his chest, fingers intertwined with his.

“In that case I will consider it,” Trixie said. 

Katya stepped in closer to Trixie.  “Can I have a small kiss, mama? For old time’s sake?” Katya asked.

“What old times are you referencing?” Trixie laughed.  His hands had already migrated to Katya’s waist, and Trixie pulled him in slightly until their lips met for a brief moment.  It was nothing they hadn’t done before, but Katya felt suddenly like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

They suddenly heard the voice of the tour manager, Andrew, a few feet away, and Katya felt the moment get yanked away faster than it could begin.  “Everyone’s already on the bus, guys.  We’re trying to head out.” 

“We’re coming in a second,” Trixie shouted back, shooting Katya a knowing grimace.  “Oops,” he whispered. 

Katya quickly kissed Trixie’s cheek while he still had the chance.  “To the bus we go.”

 -

Once they got on the bus, Katya fell half asleep, head in Trixie’s lap.  He could feel Trixie’s hand lay haphazardly on his shoulder.  He was afraid that moving even an inch would disturb the delicate placement of Trixie’s hand, his fingertips a comforting presence against Katya’s bare skin.  Katya didn’t want anything to upset the fragility of the moment.  He didn’t want anything to jolt Trixie back into overthinking, didn’t want him to wonder if this was okay.  He just wanted to stay there in that moment, no words needed, time suspended.  Eventually, though, the bus came to a sudden halt in front of the hotel, and the spell was disrupted.  Katya opened his eyes and rolled over to look up at Trixie.

“Hey sleepy,” Trixie said softly. 

Katya was in love with the way Trixie’s hand lingered on his chest.  He took a breath and paused for a moment.  “Brian?” he whispered.  Trixie looked at him and grabbed his arm to let him know he was listening.  “Promise me you’ll come over tonight?”

Trixie laughed a little.  “Alright,” he said. 

Katya stood up and started to walk towards the door.  “Okay, well I’m holding you to it.”  As they both went inside and got in the elevator, Katya scanned Trixie’s face for some clarity.  Blank.  Nothing.  The elevator came to a sudden halt on the fourth floor, and Katya poked Trixie’s ribs.  “409 bitch,” he said.

“See you in thirty?” Trixie asked.

“I will be anxiously awaiting your arrival.”  Katya turned down the hallway and heard Trixie’s footsteps trailing away in the other direction.  When Katya finally got to his room, he was on autopilot, standing in the bathroom immediately waiting for the shower to warm up.  His makeup had smeared, leaving trails of black on his cheeks.  As he undressed quickly, he stared in the mirror for a little too long, regretting his decision to forego a tan this weekend.  Prodding at the contours of his pale abdomen, he felt suddenly out of sorts. 

He and Trixie had hung out in each other’s’ rooms countless times.  They always had a more or less open-door policy, and Katya had shown up to Trixie’s apartment more than a few times unannounced.  Trixie was always up, sitting on his couch, and he’d always motion to Katya to sit down next to him, and he’d slide over and put his head on Trixie’s shoulder.  What are we watching?  Katya would ask, like he was home.  Trixie would hand him the remote and say, Your choice.  Eventually he’d fall asleep on the couch, and Trixie would cover him with a blanket and go to bed.  He’d let himself out as soon as he’d become sentient again, awaking suddenly to a dark room on a too-familiar couch alone, calling an Uber home at 3AM like a pseudo walk of shame. 

Katya’s stream of consciousness was interrupted by a sharp double knock on the door.  He quickly turns to shut off the shower, frantically looking for a towel.  “Uh, just a second,” he shouted, struggling to dry off as quickly as possible.  How long had be been in there?  Katya shuffles towards the door, t-shirt only halfway on, and emerges to see Trixie completely de-dragged in an ex-white merch t-shirt. 

He took a look at a dilapidated Katya and, already walking into the room, said, “You’re shirt’s on backwards, bitch.” 

“Well, I’m sorry that you require perfection, but some of us have been a little too busy with our shower thoughts to pay attention to these details,” Katya said, sliding his arms out of his t-shirt and flipping it around to the front. 

“Shower thoughts? Anything particularly sordid you’d care to share with the class?” Trixie asked, tossing himself onto the bed.

“Oh, I wish,” Katya responded, rubbing his soap-irritated eyes.  He looked over to see Trixie eyeing him expectantly.  “No, no.  Nothing interesting.”

Trixie was already messing with the TV settings as Katya sat down next to him, his tense, upright posture a juxtaposition with Trixie’s relaxed sprawl.  He suddenly didn’t know how to act normally.  “Do we have Netflix capability? Or is it gonna be a cable TV infomercial night?”

“Uh, probably the latter unless you can figure it out—”

Trixie’s phone buzzed and she interjected.  “Oh, Alaska’s staying in 412.  I told her she could come over. That’s cool, right?”

Katya’s shoulders sunk a little.  “Y-yeah, yeah that’s fine.”  His entertainment of the idea that maybe there was a hint of something else in the air tonight was promptly smashed to pieces.  He was suddenly feeling very antisocial.

Trixie was still flipping through channels on the TV, and Katya, now devoid of the pressure of expectation, flopped onto his back.  He felt Trixie’s fingers grab his shoulder suddenly.  “Bitch, look at what’s on in two minutes!” he shouted with much more energy than Katya could muster at that point.  Katya sat up a little.  “Heathers, Brenda.  We have won the late-night hotel cable TV lottery.”

Katya smiled.  “Alright, well you know what to do,” he said, gesturing at the TV.  He popped up for a moment.  “I’m going to retrieve a Red Bull from my stash.  You want one?” he asked, already across the room digging through a drawer.  “I have multiples,” he said with affectation, a dumb grin on his face.

“It’s almost midnight,” Trixie protested.

“And when have you let that stop you?”  Katya asked, tilting his head and flashing a smile at Trixie.

“Alright.” Trixie responded, and Katya danced back over to the bed, placing a can gingerly in Trixie’s hand. 

“You’re welcome,” Katya said sarcastically.  Trixie bumped him with his shoulder.  For just a moment, Katya let himself think about those nights at Trixie’s. 

Then Alaska knocked at the door, and Trixie paused the movie.  Moment over.  Trixie got up to answer the door.  “I really hope I wasn’t interrupting any hand fun between the two of you,” Alaska said in a long, overdramatic drawl.  Katya watched from the bed awkwardly.

Trixie laughed.  “You awful cunt.” 

He walked in and eyed Katya.  “Alaska Thunderfun, what ever are you doing here?” Katya asked in a theatrical voice. 

“To relieve my dreadful boredom, of course,” he responded.  “How was your show, mama?” 

“She said it was awful, and I don’t believe it,” Trixie interjected. 

For a fraction of a second, Katya shot him a glance of rare sincerity.  He hoped that Trixie got it.  “It was awful.  Point-blank, period.  No exaggeration.”

“Well why? I’m on the edge of my seat,” Alaska asked, sitting down on one of the armchairs. 

“Okay, well one, I didn’t remember a single word to the song.  Which was horrifying and bad because I don’t think I even managed to sell it. And two—”

Trixie cut her off.  “It’s a song she’s performed for years, and then tonight for some reason—”

Alaska jumped in.  “Oh my god, my favorite married couple.  Are kids on the way?” he said mockingly.

“SHUT UP!” Katya squealed in, thrashing his hands around in the sheets.

“I can’t help it that you two are disgustingly adorable, just casually finishing each other’s sentences.  Gross.”

“Girl, don’t be jealous of me and my work wife.”  Trixie said.  Katya poked his leg and for a brief split second, he could have sworn he saw something in Trixie’s eyes that was different.  It was something; it had to be.

“Oh speaking of which, girl, what ever happened to that gorgeous man from last night?” Alaska asked.  Was it nothing?

“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much—” Trixie started.

“Oh my god, you did?” Katya asked, attempting to find the right tone to mask his jealousy.

“No, we didn’t.  Well, I mean, not that.”

“Oh, so you—” Alaska holds up her fist and mock-fellatiates the air. 

“Maybe.” Trixie said quietly, pulling his chin in closer to his chest.  “But you know that I’m not about to go all the way with a man from the club in the same night.  I am not that kind of girl.”

“Okay, Miss Mattel, thank you for the shade,” Alaska said.  He looks at the TV, the semi-blurred opening scene of Heathers still paused.  “So what are we watching tonight?” 

“The magic of Heathers has graced the hotel TV this evening.  We just started it before you got here,” Trixie said.

“Well onwards, ladies, let’s get it going,” Alaska said.  He stayed in his armchair while Trixie climbed back into bed with Katya.  “No funny business, you too.  Mother is watching,” Alaska joked.

As Trixie unpaused the TV, Katya became distracted by monitoring Trixie’s presence out of his periphery.  Trixie and Alaska would ever so often interject commentary during the movie, but Katya was uncharacteristically silent.  He waited to see if Trixie moved closer, if he turned his hips away, if he was looking back.  Slowly, Katya attempted to inch closer.  He figured if it was done at glacial speed, maybe Trixie wouldn’t even notice.  Maybe it would seem like an accident.  So she counted every few minutes and slid another inch or two closer.  The neurosis of it was pure agony, and with every passing moment of Trixie’s signals failing to provide relief, Katya was beginning to feel like a petulant child. 

The credits rolled, and Alaska got up.  “Alright, I should be heading out.  I have got a major early morning tomorrow,” Alaska said, rising from the chair.  He walked towards the door and grasped the handle.  “See you guys at breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes, girl, for sure I have to get those pancakes from downstairs,” Trixie said.  Katya just nodded.  Alaska shut the door behind him. 

Katya had the sudden realization that he had fully migrated probably an entire foot.  So much for subtlety.  Their arms were close enough that they would be touching if either of them moved a millimeter.  Katya turned on his side, and Trixie started to sit up. 

“You don’t have to go,” Katya said softly.  “I mean, if you don’t want to.”

“You sure you don’t wanna go to bed?” Trixie asked.

“You should know by now that your presence does absolutely nothing to affect that,” Katya reassured, gently grasping Trixie’s wrist. 

“Well lucky for you, I am completely wired from your Red Bull from earlier,” Trixie said, sliding back underneath the covers. 

Katya laughed and said, “Then my plan was successful.” 

Trixie passed the remote to Katya.  “Your turn,” he said.

Katya started scrolling.  “So who was the guy from the other night?” he asked, realizing it came out sounding a little more controlling housewife than he was intending.

“Oh him? I have no idea.”  Trixie’s tone luckily didn’t seem to imply he had read this as accusatory.  “His name was Dan or Dave or something like that.  Very much what I’d classify as a drunk decision.”

“Gotcha. Well that’s fun, I guess,” Katya responded, a little too seriously. 

Trixie paused for what felt like an eternity and looked at him.  “What?” he asked.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Katya asked.

“What is this reaction you’re having? ‘Well that’s fun, I guess’? That’s not how you talk and you and I both know it,” Trixie pressed. 

Katya felt exposed, all of a sudden.  With no rehearsed heart-bearing statement, he said, rather anticlimactically, “No, no, sorry, I just was reading something on the TV and wasn’t paying attention.”  He took a breath and tried to sell it further.  “No reason to panic, Mother,” he said in a jokey cockney accent.  Trixie seemed to accept this response, but Katya secretly wished she’d pushed more.  He just needed another moment to think of how to frame what it really was.  He wasn’t even sure he could put it to words right then.  It was all too much feeling and too little logic to relay.  Katya tried to change the subject.  “Cops?” he asked.  “I think it’s as good as we’re gonna get this time.”

Trixie seemed distracted.  “Uh, yeah, it’s your call.  Whatever you want.”

Katya put it on and relaxed back into the bed, sliding a little further away in a weak attempt to conceal his motives.  Almost without missing a beat, Trixie moved in closer, so much so that their arms were suddenly touching.  Katya felt his breathing get faster, it was all too much and he almost couldn’t function.  He resounded to not react, taking every bone in his body and willing himself to not move one way or the other.  He wanted to see what Trixie would do without any of his own influence. 

Katya was nearly stressed by the inaction.  They remained like that for minutes on end, nobody making a single move.  He tried to watch Trixie from the corner of his eye, but he was watching the TV.  He felt his palms sweating, wondering how he could be so overwhelmed and Trixie could be watching TV with the inner calm of a monk.  But before long, Katya felt fingers running along his wrist.  The touch was tentative devoid of any reason or context.  This was a sign, right?  Katya took it as encouragement enough to lean her head into the space between Trixie’s shoulder and his jaw.  “Wait, sit up for a second,” Trixie said.  Katya felt a sinking feeling.  Did he cross the line?  Was this too much?  He thought he was just following Trixie’s lead.  Trixie moved his arm so it hooked around Katya’s waist.  “Okay, all good,” he said reassuringly.  He pulled Katya in closer, and Katya felt his cheek brush against Trixie’s.

There was always a line they never seemed to cross, even though it seemed to get blurrier and blurrier with time.  They never went beyond the point of no return, beyond the point where they’d actually have to talk about it, where it couldn’t just be chalked up to a platonic intimacy.  Katya was never really sure where this line was, but Trixie always seemed so sure of it.  His boundaries were always so defined to him, even if they seemed unclear to Katya most of the time.  But from experience, Katya learned.  They could snuggle in the same bed all night as long as they didn’t sleep together, and they could share quick kisses if it was mandated, but they never, ever lingered.  Anything beyond that could upset the delicate balance of not having to talk about it.  Even Alaska’s comments could make Katya jump, like he’d just peered at the X-ray of his innermost thoughts that he didn’t dare voice.  Katya always assumed Trixie didn’t have any questionable thoughts that Alaska’s jokes would threaten to illuminate, since he always managed to seem so collected.

Katya wasn’t even pretending to watch the TV anymore, his eyes enamored with studying the contours of Trixie’s face.  Trixie remained seemingly oblivious.  “You know, if I were running from the cops, I don’t think I’d bring my crack pipe with me,” he said, laughing a little.  He looked over at Katya, his lithe body practically melted into Trixie, and his face was so close that Katya could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin, making his stomach flip over.  Trixie raised his eyebrows at him. 

“Yes, yes, totally agree,” Katya said absently.  He traced the perimeter of Trixie’s jawline with his index finger, then ran it along the bridge of his nose.  “You have a cute nose, you rotted whore.  Just thought I’d tell you.”  He whispered it so gently that it was almost too intimate. 

“You are a strange one,” Trixie said.

Katya traced the curve of his bottom lip.  “Brian, uh—”  Trixie was looking at him again.  “Would you, uh, get mad if I kissed you right now?” 

Trixie laughed again, but Katya was dead serious, his face almost concerned.  So Trixie didn’t answer immediately.  He turned onto his side and place his hand on the side of Katya’s face.  “I’d get mad if you didn’t.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Trixie brought his lips to meet Katya’s.  But this time was different.  He didn’t pull away instantly, didn’t make a joke to diffuse the tension, didn’t stop it before it began.  They lingered, Trixie’s breath hot and heavy against Katya’s face.  Trixie’s tongue brushed Katya’s lips, and it instantly intensified until the weight of Katya’s body was pressed on top of his.  Hands wandered underneath t-shirts, feeling warm skin against skin.  Trixie’s fingertips raked across Katya’s back until he reached towards the waistband of Trixie’s jeans.  “Wait,” Trixie said, near-breathless.  “Don’t.”  Katya looked up at him with wide eyes, half-surprised, half-disappointed.  “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”  Katya rolled off Trixie and flopped onto his back, facing a separation that felt like it could’ve spanned oceans.  Still fully clothed, he felt more naked than ever before.  He wanted to crawl into the shower and wash the feeling off.

Trixie was already up and heading for the door.  He didn’t even try to diffuse the situation, his words just sat there with their jagged edges, cutting into Katya with every moment he still stood there.  Katya didn’t even try to come up with a response.  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Trixie said as he closed the door behind him, his inflection at the end making it seem more like a question than a declaration that things would go on as normal.

[natashasbanner]

The New Normal, Chapter 1

Adjusting to life after saving the world was easier said than done. It took time, but Macy was working on it, one step at a time.

Macy-centric, post season one AU.

A/N: So I was at a loss for something to write about a week ago and I had a vague idea and it turned into this. Exactly what this is, I'm still not sure but I thought I'd post it anyway. Please enjoy.

Also on AO3

X

Macy always liked the rain. She found it cleansing. It had been raining for days, an unrelenting downpour that pounded against the house and streamed from the roof in sheets. Maggie and Mel already voiced their displeasure with the dreary weather on multiple occasions, but Macy reveled in it. 

It was Saturday, and without work or any incident in the magical community that required their attention, Macy found herself on the balcony outside her room. She hadn’t been out there much since moving in, only stepping out once every couple weeks to water the plants their mother kept out here. There were empty pots sitting on the ledge and on the ground that Macy cleared of dead plants weeks ago and she was toying with the idea of growing some of the herbs they used for potions. If things kept up the way they were going, she might even be able to keep them alive for more than a few days. 

There hadn’t been much demon activity in Hilltowne since word got out in the magical world that Macy had taken on the Source. Not many demons wanted to tangle with the Charmed Ones right now. With Mel and Harry taking on the bulk of the work in dealing with the witches and other magical creatures that showed up at their doorstep and Maggie was focusing on her schoolwork, Macy had so much time.

So much time that in the last few months, more than once Macy wished for some sort of magical emergency to distract her from all of the time she had on her hands. It was horrible, she knew that but that didn’t stop the thought from creeping up on her when she was left alone. Which seemed to be more often than not. 

It was almost funny, really. They’d gone out of their way to make Macy feel more included, more secure in her place in the family. It had been too much too fast though and Macy pushed them away again, to give herself room to breathe. She appreciated everything Mel and Maggie tried to do, but all Macy wanted was space. Space to try and wrap her head around everything that happened in the last year, now that the immediate threat of the apocalypse was averted. If wrapping her head around everything was even possible. They’d gone through enough to last several lifetimes. 

In a span of less than twelve months her life had been turned upside down more times than she could count. Was there really any coming back from that? Some days she thought that if she shoved everything down and kept pushing forward, then she’d be okay. 

But with all the time and all the space, the only thing she could do was think. Think about her mother, about her dad, about her sisters and their new responsibilities, about Galvin. 

Thinking about Galvin always sent a sharp pang through her chest. At first the pain was too much and Macy felt like she couldn’t breathe whenever she thought of him. She learned to accept his decision, made peace with the fact that he chose to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Eventually the pain started to wan, leaving only a dull ache behind. An ache that Macy knew how to deal with. 

She blew out a breath as the rain started to pick up again, slanting into the balcony and splashing back at Macy’s feet. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. 

She’d have to go inside soon. If it wasn’t the rain, then the low grumbling in her stomach would require her attention, but she was reluctant to leave her spot. She’d woken up to the delicious smell of scones baking, but Maggie and Mel’s voices as they headed downstairs stopped her from getting out of bed. 

Macy reminded herself that she was the one that asked for space, but she wasn’t sure she wanted it anymore. The only problem was that she didn’t know how to bridge that gap with them again, bridge that gap with Harry. 

So there she sat, on the balcony in the rain. 

x

Shaking her head, she brought her hands up to cover her face, pressing her fingers into her eyes. 

Macy felt ridiculous. She was hiding outside to avoid her family, the family that fought through all of her altered realities to get her back. They promised they’d be there for her. Always, her brain supplied in Harry’s soft, yet firm voice. She remembered the warmth of their collective embrace, his cheek pressed against hers, he sisters pressed tightly between them. 

And still, she remained glued to the damp wicker bench, curled into herself. 

Harry’s voice repeated over and over in her head, “always,”. 

Thinking about Harry wasn’t something Macy let herself do often. Because if she let herself think about Harry, everything she’d heard in his thoughts came flooding back into her mind. The thoughts she was supposed to forget all of that so they could move forward without complicating their relationship. 

The damage was done though and Macy didn’t want to forget. She didn’t want to forget the overwhelming warmth that rushed into her the second he touched her arm. The raw emotion behind every word he unintentionally let her hear washed over her like a tidal wave, rolling and tumbling against the intoxicating power of the Source. 

And for an instant she felt like she could breathe, like she wasn’t going to lose herself and everything else to the power she’d absorbed. A single breath of air when she was drowning. 

But the Source fought back, caught her by the ankle and dragged her back into the abyss. Her insecurities and pain were thrust over her, crashing into her at an impossible rate, pulling her down as she helplessly tried to claw her way back to the surface. She fought like hell to find the surface again, to take one more breath, get one more glimpse of one of the best parts of her life, but it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t strong enough. 

Macy pushed him away, pushed them all away before they had the chance to leave her, and gave in to the power. 

She was supposed to forget and in a way she had. The words were lost in most of the finer details of everything that happened that day, but the feelings behind them were hard to let go. Instead she clung to them, held on to that moment when she couldn’t seek comfort from Harry himself or her sisters. 

Macy loved Harry, she knew that much. How could she not? He’d become their family. For her though, there was more than just a familial bond, one that had been there for a long time if she really thought about it. 

She was drawn to him, from the moment they met. Well maybe not the moment since he’d kidnapped her and her sisters and tied them to chairs in the attic, but very soon after. They were incredibly similar and someone more romantic might call them kindred spirits. 

But everything was so complicated. Macy couldn’t even begin to fathom a reality where a relationship, that was any more than what they had now, would not end catastrophically. And losing Harry too was more than she thought she could take. 

No, they were just finding their balance again, adding anything else to the mix was asking for trouble. 

X

Lightning flashed across the sky, but it was the thunder that shook Macy out of her thoughts. She blinked and her eyes landed on the puddle forming on the ledge. If she was going to grow those herbs, she’d have to figure out a way to divert the water to keep it from flooding her planters. She ran over the list of materials she’d need to get and which stores in town she could find them. 

Thinking about the herbs calmed her turbulent thoughts and the sound of the rain and thunder grounded her. She felt better than she had when she’d wandered outside, less on edge. 

Without the distraction though, the growling in her stomach became all the more apparent. She really needed to go downstairs and eat, maybe have a few cups of coffee. Her leg muscles protested when she moved to put her feet back on the ground, but she stood from the chair and stretched her arms over her head. 

Mel was in her room when she opened the door, setting a tray holding a plate of scones and a cup of tea on the trunk at the foot of her bed. 

“Hey,” Macy said, a little surprised. 

Mel straightened up and offered a small smile. “We thought you might be hungry,” she said, waving at the tray before shoving her hands in her pants pockets. “And I know how much you like Harry’s scones.” 

Macy smiled. “Thank you.” 

“It was nothing.” 

Macy walked over and sat down next to the tray, peeking into the tea cup. Just the way she liked it. She bit her bottom lip and picked up one of the scones. Still warm. 

She looked up and saw Mel hovering, shifting from foot to foot. She had a look on her face, like she wanted to say something, but was holding back. They did that a lot these days and usually Macy would tell them she was fine so they’d drop it. But it was time to bridge that gap. 

“What are you doing today?” she asked, tearing off a piece of the scone and popping it into her mouth. 

“I uh, nothing,” Mel said, her eyes betraying her surprise. “Not until later tonight.”

Macy finished chewing and shrugged her shoulders, tearing another piece of the scone. “I was thinking about going shopping, some company would be nice. Since you’re not busy.” 

Mel’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’d like that,” Mel said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Maggie should be back from Kappa in a few hours, if you don’t mind waiting?” 

Macy returned her smile. “I’ll text her.” 

“Okay,” Mel nodded jerkily. 

“Okay,” Macy repeated.

Mel lingered for a beat longer before turning on her heel and heading for the door. Macy watched her go, the urge to call her back bubbling in her chest. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but she wanted her to stay. Just a little bit longer. 

“Mel?” 

She turned around, her hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?” 

“Uh, I um,” Macy stuttered under Mel’s expectant gaze. “Uh, thanks for bringing this up for me. I really appreciate it.” 

“You’d do the same for me,” Mel said, not a shred of doubt in her tone. 

Macy swallowed and nodded, dropping her eyes to the tray. She waited for the door to open and close again before she let out a long breath. 

Bridging the gap, one step at a time.

[novantinuum]

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 7

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 3.4K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which actions are louder than words.

First | Last chapter

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit it from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support over there as well. 

Chapter 7: Silenced

“Are you out of your mind??”

"Pearl, please understand, I’ve been wanting this for so long,” you explain softly, the sunset illuminating the face of the pale Gem before you in shades of pink and orange as the waves crash onto shore behind her. “Human life is simply incredible! Never stagnating, always living, and loving, and learning. I want to pass on my gem, to create something new with Greg, someone who can grow! Someone… who can finally be free.”

“But- but Gems can’t have babies!” she sputters, throwing her arms out. “We don’t have the organs for it, or genetic material, o-or—“

You shake your head, enthusiastically cutting her off.

“That’s no problem, I used shapeshifting like Amethyst always does! And believe me,” you say with a conspiratorial chuckle, “you know better than anyone that I’m fully capable of holding this for the next nine months.”

“That’s not my point!”

“Then… what is?”

“My point—! You always do this, Rose!” she shouts, her pale blue eyes growing damp. “You know I try to support you, but I can’t do that if you never talk with me before leaping headfirst into whatever fanciful desire you please, and- and deciding everyone’s future for them!”

“But isn’t that… what I’m doing now?”

“No! You never even asked me how I’d feel,” she says, voice thick. “And that’s your problem.” Tears stream in rivulets down her cheeks, her lithe body quivering. Roughly, she wipes them away, and turns to escape your presence. “You never do!”

“Where did it go??”

The sound of shrill panic abruptly wakes Steven, the precise details of his peculiar dream already beginning to blur into obscurity as his eyes flutter open. A line of half-dried drool, slimy and still warm, extends from the corner of his mouth. His dad is softly snoring next to him, swaddled in his stolen covers like the very image of a sushi roll.

“No, no, no!” Pearl shouts from the kitchen. There’s a dull clap as her hand swipes across the counter. Something light (cloth?) falls to the floor. “This can’t be happening, not now, not again!!”

Yawning, he presses his fingers against the slight ache at his temple and sits up, blinking in confusion at his surroundings. “Wha—?”

For whatever reason, the beach house has devolved into absolute chaos between the time he fell asleep and now. The couch cushions are all askew, one of them flung halfway across the room. Two of the kitchen stools are overturned, and the bath towel they nestled his gem in last night lays in an abandoned heap between them. Dishes from the open cabinets are strewn everywhere on the counters. Meanwhile, the contents of the game shelf by the window— which Pearl normally keeps meticulously organized in alphabetical order— have exploded across the floor with little to no regard to the walking hazard they pose. If her intent was to blow through the place like a one person wrecking ball, then she’s clearly succeeded. No corner of the house is left untouched by her mania. The Gem roughly swings open the fridge, rattling the condiment bottles in the door. After a brief pause to scan through its contents she huffs, and slams it shut again.

Her arms shaking, she grips tufts of wispy peach hair from either side of her head. “Where is it???” she cries, her voice edging towards borderline hysteria.

“Uh, Pearl?” he asks, uneasiness churning in his gut at the sight of his guardian under so much stress. He swings his feet over the edge of his bed. “Pearl! What’s going on? What’s wrong??”

She freezes momentarily upon noticing he’s awake, her cheeks flushing blue.

“O-oh! Thank goodness you’re finally up,” she says, bounding across the room and up the stairs to him in no more than five steps. Her hands grasp his shoulders, a frantic gleam in her pale eyes. “Steven, where’s your gem?! Have you seen it??”

“My… gem?” he mutters, scrunching his nose as he peers up at her. In the fog of his exhausted, sleep deprived mind, for a second he has no idea what on Earth she’s talking about. Where’s his gem? His gem’s at his navel, inlaid flush with his skin like it’s always been, so what is she—

In a flash, snippets of recent memory eclipse everything else that’s at the forefront of his attention, reasserting their place in his psyche.

“Go ahead!” Bismuth snarls, jamming the tip of the breaking point rough against her concave gemstone. “Just do it!”

A sharp cry, his world standing still as a searing pain tears through him from the gem at his core to the very tip of his extremities.

Too damaged to sustain himself, his hard light form poofs into a cloud of smoke. He remembers this from both perspectives, now. And with the memory of the searing pain his other half was in… he wishes he doesn’t. The cracked gemstone hangs in the air for just a moment, morning sunlight glinting off its facets, before plummeting lifeless to the ground.

“—it’s Pink Diamond,” Garnet whispers in horror.

He swallows hard as the burden of the last few hours quickly rears its ugly head, weighing down once more on his shoulders. Oh, right, he thinks, resting his hand atop his stomach, over the unfamiliar facets of his newly flipped gem. Almost dying. That was a thing.

“Yes, your gem, I’ve been looking everywhere for it!” Pearl says, throwing her arms up. She leaps to the ground floor from the lofted level, and with a skip and a flourish so unbefitting of her current state of panic, jabs her pointer finger towards the kitchen counter. “I clearly remember setting it right here when we put you to bed, but now it’s nowhere to be found!”

Her words degrade to incomprehensible mumbling as she continues her fruitless search, this time localized to the space around the fireplace and the bathroom door. Finally understanding what has her in such a tizzy, Steven leaps to his feet and follows her down the stairs. Of course she’s freaking out, she thinks his gemstone disappeared entirely, or walked off, or got stolen! She has no way of knowing what happened on the beach early this morning. No one does. Someone’s gotta tell her, and that someone can only be him. Rushing to his guardian, he gently tugs at her arm.

“Pearl!”

She forces a laugh, the sound of it neurotic and unhinged, as her fumbling fingers remove a small photo of the four of them off its hook on the wall. “Well at least we can say for certain it’s not hiding behind this framed photograph!” she announces, smile stretched just a bit too wide. “Just one less infinite possibility to check…”

“Pearl, listen, you—“

“And it’s not like it could simply roll off the table without a trace, right? Am I right??”

“Please, you don’t have to freak out, ‘cause I—“

“But it’s okay Steven, there’s no need to panic! I know we’ll find it eventually, yes we will, of course we will, how could we—“

“I have it!” he blurts out, grabbing both of her shaking hands. “I have it.”

Held securely in his, her hands fall silent. The panic drains from her in but a breath as she stops to contextualize what he’s just said and what it means, her mouth slipping slightly ajar. Sensing that he’s firmly caught her attention now, he continues, heart hammering in his chest.

“Last night, the gem reformed as me, a-and… we fused back together.”

“You— you’re back to normal,” she says with glassy eyes, voice softer now.

He tugs at the collar of his pajamas. “Well, more or less. There’s a bit of a catch, and I’m pretty sure none of you are gonna like it.”

Her expression is blank with confusion. “Uhhh— a catch?”

“Y’know, it’s probably easier if I just show you,” he reasons with a nervous chuckle, and— sweat beading on his forehead— lifts his nightshirt to reveal his gem.  

Pearl kneels down to peer at it straight on, hand balled into a fist at her chin. “Oh!” she says first, brows shooting up on her face. Then, her features narrowing the more and more she looks at the newly exposed facets of his diamond: ”Ohhhh...”

“This is what her gem looked like, isn’t it?” he asks. “Pink’s?”

Her eyes shoot wide open at his query. “I—“

Immediately, her palm clamps tight over her mouth, strangling whatever words she had planned to share.

Steven cringes as he watches her struggle against her orders, a seed of guilt churning deep within. “Oh, right. You can’t… sorry, I forgot. We can talk about something else, if you want!”

She’s thankfully able to pull her hand away before too long. A distant part of him wonders how this gag order works, how it knows in advance what Pearl plans to say, if there’s any loopholes they could possibly find to skirt around it...

“I— I’d appreciate that,” she admits, suddenly looking very tired.

A lopsided smile brightening her face despite her exhaustion, she reaches up to affectionately ruffle his hair. He flashes her a boyish grin as her touch flattens some of his wild curls against his head.

“You know,” she says quietly, glancing at him with such a softness reflected in her pale irises that it almost makes him forget all the stress he’s endured, almost makes him believe nothing’s changed since yesterday, “there may be a lot I can’t talk about, but what I can say is that I’m so glad to see your beautiful smile again.”

“Pearl,” he responds, blushing with half-hearted embarrassment.

“Now let’s clean up this mess before your father wakes up, shall we?” the pale Gem chuckles nervously as she rubs her hands together, glancing between the trashed ground floor of the beach house and the middle aged man miraculously still snoozing away in the loft above.

“Nose-goes on kitchen!” he says hurriedly, tapping his finger against the tip of his nose.

She feeds him a mock gasp, already crossing behind the counter to start returning the plates and glasses to their rightful homes in the cabinet. “Oh, you rascal! How ever will I organize all this by myself?”

Steven gives a soft laugh at this, and then promptly sets himself on tidying duty. First priority is the board games strewn across the floorboards in the corner. He kneels and begins arranging the boxes into piles. From there, he stacks each pile nice and near on the shelf by the window. After straightening the stacks so the box corners line up, he moves to pull open the blinds to let more sunlight in the house. A blissful smile stretches across his face as he pauses his work to bask in the morning glow.

Already feeling a good deal more content about everything in the reminder of daybreak, he turns to Pearl. “Not gonna lie, I’m kinda surprised Dad was able to stay asleep through all our racket.”

“Greg?” she scoffs and rolls her eyes, piling a stack of plates on one of the shelves. “That man sleeps like a rock. Which,” she continues, resting her freed hand against her chin in contemplation, “as an idiom, is actually rather ironic considering that ‘rock’ is common slang for ‘Gem,’ and Gemkind as a whole doesn’t have a biological need for sleep.”

“Well, I think you can blame humans for that one,” he laughs, picking the missing couch cushion off the floor and returning it to its home. “For anyone outside Beach City, rocks don’t actually move!”

Ever so slightly, the edge of her lips turn up. “I suppose that’s true, yes…”

They fall into a fairly comfortable silence for a while after that, as they put the finishing touches on the last nooks and crannies of the beach house that needed attention. Steven makes sure the floor is spotless, every stray pillow, toy, or decorative item returned to its rightful place. Pearl finishes tidying the kitchen, re-organizing the cups on the shelves by color and type. By the end of it he can proudly say the place looks leagues cleaner than it did yesterday. For good measure, Pearl pulls a broom out of her gemstone and sweeps up any debris littering the floor. He helps out by holding the dustpan steady as she brushes the sand and dust bunnies in.

“There!” she proclaims once they’re finished, proudly surveying her roost as she solidly holds the broom with the same level of decorum with which one might hold a rebellion era rampart. “That’s much better, don’t you think?”

The ground nearly shimmers in its cleanliness. Heartily, he gives her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah, looks great!”

With a big yawn, he glances up at his father’s slumbering figure in the loft above, for a moment jealous that he’s not still snoozing away too. Four or five hours (or however long it’s been since he crawled back into bed, he hasn’t checked the clock yet) simply isn’t enough rest for a growing boy. He always tries to aim for eight or nine. Maybe he can bridge that gap now, though? Would it help, he wonders, if he falls back asleep a good twenty minutes after he woke? As he ponders this mystery, he ambles past Pearl, heading directly to the couch.

“Steven,” she says with poorly disguised concern, as she watches him abruptly flop over onto the cushions in his sheer exhaustion. “If you need to talk about what happened, then I—“

“I’m just a little tired, don’t worry about me,” he says, eyes drooping shut as he curls up tighter.

“Don’t wor—“ Pearl cuts herself off suddenly, choked up. She’s at his side in a flash, and he feels the cushion adjust for her weight as she sits herself adjacent. “How can I not worry about you? You went through something no child… no Gem should ever have to experience!”

“But I’m alive,” he points out, eyes cracking open a smidge. “I’m alive, and you guys dealt with Bismuth, a-and we fixed it like we always do, so- so there’s no point in fixating on what could’ve happened, right?”

She rests her hand on his shoulder, her fingers hesitantly shifting over the seam of his pajamas as if she’s suddenly a complete stranger to the art of comforting. Normally he lives for her shows of affection— her occasional head pats, loose side hugs, a hand clasped tight on his arm as she gently leads him through hazardous terrain on missions— but in his mounting desire to be left alone in peace to rest, he bristles under her touch. She doesn’t seem to catch onto the hint, though. Still hidden behind his neutral expression, he grits his teeth.

“I-it’s not a matter of fixation,” she continues, “it’s a matter of unpacking difficult emotions. You have to understand, the state of being cracked, it’s not one that most full Gems are easily able to bounce back from, and I just want to ensure that you’re not—“

“I’m fine, really, I am!” he snaps. “You don’t have to keep fussing about it! And anyways, it’s all over now, isn’t it? So can’t we at least try to move on from this and let things be halfway normal again?!”

Pearl reacts like she’s been physically struck. She yanks her hand back, resting her palms on her knees as she turns her head away. A cautious glance at her face (or at least the half she hasn’t intentionally obscured from his sight) shows one muddled with a blend of melancholy and that sort of silent displeasure he’s long since grown to associate with disappointed parents. He swallows hard, shame settling heavy like the diamond at the pit of his stomach. He went too far.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he sits upright, cheeks heating up. He stares at his fingers, rhythmically flexing them.

She doesn’t vocally respond to his apology, but her form does grow visibly less tense. It’s a start.

Fully audible through the walls of the house, the tides crash onto shore, gently pulsing in and out. It doesn’t take long before the pace of his heart matches the ocean’s unwavering drumbeat. His naive young mind twitchy under the throes of the unnatural silence, he yearns for some concrete image to latch onto, anything to spirit him away from the present. Not before long, distant threads of memory from the strange dream he woke up from this morning rise to meet his pleas.

Most of the details are fuzzy, indistinct and abstract as one might expect from a dream, but nevertheless just enough specificity remains that he can’t help but wonder if this was more than your run-of-the-mill moonlight fantasy. Frowning pensively, he balls his hand against his chin. The sky was streaked with lines of pink and orange, he remembers. The tides swelled with the same unwavering prowess as they do this morning. He knows he was standing somewhere near the temple, because he clearly saw one of the stone hands half-buried on the sandy shore. A familiar ivory and peach figure stood defiant and distraught before him— no, not him!— before his…

“You always do this, Rose!”

His hands. They were wide, pale, free of the familiar calluses built up from years of plucking strings on his ukulele, they… they weren’t his. This body wasn’t his.

Mom. He was dreaming about his mom. But why, and how? He’s had dreams with her in them before, but they were always different, they were always from his perspective. They were always fluid and nonsensical. This, however… this one felt different, somehow. More tangible.

Almost… real.

“You never even asked me how I’d feel,” Pearl said, voice thick. “And that’s your problem. You never do!”

Realization dawns over him like the glow of the morning sun rising above the horizon. A sudden sickness churns in his stomach. He’s almost horrified, disgusted with his past actions in rudely brushing Pearl off like that.

She just… wants to know how I feel about all this, he thinks, throat constricting as he swallows hard. She wanted to know if I’m okay! But- is she even okay??

Is there more to this dream of his than meets the eye? Is his subconscious trying to tell him something, trying to lead him to take some sort of action? Have they really not asked her that enough?

His fingers drum against his leg as he gathers the nerve to speak again.

“Hey...”

“Yes?” Pearl says quietly, tone clipped. She’s still glancing out the window, turned away from him.

“How are you handling all this? Everything’s suddenly so different, and…” He grips the fabric of his pajama bottoms, his eyes burning hot. “I know you can’t say much about it, but I just wanna make sure you’re doin’ okay too.”

She finally meets his glance, her gaze glassy and wet. Her bottom lip quivers, so subtle he almost doesn’t pick up on it. In all the time he’s lived with her, he's not sure he’s ever seen her so vulnerable, and the sight of it drives a razor sharp point right through his heart. He takes a deep, grounding breath, and continues.

“And I want you to know I don’t blame you for this,” he reassures. “Even if you couldn’t tell us anything, that’s not your fault.”

“Thank you,” she says, her voice breaking.

“If there’s stuff I can do to make things easier, let me know?”

Her ice blue irises skate upwards as she deliberates, desperately grasping for an answer to his open ended question. Steven clasps his hands together in his lap, and simply waits in silent patience. His legs dangle back and forth over the edge of the couch.

Pearl sighs, her long suffering exhaustion evident. “If, in the future, you could avoid asking probing questions about your mother or abo- about my past on Homeworld, that would be a great help.” She presses her thumb and forefinger firm against her forehead, right under her gem. “It’s… painful, suffice it to say, when programming kicks in. And to answer your first question, I’m honestly trying not to think about any of it too much. Like you, it would seem,” she adds with a bit of a mirthful chuckle. “I can’t claim it’s good advice, but that’s where I’m at.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats with a sniffle, leaning into her shoulder.

Tenderly, she wraps her arms around him and nestles her cheek against his mop of curly hair. It’s a blissful comfort, a wordless promise that more than anything else makes him feel safe. Secure.

“So am I,” she whispers, a tear slipping down her cheek.

__

Notes: 

I have a headcanon that Rose took ages to reform after Pearl staged her "shattering," and in the midst of that Pearl had to go into hiding with her gem so the Crystal Gems didn't learn their secret. During that, I imagine she probably lost Rose's gem at least once, and almost had the Gem equivalent of a heart attack. Which is why she's flipping out so much about it happening again, with Steven.

I also hc that Steven doesn't actually upset Pearl too often, out of the three main CGs. When she does get especially upset though, she's the type to give the icy silent treatment.

[catgluue]

Chapter Three: Flashover

[imgilmoregirl]

The Secret Affair

AO3 Link

Notes: Okay, ok, many apologies for the delay and for only answering your lovely coments now. Life got in the way and although I had this chapter ready to go for days I could only post it now, but I hope it is worth the wait.

Chapter Five

William Gold could barely look at Isabelle French for the next few days. He felt ashamed for using the mere remembrance of her angelic face to bring himself off, mainly when he was pretty aware of the rumours the town's folks were spreading about him ever since he brought that young teenager to work on his shop. Milah had heard them too, but he had only used this as a pun once or twice, addressing how wrong everybody was because if he ever tried something, she knew Belle would ran away, screaming in horror. Gold didn't think about himself as a handsome man, not even an attractive one, but he had to admit that his wife's quips made him feel even worse and uglier than he ever thought he could be.

He was missing Belle. Liam had silenced her every single time she tried to start a conversation, kept his distance and freaked out a bit when she started to sing so lovely all of the sudden during her daily cleaning. Staring at her was something he had decided to forbid himself from doing, remembering about the weight of her body above his, was another thing he was avoiding, so Liam restrained himself to staying in the opposite room from Belle. That however, didn't mean his heart wouldn't race when she arrived his shop every afternoon or that in the night he wouldn't accidentally dream of her, he was getting obsessed and he knew it very well.

Gold had been looking for a new pair of shoes for his son on the internet the day after he expelled her from his shop when an interesting link made him end up in a website that belonged to a big bookstore. Liam had only meant to see if they had anything Neal could like when he found himself typing the titles of Belle's favourite books. He bought them and paid for the express delivery, just to find himself marvelled by this fictional world his beloved girl so adored and, of course, now he knew why. The books were so incredible that it only took a day to read each of them and when he finished the second, Gold knew his period of silence with her was definitely over.

In the moment Belle arrived that afternoon, Liam found himself sure of two things. First, what he was feeling for her wasn't just some kind of mad lust or inappropriate desire, it was way more than that, he loved her brain as much as he loved her body. Gold was definitely falling in love with her, like he had never fallen for anyone before. Second, the fact he had read something she liked so much, made him feel anxious and excited because he knew a person's interests touched deep into their souls, even more when it came to a book with such a lovely story.

"She died," the landlord said as soon as the door closed behind the teenage girl, making her arch an eyebrow at him.

He was standing behind the main counter with his document box opened in front of him, fingers dusting the borders of the papers as Belle walked towards him with an inquiring glare on her face.

"Well, good afternoon for you too, Mr. Gold!"

"No, no," he interrupted. "I don't want to talk about amenities today I want to know why exactly you love a book where the main character dies at the end."

Shock passed through Belle's face as she followed the trail of his pointing finger to the two new copies he had on display. Her mouth fell open beautifully, causing Gold to smile a little as he watched her processing the information.

"Oh, you read the books!"

"I did and I'm quite angry," Liam pointed out. "I liked Melina very much."

There was a new, special shine in her eyes that could have made the whole wide world stop to stare and admire its rarity and Gold thought himself very luck to witness - and be the cause of - it.

"Well, so did I, but that's what makes the book special," Belle answered with a shrug, dropping her bag down to a corner on the floor before picking up his books and flipping up some pages as she smiled for herself. "Gideon learned how to be brave and how to open himself up for love when he met his soulmate, Alma. His sister, Melina, however already knew both but she had to be set free and find the hero in herself, so when she made that sacrifice to give her family a better life, she completed her task."

Ah, that was not now Gold had read that ending. Yes, that was what the book said in somehow but he couldn't just interprete Melina's sacrifice the same way Belle did, otherwise it would make him remember about his past and about how unfair everything was and he just couldn't accept it. Liam knew thinking this way made him blind and stupid, but those were not the kind of stories someone looked for when in need of a good romance, like he had thought when Belle first told him their titles.

"That's tragic, not beautiful," he stated, exasperated. "If she was such a good person, then why did she have to die?"

"To show Gideon and the others that the beauty of life is living it to its fullest," the girl replied, simply, laying the book back to its place and lifting up her blue eyes, the twin gems he loved the most, to him.

"It's still a pity that her daughter, Harriet, never got to truly know her."

She tilted her head a little, analysing his face and making Gold's heart skip a beat. He wished to cup her cheeks and caress the rosy flush with his thumb to know if her skin was as soft as it looked liked. Belle sighed softly, the kind of sigh that showed only her deep attachment to the story and licked down her lower lip before starting to speak.

"Gideon and Alma couldn't have children so raising her they had the family they had always wanted," she reminded him. "You know, when my mum first read those books to me, I cried a lot, then she looked at me and said 'Belle, this story is not as unfair as you think, it is just how life happens without the lies of a perfect, fairy tale happy ending' and after that day I never saw things the same way I did before. I think a part of me grew up with this lesson."

"So it seems," Gold answered in awe. "Have anyone ever said you're special, Belle? Fascinating even?"

"No, but I'm flattered, Liam," the girl replied with a giggle.

There was a certain powerfulness in the moment that he couldn't simply explain. They were looking into each other's eyes, grinning like fools and lost in the magic that seemed to be circling the room, however it didn't last long, because Belle bite down her lip and looked away from him, which made Gold feel like he had to do the same and act as normally as possible, after all he wasn't a teenager to be flirting with her, he was a responsible adult, a married man and a father. He needed to give himself some respect.

"Uh, how are you doing at school?"

"Just fine," Belle shrugged pushing herself on her heels as she turned around to look for her usual cleaning products. "I have the best grades, the teachers like me, my friends are excited for the graduation..."

Of course, it was her very last year at High School. Liam didn't know much about how the kids acted these days but when he was her age this was a big thing, even more if you had the grades needed to be accepted into a great university. He had always been smart just like Belle and leaving for college was both exciting for him as a pride to his family. Gold imagined that Belle would do amazing whatever she chose do to and a part of him wanted to see from close sight the successful woman she would become along the years.

"What do you plan to study at college?"

"I was thinking about Journalism," Belle said wonderingly. "My English teacher, Mr. Glass said that he is willing to offer me a scholarship at Storybrooke University if that's my choice, he believes I have a brilliant future."

"I agree with him, but such a smart girl like you could even make it to Harvard if you wanted to," the landlord pointed out.

Her cheeks flushed a bit and she clutched the duster to her chest. Belle looked like a modest lady from decades ago, so sweet and darling the way she was. The girl toyed with the feathers tapping the front of her shoes on the floor as she smiled at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold, but I think that it would be too much of a big daydream for me," she muttered, dropping her eyes down to the counter. "I will go wherever a nice scholarship takes me as I have no money for college at all."

"What a pity."

"My father is like the tower in which Melina was locked by the King when he found out that she carried Alfonso's child," Belle told him with a sigh. "The tower took away her freedom and my father took mine when mum died."

Gold's breath got caught on his throat. He could see the unshed tears shining in Belle's eyes, she was fighting against her own will of simply starting to cry and allow herself a moment of weakness. Liam knew how it felt and he had seen many, many people about to tear themselves apart in front of him - and because of him and his cruelty - to know that she should be in agony inside.

"I'm really sorry about your mother, sweetheart," he whispered as tenderly as possible, taking a few steps towards the girl and tilting his head so he could look into her eyes and show some empathy. "She was a kind woman."

"Indeed."

The word came out of her mouth as a weak, trembling sound and she couldn't take it anymore. Belle let the tears stream down her face as her chin wrinkled and her lips wobbled a bit, the weight of her pain, still very fresh, was like a shadow on her face, covering the kind light she used to irradiate with a sorrow that was very unlike her. He knew this kind of sadness, he had felt a great loss too and every single day when he looked at his wife's face and saw nothing, no real feeling, he felt it again. It hurt like hell and he didn't want his reference of heaven to be drown in it this way.

"Dry those tears, dearest," Liam murmured as he lifted up her face with the tips of his fingers. Belle sniffled and swallowed hard, tightening her lips in a silly attempt to show him a small grin. "You look prettier when you smile."

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

She sounded unsure, but almost flattered which made Gold's cheeks burn a bit, so he dropped his hand down, looking away from her to not allow the girl to notice his discomfort.

"Ah, well, I think everybody does," he mumbled almost mindlessly, tapping the pads of his thumbs against the golden handle of his cane. "You have always been a beautiful girl."

Another sniff. Gold fished the handkerchief from his suit jacket's pocket and handed it to Belle, watching as a bigger smile appeared on her lips and she used it to dry her eyes.

"I have never found someone who thought like you, except for Ruby and Jasmine, but that doesn't counts, Ruby is bisexual and Jas is just the nicest girl in town," Belle rambled.

"I bet the boys from your school would agree with them."

"I'm not sure," she shrugged. "The only boy I've ever dated, my neighbour, Gaston, thinks I'm a skinny, naïve fool. He only dated me because he wanted... A night, which he didn't get."

Gold felt a lump appearing on his throat, his hands becoming fists as he thought about another touching that precious girl. He knew he had no right of feeling jealous this way, after all she was nothing to him and he was still a married man, but he felt like he needed to protect Belle and more than that, he wanted her. If she was still a virgin, he had to be her first.

It probably sounded like madness, like the thoughts of a pervert which made him remember about the time he had read Lolita many years ago, however Gold told himself that everything was different. He wasn't using her, she wasn't so young as the girl in the book was and he definitely wasn't a maniac who looked for teens just to satisfy himself. Liam was fascinated by Belle, only her, and he was desperate in need and desire because she was the special creature that inhabited that beautiful body.

Smiling Liam took a daring step towards her and did something he didn't quite imagine himself doing for real. He cupped her cheek, dried her eyes and then lowered his hands to her neck, where he could feel her pulse quickening.

"He is the fool then," Gold said with confidence. "Any man would be lucky to have you, because you're not just beautiful, but because you're amazing."

Where he found the mad courage to do what he did next, Liam will never be able to tell, but he knew that it was there, making his coherent thoughts disappear as he obeyed his body only. Gold bent down and brushed his lips softly against Belle's, however when she responded to that kiss and pressed hers back with urgence, he couldn't help but to open up his lips and allow their thongs to meet as he dropped his cane down to the floor and ran his hands on her hair, then her body. She was all she could feel. Her mouth tasted as cherries, her kiss was passionate and a bit inexperienced, her hair felt soft, the curve of her back perfect for his hands, her bottom...

All of the sudden, Gold pulled away. He had gone too far, he wasn't thinking clearly and he knew that he shouldn't have done this. Belle was panting right in front of him a confused, but still lustful look in her eyes. Gold sighed, already knowing that he couldn't do this to her.

"Liam..."

"I'm sorry," he immediately said. "Shit, I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, I..."

"You have to forget it, Belle," Gold emphasized, taking a step away from her and taking a hold of the counter behind him as he felt his heart beating madly and his lower body starting to react to his desire for her. "We need to pretend it never happened, do you understand?"

Belle nodded repeatedly. She looked slightly scared now and he couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through her mind in that moment, he just wanted her to go away and leave him to his sins.

"Y - Yes."

"I don't need you more today, dearie, go!" Liam demanded but she didn't even move, so he yelled in a rude tone of voice: "Now!"

Eyes slamming shut, Gold heard the sound of her high heels tapping on the floor as she left the shop and he was left behind to work with his needs with his own hand.

...

Belle was shocked. More than that, she was stunned, confused, angry and breathless all at the same time, which meant that she couldn't go straight home, so she headed to Bear's, the biggest grocery store Storybrooke had. Although she didn't have a mirror in hand and couldn't see herself, Belle was pretty sure her cheeks were flushed and her eyes still bulged in surprise. Gold had kissed her, he truly did it but then stormed out and casted her away.

She didn't know what was his problem, why he was always acting on the edge of his feelings, it was frustrating and made her want to slap him as hard as she could. Belle had to admit that she liked the bastard, she liked him more than she should and by the way he made out with her at his shop, Belle was sure that he did like her too. There was only one problem, or better saying, two. First, Liam Gold was at least 30 years older than her, second, he was married and had a son.

From all the possible futures Belle had imagine to herself, this was the only one she couldn't have pictured even if she used all her creativity. She never thought she consider being the mistress of a middle-aged man, nor that this idea would please her so much. Belle had to take a long walk through the store to calm herself down and be able to breath properly again without looking like she had run a full marathon, however, stopping to think about Liam was something Belle couldn't quite do no matter how hard she tried.

She was still worrying at her lip, remembering about the kiss, when she arrived home. Belle didn't see anyone in the living room, so she headed straight to the kitchen and pulled the bags she had brought on the counter, taking the ingredientes for her recipe out of them.

"Little Bee," she heard her father say in a sluggish way that let it clear that he had been drinking more than two bottles of beer.

"Hey dad."

"How was work today?"

Belle swallowed hard, looking down at her paper bags and sighing, finding herself unable to answer the question, otherwise she would break down in tears and her face would become as red as a tomato with shame and desire.

"I'm going to prepare your dinner," was what she said instead. "I bought beef, sausages, carrots and pepper so I'll have your favourite meal tonight."

"How was your work?" Moe repeated.

Another sigh. Belle couldn't even look at his eyes, afraid that he would find out what had happened just by looking at her face.

"I was thinking about some smashed potatoes or maybe some rice too," the girl continued.

"Belle," Moe yelled, slamming his fist against the counter and making her jump in place. "I'm asking you about your damned work!"

"It was ok," she guaranteed, shrinking as she looked up and pulled on her best blank expression. "Why is it so important?"

"I went to Granny's for lunch today," her father said and she already knew something bad was coming. All gossips started at Granny's. "Leroy was there talking with Ingrid and one of her nieces about you and Gold."

"Oh papa..."

"They said he is getting his way with you," Moe continued. "Leroy even suggested that you never really worked properly there that you only pay the rent with sexual favours."

She felt her throat closing and blocking the air. Belle had heard what the town was saying about them a million times but she didn't imagine even for a second that they would reach her father's ears. It didn't matter to her what they thought, however it really seemed to bother her father and more than that, he seemed to believe in them.

"Papa," Belle gasped. "Oh my God! How can you even think that of me?"

"It's Gold, Belle! He is a dangerous fox, he might yet try something," he replied, exasperated. "I know he wouldn't forgive our late rents so easily!"

"Seriously?" Belle asked, arching an eyebrow to him. "Listen to me, dad! I was raised to be better than that, mum always taught me to be a good girl! So even if that was what Mr. Gold expected from me, I wouldn't do it."

"Right," Moe breathed. "Alright, I'm sorry."

Another sigh escaped her as Belle reached for a knife and cutting the ends of each carrot she had bought, a good excuse to not have to look at her father's eyes when he was saying those things and she had been thinking and wishing to do then all the way back home.

"Well, if you excuse me then, I have a dinner to cook," Belle said and saw with the corners of her eyes when he left the kitchen in silence.

...

Months later.

The bag was behind the couch ever since Belle arrived home from Milah's party with a decision made. She had texted Gaston asking where he was a thousand times but had no answer so what she had to do was to wait by the window, hoping to see his car arriving after his fun night at the Nolan's house. Belle was impatient, the fact that he hadn't slept in his own house alarming her a bit. For the past few weeks she had been struggling with morning sickness and feeling anxious didn't help anything with it, which made her decide that slipping out and waiting for him in front of his garage would be better.

Belle took a deep breath, eyes watering at the thought of what she was about to do, the remembrances of her time with Liam breaking her heart more and more as they came up to her mind. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her baby's sake and reached for her bag's handle, picking it up as she opened the front door, prepared to leave, however, her arm was hold back and Belle found herself looking up at her father.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Papa, I've told you that Gaston and I are going to New York to visit some universities," Belle answered with a roll of her eyes. "We've agreed to that."

"Yes, we did, but that was before I found this," Moe said, abruptly taking a pregnancy test from his shirt's pocket. "Who is the father, Belle?"

Her whole world stopped in that moment, she wasn't prepared for that, Belle hadn't even planned telling her father about the baby in a near future and now he knew it and he was angry. She pulled away from him, covering her still flat stomach with a hand as if she should hide the child from his hateful glare.

"You didn't have the right of entering my room and taking my things!"

"Who is the father?"

"It's none of your business," Belle yelled. "I'll be eighteen in a few weeks and I'll take care of my child on my own, you don't have to worry about us."

Something between a bitter laugh and a grunt left Moe and then the most unexpected thing happened. He raised up his hand and slapped her with all the strength he had, making Belle lose her balance and fall against the window, feeling the mark of his hand burn on her cheek as tears of pain and sadness came to her eyes.

"Do not speak to me like this, girl," the florist said in a rude tone that made her feel like he was a giant, cruel monster. "The rumours are true, aren't they? Gold has been using you! That's where the flowers and the gifts came from and that's why you have been staying at the shop until late, you've been whoring yourself."

"How dare you?" Belle gasped, petting her belly mindlessly. "I love him, alright? And he has loved me and cared for me more than you ever did! I have no shame in saying I laid with him and I'm having his baby!"

"No, you're not," Moe assured, pulling her up from the floor using only one hand which pressed her arm so tightly that Belle was sure it would leave a bruise. "You won't ruin our family's name this way, letting the whole town know you have fucked a married man!"

The hate she was feeling towards him stopped for a moment. Belle stared at her father in the silence of their house - the house she once considered a loving home - and blinked in a painful confusion, a silly disbelief that daughter could only guarantee her father one last time.

"What do you mean?"

"You're getting in the car, Belle, I'm taking you to a clinic in Boston and we are getting you rid of this problem."

She was right, Belle thought sadly, she was right about him, he was the town's real monster.

"No! I'm having my baby, you won't do this to me," the girl yelled fighting to free herself from her father's grip and failing miserably. "This is my life, my body, my choice, papa!"

"You're seventeen, you have no idea how this is going to ruin your life," Moe said, pushing her out of the house and slamming the door shut as he dragged her towards his van. "You'll get in the car whether you want it or not!"

"No," Belle protested, finding herself unable to pull away from his grip. There was no sign of Gaston's car, no neighbours on the street, simply no one in sight, but she had to try, for her baby, so she screamed: "Help! Please, someone, help me!"

[thekrazykeke]

Title: Pray for Me

Fandom(s): Black Panther, MCU

Rating: T+

Relationship(s): Erik Killmonger x reader. W’Kabi & reader. 

Summary: Because love was not the answer to every question. Because real love meant sacrifice. Sometimes love meant letting go.

Warning(s): BP spoilers, angst

I know that Killmonger is very much a terrible person but I’ll stan him til I die. Besides, his life could have been very different in various scenarios. Also, I can’t find any gifs of Seth Carr, who played young!Killmonger, omg. Anywho, I’ve always been obsessed with Soulmate AU’s, but never written one until now. So if you enjoyed this, like this post, if you want more, like this post. 

Reblog, share the love! (No, really, do that only if you want to).

~

Someone is giggling. 

He can smell the scent of flowers and hear the roar of rushing water from a stream maybe, or river. 

“Wake up.” 

Features twisted in sleepy confusion before his eyes slid open and Erik sat up, using his fist to rub at the corners of his eyes. His other hand is planted on the ground at his side, and he can feel the grass, wet with morning dew beneath his palm. The wind, wherever he is, because this sure ain’t he and his Dad’s apartment complex, smelled clean and fresh, so different, alien, compared to things in the ‘hood. And is that a bird singing? 

Yeah, this definitely isn’t Oakland.

“Come on, come on! I’ve been waiting forever.”

Tugged to his feet, he’s half dragged a few steps before getting his feet underneath him and then Erik is running side by side next to the person. It’s a girl, he decides, after a few moments deliberation, he’s not sure why he thinks that way, but he knows it’s the truth. 

“Yo, hold up! Where we goin’?”

He attempts to stop but she nearly jerks his arm out of it’s socket. This girl is freakishly strong! Digging in his heels, again, Erik tries to hold his ground and this time, she paused with a huff.

“Where we goin’?” he repeats himself.

“My brother showed me his hiding spot. It overlooks--” Here she pauses. No, that’s not right, she opened her mouth and tried to say something but couldn’t. That’s just the way that it is in the Dreams, as they realized after several failed attempts to glean important information, like each other’s names.  “It’s important to my people.” Eventually, she settles on. 

My people, she’d said this a few times, Erik remembers, but he can only remember that detail while he’s here, asleep. He hadn’t ever heard a black person talk the way that she did, so she likely was from a place far away. 

So how is he supposed to find her?

Doubt and sadness creep into his heart but determinedly, he shakes the feelings away. He’ll grow up, get a job, work hard and save as much money as possible. Then, then...

“Show it to me.”

That’s the right thing to say, because she visibly perked up and she tugs on his arm again, only this time when she pulls him along, the pace is a lot more like a brisk jog. He can’t keep track of how long they’re moving, jumping over fallen trees and other debris, but when she pulls him to a stop...

“Here it is! Here it is!”

It’s a ravine. 

The bottom of his stomach feels like it’s fallen out as he glanced down. He turns to look at her, and just like all the other times, it’s impossible to make out exactly what she looks like; almost as if he’d been staring at the sun too long, or the flash from a camera after a picture is taken, she’s hazy around the edges, blurred and distorted. 

“This looks pretty...neat.” Erik prefers basketball and football, but he’s not going to judge what she likes or does for fun. “You just come out here to think or whatever?” He wonders if she has a diary like Shida from 4C, bright pink and glittery. 

“No!” Laughter is audible in her voice. “It’s a secret and my parents don’t know, but my brother let me ride on top of a rhinoceros with him alllllllllll the way down there.” And then she points towards the very bottom.

“You’re lyin’.” It’s an automatic response and she laughed at him, but Erik doesn’t mind. “Ain’t no way that y’all did that, that’s...”

“Fun.” She interjected when it’s clear he’s at a loss for words. “It’s so much fun! I’m getting better and better. One day, I’m going to be able to ride without using either of my hands.” 

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, okay! Maybe you will, but then you gotta stand up and ride with no hands too.” He dared, lowkey salty that she could do something that dangerous cool and he couldn’t wouldn’t yet.

“That sounds like fun.”

This girl is crazy.

Before he could ask or say anything else, she turned away from him, head cocked to the side as if listening to something and Erik felt his heart sink in his chest. 

That gesture is also painfully familiar to him. 

“I have to wake up now. My parents are taking me on a trip.” 

The two of them stood there, staring at each other without saying a word, then as she turned around, about to walk away, he reached out and grabbed her hand. This was a dream, of course it had to end, of course, he couldn’t stay here. He startled when she threw her arms around his neck, half choking him really, but he didn’t push her away. 

“Tell me about all the cool stuff you did or saw the next time I see you.” He gets the impression that she’s smiling at him now, even as she slowly fades away, like morning mist. And with her, the beautiful scenery vanishes too, until Erik is alone in the dark. 

For an eternity, and no time at all, he sits there, until he fades away into nothing too. 

When he wakes up, his Dad is watching him with those sad eyes. After his Mom, his father’s soulmate, had passed away from cancer when he turned two, things just weren’t the same. Or so his Auntie Jo keeps telling him, but he was a littler kid then, it’s not like he remembers his mother. 

Instead, he tries to smile, make his Dad feel better with a hug. “Good morning.” The words are muffled when his patriarch places a hand against the nape of his neck, pulling him forward so that his face is smooshed against his clean white shirt which smells like laundry detergent. 

“Good morning. You slept a long time, lazy. Breakfast has gone cold.”

“Sorry.”

“Ehh, it’s fine. Come on. Up, up, up! Get a shower and eat.”

This is routine. Wake up after experiencing a Dream, a phenomenon which would keep happening until both soulmates found each other, pretend that his father wasn’t suffering from a broken Bond, eat, go to school and try to stay out of trouble. That last part tended to be strictly emphasized more than getting his education. 

Since it’s a Saturday, he gets to watch TV for a bit longer than usual, before his Dad sends him out to play with the other boys down the hall, Reggie and Ray. They bring their basketball and Erik spends the better part of the day shooting hoops with them. 

And then he feels it for a split second. 

Something creeping up at the back of his mind, the back of his skull; a high, piercing ringing noise persistently blaring in his ears, and the tremor that wracked down his spine so bad that the other boys thought he was having a seizure, nearly running to get his Dad until he begs them not to. 

Just as soon as it starts, though, it’s over. 

Leaving behind only this feeling of wrongness.

Playing the game seems trite and he’s about to sit down, but then he looks up, and he sees it. At first glance, he would call the thing a spaceship, but Erik knows better and before he can even think twice, he’s running back towards the apartment, ignoring his friends’ asking him where he’s going and if he’s alright.

The apartment door is left open a crack and he paused. Swallowed spit. Pushing the door open wider, heart hammering in his chest, Erik took a step. Staggered and fell down. 

“Dad...?”

He already knows logically that there won’t be an answer, that his father isn’t sleeping, but still, he crawls forward until he’s right next to him, and then reaches out to touch his shoulder and shake him awake.

As he does, Erik takes note of the panther claw marks in his chest. 

“Dad...Dad, wake up. Wake up! Daddy!”

Later, the neighbors find him, clutching his father’s corpse close, tears running down his cheeks unchecked. Eventually somebody hesitantly calls the police. Things are blurry from there, he’s asked question, accused of things, but all of that goes over his head. 

He just wants his Dad, he just wants his Dad. 

That night, when he succumbs to exhaustion in an unfamiliar bed, at his Auntie’s house, Erik looks for her, his destined soulmate. He needs to talk to someone, but she’s not there.

Erik is alone. 

[thebluesideofmyworld]

My Kind of Football, Your Kind of Football

Summary: Will took Nico to watch a football game. Nico said he didn’t get it. The next day, Will and Nico watched Nico’s kind of football. Will kind of got it, but to be honest, he was too busy watching Nico.

Word count: 3200 words || Read on AO3

(Shout out to @mvrtjnafc that helped me translating the words into Italian :) )

***

“Tell me again what is it that you want me to do?”

“I just want some moral support, okay Neeks? This would be the first time for me to meet the man that my mother is currently dating. I don’t want to be alone there, sitting awkwardly in front of someone who has a possibility to be my step dad.”

“Will. Do you really think I can make things less awkward?”

“Okay, maybe not. But I know for sure that you being there will make me feel better.”

“Pffft…”

“Is that a yes?”

“Will…”

“Nico, please, darling.”

“You know I hate it when you purposefully use that accent.”

“I only use it because you love it.”

“You only use it if you want something from me.”

“Please?”

“You’re lucky that you’re my boyfriend.”

“Ah, that is a yes, then.”

***

Two days after that conversation, Will held Nico’s hand, and let Nico lead him into the shadow. They walked out under the shadow of a tree in front of Will’s house in Tennessee.

***

Naomi did not really understand the concept of shadow travel. But she was happy enough to know that it meant Will was home that Friday morning. She was even happier that Nico was tagging along with Will. Probably because Nico was good in cooking, and helped her a lot in the kitchen to prepare the dinner.  And when this James guy finally came, Naomi proudly introduced Nico as Will’s lovely boyfriend who was visiting for the weekend.

Will chuckled as Nico’s face turning into scarlet. He quickly held Nico’s wrist, squeezing it a little.

“Looks like I am the only one needing moral support here,” Nico muttered as they followed Naomi and James to the dining room.

Will placed a quick kiss on Nico’s temple. “It’s not my fault that my mom loves you,” he said. “You’re just too adorable.”

The dinner itself was nice. At least not as awkward as Will thought it would be. James was a nice person, friendly without being overly talkative. It’s easy for Will to see why his mother was smitten with him. And from the way James was looking at Naomi so warmly, well…

Let’s just say that Will was not against the idea that his mother was dating this middle-age man who worked as a system analyst. Especially since his mother looked happier than the last time Will saw her.

“So you’re staying for the weekend?” James asked as he cut another piece from the remaining meat on his plate.

“Yeah,” Will nodded. “We’ll head back to the camp on Sunday, maybe late afternoon.”

If James found it something unusual to go to a camp in the middle of a school year, he said nothing about it.

“Any plan for tomorrow?”

Will shrugged his shoulder. “Nothing in particular,”

“You know,” James said, paused to take a sip of water. “I have two tickets for a football game tomorrow. It’s a home game against Tulsa.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

James smiled. “Yeah. My son, Phil, he’s in the team. I can’t make it to his game tomorrow but as I said, I have two tickets.”

James placed his silverware on the now-empty plate neatly. “So maybe you and your boyfriend want to go?”

“Oh, that sounds cool!” Will’s eyes lit up. He turned his head to Nico. “What do you say, Nico?”

Nico was staring at James, with something that looked like a mild interest.

“Your son plays football?”

James nodded with a fond proud smile. “Yeah. He’s actually a quarterback.”

For a moment, Nico looked lost. “Quarterback?” he said, looking confused. But a second later, Nico’s mouth rounded into an O.

“Oh,” he said. “You mean… American football.”

Will chuckled. He nudged Nico lightly as Nico looked back to his plate. “What do you think he was talking about?”

Nico flashed a glance at Will. “I thought James was talking about real football.”

From the other side of the table, James laughed. “Ah, Yes. I forgot that you’re Italian. You guys take football seriously, don’t you?”

“Oh, you mean soccer?” Will looked from Nico, to James, and back to Nico again.

Nico made a small huffing sound. “Yeah. Soccer.”

“I used to play soccer, you know, when I was much younger.”

“Really?” Nico looked up again from his plate.

James nodded. “Yeah. I was a midfielder.”

Will nudged Nico’s shoulder again. “So, what do you say?”

Nico shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah.  Sure. Sounds fun.”

Will grinned and looked at James. “Thank you, James. We’ll take the tickets!”

***

It took an hour driving from Will’s house for them to get to the stadium in Memphis. Once they arrived in the stadium, they joined other people who were walking into the stadium. Will was excited. He was not a fanatic fan of football, but it has been years since the last time Will watched a football game live. It was a warm sunny day, and the excitement from other people in the stadium was contagious. There was just something about the atmosphere of watching a game live in the stadium that was incomparable than watching it from TV.

“Is it your first time watching a football game?” Will asked as they were trying to find their seats.

“Uh huh,” Nico hummed. “And since you were the one dragging me here, you have the responsibility to teach me about it.”

Will laughed. They sat on the bench. The tickets that James gave to them were quite good. They got seats that gave them pretty good view of the field.

Will watched Nico who was gazing around the field and the stadium.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Will asked.

Nico brushed away some hair from covering his eyes. “Are those the goal posts?” He asked, pointing at the yellow posts at the end of the field.

“Yeah, those are the goal posts.”

Nico stared at Will, looking positively confused. “So…the goalkeeper would stand… there? Or what? Like… How would he even stop the ball?”

Will scratched the back of his ear. “Uh. I don’t think there’s a goalkeeper.”

If it was even possible, Nico looked even more confused.

“So. No goalkeeper?”

“No,” Will said, shaking his head. “No goalkeeper.”

“So,…like… who would prevent the other team from scoring? You do have some defense right?”

“Yeah, we do have defense, Neeks. “

“Okay,” Nico said, nodding but didn’t look less confused than before. “And… strikers?”

Will laughed. “Defense, yes. But no, no strikers.“

“Who would score then? Do the defense line also doing the attack? Or… like… you have attacking midfielders instead of a pure striker?”

“Well, usually the one who scores are quarterback.”

Again, Nico had a totally blank clueless expression.

“Quarterback,” he said, repeating Will’s word, as if saying it by himself would help himself to understand the meaning of the word.

Will nodded. “Yeah, so in the game, there is a defensive unit, and then there is also the offensive unit.”

“Okay, offensive unit. So they are the one doing the attack?”

Will hummed. “Correct. The offensive unit consists of quarterback, halfback, and fullback.”

Nico’s brows furrowed down. “If all of them are playing on the back, then why they are the attacking players?”

Will sighed and ran a hand over his head. “You know what, Neeks? Let’s wait until the game starts. It will be easier to understand when you watch it.”

***

Judging from Nico’s questions during the game, no, it was not easier to understand.

***

“I don’t get it.”

“That’s a foul? Why it’s a foul?”

“I don’t understand.”

“OH! It’s a foul! Is he going to get a yellow card for that?”

“What do you mean no cards?’

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“ANOTHER time-out?”

“Oh, now they can kick the ball?”

“Why it’s just goal posts? Why no net?”

“Touch down? What’s a touch down? They literally touching the ball all the time!”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“So that… that guy over there just scored? Who gave him the assist?”

“20 seconds left and another time-out? Ridiculous.”

“I. Just. Don’t. Get it.”

***

A few hours later, Nico and Will were cuddling on the couch together. Naomi had gone to bed half an hour ago, letting the two boys watching The Pirates of The Carribean on TV.

“So,” Will said as he softly raked his fingers through Nico’s hair whose head was resting comfortably against Will’s chest. “How do you like it? The football game?”

“Well,” Nico said, and paused. Will looked down at Nico. Nico had his eyes fixed on the TV, but he looked like he was contemplating answer. Nico sighed.

“It was… different,” he finally answered, sounding a bit wary.

Will chuckled lightly, and leaned to kiss Nico’s temple. “Different from what?” He asked teasingly.

Nico huffed and frowned a little, which only made Will laughed softly and kissed the tip of his nose.

“From the kind of football you usually watch?”

“Well, the kind of football I usually watch is the real kind of football,” Nico said stubbornly.

Will laughed again, and buried his face on Nico’s soft hair.

“Thanks for going with me, though.”

Nico mumbled something that Will didn’t really catch.

“Sorry that it wasn’t that enjoyable for you,” Will said.

“it’s okay,” Nico said. “I’m with you anyway. It makes everything much better.”

It’s been a year since they’re dating and yet, that kind of thing that Nico just said never failed to make Will’s heart do a little happy dance.

For a while, the only noises were the ones coming from the TV. Will kept on playing with Nico’s hair.

“Hey, Nico?”

“Hm?”

“Since you went with me to watch my kind of football, why don’t we watch your kind of football together?”

Nico didn’t instantly say anything to that. But Will could feel his body got tense for a second. Then Nico flipped around so he was facing Will.

“You really want to?”

Will flicked the tip of Nico’s nose as he grinned. “Yeah. I don’t think there’s any soccer game happening around here. But maybe we can find something in TV-“

“My team is playing tomorrow!” Nico said, cutting Will’s sentence as he quickly sat up. “I think it will be on TV but if not, we can find a stream online. Chiara told me this site that we can use to search for some online stream.”

Will stared at Nico, amused by how Nico’s expression suddenly just lit up with excitement.

“Yeah, sure,” Will said. “And by your team, you mean-“

“Milan!” Nico said. “They are playing against Roma tomorrow. I think it’s at noon. Yeah, I am pretty sure it’s at noon.”

Will nodded. “Okay,” he said, ruffling Nico’s hair. “We’ll watch it tomorrow, then.”

Nico grinned and pressed a quick kiss on Will’s cheek.

“Oh, I’m so excited,” Nico said, and went back to his position, half-laying with his head resting on Will’s chest.

“Yeah,” Will said, and kissed the top of Nico’s head. “Should be fun, right?”

***

There were still around 15 minutes before the game started, but Nico was already restless like he was bursting out with some energy from nervousness and excitement. Will watched in amusement as Nico shifted around on the couch where he was sitting.

“Nico, relax, they haven’t even started yet,” Will said.

“Shut up Will, I wanted to see the line-up,” Nico said, and leaned forward, keeping his eyes at the TV screen. His mouth moved silently as he read the names showing up on the screen.

A few moments later, Nico let out a sigh as he leaned back against the couch. He rubbed his face with both hands.

“What is it?”

Nico shook his head. “It’s a…decent line up. I am happy that Silva is starting but I really prefer having Cutrone instead of Calhanoglu alongside him. Well, at least Bonucci and Romagnoli are starting, which is good since they have Dzeko. And with Kolarov just joined Roma I have a feeling that Dzeko will become even more dangerous.”

Despite the fact that he only understood about twenty percent from what Nico just said, Will nodded.

“Oookay?”

Nico didn’t seem to hear him though, as he was now staring back at the TV, looking almost transfixed. Mimicking him, Will turned his head to the TV. The players were walking out now, each of them were walking with a kid next to them.

“Oh, is that their kids? They’re so cute!” Will exclaimed.

“Huh? No, they’re just the mascots but sometimes some players bring their own kid or niece or whatever,” Nico said without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Which one is your team?”

“The one in red and black. Now shut up, Will, and let me watch the game.”

***

Apparently, Will supposed to shut up, so Nico could shout out to the screen.

***

“Kessie, what do you think you’re doing???” Nico shout out as he threw his hands in the air dramatically.

“Uhm… Nico?”

“What?” Nico snapped at Will. He shot a glare at Will before looking back at the TV.

“I don’t think they can hear you?” Will said, trying not to laugh.

Nico glared at him again. “What’s your point?”

Will raised his hands up and shook his head lightly. “Nothing. Just saying, you know.”

Nico didn’t seem to care, or even hear him, as he already shout out to the TV screen, and this time he even jumped off the couch to stand up.

“That is a clean tackle! It’s not a foul!” He shouted, hands moving frantically in the air.

***

The game looked exciting. But Will found that watching Nico’s reaction during the game was more entertaining.

***

“Quello NON È fall!”

“Oh gosh Borini can you just do your job???”

“Stupido arbitro.”

“Oh gods no please no please no please- THANK YOU BONUCCI!”

“Quello era fuorigioco! It’s an offside by a mile you stupid- Oh good you know your job.”

“Come on Andre you can do it you can do it you-“

“ARGH. SO. DAMN. CLOSE!”

“Cartellino giallo? Come cartellino giallo?! Non l’ho neanche toccato!”

***

It was at the second half of the game, when someone finally scored. Someone with the white shirt kicked the ball right into the net. Considering the distance from the goal posts, Will assumed that it must have been a great goal.

A great goal or no, Nico’s groan showed that he hated it.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it that it’s going to be Dzeko!”

The camera was now shooting the players who just scored in a close up, who beamed a smile and wow, he was quite a good looking guy.

“Wow! He’s ho-“

Will was cut mid-sentence when he saw another guy, arms full with tattoo just ran to the goal scorer, pulled him into his arm and kissed his cheek so passionately.

Will blinked.

“Did you see that?” Will turned his head to Nico and back to the TV again. But the screen already showing a replay of the goal.

“What? The goal? Yeah. A great goal. Hate it but I have to admit, that one was quite a goal,” Nico said. The frown on his face clearly showed how he felt about the goal.

“No no no!” Will shook his head. “Did you just see that other player? The one with the tattoo? HE JUST WENT STRAIGHT KISS THE GOAL SCORER.”

Nico didn’t even bother to look at Will. “Oh. Yeah. Kolarov.”

“Is he the one who scored the goal?”

“Kolarov? No. He’s the guy with tattoos. Dzeko is the one who scored.”

“That goal scorer is hot.”

This time, Nico slowly turned his head to Will and stared at him incredulously. “You do realize that he, just scored against my team, right?”

Will scratched the back of his ear, and grinned. “Uhm. Yeah?”

Nico still stared at him with that glare.

“But…but…he’s hot!” Will said, trying not to laugh.

Nico sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Will. Just. Shut. Up.”

***

Five minutes later, AC Milan conceded another goal.

Fifteen minutes later, Nico announced that he couldn’t watch the game anymore.

He kept on watching anyway.

Thirty minutes later, the game ended.

Nico pressed the button to turn off the TV and threw the remote control to the couch. Sulking, he leaned back against the couch. He pulled his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them.

“I hate football,” he said.

Will laughed and pulled Nico closer to him. Nico was still pouting, but leaned against Will’s side.

“Do you?” Will asked teasingly.

“I hate football. Football is cancelled,” Nico said.

“What about your team? Do you also hate them?”

“My team? What team? I don’t know any team,” Nico said and huffed.

Will rubbed Nico’s arm and kissed the top of his head.

“Oh, really?”

Nico didn’t answer him.

“When will they play again?”

“Next week would be the International Break. You know, World Cup Qualification games. Some of the players will be called up for their National Team. But then the week after…” Nico paused.

He looked up at Will with a horrified expression. “Oh my God! I forgot that it would be Derby della Madonnina!”

Will raised his brows up in confusion. “Meaning?”

“It’s the Derby di Milano! My team will be playing against that other team… Oh gosh!” Nico groaned again as he ran both hands over his face.

“Are you going to watch it?”

“Of course! Chiara and me plan to watch it together, even though Chiara has literally made the worst decision in her life by supporting that other team.”

Will still had no idea who was that other team. But considering that Nico still looked upset, he decided that it would be a question for another time.

“I thought you said you hate football?” Will asked, a small grin played on his lips.

Nico groaned again as he buried his face against Will’s chest. He shifted a little so the side of his head was leaning on Will’s chest.

“You really have no idea about how hard it is to be a football fan, don’t you?” Nico said, half-grumbling. “We hate our team but we just can’t stop loving them.”

Will laughed and wrapped his arms around Nico. He pressed a kiss on Nico’s temple.

“Why do I feel like you were talking about what you feel about me?”

Nico made a small gruntling noise. “You know I can never hate you, Will.”

“Even though I order salad for you in McDonalds?”

Nico hit Will’s chest lightly but Will knew, he could feel that Nico had a small smile on his lips.

“Well,” Nico said. He put a hand on Will’s chest and looked up at Will. There was a faint blush of colors on his cheeks, but his dark eyes were smiling as they were staring at Will from beneath the thick eye-lashes. “But yeah, I don’t think I can stop loving you.”

“Good,” Will said. He closed the small distance between their faces by pressing a soft kiss on Nico’s lips. He pulled back a bit and pressed his forehead gently against Nico’s. “Because I don't think I can stop myself from loving you.”

***

Translation: Quello NON È fall! : That is NOT a foul! Stupido arbitro: Stupid referee Quello era fuorigioco! :That was an offside! Cartellino giallo? Come cartellino giallo?! Non l’ho neanche toccato!:  A yellow card? What do you mean a yellow card? He didn’t even touch him! 

Author’s Note:

I have nothing against American football. To be honest, I don’t even know how it works. So if there’s any mistakes about it in this one-shot, I do apologize. 

Comments and feedback are always welcome :D. Tell me what you think about this :)

The game of AS Roma vs AC Milan was indeed ended up with a 2-0. And yes, Edin Dzeko scored the first goal. It was a great goal, really. And yes, Edin is…pretty attractive. Seriously.

Go search the tag Dzekolarov. You’ll see what I mean.

If you can guess two of my favorite football players whose names I sneaked in to the one-shot, I am so gonna love you.

[venomade]

Diamonds in His Eyes

This is for @brightisthedawn for the @shaladinsecretsanta! I apologize that it’s a little late - my life got pretty hectic post-Christmas. They asked for a fantasy AU of some kind! Hopefully, a Tangled AU counts as fantasy for them. And, at the very least, I hope you enjoy my interpretation of Shiro and Keith in this setting.

Pairing: Shiro/Keith

Summary:  As Shiro's 25th birthday approaches, he's almost accepted that he may spend the rest of his life hidden away in a tower, with only his mother and cat for company. But now there's a man tied to his favorite chair, claiming he can take him to the kingdom of lights. [Shiro/Keith - Tangled AU]

Read on AO3 HERE

In his defense, Shiro had panicked.

He had been on his bed, reading the latest novel his mother had gifted him, when he heard footsteps hit the wood floor downstairs. At first, he thought he might have imagined it - maybe it was some kind of latent coping mechanism to deal with his mother's final refutation of his only birthday wish. But then he heard Kovu, his large black cat, hiss from the other side of the room, bristling with a rage he had never seen in his docile pet. And that's when the fear struck him.

Mother had said this might happened. It was statistical improbability, she had assured, but that didn't mean she would leave him without precautions. Regardless, a lot of his free time was spent strength training around the tower. If this intruder was expecting some damsel to cower before them, Shiro would undoubtedly shatter them.

Still, it had frightened him that someone other than his mother was in the tower now. He'd spent his whole life fantasizing about meeting another person - greeting them, walking with them, talking with them. But all those fantasies were outside of the tower, in the cities and castles and forests he had constructed in his head. Inside the tower...that was another story entirely.

Shiro had tip-toed out of his room and used his hair to make his way to the bottom floor. The intruder was looking over the murals Shiro had painted beside the kitchen when he approached, their hair black and unkempt, frayed strands moving past their ears and down his neck. He didn't catch a good look at the intruder's face before he smashed the back of his favorite pocket knife into their head, but he could definitely tell they were a man. Even if they were slim, they lacked the softness and curves he was accustomed to with his mother. He had almost felt guilty over the act, but it was what mother would have wanted. Shiro had to protect himself and his gift at all cost. The kingdom had to be kept at peace, and for that to happen, Shiro had to be locked up and out of reach of ruthless, greedy hands.

Yet, he might have felt a tad more guilty on account of the man's smooth, handsome face.

"Oh, wow..." Shiro's breath had caught as he turned the man over, black tresses falling over his face. The man's skin was fair, his nose sharp, and his lips full and pink. A satchel was wrapped around his body, but Shiro had no desire to pry into the man's belongings. Shiro had blinked, unsure what to do with the stranger except stare at him and his pretty face. And had it not been for Kovu's persistent hissing, that might have been a real possibility.

Now, here he was: waiting in the shadows of his reading corner, waiting for the man to wake up. He had his knife tucked into his back pocket and a chunk of his hair wrapped around his right arm. Had mother been there, she would have hoisted him out of the window and buried him in a ditch in the forest. But for all her lessons, for all her insistence that people were inherently evil and would come to ravage Shiro and his gifts at a moment's notice, Shiro could not harden his heart to that capacity. His mother may have seen the evil of man, she may have been manipulated, betrayed, and abused - but Shiro hadn't. And the least he could do was give this man the chance to speak for himself and justify his actions.

Besides, there was a small part of him (a very, very small part, he assured himself) that wondered what his eyes looked like. If they were as pleasant as the rest of his face, his heart might actually skip a beat. And that - to feel what was written in all those romance novels and fairy tales - was his most private, most coveted fantasy.

-----

When Keith woke up, the back of his skull was pounding.

He moaned as he attempted to open his eyes, the pain amplified with just the slightest tilt of his head. He tried to move his arms to soothe the ache, but he felt ropes wrapped tight around his shoulders and waist, effectively restraining him. God, what had hit him? The last thing he could recall was looking at those murals. He had been surprised by how detailed the paper lanterns were, and how lush and green the trees appeared. He wasn't an expert, but he knew that took skill and years of practice. Had his life not gone to complete shit in the past twenty-four hours, he might have stuck around long enough to meet the artist.

Well, wish granted, Keith cringed and shook his head. At the very least, he had to open his eyes and get used to his surroundings again. If he wanted to survive this ordeal, he'd need every sense available. He squeezed his eyes a second time, and slowly relaxed his face to open them. At first, his vision was blurry, but he could make out the trace of the window he had entered from along with its stream of accompanying sunlight. As his eyes adjusted to the light and the ache in his skull subsided to a dull, nagging pang, Keith could see the plants sitting atop the window, as well as the mural of vines and woodland sprites spiraling around the window's brick frame. Keith blinked and turned his head, unconcerned with his head's persistent protest. He drank in the murals that seemed to touch every corner of the walls - he especially liked the quintet of cats near the bookshelf, though he wondered why the artist had decided to color a few of them in such outlandish hues like bright blue and neon green.

"Amazing," Keith breathed out, his voice feeling scratchy against his parched throat. God, when was the last time he had anything to drink? And how long had he been restrained to this chair? His arms and legs felt stiff, and his stomach emitted a low growl, alerting Keith to another problem. He could do without that, really. It wasn't like he could feed himself with these ropes -

"Who are you?" a soft, deep voice penetrated the quiet of the tower, and Keith whipped his head towards its direction, wincing as his vision swerved and his headache intensified. That voice sure didn't sound like anyone he would expect in this tower. Though, to be fair, everything about this place was unexpected. When he had first discovered the tower, he had assumed it would be abandoned - the perfect place to hideaway for the next few days. But the murals had looked too fresh, the plants too lively, and the scents too potent for the tower to be vacant. He would have left after a little more meandering through the first floor but, well...

At least he had a good idea as to who knocked him out.

"My name - " Keith caught himself. Unveiling his real name to a complete stranger bordered on moronic. He gathered his thoughts, and recollected a boy from his hometown with clear, hazel eyes and black hair similar to his own. That could work. "My name is Akira."

"Akira...that's a nice name, actually," the voice said, a hint of wonder lacing its tone. But that wonder was soon replaced by coarse, rigid words, an unspoken threat intertwined with every syllable, "How did you find this tower, and why are you here?"

"I was...escaping a few, uh, ruffians who were after something of mine," Keith replied, doing his best to remain as vague as possible. Wouldn't do to have this stranger know his profession revolved around stolen crowns and street brawls with castle guards. "I found this tower while I ran through the forest. I thought it was abandoned, and thought I could use it to lay low for a few days. Or until I thought I was safe."

He paused, unsure if that was a satisfactory answer. He decided to continue, more for himself than the stranger hidden in the shadows. His stomach was wracked with both hunger and guilt, and he couldn't - he wouldn't - have someone think he was a common thief ready to kill and maim whenever necessary. "I didn't mean to alarm you, and I promise I won't cause you harm. Had I known this tower was someone's home, I wouldn't have intruded. I...I apologize."

"Do you mean that?" the voice asked, the wonder returning to its voice. Keith couldn't quite place it but the words, while confident and assured, seemed stilted, as if they weren't used to talking to others. Though, Keith could imagine that living in a tower this far out from the rest of the kingdom prevented its occupants from taking many social calls. Perhaps Keith was the first person they'd seen in a long, long while.

"Yes, I do mean that - I won't harm you," Keith nodded, his face steeled with conviction.

"Okay...okay," the voice said. "I'll undo your restraints. But, if you're lying, you'll have to answer to me and my cat."

"Your cat?" Keith quirked a brow. At his words, a vicious hiss shot throughout the room. It seemed to be directly behind Keith - maybe the cat was propped up on top of a dresser or closet shelf. But whatever the cat looked like, Keith was sure that the voice was not one to make empty threats. "Alright, you have a deal. But, it would be nice to see who I'm talking to, and who hit me so damn hard."

"Oh - I, uh, apologize about that," the voice stammered, its tone growing sheepish. Keith almost smiled, amused that he, the intruder, was being apologized to. "You're the first person besides my mother and I to ever be in this tower."

"Really? That's sort of - " Keith's next words were interrupted however, as he felt the ropes wrapped around him loosen, his arms and legs tingling in response. He looked down, unsure how the stranger had done that from the shadows. He narrowed his eyes, taking in the long, thin black strands tied by thick, white ribbons every two feet or so. Mild fascination and horror swirled through him, his fingers tugging at its soft, fine ends.

The ropes weren't ropes at all.

"That's hair," Keith's voice was calm despite his unnerving realization. He had been tied down by really strong, really long hair. His list for the day's unpredictable events was starting to become daunting, and he wasn't sure if he could stomach any more of it. "You bound me to hair."

"I apologize for that, too," the voice consoled as the hair spiraled off of Keith and slithered into the shadows. "We don't keep ropes in the tower."

"Why?" Keith asked, grasping onto the ends of the chair's arm rest until his knuckles went white. He had promised he wouldn't hurt the voice, but that didn't rule out self-defense. Without ropes, no one could escape the tower unless they were exceptionally skilled at scaling walls. Was the voice lying to him, trying to catch him off-guard? Where was their "mother" anyway?

He could hear the voice take a deep breath and clothes shuffle, as if hands were smoothing out wrinkles on a shirt. Soon, he heard a pair of feet approach him. The footsteps weren't loud or skittish or fast - they were controlled, deliberate, slow. He could also hear hair rustle against the floor as well, but that confused Keith the most. For hair to drag along the floor...

But then a form finally stepped out of the shadows, and all thoughts of hair and footsteps dissolved.

From the voice, Keith had suspected it was a man, and a man he definitely was. He was tall, maybe four or five inches taller than Keith, with broad shoulders and a full chest. He wore a black, long-sleeved tunic, and a thick, brown belt was fastened around his waist. Brown breeches finished the simple ensemble, his feet surprisingly bare. But that wasn't what Keith was truly amazed by.

The man's face was a complete vision. Like something out of a storybook.

His skin was a lush olive, contrasting well against his tunic's collar. He had a strong, square jaw, high cheekbones, and a long, refined nose. Wide lips, a few shades lighter than his skin, filled out the bottom of his face. Thick brows framed his eyes, monolid and accompanied by long, black eyelashes. And his eyes - his eyes were a dark gray, reminding Keith of clouds before a storm, or smoke above a dying fire. They shined as they took in Keith's stare, as if the man was stupefied by his presence, by the fact he was still in the chair watching him approach. His frame may have been poised, his back straight and his lips void of a smile or a frown - but his eyes were elated. They sparkled.

There were diamonds in his eyes, more precious than any jewel or treasure Keith had stolen before. He was sure of it.

So taken by the man's eyes, he almost missed the vivid white bangs swept against his forehead and the long, black hair that traveled down his shoulders, passed his legs, and onto the floor. His hair was kept tidy by the white ribbons. Instead of the ribbons making him look dainty or effeminate, they made him appear sophisticated, regal.

"The hair...that's your hair," Keith let out when the man was a few feet away, his heart swelling with unspoken words. He had never felt so compelled - he had never felt compelled at all - to tell someone how beautiful they were. Was this tower enchanted - was this man? There had to be some kind of spell in the air, something that was filling his lungs with a crackling adoration for a man he had just met.

"We...we don't keep ropes in the tower because..." the man began, his eyes shifting from Keith's face to the floor. He spiraled a chunk of his hair around his arm, and crushed one of the ribbons underneath his fingertips. "Because it's a precaution. So that no one can steal me away."

"Steal you away? Why would anyone do that?" Keith asked, even as he knew precisely why he would whisk this man out of the tower.

The man paused and closed his eyes - perhaps weighing his options towards telling Keith the truth or keeping it a secret. He grimaced, but then soon turned his attention back to Keith, the diamonds in his eyes glossed over in resolve. "You weren't after me? You have no idea what I'm capable of?"

"No. No, I - all I wanted was a safe place to stay," Keith almost pleaded, but he kept his tone as composed as possible. He felt heat in his cheeks, shame clawing at the back of his throat. The man searched Keith's face for answers, judging if Keith was someone he could trust. Keith had already lied to him, had already showed his true colors. He wasn't a man anyone should trust, least of all someone so beautiful as the person before him. "But you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. And I promise, once I leave I'll never -"

"You want to leave?" the man interrupted, something akin to hurt giving his voice a raw, raspy quality.

"I thought you would want me gone as soon as possible," Keith replied. "Before your mother returns. If she thinks everyone is after you, I'm sure she wouldn't hesitate to throw me out the window the moment she found me in this chair."

The man blinked. A moment passed, and he cracked a smile, his eyes sparkling elation once more. The smile was soon followed by a giddy laughter, and Keith's ears tickled at the sound. "Yeah - that was one of my first thoughts, actually. My mother would be throwing your body down a cliff by now. Maybe even offer your corpse to the wolves down south."

"Lucky me, then," Keith sighed, tempted to roll his eyes. Good to know that in his sea of bad fortune, death and dismemberment had yet to be fished out.

"Lucky you, indeed," the man continued to smile, straightening his back and offering Keith his hand. "My apologies, I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Shiro, and behind you is my cat, Kovu."

Keith took the man's hand - smooth and dry - and hoisted himself off the chair. He returned the smile and reluctantly let his hand slip from his grasp. "It's good to meet you, Shiro. Again, I'm sorry for -"

Something jumped onto Shiro's shoulders before he could finish, forcing Keith to stumble backwards, the back of his legs hitting the front of the chair. He winced, but turned his attention back to Shiro and the black cat now perched on his shoulders. Yellow eyes bore into Keith, and Kovu's nose flared. It seemed while Shiro was willing to trust him, the cat required further observation.

"Uh, nice to meet you too, Kovu," Keith didn't dare approach the cat, deciding to provide Kovu with a casual salute instead. While he wasn't afraid of a few scratches to his face, being maimed by Shiro's cat could damper the start of their friendship.

"Apologies for my cat as well," Shiro gave him a sheepish grin, and leaned his face into Kovu's fur. The cat purred at the affectionate gesture, placated for the moment. "He hasn't seen anyone besides my mother and I since he was a kitten."

"All is forgiven," Keith chuckled. "How old is he anyway?"

"Seventeen," Shiro answered, matter-of-fact, and frowned at the sight of Keith's bulging eyes and open mouth. "Is that unusual?"

"Most cats around here are lucky to live past a decade," Keith replied. "And I guess staying up here would help him stay alive a little longer but...his coat looks so fresh, and I can't find any gray in his fur or whiskers."

"That might have to do with mine and my mother's -" Shiro recoiled, tearing his stare from Keith and back to the floor. "I apologize...again. I don't think it's safe to tell you."

"Look, Shiro..." Keith trailed, his heart fluttering. It was strange, bizarre. He had had one of the worst days of his life. He had abandoned his best friend in that forest outside the tower, at the mercy of the castle guards. And he had just met this man, and knew so little about his life. But he felt like he would do anything to obtain his trust, to obtain his affection.

It had to be his eyes. His eyes must have hypnotized Keith, bound him to his soul. It was his only explanation for the yearning that whirled through his stomach and shook his fingers.

"But despite everything my mother has told me - I want to tell you," Shiro admitted, glancing back to Keith. "You didn't intend to, but - but you found me. I've never met anyone else in my life and even if I did...I don't think I'd want to tell them as much as I want to tell you."

Keith parted his lips and sucked in the stale tower air, his body warm. It seemed then, more than anything, Shiro wanted someone to listen to him. Perhaps it had been complete luck that Keith had been the first to find and scale this tower, but he would be a fool to throw this chance away. For the majority of his life, fortune and favor had eluded him. Now, here was a pristine, kind man who could offer him a sliver of something good - something worthwhile. "Well, what do you think is safe to tell me? Something that wouldn't betray your mother's trust?"

Shiro narrowed his eyes and creased his brows in concentration. He took a step backwards, and his gaze traveled from Keith to the walls and its murals. While Kovu moved from his owner's shoulders and jumped onto the floor, Shiro looked past his bookshelf and his cookware, his stare venturing towards the right side of the tower. It wasn't until Shiro's eyes caught onto the mural of the paper lanterns, his lips drawn into a wistful smile, that Keith made the obvious connection.

On top of being gorgeous, Shiro was one hell of an artist.

"On my birthday, every year, these lights shoot from the forest and into the sky," Shiro said, his voice almost at a whisper. "I've always wanted to know where they come from, what they mean. I've asked my mother for as long as I can remember if, just once, she could take me to see them. I've promised her I would never want to leave the tower after that - I'd stay and protect my gift forever, with just her and Kovu for company."

"And...what has she told you?" Keith asked, though he was sure Shiro's answer would prove unpleasant.

Shiro sighed and turned back to Keith, the diamonds in his eyes fading, "It's too dangerous. Even with all my training and learning how to defend myself - she says the people out there would find a way to capture me and lock me away in a dungeon, where my powers would be used for their own selfish gain. When I was younger, I didn't understand, and I would cry and throw myself onto my bed. But now...I've accepted that this is my life. I can't wallow. I just have to make the best of my circumstances. If not for myself, then for my mother and all she has done for me."

Keith processed Shiro's words, glancing over to the painted paper lanterns. This was all he wanted, to see the paper lanterns that mourned the kidnapped prince? The wish seemed simple enough. Why would his mother rebuke him, even after all his training? Shiro was a man (and hardly one Keith would call small or scrawny). He could take care of himself, just like Keith.

Wait, now there's an idea, Keith reflected. He held his chin in-between his fingers, and looked back to Shiro. "Where is your mother right now? She leave you alone often?"

Shiro nodded, "Yes, usually to get food and whatever else we need around the tower. Instead of ropes, she uses my hair to climb the tower."

"Pretty strong hair," Keith chuckled. His words elicited a faint pink to adorn Shiro's cheeks, and his grin widened at the response. "But what's she doing now?"

"For my birthday, I asked her for new paints to work with and a good book. She left this morning, actually."

"Okay - and how long will it take for her to get back?"

"She has to go into a village on the other side of the hills to get the paints. It can take her anywhere from three to four days to return, but I suspect with the book hunting, it'll be four this time around."

"And she left this morning, right?"

"Yes...she did," Shiro reiterated, his lips pursed in confusion. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well, your birthday is tomorrow, right?" Keith took a few steps towards the paper lantern mural, his mind buzzing with fortuitous possibility. If he had Shiro in tow with him on his return to the kingdom, he could hit three birds with one stone: drop off the crown to his contact and receive his reward, find Lance to plan their escape out of the kingdom and into Galra territory, and escort Shiro to the see the paper lanterns. Maybe he could even convince Shiro to abandon his life of confined solitude and come with him instead! Of course, befriending Shiro could prove to be a liability - he still didn't know what his "gift" entailed, or what his mother was capable of if someone stole Shiro away.

But, Keith was a thief - a good thief. And stealing risky, priceless treasure was all part of the package.

"Why don't you come with me? To see the lanterns?" Keith finally suggested. "We can travel through the forest together, look around the kingdom, watch the ceremony, and then get you back here with enough time for your mother to never suspect a thing. It's the perfect setup."

"What?" Shiro whipped his hair behind him, his stare incredulous. "Leave the tower, to see the lanterns? With you? Why would you do that?"

"Look, it's the least I could do - I invaded your home, scared your cat, and would definitely be dead if your mother was around," Keith acknowledged, crossing his arms and moving back towards Shiro. "If you don't want to, that's fine. I'll leave and you'll never have to see me again. But...this could be your chance. To know what's out there."

Shiro curled his fingers into fists, his knuckles white. His body was stiff, his stare void of emotion. Keith could only imagine the dilemma Shiro faced. He hadn't expected this opportunity to ever present itself. And if he had, Keith could tell by the way he smiled at those painted lanterns that he had given up on those dreams some time ago.

"If there's people out there - people who know who I am - will you protect me from them?" Shiro asked, his eyes not quite meeting Keith's. "I don't...I don't want my mother to worry."

Keith wasn't entirely sure what compelled him to reach across the room and press his hand into Shiro's shoulder, but he suspected it had to do with the yearning in his eyes. How the diamonds returned and glistened with the possibility, a thousand fantasies pouring into his head. "Sure, Shiro. I promise I'll protect you, no matter what."

Shiro tilted his head to glance at the hand on his shoulder, his mouth formed into an o. He soon smiled, and placed his hand on top of Keith's, squeezing his fingers gently. "Thank you, Akira. You have no idea how much this means to me."

And with Shiro's diamond eyes so close, his hand warm and large against his own, Keith wondered how Shiro's lips would feel pressed against his own, fingers wound tight around his lower back -

A wicked hiss intruded his thoughts, and he felt teeth nip at his ankle. Shiro gasped as Keith threw himself back, almost stumbling into the chair for the second time that afternoon.

"Kovu!" Shiro exclaimed, voice cracked and cheeks flushed. "That wasn't - he wasn't doing anything. Are you okay, Akira?"

"Yeah, yeah - I'm fine. And I promise I had no intention of ki - kicking him in the shins, or you know, whatever bad people do," Keith corrected himself, his face hot once more. Maybe this plan wasn't as perfect as he thought...

Shiro scratched at the back of his head, an embarrassed chuckle accompanying his next words. "But, you know - Kovu and I can take care of ourselves. All that training has to amount to something."

"Yeah, I figured," Keith nodded. "But it's the thought that counts, right? I'm sure I have a few good punches in me."

"Definitely more than a few," Shiro's hand traveled from his head to the back of his neck, his posture relaxed but his body bristling with an excitement, a hope that spilled butterflies into Keith's stomach. "Does your offer extend to Kovu? I'm afraid I wouldn't feel right leaving him behind."

Of course the cat was coming with them. That was another detail he'd forgotten. Keith tried to keep his displeasure at a minimum, and shrugged. "Yeah, that's fine. More the merrier and all that."

"Great!" Shiro's smile broadened as he practically raced towards the stairs, his bare feet quickly reaching the second floor. "Let me pack up a few things, and we can be on our way."

"I'll be waiting," Keith replied and waved up to Shiro, his chest light. The man's giddiness was infectious, it seemed. Not that he could blame him - his life was about to begin.

Kovu stood behind, his yellow eyes never leaving Keith. His stare prevented Keith from looking into his satchel and inspecting the crown. He opted to cross his arms instead, and shot Kovu a challenging glare. He felt the crown's weight against his side however, and sighed in relief. Finally, he had a way to escape this miserable kingdom and find his way back to his family.

And maybe...I have something else too, Keith thought as he looked up towards Shiro's room, wondering just what the man could be packing. Books? Knives? Gourmet cat food?

Keith shook his head, chuckling at himself. Whatever Shiro brought, it didn't matter. So long as the diamonds in his eyes remained, their journey would be fine. Keith was sure of it.

[profound-boning]

Right Place Wrong Time

@spnabobingo prompt: suntan lotion, clove, freshly baked bread pairings: destiel, background sam/jess word count: 3.4k tags: no warnings apply, a/b/o, alpha!cas, lifeguard!cas, missed connections, happy ending; sequel here ao3

The waves beat their steady rhythm against the shore, birds cry out, children laugh, and families chatter. Cas sits back in his big lifeguard chair, sweeping once more over the scene in front of him. Back and forth his gaze moves, glancing briefly at Hannah and Eileen, who are seated in their own chairs some fifty yards down the beach from him on either side.

He picks at his red uniform shorts idly. Another day at the beach. Granted, he adores the beach. Growing up on the coast means this place is his life, most especially during the summer months. Just south of the big city, they get a lot of vacationers here. Just passing through, looking for a quick weekend getaway.

His parents picked a good spot to settle down in, he thinks. Jimmy and Amelia Novak would be the perfect candidates if anyone wanted to run an advertisement about truemates. They met in college through mutual friends and, upon recognizing the scent change, they knew they were meant for each other. They were mated within six months and married right away after graduation. Two kids, Castiel and Samandriel, a cat named Claire, a white picket fence, and happily ever after.

And it is. Cas is extremely happy with his life, he loves his family, and he’s landed his dream job teaching science at a middle school in a very nice district. Which means he still has time, particularly during the summer, to be a lifeguard, as he’s done for the past decade.

There is one small thing about being a lifeguard that Cas is highly invested in that most people would find strange. Lifeguards wear a lot of sunblock and they hang out at a beach where lots of other people are wearing it, too. Upon his Alpha presentation, Cas’s parents told him he smelled like suntan lotion. Cas works as a lifeguard in order to mask his natural scent as much as possible.

Not many people know this because it’s kind of strange to actively cover up your scent, but Cas has his reasons. As much as his mother would like her twenty-seven-year-old son to take a mate and give her grandbabies, Cas can’t bear to be with someone who isn’t his truemate. Why bother going on dates when your perfect match is somewhere out there? And when they find each other, Cas can have the happy ever after he’s always dreamed of, just like his parents.

All it takes is one touch and both halves of a truemate pair will notice their scents slowly change from two individual scents to a shared one. They will mutually smell the same to each other, and, if the stories are to be believed, be absolutely delicious and utterly addictive to their mate. You could hate vanilla your entire life and then meet your truemate, smell your new mutual scent of vanilla bean, and you would never complain. Biology is strange like that.

Suddenly, there’s commotion down on the beach. Cas sits forward and looks down, out of the corner of his eye he sees Eileen jumping off her chair and rushing over. Trusting his friend’s instinct, he starts moving too, joining the family group and some strangers where they’re standing at the shore.

“What’s going on?” He moves through the group, bumping into a few bystanders in order to approach the man and the woman standing at the center, the woman’s hands wrapped around the man’s forearms tightly. They’re both crying and Cas feels his blood run cold.

“She’s—“ the woman manages to choke out. “Our little girl is out there.”

Cas turns to face the waves, and he spots a tall man holding a small child walking as swiftly as he can through the water toward them. Eileen moves halfway out and looks back at Cas, who signs, ‘drowning?’

‘Not sure,’ Eileen replies. ‘Didn’t see.’ She turns toward the man carrying the little girl and moves to meet him, just as he’s getting his feet underneath him.

“The waves picked up,” the man says, his voice shaky. Cas places one hand on his shoulder to urge him to continue. “It’s—it was clear just a minute ago. Dean and Jess were out there with her and I guess she just slipped under. Jess”—he gestures to the woman he’s now holding close to his chest—“was closer and ran back here. I…” He trails off.

Eileen appears at his side, holding the girl to her chest. She mouths CPR at Cas and they move quickly away from the water. Cas puts his board down and he and Eileen lower her little body down onto it. Then Eileen stands up to shoo away the nosy onlookers, gesturing to the family to give Cas enough space to work. Cas vaguely hears Hannah’s voice on the phone, telling the 911 operator their location, and he gets to work.

Calmly, he tilts the little girl’s chin back and opens her mouth to make sure nothing is inside. He watches her little tummy for a moment and doesn’t see any movement, so he uses his fingers to make compressions on her chest. Then he brings his mouth down to cover hers and blows air directly into her lungs, hopefully. He does this twice, watching her chest rise each time. More compressions. Two more breaths and—

She coughs then coughs again and scrunches up her nose with displeasure. Cas hears more crying behind him from the family but he keeps his attention on the little girl.

“Hi there,” he says in his most soothing voice. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Humph.” Big green eyes open to regard him and her brow furrows. “I shouldn’t really be talking to strangers. Are you a lifeguard?”

“Yes.” Cas leans back and indicated the red cross on his white t shirt and the child nods solemnly. It’s pretty cute, actually.

“Okay then,” she acquiesces. “I’m Mary.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mary. How are you feeling?”

“My tummy hurts and my head hurts. Is my mommy here?”

“Yes,” Cas tells her. Satisfied that she’s coherent enough to likely not have any lasting damage, he sits back all the way and offers his hand to help her sit up, too. Sam and Jess swoop down to sit next to him and Mary. They both cry some more but they’re relieved that Mary appears to be all right.

The paramedics pull up in the nearest parking lot and run over with a stretcher. They’ll take Mary to the nearest hospital to check on her, and they invite her parents to come along. Sam opts to carry her to the ambulance, but he turns back a few steps away, his eyes moving until they rest on Cas.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “Thank you for saving her.”

“It was my pleasure,” Cas assures him with a smile. Sam nods and Mary’s mother gives him a firm handshake, her eyes still streaming and other hand pressed against her mouth. Cas watches them leave before he stands and looks around for Eileen.

He is startled then to be wrapped up in a tight hug. The person hugging him is male, his skin feels warm to the touch, he smells like cloves, and he’s crying quietly onto Cas’s shoulder.

“God, thank you so much.” The man’s voice is deeper than he had anticipated even though it’s muffled against his collarbone. “I—I don’t know what I would have done if—”

Cas brings one hand up to rub the man’s shoulder blade in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “It’s quite all right,” he says, hoping to bring him some comfort.

“It’s just—. I didn’t even—. It was—.”

He leans back to put a little space between them and he realizes this man has extraordinarily green eyes. “It’s all right,” he repeats soothingly. “Mary’s going to be just fine. We got her out in time.”

“God.” He lets out this shaky breath and his shoulders drop some of their tension. “Thank you. I—”

“There’s no need to thank me…” Cas hopes the man will fill in his name here, but the implication seems to fall on deaf ears.

“I’d better get going. I can go see her, right?”

“You’re family?” The man nods. “Then go ahead.”

“I, uh, well, I guess I hope I don’t need your assistance in the future. But for what it’s worth, you deserve a raise, man.”

“Thanks.” Cas chuckles. “Have a good one.”

“You too.” Green Eyes looks like he wants to say something else but he thinks better of it. He turns on his heel and heads to a pile of belongings, a couple of towels, a tote bag, a large umbrella, some sand toys, and scoops everything up before making his way to the parking lot. Cas watches him go with only a tiny bit of longing. It’s stupid anyway, he’s waiting for someone.

After all of that excitement, Cas has to fill out a report along with Eileen and Hannah about what had occurred. It was harrowing to be sure, and saving the life of a four-year-old is not something to be taken lightly. The trio sits for a little while longer, drinking Gatorade and munching on snacks. They go back to their posts until the end of their shifts, Hannah at three o’clock and Eileen and Cas at five. At seven minutes past, Cas is staring blankly into his locker when he hears Eileen’s voice.

“Cas.” She doesn’t speak often, so she must have been trying to get Cas’s attention before and he was oblivious.

‘Sorry,’ he signs, only familiar with the basics she’s taught him and the other guards so they can communicate more easily. ‘What?’

“Your smell.” She says this at the same time she makes the sign, in case the meaning is unclear. In this job, it’s not often they need to converse about scents. At any rate, Cas feels confused. Luckily she understands that without him fumbling for a sign. ‘Different.’

Different? Different how? Diff—? And then it clicks. Cas plucks at the collar of his shirt and takes a whiff. Aside from general body odor and the lingering scent of actual sunscreen, there’s a scent of freshly baked bread. As if his chest cavity was renovated to feature an oven and someone’s just produced their very first batch.

Cas drops his shirt and looks up at Eileen, horrified. How could this happen?

‘What do?’ he signs frantically. ‘What do what do what do’

Eileen cuts him off. ‘Think,’ she orders. ‘Happened today. Who?’

“Right,” Cas mumbles. “Had to be today.” He repeats her sign to show his understanding. “Someone on the beach today.”

[ Read the rest on ao3 ]

[stardestroyervigilance]

So a couple of days I go I wrote this for @jeusus‘s magnificent viking Hux and the support I got was kind of overwhelming and a lot of you seemed to want me to write some more so uh, have whatever this is I guess? (under a readmore cause it’s a little longer than I want to put on some unsuspecting person’s dashboard >.<)

(also sorry Jeusus I wrote this before I read your headcanon post so I know some things don’t quite match up but I hope that’s okay!)

Kylo, too his credit, had tried to be a gracious host for the man who would become his husband. He had taken the wild creature into his home, placed him at the dining table and served him food, a meal of delicious fruits and cheeses. He had tried to make small talk with him, tried to get to know him before they were to be officially wed.

It appeared, though, that Armitage would be having none of that nonsense. The Northerner had said nothing to him, preferring to pretend as if he didn’t truly exist. His eyes had never met with Kylo’s. He seemed to prefer to keep his gaze turned towards literally anything else. He’d not turned his nose up at the food – nothing so obvious as that – but he had not touched his plate. Armitage seemed determined to resist every kind action Kylo showed towards him. It was becoming quite tiresome.

It was not until Kylo was showing him to his quarters – a temporary room down the hallway from Kylo until they could properly share a one – that Kylo had been able to hear Armitage’s voice. He had tried to place his hand upon Armitage’s forearm, to which the savage had ripped his hand away and snapped if you touch me again, I will kill you, before disappearing into the room and shutting the heavy oak door with a slam. His voice had been rough, and their language thick on his tongue, much in the same way that Karl Asgard’s had been.

“Kylo!” his mother’s voice called from behind him. He turned towards her voice, seeing a grim expression on her face, “How is he?”

“A beast, just like I said he would be,” Kylo snapped, immediately regretting his tone once his mother shot him a dirty look, “I tried to get him to eat but he refused, and the only words I’ve heard from him have been a threat.”

Leia’s eyebrows shot up at that. “A threat?”

“He said that he could kill me if I touched him again,” Kylo said, feeling a renewed hurt at the words.

“He should not speak to you like that,” Leia all but hissed. She glanced at the door to Armitage’s quarters, the look she gave the oak enough to kill an army.

Kylo shrugged. “Who is to stop him? We can’t exactly send him back to the Jarl, his being here is the only thing stopping the Northerner’s on our doorstep ransacking this place.”

Leia scoffed. “That’s so like you to immediately jump to the most extreme solution. We may not be able to return him, but we can certainly teach him to live peacefully among us.”

“Who would teach him? He’s beyond that,” Kylo grumbled, “The beast has no place among us.”

Leia’s expression turned smug. “You will teach him. Consider him a lesson in diplomacy, Kylo, he will perhaps turn out to be a better teacher than I have ever been.”

Before Kylo could reply, Leia was already stalking off down the corridor, her heavy dress gathered in her hands. His mouth was left gapping open, not unlike a fish, and he hastily closed it. There was a pool of fury boiling in his gut. Not only had his mother put him in this situation to begin with, she was now telling him to fix the problem? There was no one alive who could possibly possess the skillset needed to realign the pagan savage to their Christian way – especially one as resistant as he suspected Armitage was going to be. He growled under his breath, stalking into his own quarters.

As he entered, he spotted the little necklace he had draped across his dresser table. The dark piece of rope was simple, and had attached to it a small, simple wooden cross. His mother given it to him in order to present to his spouse, knowing they would likely be a pagan like the Northerner’s they had interacted with before. He picked up the necklace, fiddling with the cross. Before meeting Armitage he had been strangely excited to present his spouse with his gift, knowing that it would be something from him that the sweet individual would cherish forever. He’d laugh at his preconceived notion if the true reality didn’t frustrate him so much.

He threw the necklace back onto the dresser with a huff. He was not pleased to present Armitage with the gift, suspecting it would likely just meet a horrible end in the hands of the little orange savage. He sighed to himself. As displeasing as he was sure the experience was going to be, he knew he should still give Armitage the necklace. He vowed to do so tomorrow morning, turning into bed for the night.

As he awoke to the sunlight streaming through his window, he was immediately reminded by the off-putting task he had to perform today. He had hoped that the morning would bring a new sense of confidence, that he would not be so apprehensive to present the gift, but he had been wrong. Instead he felt worse about it, the deadline creeping closer and closer.

He huffed, emerging from underneath the warmth of his duck feather comforter. He dressed slowly, trying to delay the day as much as he could possibly get away with. A wave of dread washed over him as he exited his quarters, the cross in his hand, and made his way down the hallway to Armitage’s quarters. He knocked on the wood, the sound reverberating in the quiet hallway.

After a few thuds of footsteps the door was opened. Armitage looked… even worse than he had yesterday. He had not looked anything but miserable yesterday, but today, he looked exhausted. There were dark purple bags under his eyes, and Kylo suspected he may not have slept last night. He felt a pang of guilt run through him for being able to. His eyes themselves were dull, puffy and bloodshot. His hair was still braided into its wild style, though the colouring was beginning to darken with grease. He looked at Kylo with sheer contempt, waiting for him to speak.

Kylo swallowed, attempting to find his voice. “Would you accompany me on my walk this morning?” he asked, his voice as friendly as he could make it, “I promise I will not touch you.”

Armitage’s scowl did not lighten. He shrugged, the movement heavy.

“I suppose,” he said, his voice much softer, a stark comparison from the raw fury Kylo had been faced with the night previous, “I have nothing else to do.”

Kylo was taken aback for a moment – he’d expected far more resistance. He opened his mouth to make sure, but then clamped it shut quickly, figuring he’d rather not question Armitage’s decision for fear of seeming rude. Rudeness was not was diplomats did.

Armitage disappeared back into his quarters, and for a moment Kylo feared as if he had done something wrong and he was about to have a door in his face again. That thought, however, was quickly banished as Armitage simply returned with his pelted cloak around his shoulders. Kylo smiled politely at him. Armitage did not return it.

Kylo lead Armitage outside, taking him along the garden path by the castle. The gardens were certainly beautiful here. Leia assured their upkeep, making sure that the castle was always surrounded by beautiful blooms of all colours of the rainbow. Kylo was certainly appreciative of it now, watching Armitage’s eyes wander over the flowers, his eyes beginning to brighten. Kylo let Armitage see the garden’s at his own pace, hoping to have the man docile enough to present him with his gift.

The necklace was burning a hole in his pocket, and his heart pounded at the thought of presenting it. He really should have brought some kind of weapon with him out here, just in case the Northerner took particular offense to his offering. Kylo wasn’t sure how strongly Armitage was connected to his pagan ways though from what he knew of his spouse-to-be it certainly wouldn’t be a stretch for Armitage to react violently to it.

“Armitage.”

Armitage turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“I have something to give you,” Kylo said, approaching Armitage slowly. The Northerner backed off slightly, before forcing himself to stand still. Kylo was wary of the glint in Armitage’s eyes, the hand braced underneath his cloak.

Kylo took the cross from his pocket slowly, aware that from the Northerner’s tense stance, Armitage may be expecting a weapon. He held his palm out flat, the necklace held in the centre. He thrust his hand out to Armitage, wordlessly telling the man to take it.

Armitage’s hand came to cautiously take the item from him, his face etched with confusion. He held the cross between his fingers. “This is the symbol of your God, is it not?”  

Kylo nodded. “It is,” he said, deciding to forgo an in depth conversation about the sacrifice of Jesus Christ – that could be explained later.

Armitage’s eyebrows dipped low. “Then why are you giving it to me? I am not of your God.”

Kylo swallowed. “That is something that will have to change.”

A flash of fury passed through Armitage’s eyes. “What?” he hissed, speaking through gritted teeth.

“If you are to be my husband, you will need to leave your Pagan ways behind,” Kylo said, “Convert to Christianity.”

Armitage’s hands clenched, the cross crushed within his fist. He turned away from a moment before turning back, the all familiar snarl returning to his lips.

“I will not,” he said, “I am willing to take on your God, but I will not turn my back on my own.”

An ache began to throb in Kylo’s temples. “I cannot have a Pagan savage as a spouse, you must understand this,” he pleaded.

Armitage eyes widened at the words. “Savage,” he repeated, his voice incredulous, “Is that truly how you people think of us?”

“Yes. You are wildlings who have invaded our lands, taken our property, killed our men and raped our women. You denounce the teachings of Jesus Christ as nonsense and pray to a group of false gods. What else are we to call you?” Kylo said, his temper finally flaring to a volatile level. He would not stand here any longer and be disobeyed by this foreigner.

“Then I am surprised you wanted me to be your spouse,” Armitage spat, “Since you think so lowly of us.”

Kylo barked a laugh. “I don’t! I don’t want you! We were losing a war, and appeasing your father was the only way to save the lives of my people. You are not a want, you are a sacrifice I was willing to make.”  

Armitage stood a little straighter. “Then I am glad we in agreement,” he growled, throwing the cross necklace as far as he could into the depths of the garden, “Fuck you. And fuck your God.”

And with that Armitage was gone, storming off in a flurry of animal pelts and copper red hair. Kylo breathed a deep breath, realising only now that his chest was heaving with effort. As soon as Armitage was out of sight, he immediately felt terrible. He shouldn’t have said those things. He was trying to appease the Northerner not drive him away forever. Now not only was the necklace lost, so was any semblance of trust Armitage had for him. His mother had told him to teach him how to be one of them, and he suspected he may have gone about this far too harshly, throwing too much at the Northerner all at once, expecting too much of him too soon. He would have to make amends somehow.

The problem was – how?

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 34)

Weiss was in her dream world once more.

This time, the scene was her ever growing garden, vegetables growing to massive sizes with speed that they could have only dreamed about in Candela. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the actual Jacques Schnee was tied to a post where the scarecrow was, silent and scowling as he reluctantly protected his daughter's crops.

Nick chuckled as he walked through her garden, careful to step between the neat pathways she'd carved out. “Well ain't this a sight for sore eyes!” he said as he came up to edge of where Weiss was working.

“Mhmm!” Weiss said as she knelt in the ground, carefully clipping her herbs. “Thanks for the pep-talk and the advice, grandpa; I really needed those.”

Nick snorted. “Don't thank me, thank yourself! You know, especially because I really could just be the back of your head using me like a sock puppet, or something.”

“You're not going to turn into another me, are you?” Weiss asked as she tossed leaves into the pockets of her dress. “Because that'd just be creepy.”

Nick shrugged. “Your mind, your rules, sweetheart!”

“Then you stay as my dead grandpa,” Weiss said as she finished up.

She and Nick spent a while admiring her work; she hadn't come close to clearing even a quarter of the overgrowth, but damned if she hadn't made a fine looking garden.

“Is this what it felt like for you, grandpa?” Weiss asked. “When you and the crew were out on expeditions?”

“HELL NO!” Nick yelled. “All that time spent roaming around and trying to look for anything that could help were objectively the worst time of my entire life, second only to when Frosty told me she was pregnant with Snowie while we were still out in the middle of Fucking Nowhere, and third to when Jackass over there didn't even wait for me to kick the bucket before he set the company on its death-spiral!”

“The company has never been more profitable since I took over!” Jacques yelled.

“YEAH, AND THAT WORKED OUT REAL WELL FOR YOU, DIDN'T IT?!” Nick yelled back. He groaned and shook his head, before he turned back to Weiss. “Anyway, the journey sucked, but when we hit pay dirt, there was nothing like it! It's what kept us all going, all those little victories, even after we found that mother of all wellsprings.”

Nick frowned. “It's what kept me going long before I should have retired, too...”

Weiss reached out and put her hand in his calloused palm. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, held her like he was never going to let her go, let anyone take her from him.

“Was it worth it, grandpa?” she asked softly.

“More than worth it...” Nick muttered, smiling. “Hell, now we got a problem with Candela bleeding every other city state dry for everything they've got, but at the very least, we're not shooting each other dead over the last can of spam!

“Anything worthwhile is going to be harder than hell and cost a lot, Weiss,” Nick said. “If it were easy and cheap, we'd never be talking about people like me, or erecting commemorative statues before tearing them back down because I specifically asked those asshats to put up one of Frosty, not me!”

Weiss giggled. It was one of her favourite stories about her grandfather, the time he snuck out of his hospice, flew over the crowds with Tony's help, and personally stopped them from cutting the ribbon on his new statue, then refused to be put back on life support until he saw them taking it down right before his very eyes.

It shortened his already grim lifespan even more, but it was worth it.

“And speaking of costs, you're going to be paying one of them real soon, sweetheart!”

“What, muscle soreness from all the farming and training? I've got Penny for that!”

“Haaah… yeah... I'm pretty sure she's using the 'Resonator' tech me and the Nerd Herd modified the crap out of pre-Candela, and the thing is, there was a HUGE flaw in our design that we never really solved, and no one's been able to crack since, either.”

Weiss frowned. “What flaw?”

Nick frowned as he started to fade away. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, you're going to find out in about 3, 2, 1...”

Weiss woke up.

It was dark, moonlight streaming in through the window. Owls hooted, frogs croaked, Ruby drooled all over her pillows and sheets. Everything was calm and peaceful, except for the fact that every part of Weiss' body hurt.

As it always tended to happen, a memory came screaming up to the forefront of her mind, too little, too late:

Penny, doing her usual treatment to help Weiss with her soreness, the pain and the aching disappearing with the discharge of magic.

Weiss climbing out of her hammock, limber and feeling like she could run a triathlon right there and then.

“I noticed you've been dramatically increasing your levels of physical activity recently, Weiss.” Penny said.

“Yeah, all that training's working wonders—I'm feeling stronger and stronger every day!” Weiss as she headed out the door.

“That's great to hear! But as your personal Mender, I have to warn you against overexerting yourself.” Penny said as she followed her.

“What, afraid I'm going to wake up even more sore than usual? You have all that Mender magitech on you, don't you?” Weiss asked as she headed out to the halls.

“True, but they have their limits,” Penny said as they headed out the front door. “Magic in living bodies can only last for so long before it dissipates back into the environment, and I'd hate to think of what sort of damage you could accidentally inflict on yourself while you're under effects similar to high-grade painkillers.”

“I'll be careful, I promise,” Weiss replied as she headed down the elevator to her garden.

But evidently not careful enough. Weiss tried to move her arm, winced as pain shot up her spine and the rest of her body followed suit, her stiff muscles simultaneously screaming in agony. Paralyzed, she could only let out a tiny whimper of pain.

Ruby's ears twitched. Weiss heard her snort, she groggily raised her head up. “Weiss…?” she muttered.

“Ruby...” Weiss whispered. “Help…!”

Ruby blinked, her instincts kicking into high gear, up in an instant and scrambling over to Weiss. She looked her over once, and instantly knew what was wrong. “Oh man, Stiff-Stuck?”

Weiss made an affirmative noise. “Get Penny...”

Ruby frowned. “Can't: she's totally drained from the hunts today, she won't be ready for anything until morning.”

Weiss whimpered, tearing up.

“Wait, no! Don't cry! Don't cry!” Ruby said as she scrambled off, dug through her piles of belongings. “All of us watchers learn everything there is about massaging sore muscles!” she said as she pulled out a container of ointment, then pumped her fist in victory. “I might not be as good as a therapy mender or Penny, but I can help till we can get you to the hot springs!” she said as she laid it down by her bed and scrambled back to Weiss.

“I'm going to need to carry you to my nest, okay?” Ruby said as she reached for her. “I'm sorry, but this is really going to hurt...”

Weiss whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut.

It hurt. It really, really, really hurt. Ruby was fast and strong, capable of picking her up like she was nothing and laying her down on her nest in the span of a few seconds, but even the tiniest movement was agony.

“I'm going to need you to take your clothes off now,” Ruby said. “Or, you know, I'll have to take your clothes off, since you can't...”

Weiss eyes opened wide in alarm. Her cheeks began to burn. She would have protested if she could, but all she could manage was a squeak of panic.

“I can't massage you properly through your clothes, Weiss!” Ruby explained. “I mean, I've already seen you naked before at the hot springs, so it's not like it's anything I haven't seen already, right?”

The burning worsened.

Ruby bit her lip, took a moment to consider her next words very carefully. “Will it help if I close my eyes? We were trained to do it blind, too! Just tell me! On second thought: blink twice for 'Yes.'”

Weiss debated it. Suffer for however many hours until Penny was done charging, let alone capable of helping her, or have Ruby strip her naked and massage her, a buffer till they could get to the hot springs come morning?

Blink, blink.

Ruby went to work. She kept her eyes open only long enough to strip Weiss naked, open the jar of ointment, and know where it was on the floor. Weiss was laid on her stomach, her body throbbing in pain, her face burning bright red in embarrassment.

She was beginning to have second thoughts, up until Ruby placed her hands on her ankles. Weiss yelped as she felt the ointment kick in, freezing cold on her skin as Ruby started to massage her sore muscles, feeling how Weiss' body reacted and adapting accordingly.

It hurt—possibly even more than if she had just laid awake all night, stiff and sore. Weiss yelped and whimpered, squirming and flinching, until Ruby finally found just the right amount of pressure, and things quickly turned around.

The soreness and stiffness in her body began to disappear. The ointment began to heat and left a pleasant, warm tingling on her skin, along with a minty and soothing scent. Soon, Weiss stopped flinching, squirming, and yelping, smiling in relief and humming in relief as Ruby finished up her legs.

“Feeling better, Weiss?” Ruby asked as she rubbed a fresh layer of ointment all over her hands.

“Yes...~” she moaned happily.

Ruby continued onto her back, Weiss began to doze off, until her hands happened to cross over a particularly sensitive part of her lower back.

Ruby stopped. “Weiss…?”

“Yes...?” Weiss squeaked back.

“You um, uh… made a noise.”

Weiss began to sweat. “What noise…?”

“It kinda sounded like--” Ruby made a poor imitation. “You okay…?”

“I'm fine!” Weiss squeaked.

“Are you really? Because I can--” Ruby stopped. She sniffed, then sniffed again a few more times.

Weiss' face felt like it was on fire—soul fire, as she could feel herself dying inside once more.

“Oooohh…” Ruby giggled as her hands continued their work. “Weiss, there's nothing to be ashamed about! We Fae aren't as weird about sex as you humans are—why are you like that for something so natural, anyway?”

Weiss bit back another “noise.” “I guess we're just weird like that...” she said through gritted teeth.

“Like with Nivian?” Ruby asked.

“Mmpff--!” Weiss stiffened up for a moment. “I mean: mhmm…!”

Ruby snorted, Weiss could feel her shaking her head. “I'll never get you humans...” she muttered as she applied some more ointment on her hands. “Oh, and Weiss?”

“What?”

“After I'm done, I can leave if you need time to, you know--” Ruby made a sexy animal noise. “I'll even hang a sock over the door so no one will walk in on you.”

Weiss mulled it over. “… No… no thanks, I'll… I'll manage…”

“Suit yourself!” Ruby said as she worked on her shoulders. “Offer still stands, though.”

Weiss bit her lip, hard. “Thanks, Ruby,” she whispered, as she began to doze off yet again, finally falling asleep again after Ruby turned her over on her other side.

Morning came, Penny knocked on their door before she opened it. “Good morning Ruby, Weiss! Sorry for barging in, but--”

She noticed Ruby and Weiss sleeping in the former's nest together. The former groggily got up, the latter kept on sleeping peacefully, clearly naked under the blanket that had been thrown over her for modesty's sake.

Penny kept on smiling as she slowly, carefully stepped and closed the door.

Later, that morning Weiss was back to tending to her garden, watering, weeding, and clipping. She looked up as she saw Penny coming up to her.

“Good morning, Weiss!” she said with a wave.

“Hey Penny—something up?” Weiss asked as she got up from the ground.

“Yes, actually!” Penny lowered her voice. “I noticed that you and Ruby have gotten intimate recently...”

Weiss blinked. “I'm sorry, what?”

“You know, the two of you--” Penny made a sexy animal noise.

Weiss face turned completely red in instant. “W-Wait, what?! No we didn't!”

Penny winked. “Of course you didn't~ Anyway, as your personal mender, I have to warn you to please wash both your hands before to minimize the risk of infection to either of you, manicure your nails frequently, and use plenty of lubrication!”

Weiss scowled. “No, seriously, we didn't do anything!”

Penny nodded, still smiling. “I should emphasize that that last point is extremely important: the human body was simply not designed to be able to handle the speed, intensity, and frequency that Fae are capable of, especially when incredibly aroused.”

Weiss just stared at her, simultaneously mortified and offended.

“Do not hesitate to ask me for any questions you may have!” Penny chirped softly. “Though the identities have been changed and obscured for privacy reasons, you and Ruby are not the first interspecies relationship in Fae history.”

Weiss sighed. “Thanks, Penny...” she grumbled.

“You're welcome, Weiss!” Penny said, winking one more time before she left.

Weiss finished up her garden work, and picked up her machete and ax. She was planning on skipping clearing the overgrowth today, but it looked like she was going to go hack some weeds and chop down some more trees after all...

[astralredd]

Hey guys! So me and my friend are doing a Percy Jackson RolePlay, and we've decided to post it on here. Just a few things: I'm doing this on my phone so I can't do italics or anything. So in place of italics, when you see an underscore around a word, that would make it italicized. (If you know a way to do italics on an iPhone, please tell me!) Thing number 2: I am splitting this RolePlay up into chapters made kinda like Heroes of Olympus. Thing number 3: Chara's (car- uh) name isn't really Italian, it's just from a video game we really like. (It's called Undertale. Try it out! It costs about $10 and it's on stream) Here's the first chapter. I hope you like it! Please reblog not repost. Chapter one: Chara Chara didn't know what the heck was going on, she just ran. Her best friend had confessed he was a _satyr_? What the heck is that? And then a giant black dog had started chasing them. So now they were running next to a small road that u wouldn't find unless u took a wrong turn. Chara had leaves and twigs in the tangled black mess that was her hair. Her white blouse was torn and her jeans were ripped. She had a gash running down her right arm that the giant dog had clawed. This was possibly the worst day of her life. And that was saying a lot, considering her life was pretty horrible. She had dyslexia and ADHD. Trouble always seemed to follow her around, which caused her to be kicked out of several schools. She had never seen her mother. Her father said she left. 'She's still the most beautiful woman I ever set my eyes on,' he had said. "What was she like?" Chara had asked. He replied with the same answer he always did. "Her hair was black as raven's wings, like yours, and her eyes were the stormiest of grey." That was before her father died. Peter tripped, and Chara stopped running. She helped him up, as the dog got closer. "Run!" Peter said, his eyes wide. She didn't need to be told twice. Stupid giant dog. He looked like a Doberman. A giant black Doberman. Chara had never liked Dobermans. They always drooled over everything. A hill came into view. On it was a giant statue of a woman in armor carrying a spear. It seemed to radiate power. Her eyes said 'you wanna go past this hill? Ur gonna have to get past me first.' There was also a pine tree with a Golden Fleece on it. That thing also seemed to radiate power. Then Chara saw the girl. She was hard to make out. The girl had been sitting on a rock, and had stood up abruptly when she saw them. She craned her head to look behind her, and she shouted something. "Come on!" Said Peter, and he dragged Chara up the hill. They got to the top, and Chara looked back at the dog, scared out of her wits. "Don't worry." Chara yelped and spun around. The girl was the one who said it. "It can't get past the border. I'm Zoey." She smiled. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."