#time right. so I seriously doubt he’d have visited– let alone even Found– his parents��� graves. I wonder if he ever did that with charles.

[edwinisms]

you ever think about how edwin got like. no warning, no time time to process, nothing, when he reappeared on earth faced with the fact that virtually everyone he knew in life is dead. his parents? probably died in the 1950s or so (at best) almost forty years prior to edwin’s return. if any of his classmates were still around, they’d have been elderly, possibly senile, and in a few years they’d all be gone– except, of course, edwin. nothing looks the same, cars look like spaceships, there actually are spaceships, he can no longer see the stars, and everyone he knew is dead.

[beyondspaceandstars]

Happy Engagement

Relationship: Loki x Reader Warnings: contains some dark elements: manipulation Summary: Loki has always thought of you as his and there isn’t anything he won’t do to keep it that way. A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one shot for a while! I had the idea for it months ago and finally wrote it and then it just sat on my computer while I wrote other stuff but I figured since I don’t have anything really new this week it’d be perfect to put out! I hope you enjoy it because I greatly do :)

Masterlist

Loki had always been an interesting force in your life.

You two met when you were just children in school. You two were the official unofficial outsides of your school year — he was a prince, you were a peasant. Despite his royal standing, he’d play with you at recess. For these outlier ways, you two never interacted much with the other kids, life practically forcing you two to one another.

At such a young age, you hadn’t realized how significant this bond would become. As a child, you were just glad someone was talking to you. He shouldn’t have even been looking at you, should’ve maybe been disgusted with your presence alone. You should’ve been some onlooker, amazed by him and his magic but you weren’t — well, except for the magic part. His magic was little when you were kids but it drew quite the amazement from you.

Over time, you two naturally grew with one another. From childhood into your teens and still, now, you two made an unlikely pair of best friends as young adults. All of this though did not come without some bumps along the way.

In your teens, Loki had almost completely shut you out. For some reason, he seemed to be acting embarrassed by you. Your mother had warned you this may happen but you thought he was different, swore he was, unless his sincerity was like the many other tricks he played. Eventually, supposedly after some talking down from his brother, Loki appeared back at your door asking if you wanted to go for a walk.

This disappearing and coming back had become a habit for him over his teenage years and into adulthood. Loki never explicitly told you why but you could tell there was something eating away at him. It had been there a long time and it felt like disassociating himself with you was his solution.

You thought everything was coming to an abrupt end when you fell pregnant. You had been seeing a nobleman who was a regular customer in your parents’ shop. He was absolutely charming and delightful, practically swept you right off your feet within minutes of meeting. Your parents were ecstatic when he asked to court you.

You yourself were stunned but you ran to tell Loki about it. He was speechless. You tried telling him about the man but something in Loki snapped. He got unreasonably upset, spewing hateful comments about the man, practically forcing you out of his chambers in the process. He went radio silent again.

You tried to ignore losing your best friend — again — and focused on your new relationship. He wooed you endlessly with dates to lavish dinners and dawning you in lovely gowns. It was all so much more than you had ever expected in life. He’d tell you you deserved it and whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you two would get so lost in one another.

A bit shamefully, hypnotized by the romantics of it all, you gave yourself to him. Tangled in the sheets with him as your guide, you let the man you felt you would marry have every last bit of you.

And for a while after, it was blissful. Nothing had seemed to change between you two until he announced he had to go away for a bit. Confused, you asked why suddenly now facing the fact you were losing another person in your life. He explained he was needed by his father on a different realm, part of the family "business," as he described it.

Days after his departure, you learned you were pregnant. Around this time, Loki popped back up in your life. You felt relieved having someone to confide in but when you told him of your pregnancy, he was far from the supportive force you thought you’d get. He didn’t yell or get upset per se but he was beyond stunned.  

He left for a bit then but can back in less time than last. This time he brought along baby supplies and congratulated you. It was a complete one-eighty from his prior behavior but you accepted it, gratefully. Loki ended up being your main person throughout the pregnancy as clues of when your boyfriend would return were nonexistent.

"Did he know you were carrying his child when he left?" Loki had asked you one night. You two were sitting in the living room of the makeshift house you had acquired. You didn’t feel very good that this was the home you were bringing a child into when you knew her father could’ve provided her with a better one. But, at the end of the day, it was a roof over both your heads.

You crocheted another knot in the baby blanket. "No, he didn’t. I didn’t even know."

Loki gave a passing hum at that answer. He didn’t ask about your boyfriend very much after that.

Once your baby girl arrived, she became your entire world, your entire focus. Between caring for her and working to provide, you had little time to worry about your boyfriend still being gone. But it wasn’t as lonely as it may have looked because Loki was always by your side. Working around his royal duties, he’d take time to come visit you and your daughter even sometimes staying for dinner or to play with her. You didn’t miss how he was unintentionally becoming the father she was missing. You never said anything, though, always biting your tongue as you waited for her father to return.

Hope began to face on that front after your daughter turned three. Maybe he was just a footnote in your life, a foolish hopeful dream, but at least he had given you the lovely gift of your child. You weren’t giving up, still placing him in the boyfriend spot of your mind, but you couldn’t deny doubt crept in. Maybe a relationship of any capacity just wasn’t in the cards for you.

Or so you thought.

As Loki continued with his royal responsibilities, he was growing older and more powerful. That’s when the rumors of marriage began floating about. Your mother had brought it up to you once asking if you met any of his potential suitors. Your stomach did a somersault. You didn’t even know there were suitors, let alone met any of them. You tried to keep your cool and just told her no.

Who these suitors were and if they really existed, you never found out. You never even had the guts to ask about them especially after Loki pulled you aside one night after a dinner at the palace.

He rarely ever invited you to dinners with his family so to get this spontaneous invitation, you didn’t hesitate to attend. He even allowed you to bring along your daughter. She was playing with some servants’ children when Loki asked you to the garden.

"Feeling like a nighttime stroll?" You asked with a little laugh. Loki just smiled.

"There’s actually something I want to speak to you about."

"Oh," you frowned. "Is everything okay?"

Loki nodded. "Yes, yes, everything is fine." He looked up at the sky, almost lost in thought as you walked. You thought for a split second how lovely he looked. "I’m sure you have heard by now the…talk about my anticipated engagement."

Your heart practically stopped beating at that moment. Your hands instinctively gripped at the skirt of your dress as if you were ready to run away at the drop of a hat. Trying to keep your voice stead, you said, "Yes, I believe my mother mentioned that to me the other day."

He shot you an unreadable side glance. Your hands gripped the fabric tighter. Why were you feeling like this? Was that…jealousy you felt? You didn’t understand where that had come from. This was your best friend. Your prince best friend. He was bound to get married and have a lavish life with his bride. You couldn’t stop that, you couldn’t change it.

"Do you know anything of the women I have been offered?"

Was this another one of his cruel jokes? You wanted to vomit all over the bushes of flowers passing you as you walked. You managed to shake your head in response. "I’m sure they’re all wonderful."

He scoffed. "More like they’re all incredibly boring."

You gasped, "Loki, I’m not sure you should be speaking that way of them."

"It’s doesn’t matter," he shrugged, "because none of them are what I want."

You didn’t know if you actually wanted to know what he was seeking. You looked at him wearily.

You two walked in silence for a moment. Loki was now watching the ground intensely. You couldn’t believe how much his gaze was wandering. It must’ve been for courage because the next words out of his mouth were ones you had never thought you’d ever hear. From anyone.

"I believe you could be what I want," he said. He spoke your name so softly. "I’d like to ask for your hand in marriage."

You stopped walking, your legs suddenly unable to move. Your eyes grew wide as complete shock raced over you. You didn’t know what to do, too scared to speak because you didn’t know what was going to come out. Your first thought was that this was one of his magic tricks. Maybe he wasn’t even here, just a clone of him as he wished to make a fool of you. It wouldn’t be the first time but he had never been so cruel.

"You’re not saying anything," Loki noted. He had stopped a few feet ahead of you, completely taken off guard by your halt.

"I-I don’t understand." The words felt so heavy forcing their way out of your mouth.

"I don’t believe I stuttered, dear."

Your jaw dropped, surprised it hadn’t hit the floor already. He was seriously asking this. Loki, a literal prince, and your best friend, was asking for your hand in marriage. But — But you just didn’t know why. Why would he ask such a thing? Not only were you an unwed mother, he knew very well about your boyfriend. It was almost insulting he’d think you’d give up just because business or whatever it was was taking a while. You didn’t even want to begin to think about what this could all mean for your daughter.

"Loki… I… I don’t know. This seems crazy—,"

"Crazy?" His expression turned dark. You suddenly regretted the word despite it holding true. "What is so crazy about me wanting to take your hand? I thought this could be good. You and your daughter would have everything you’d ever want. You’d be a princess for crying out loud!"

You flinched at his anger. You had never seen him so enraged before. It made your whole body stiffen.

"I see. This… This is very generous of you but my boyfriend…"

Loki chuckled but there wasn’t any humor found within it. "Of course. The nobleman." He rolled his eyes. "Tell me again, dear, how long has it been? Do you really think he’s going to just show back up one day?"

"Of course," you nodded. "He told me—,"

"He’s not coming back."

You began shaking your head, growing more and more upset as the seconds passed. "You don’t know that."

Loki sighed, defeatedly. "I do know that, dear." A heavy pause. "I know that because I’m the one that sent him away."

You were certain in that moment your heart had stopped. Everything had stopped. You could barely tell anymore how you got from point A to point B.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"What I mean is I’ve had my eye on you for a long time," he explained. He was standing so tall making you feel minuscule. "I always thought you could be just right for me but then that nobleman waltzed into your life. Granted, he wasn’t me. He couldn’t give you what I could but he tried his best." Loki shrugged. "I had no choice, really. He threatened everything. He derailed my plan but it’s alright. I think after tonight it’ll be back on track, correct?"

You held your hands up in defense, practically begging Loki to slow down. Your head was spinning. "You sent away the father of my child?"

Loki sighed, sounding actually regretful. "Truly, that wasn’t ever my intention. I didn’t know he was going to do that."

"And you think since you forced him out of the picture, you can swoop in and ask for my hand in marriage? We never had a courtship! Are you even hearing yourself?"

"I’m a prince, darling." He sounded so casual. "We do not court like the rest of you."

Gosh, you felt like you were going to vomit. Your hands fell to your stomach as you tried to calm yourself. You had never heard Loki separate you two so clearly before. Like he had drawn a line, definitively.

Your words tasted like venom as you forced yourself to speak. "Can I at least think about it?"

"I’m afraid not. They’d like an answer tonight."

Tonight. That was what this dinner had been for. You weren’t invited just out of the kindness of his heart. You had been attending your own engagement party.

"Loki, this… I— This is insane. You’re— You’re insane—,"

"Am I, really?" He pressed, taking a few steps closer. You trembled under a darkened gaze you had never seen before on him. "I’m not sure that’s how you should be speaking to the man trying to offer you a bit of… stability."

"Stability?" You repeated. "You think that’s all that I want?"

"Would this not grant your daughter a better life? The little shop of yours is only getting you two so far, dear."

The shock had worn off as you were now being filled with rage. "Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this anymore," you gritted. "Of course, I want nothing but the best for her but I also deserve someone who will truly love me. You’re — You’re just asking to fulfill some royal commitment and trying to pass it off like this is some big, grand gesture to help me."

Loki looked a bit taken back by your words. Even you were a bit surprised by yourself. You didn’t know where this fight was coming from within you. Probably from the depths of motherhood, if you had to guess. But it felt good in a way.

After a heavy moment, Loki asked, "Was I so wrong to assume this proposal could actually help us both?"

That was the real kicker of it all, you thought. This actually could help you both.

"I want to marry someone who loves me."

Loki seemed to debate around the idea mentally. "I’m certain that within time something could bloom. I’m not a psychopath, darling." He smirked. "But I truly can’t believe you’d give this up all for the minuscule chance at love, the hopeless thing that got you where you are today."

You gasped. "I would’ve had true love if you hadn’t banished him away!"

Loki let out a humorless laugh. "You are so adorable, you know that?" You flinched as he got close enough now to place a hand on your damp cheek. You were practically forced to look in his eyes as he spoke. "That man was nothing but a spoiled brat and I refuse to believe you actually fell for his game."

You felt yourself crumbling down again. Way beneath him. "He… He was really…"

"Don’t you dare try to defend him, do you hear me?" Loki spat. That darkness was washing over but this time it felt like a storm you couldn’t escape. "I will not have my bride speak such niceties about another man."

"Your bride—,"

"While I’ve enjoyed this little midnight confessional, we have some good news to share with everyone, don’t we?"

You didn’t know what to do. What to think anymore. He wasn’t letting up. You were trapped. It was like the prison gate had shut behind you. You were stone-cold now, completely under his control. You were giving up in complete defeat. You could scream until you were blue in the face but you were running in circles. At least your daughter would know a home.

"Yes."

Loki’s face lit up. He removed his hands from you. "Fantastic," he said, heading back towards the palace. You helplessly followed beside him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and said, "Happy engagement, dear."

[zukkoxx]

mha boys realizing they’re in love pt.1

w/ deku, bakugo

tw⚠️ insecurities!, self doubt!

deku 🥦

izuku knew he loved you since you guys started dating.

he had liked you for a long time, and when you finally got together in your last year of UA, he couldn’t have been happier.

he planned on living the rest of his life with you. and would go through any feats to make it possible.

so when you started to feel doubts about your relationship? that was a wake up call for him.

you had just finished training, all sweaty and tired, walking back to your dorm with a towel around your neck.

you scrolled through your phone mindlessly, and just happened to come across a twitter post about your boyfriend, deku, who had just taken down one of the villains that’s been on the run for months.

you smiled. you were so proud of him. already achieving his dream in becoming one of the greatest heroes. and getting the recognition he finally deserved.

you made it your your dorm, slumping on your bed as you read some of the comments.

woah this guy is still attending UA!? he’ll be a great hero for sure

there’s no one like him!

deku strikes again! what a stud😍

you laughed at some, grimaced at others that claimed the mission was too easy for him. but one particular comment had you freezing in your spot.

is he single? i won’t hesitate to run to the scene and give him my hand in marriage right now!

you knew it was a fun, lighthearted comment. but you clicked the the commenters page and instantly noticed how beautiful as preppy she was.

she was also a big deku fan...probably had more merch than you.

you sighed and threw your phone across the bed.

for the past few weeks, you had been thinking about how different you and izuku were in terms of success.

you were both in your last year of high school, and he had already done so much.

worked on so many cases with pro heroes and went through successful missions all the time. he was destined to become the greatest hero.

and you?

well, you’ve never even caught a villain.

sure you’ve helped out on low grade missions for the hero you interned under, but you had never been publicly praised like izuku. you never stood out.

you had trouble believing you’d become a hero at all.

you always wondered, wouldn’t izuku be better off with someone that could keep up with him? who wouldn’t hold him back. someone who he wouldn’t leave in the dust when he excelled in the future.

he deserved someone better.

your thoughts were cut off when your dorm door brushed open, revealing no other than the man himself.

izuku walked into your room with worried eyes and seemed out of breath.

“y/n? ive texted and called a bunch of times. why haven’t you answered?” he asked, and you subtly turned to your phone that you discarded on the other half of the bed.

“my ringer was off. sorry izu.” you tired to give him a smile as he sat next to you on your bed. “i saw an article about your mission today. you were amazing!” you complimented.

“ahh you give me too much credit. i couldn’t have dont anything with the pro heroes and other people helping.”

“still, you’re a great hero. i wish i was like that.” you chuckle dryly, past insecurities already pushing forward again.

“what!? you’re a great hero y/n!” izuku exclaimed.

“i’ve barely done anything izuku. i don’t know how you put up with me. i should be able to help you on your missions, but i’m stuck in the same position i have been in. i don’t know when i’ll improve.”

you didn’t mean to sound so pathetic, but you had been feeling this way for so long. it was all just spilling out now.

and izuku? he literally stopped breathing when he heard what you were saying about yourself. “you deserve someone that will be able to keep up with you. what will people think when they find out the amazing deku is dating a weak, incapable, good for nothing-”

“don’t say one more word y/n.” izuku cuts you off, and you look up to meet his eyes piercing yours.

they were dark, nothing like their usual gleaming glow that shined when he looked at you.

there was no sign of amusement on any of his features. just dead seriousness

“what the hell are you talking about y/n?” he asks, but doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “you’re one of the most courageous, brave, intelligent, capable people i know! where is all of this coming from?”

“i’ve been thinking about it for a while. it’s just you’re so...amazing and i’m so...” you knew anything you could have said after that would make him even more angry. it was nothing positive.

god he probably hated you for being so insecure.

“you’re you, y/n.” izuku says softly. “you’re you and you’re who i love. i don’t care about what i do, what you do, who says what! i love you for you!”

izuku looks at you with so much love and compassion. you stared into his eyes, wondering what was gong on in his head.

well? at the moment he despised himself for letting you feel this way.

you were his whole world! the person who supported you in everything he did and he would support you in the same way! he couldn’t understand why you were feeling this way when he was literally...in love with you.

he loved you yeah of course, but hearing the way you were speaking about yourself, and how you had doubts about your relationship made his heart physically hurt. he was absolutely and unconditionally in love with you and wouldn’t be able to see himself with anyone else.

and he needed you to hear it.

“y/n you’re my everything! i’m so in love with you, no amount of fame or recognition could make me even think about leaving you!” izuku said urgently, and he finally calmed down when he saw a slight smile reach your lips.

a real one this time.

the conversation continued, and izuku promised to let you learn and remember how in love he was with you until it was the last thing he’d do.

bakugo 💥

bakugo would never pursue anyone unless he definitely knew he loved them.

so of course he never asked you out when he couldn’t differentiate if what he felt for you was love, or if it was a stupid little crush.

he didn’t like thinking about his feelings, especially the irrelevant ones.

he was trying to become the number one hero. who needed time for love anyways?

so he ignored his “feelings” for you, not allowing them to confuse him any longer.

it wasn’t until a few months into his third year when bakugo got the worst news of his life.

you were on a mission. an important one that had you absent from school for weeks.

bakugo was worried.

he’d text you every few days, asking what was going on and how things were and you’d always respond with “it’s fine.” or “we’re hanging in there.”

he assumed it was a pretty difficult mission, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

you were strong

so when he heard from a certain icy-hot that you were in the hospital in critical condition after completing the mission, he forgot about everything and ran straight to you.

ignoring aizawa’s calls, he almost blasted himself out of UA and checked every hospital for you, considering he didn’t even ask todoroki which one you were in before he left.

when he finally reached the hospital holding you, he sprinted to your room.

he found you hooked up to a bunch of wires and tests.

you looked peaceful, sleeping while the heart monitor beeped beside you.

but you looked horrible. bloody bandages covered almost every limb, and your body was covered in bruises.

bakugo’s heart dropped to his stomach. he couldn’t stand seeing you like this.

why does his feelings have to be 100x more noticeable when your tragically hurt!?

he sat down on the empty chair beside the hospital bed, wondering why no one else was visiting at this time.

he stared at you, something he couldn’t get off of his mind lately.

“why do you make me feel things, dumbass?” he asked, waiting for a response. “i never skip class! you just had to get hurt and make me skip the test review.” he rolled his eyes, but his face softened as he looked at you, still sleeping.

“i’ll help you study. you’ll probably fail without going over what we learned.”

.....

“would you wake up, you shitty woman!” he yelled, gripping the side of your bed “this is scary, you know?”

.....

“i should’ve called you today, i just assumed you’d be too busy to talk. if you told me you were in trouble, i’d blast my ass to wherever you were in a heartbeat.” bakugo said, feeling his actual heart skip a beat when you still didn’t respond. 

“please wake up...”

after about an hour of waiting, your other classmates came in, checking on your condition.

you still hadn’t woken up, but your vitals were better and your breath were more steady.

by the time night fell, everyone left; except for bakugo

he was just starting to fall asleep when he felt she. he heard you stir in the hospital bed.

his head shot up, quickly turning to face you as he saw you blinking you eyes slowly.

“y/n!” he yelled a little louder than anticipated, making you shoot awake and look at him.

you blinked a few more times before realizing who you were looking at. “katsuki!?” you asked, trying to sit up, but feeling a sharp pain in your side.

“hey! don’t move dumbass. are you okay? do you remember anything?” he frantically asked.

“umm...i’m fine?” you said, sounding like you were trying to convince yourself. “why are you here?”

“why am i here? you were admitted into the hospital in critical condition!”

“i-i’m sorry, everything’s a bit fuzzy right now.” you say softly, putting a hand on your forehead and tryin got remember everything.

bakugo softened, and waited until you got yourself together. “how long have you been here?” you ask

“since this morning.”

“this morning!? katsuki what about school? do your parents even know you’re here?”

“why the hell are you worried about me? you’re the one hooked up to all these machines and can barely move!” bakugo yelled, trying to understand why you were so focused on him being there with you.

“i just never thought you’d be the one to go out of your way to check on someone. let alone be here the whole day...” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy at the idea of bakugo keeping your sleeping body company for hours.

bakugo froze at your words.

he really wasn’t the type to go check on people for more than a few minutes. especially not one to skip school because of it.

maybe he did this because he felt a little more than what he thought he did.

maybe this wasn’t a stupid little crush? maybe it was something serious that he had just been blowing off.

when he heard about your condition, he just couldn’t stand by. there must have been something that pushed him to run to you.

“it’s cause u care about you...idiot. i wasn’t gonna a let you suffer here alone.” he huffs, crossing his arms.

“katsukiii do you like me or something?” you asked in a teasing tone

he couldn’t believe you were making jokes at a time like this. furthermore, he couldn’t believe how easy it was for you to see through his facade.

“i do.” he states. there was no point in lying.

“i was just kidding kats-“

“i’m not.” he cuts you off. “i care about you, and i like you. a lot. so...you better like be bad damn it. or i’ll blow you to bits!”

you chuckled and smiled tenderly at him. you definitely weren’t expecting him to say that, but you weren’t complaining.

“i like you too...i guess.” you smile, and katsuki tsked before smirking at you.

he finally felt like he could breath again, and that everything was going to be fine now.

except...katsuki didn’t like you. he loved you. but no way would he tell you that

this absolutely sucks i can’t believe i’m posting this. if you can, plz give me some requests so i don’t make trash hcs like this again. they’ll be a pt.2 later. hopefully it isn’t as bad as this one.

click here to send a request. i’d really appreciate it!

[saphirered]

Heyy i hope this is ok, I really love your Verin x reader where he goes to see his brother is it ok to ask for a continuous of it like he visits the empire to see his brother but also the reader ???

I'm doing okay, thank you for asking! The dreaded double shifts have returned but I have a moment of freedom now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 😘

-

The sudden disappearance of Essek Thelyss had left quite the ravage in its wake. The Lens; the network of spies of the Dynasty was left in disarray and without a commander, valuable information had been lost and the underground threats of the Empire still posed a risk. The loss of their connection to the Empire and their own spies to keep tabs on the higher ups Essek had provided had disappeared with him leaving little to no information of the inner workings and plotting on the Dwendalian side of the border.

It was the perfect cover story. Verin is by no means as clever and cunning as his brother. He’s the first one to admit so. He’s got his own strength but that doesn’t leave him lacking a skillset similar to his brother’s. Verin knows how to get information. Verin knows how to stick to the shadows. Verin knows what he’s doing. That’s the words of those who spoke in his favour at the Lucid Bastion when he offered the prospects of temporarily providing that bridge until a suitable replacement was found.

Verin had proven to them his loyalty through providing them with answers to the questions they had been asking about the ongoings in Rexxentrum, limited but answers no less which was much better than what they had before. He offered them a remedy against the chaos and they could do nothing other than take it. So Verin got to frequent his resources of this information insisting he’d take care of this personally due to the fragility of them and risks associated; willing to make that sacrifice for his country and not needlessly put lives at risk, especially not after the disgrace his brother had brought them and his family.

Little did they know that his link to the Empire was you; one who sits on the Kings’ Council and you pointing him in the right direction, leaking through formation that was common knowledge between the higher ups of the empire; information that could have been provided by simply striking up a conversation with one of them. It was merely an excuse for Verin to visit his brother… and you as his social visits now included you many a time. He may have grown a bit attached to your company and you’d not risk sending another drow, let alone a Thelyss to stay at already suspected-of-lowkey-treason-every-Thursday Widogast/Thelyss household. No, you’d let Verin stay within the safety of your home escorting him wherever he needs to go to assure none of you get arrested for conspiracy and treason yourselves.

The cover used for the Dynasty was a little easier to maintain than the one for the Empire. Essek’s disguise had of course been in play long before Verin’s arrival. Essek claimed himself to be a former student of Yussa Errenis. That’s how he got to meet Caleb and when Caleb went to settle and teach at the Soltryce Academy he went with, settling down together going on their occasional adventures.

Verin’s had to be tied to that in some way or their frequent interactions would draw attention, be that people suspecting an affair between the two or something deeper. So the story in nature had to stay simplistic as Verin’s frequent traveling had to be explained and excused in a believable manner. He’d be the so-manieth son of a Nicodranian lord who was given little to no attention from his parents and siblings until he proved capable politically making friends and more importantly connections all over. The downside of these connections; they had to be maintained so he’d travel the world to do so but never too bothered to visit his childhood friend; the former apprentice living with professor Widogast.

Now of course you got some encouragement from the king’s council to nurture this relation with the Nicodranian lord’s son and opening up your own home instead of letting the man stay in one of the many lavish taverns was just that extra personal touch they needed to know you’d do so in name of the king of course. They just didn’t know this was all a lie and you’d keep it that way. The four of you and by extension the Nein and their allies aware would do anything to keep it that way even if that meant a certain little blue tiefling blackmailing a Nicodranian lord or two to keep up the facade with the things she had learned and overheard over her years at the Lavish Chateau.

You’d spent your day off with Caleb, Essek and Verin on a double date of sorts wandering the city, going sightseeing and just exploring ending with a dinner at your place. It had been a pleasant day and you and Caleb had taken a few moments away to allow the brothers to go out on their own for a while as you’d usually done. It still felt strange having the both of them in one place and acting civil no less. Essek had expected his next meeting with his brother to end with one of them dead but that dinner with the Nein had proved him different. Verin refuses to tell him what you’d told his brother to convince him to stay his hand exactly but never stalled to playfully remind Essek he had you to thank for his life.

Essek was happy to admit his relationship with his brother had almost gone back to normal. The normal before both of them were left to the responsibilities and expectations of the world and their country. There were still some hindrances and disagreements but they managed to work through them one by one as adults, though you and Caleb might have something different to say about the bickering children at times. They were siblings and even the semblance of normalcy and a healthy relationship between them brought smiles to your faces as both you and Caleb had been there when it came to your own makeshift family.

The night of your ‘double date’ had ended in a lovely dinner at your place after an eventful day. Caleb and Essek had headed home but a few minutes ago and you’d resigned yourself to washing the dirty dishes. Caleb and Essek had offered to stay and help but you’d shooed them and told them not to worry. There’s just something peaceful about the manual labor of such a mundane task letting your mind wander wherever it went.

“You know you could just cast a spell to clean them, or leave them for your help to clean in the morning.” Verin leans against the door frame watching you clean. You had this argument before. Yes you could speak a few words and snap your fingers and done nor would your housemaid complain about doing them in the morning should you leave them. You’d always felt uneasy with live-in housekeeping for some reason. Perhaps it’s the feeling of lack of privacy or maybe your need for independence but Verin blames your upbringing among the common folk where these were simply tasks you did every day.

“I could also cast a spell and make you do it.” You laugh setting another wet plate on the stack of clean ones ready to be dried and flick your wet hand at Verin who gives you a disapproving look seeing the droplets being absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. he knows better than to argue with you on this and instead picks up the dishcloth beginning to dry the stack of washed plates and putting them in the cabinet where you store them.

“You could just leave them for for the servants.” You mimicked his tone best you could with a laugh and now it’s Verin’s turn to dip his finger tips into the water and flick it at you. You gasp. He’d been getting bolder the more at ease he’d become and you got to see the drow more as the real person behind the layers of responsibility and complexity of his life and just let him be him. You’d seen this transcend with Essek before and knew well enough were it lead. If you could provide a similar haven of peace and allow him to be himself you’d do so. It wasn’t even a sacrifice made as you enjoyed Verin’s company. Though, you could do without him never putting your precious books back onto their shelves when not reading them. He blames losing the tome in your extensive collection if he did so.

“And if I’ve learned anything I know you’d dry them yourself. Last I checked you’re not a servant or am I mistaken?” Verin jokes as he stacks the dried bowls carefully.

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Tended to by servants cleaning up after you wherever you went?” You grin finishing the last dish and putting it on the stack turning to lean your hips against the counter behind you. You cross your arms with a teasing grin on your face as you look at him. He knows that grin all too well, enough to know what’s coming.

“Need me to lay out your clothes for the morning, m’lord? Should I bring you a midnight snack, m’lord? Do you desire a bath, M’lord? I could wash your hair and style it just the way you like it m’lord. Would you like me to help you get dressed, m’lord?” You put on a light voice and curtsy holding back laughter as Verin picks up the last dishes and puts them in the cabinet. He’s laughing with you, the act you put on quite hilarious to him. He knows you’re over exaggerating and he knows you know. He’s proven himself independent but it doesn’t help he actually knows people who are tended to in such a way.

“Not far off. I’ll applaud your efforts but you’re mixing tasks. Clothes do not leave the wardrobe until the moment before they’re meant to be worn. You wouldn’t want to wake your lord in the middle of the night so if a midnight snack as you say, should be desired, it should be prepared or provided when asked for. If you’re tending to the lord themself you wouldn’t be the one drawing the bath. As for getting dressed, I doubt you’d be able to help me because I recall you saying my enormous ego gets in your way too much already.” Verin speaks with all seriousness until he’s standing in front of you, hands clasped behind his straightened back. You share a look before bursting out in laughter.

As a reward for this moment of joy you pull out a bottle of wine and two glasses pulling him over to the table by the window he’d once climbed through to hide from the guard patrol. You set down the glasses and begin pouring the wine like a properly schooled server. Verin shakes his head as you pull out the chair for him and let him sit with a bow as you take your own chair at the other side. He may have some comments on the proper posture and manners but holds them back for the sake of humour. He knows you know so instead you just enjoy your wine together.

“How was your day?” You ask taking a sip.

“I’d tell you you’d know since you were there.” Verin commented and you kicked at his leg giving him a look. When you kick again he grabs your leg between his squeezing his shins together to trap it between his and gives you a wink as he takes a sip and releases you smugly.

“I enjoyed it. The gardens were lovely and seeing Essek get in the middle of an intense bet, letting loose like he did… I have not seen that side of my brother in a long time. Not but months ago whenever I tried to take him for a fun night out he’d complain and be a stuck up.” Verin speaks and you can imagine this truth of Essek. He had changed a lot ever since getting entangled with the Mighty Nein. For the better; that’s something you and Verin can agree on.

You enjoy the rest of your wine conversing about the rest of your day, Verin’s travels, your daily business and more. It’s something you’d grown so accustomed to. You pour yourself and Verin another glass, splitting the last contents of the bottle between the two of you with a ‘thank you’ from Verin as you give him just a little bit more.

“How long will you be staying this time round?” You ask changing the subject.

“Trying to get rid of me already? I’ve only been here for one night.” Verin sends you one of his usual charming grins and you wink back at him.

“If I wanted to get rid of you I’d simply call for the guards. How many times do you have to keep sneaking through my window? You know I have a front door right?” You know of his nightly endeavours. You know he really does have information to collect from sources you may or may not have hinted at but he could simply use the front door. You don’t mind either way but getting the living daylights scared out of you when you go into the kitchen for a midnight snack or a glass of water still half asleep, you could do without.

“I’ve been granted three weeks.” Verin has to admit, the Bright Queen’s acceptance of his time came as a surprise. He suspects the Dusk Captain might have gotten her in better spirits that morning and he couldn’t be more thankful. The ‘why’ at the end of his question was implied so he awaits your reply.

“I have some business to attend to at noon but the Mighty Nein is meeting up in Nicodranas for a little side adventure.” Oh. Verin does his best to not let his disappointment show. It’s the downside of not being able to send word ahead or know your schedules beforehand. If he’d known he’d planned differently. He doesn’t want to stand in between you and his brother’s friends.

“I will see you off then.” The crestfallenness in his voice is clear for you to hear so when you reach out over the table to clasp your hand over his, his eyes are drawn to you. Your gentle smile confuses him.

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to join us. We’ve worked around the sunlight sensitivity before, especially in the Menagerie Coast so if it’s no bother to you, why don’t you join us?” Verin looks at you, thinking you’re kidding or lying but sees none of this. He thinks for a second.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude-“ He begins but you cut him off with another squeeze to his hand and a reassuring look.

“You won’t. You’re one of us now, Verin. You can’t get rid of us anymore.”

“Then I will come along. Thank you, you and your friends, for everything you’ve done for me.” Verin doesn’t really know how to handle this; getting closer to his brother’s friends, especially you that is. He’s never been in a similar position and the sheer genuineness of it is heart melting, even for him. Not even within his own family has he encountered this and he had been a lot closer with his family than his brother in their younger years.

“You’re very welcome.” You’d be off with Verin and the others. Another sea voyage? Perhaps, but like always you’d see where the winds would take you even if that’s by the literal winds, or a name on a map that sounds funny, or when you’ll unavoidably be on the run from some kind of creature chasing you. Let’s hope that dragon turtle stays far away, and if not, you’d have one hell of a time fighting it. With Verin at your sides this time. He’d be in for an adventure. He’d be in for a surprise. He’d be in for an undoubtable amount of chaos. And he’d welcome it all with open arms. Damn his sentimental side. He blames Essek for that one.

[charliesradiodemon]

Corruption

Hello! This is a LATE birthday present for my dear friend @sesukytes ^.^

Happy late bday my dood <3

ENJOY 

With Vaggie and Angel out of her life and the hotel still empty, Charlie’s fears became realized. She failed again. Even with a successful redemption program, nobody was interested.

At that point she didn’t know what to do anymore. She didn’t know what she could do anymore.

________________________________

Alastor resided to biding his time after witnessing Angel ascend to Heaven. It was a great shock that the naive little princess seemed to have finally made a breakthrough, but it seemed that it didn’t matter. He waited around to see if the rabble would bite and come running for a “better life”, but not a single desperate soul came even after two months.

Having been bored sick of his empty investment, Alastor decided to make his own move. A month had passed after he heard that Vaggie had ascended and Charlie refused to even leave the hotel. She’d been silent and wasn’t answering his calls nor calling him back.

“A shame, really...” he muttered while stiffly rapping his fingers on his pristine mahogany desk, not caring whether his sharp claws broke through the polish or not. He knew things couldn’t continue as they were. He was generous enough to give her time to recoup and continue on but his patience had finally reached its expiration date.

________________________________

When he walked up to her bedroom door, he already knew exactly what he needed to do. And in her state, leaving her would push her further down the spiral of despair. If he played it right, her broken expression could make up for the waste of time that he spent waiting on the hotel; not that he had many high hopes for it in the first place.

‘To see the broken look on her face...’

Alastor knocked before entering, a bit too eager see the final dregs of hope leave his partner.

What he found was truly pitiful.

She hadn’t been crying, but seemed as if she’d cried herself dry. Instead, she just stared at him blankly, looking broken and lifeless; not at all like her peppy self. Her eye sockets seemed to hollow in, her hair disheveled and somehow she seemed impossibly thinner than ever. When he looked into her eyes he found that the spark was nonexistent, leaving a blank gaze as if all that was left was an empty husk of a being.

Any fun he could have breaking her now was completely drained.

She was pitiful and it took him much effort to find a reason to stick around any longer. Without her life or her smile, Charlie was just a broken doll he couldn’t play with let alone break any further.

As she still said nothing to him, Alastor looked to her nightstand. There, an assortment of litter and tissues laid. In the center of it all: a small framed photo of her and her family sat. She looked to be younger than the portrait in the lobby, but still old enough to be considered a teen.

It was an unremarkable photo in all regards. He’d seen far too many of these family portraits around the hotel and the palace when he visited Lucifer. It seemed odd how family oriented the Magnes were considering how broken the relationship between Charlie and her parents were.

But unlike the ones Alastor had seen before, Charlie looked different. His eyes lingered on the visible horns protruding from her skull, standing tall and proud and unabashedly her’s. In the few family portraits Alastor had seen, Charlie seemed to purposefully hide her horns away even while her mother’s were displayed proudly.

He’d seen her horns and teases of her form in photos, paintings and on live television before, but Charlie had never looked so proud to show off her demonic features than in the photo on her nightstand. She was never ashamed of her demonic form, but rarely had she ever used her features. From what Alastor could remember from his time with her, he realized that she never utilized her demonic form or any powers.

He wasn’t even sure she even had any powers. He reckoned that she had to considering that she was a product of Lucifer, the most powerful being in Hell.

Alastor’s eyes fell back to the skeletal being before him and mulled over a thought that popped into his mind.

He could fix her- improve her even. She was practically a blank slate now, could he really pass up the opportunity? They could discover what exactly she was capable of together. Imagining the possibilities with the princess of Hell was just too enticing to let go.

Granted it wasn’t what he originally intended nor was he one to pick up fixer uppers, but he couldn’t just let the daughter of Lucifer waste away. It wasn’t like he had another venture lined up anyway.

________________________________

He continued to visit her daily, bringing her homemade food, clean clothes, linens and anything else she could need to cheer her up. He would talk to her, try to liven her up and keep her up-to-date on the latest news. Though she initially answered with single worded answers, it was clear his efforts were working as their conversations got longer as her state improved

Little by little, she opened up to him more and more. And in a short amount of time, she seemed to be back to a semblance of normal. And although she physically looked better and spoke more, Charlie was still missing the soul and spark that she’d lost.

Though Alastor didn’t mind. It was just all a part of the process.

Now, after a few weeks of nurturing her, it was time to get the ball rolling.

“All I’m trying to tell you sweetheart, is that you have been holding yourself back. You have so much potential for so much more! Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about what you can do?” Alastor sat on the edge of her bed, facing Charlie who had her legs drawn up to her chest.

Charlie held her knees tighter to her chest and frowned. “Not really...”

“What a shame! It could prove useful for your endeavors. Now that you know redemption is possible, you’ll need to attract more souls to your hotel!”

“I don’t know Al...”

He sat on the edge of her bed and reached over to place a hand on her cheek, drawing her attention to his softened gaze. “Trust me, my dear. I haven’t led you astray before haven’t I? You’ve already done all you could. Allow me to help this time.”

As much as she didn’t like the idea, she knew he was right. Now that she knew redemption was possible, she could help people get to Heaven. But did she have the energy or power to do that when everyone still doubted her? Nobody took her seriously and she doubted anybody would believe what she did at that point. Hesitant, but without many other options, Charlie nodded. “Okay, but I’m not making a deal with you.”

Alastor chuckled, smiling a bit brighter in response to the bit of spunk returning to her. “Not a problem sweetheart. I wouldn’t have expected it any other way.”

Another week passing meant another week gaining Charlie’s wholehearted trust. 

Alastor had to admit, it was enjoyable watching her grow back into the person she was before. She even smiled on the rare occasion. But as pleasant he’d found that her company was, he needed to get her going.

Having known her father, Alastor knew that Lucifer had the ability to subjugate and pacify any demon at will. Any demon under his will would fall into a trance-like state and obey all orders, even if it meant permanent death for that demon. All he needed to do now was see if Charlie had inherited this ability from her father.

He brought it up to her, presented as an idea to bring in patients.

As expected, she seemed hesitant. “That doesn’t seem right Al.”

“Don’t you want to help your people? How else are they going to find salvation if they aren’t convinced?”

She paused, seemingly convinced yet careful. “They won’t...”

Alastor nodded, standing from her bed. “Exactly! And the longer you wait for them to come crawling to you, the more that will perish by the next cleanse! I know that you want to help your people, don’t you sweetheart?” He turned to her and extended a hand. “Now why don’t we try? It’s about time you’ve left your cave and let the world see your dazzling smile, so let’s kill two birds with one stone?”

Charlie looked between him and his hand several times while she deliberated her decision. If she did nothing, would things get any better? Alastor was so willing to help her in her time of need- even more so than Vaggie ever had.

What was wrong with trying?

She took his hand, earning her a wide grin and a strong tug from the man. With a yelp, she flew off her bed and into his waiting arms. In an unexpected turn of events, Alastor wrapped his arms around her.

Warmth filled her. When was the last time she’d gotten a hug from anyone? Months ago from Vaggie probably.

“A solid choice my dear! Might I say that I’m impressed with your resolve!” He bent away to find tears rolling down her cheeks. Bothered by their existence, he wiped them away with his index finger. “Why the tears, Charlie?”

“I... I just want to thank you for being here Alastor. I-I don’t want to th-think about where I’d be without you here...”

Alastor chuckled and gently placed his hand on top of her head. She was his now, there was no doubt about that anymore.

“Think nothing about it. I didn’t think I would ever find myself caring about another’s well being.” He said partially truthful.

Once she composed herself, Charlie left the hotel for the first time in nearly three months while holding Alastor’s hand for support. She’d almost forgotten what her home had looked like. The blood-red hue of the sky, the faint smell of rotting flesh; it was something she didn’t know she missed.

Still holding his hand tightly, Alastor led her out to the streets to get down to business. He’d waited far too long for this moment and he was all too eager to get started. “I believe your ability is innate, meaning if you just wanted it enough, anyone could be bent to your will,” he looked about the busy streets but quickly perked up. “Why not try it on that one there?” He said, pointing ahead of them.

When Charlie looked, there was a scraggly three-armed man sitting on the sidewalk holding a cardboard sign that simply read: “help” in crude lettering. He was a hulking purple giant of a man, taking up most of the walkway on the street. Had he not been so massive, the passerbys would have probably scowled at him for being so invasive. The purple demon also appeared to have a permanent frown on his face that made him even less approachable.

“I believe the man needs help, he’s practically asking for it dear,”

Charlie grimaced, suddenly feeling an awful twist of wrongness in her gut.

Alastor quickly sensed her hesitation by her tighter grip on his hand. “Charlie darling, I know you can do it. You can help that man. If you can do it, he’ll never have to beg in the streets again! You wouldn’t deprive him of that chance now would you? You know he certainly wouldn’t survive the next cleanse being so exposed like this,”

Again, he was right. Alastor was always right, and Charlie knew that well.

But still, it just didn’t sit right.

Alastor bent toward her, getting close so that she could only focus on him. Charlie stared into his ruby-red eyes, confusion in her eyes. “I will be here with you all the way.”

She hesitated a bit longer, biting down on her lips and looking down to the ground.

‘Alastor’s always right.’ She reminded herself in her head.

“Okay.”

They approached and Alastor let go of Charlie’s hand to watch her with anticipation from behind her.

Charlie forced a friendly smile on her face and waved up to the seated man. “Uh hi!”

The beggar man didn’t seem amused. “You got money?”

“I have something even better!”

“Meth?”

“Nope! I-I uh, I have a hotel! That redeems souls so that they can go to Heaven!”

The purple demon huffed a laugh. “Oh I know this scam! You want me to go with you to this hotel of yours and you’ll take my organs and use me for meat,” he crossed his two arms and let his third hand give Charlie the bird. “Yeah no thanks, bitch. Get lost.”

Before she could walk away dejectedly, Alastor held her shoulders to keep her in place and whispered in her ear. “Demand it. It will only work if you demand him with confidence. Try it again.”

She took a deep breath. ‘He’s always right.’ She subconsciously reminded herself once more.

“Hey didn’t I say get lost? The fuck you still-“

“You will come with me and stay at the hotel. You will work toward redemption to Heaven and stay there.” She stated firmly and devoid of emotion.

The man closed his mouth, removing the scowl on his face. Not even a moment later, he stood and looked to Charlie expectantly. “Sure thing.” He said with barely any emotion behind his own answer.

Charlie’s eyes widened and she gasped, feeling her heart race. Quickly she turned to Alastor and shot him an unsure look. “Al... I... I think I did it...”

Alastor chuckled and approached, studying the man for a moment. When Alastor leaned in close to the dirtier demon’s face, the other man did not react with any hostility, just with an innocently confused look on his face. Satisfied with the results, he turned back to Charlie and nodded “Yes you did, dear. Now, let’s check him in, hm?”

________________________________

Everything ran smoothly from the first patient in the hotel. Charlie began subjugating the homeless population quickly to beat the cleanse deadline. Every day she got into a normal routine that made bounds in her development. She quickly became much more confident, and most importantly: more reliant on Alastor and his opinions.

Alastor stood beside her wherever she went like he was a part of her being. Though he could be described as her shadow, Charlie seemed to be slowly melting into his.

She began doing everything he suggested. From subjugating whoever he pointed out, to smiling almost all the time, she was improving to his standards rapidly and eagerly.

He was her new constant in life, her lifeline and her only friend.

________________________________

With only days remaining until the next cleanse, the streets of Pentagram City were cleared of a large portion of its homeless population. She’d redeemed such a large amount of people that could have been lost to the cleanse and she was proud of it.

“Darling, the angels are coming this way.”

Charlie gasped, sprinting up to the window next to Alastor. What she found was a team of four angels making their way toward the hotel with deadly purpose. “What? Why?”

“They probably know where a large mass of demons are.” Alastor said calmly with a shrug. 

It was time to awaken another power within her. He didn’t have a hand in this arrangement, but he wasn’t complaining. This was the perfect motivation to get Charlie going and he was giddy to figure out what was next. 

Watching the figures get closer and closer, Charlie’s heart began to race with frustration and panic. “They can’t do that! I’m helping people!”

“They don’t seen to care.”

She laced her fingers in her hair, quickly losing her cool. “What do we do? We can’t relocate everyone! There’s too many of them!”

“I suppose we’ll have to fight.” 

Charlie whipped her head around and stared her companion down in disbelief. “Al, that goes against what I’m trying to do here!”

“Then everyone perishes.”

‘He’s right, Alastor is always right.’

“...Okay. Let’s go then.”

________________________________

“Kill it.”

“W-what?”

“Kill it, or else it will keep coming.”

“B-but...”

Alastor bent, still looming over her and the writhing angel she’d caught in her grasp. He took her chin to look him in the eye. “You must, or else everyone will be in danger.”

Charlie’s head began to spin, her heart racing and the adrenaline rushed through her. ‘Everyone will die. All my hard work...’ She needed to do it. She needed to for her people’s sake.

Alastor let her go, allowing her to decide. If she truly put her full trust in him, he knew she’d do it. It was only a matter of time.

But he didn’t have to wait too long.

Charlie’s grip on the angel’s throat tightened, earning a gurgle from the struggling being. It couldn’t muster the strength to thrash nor could it dig its fingers in to try to pry the hand around its throat off.

She watched it struggle- watched the life slowly leave it. It was suffering. It was fighting so hard to live. It was a sad sight, yet Charlie’s pity for it quickly left as Alastor whispered in her ear. “That’s it, darling. Remember, they hold no remorse slaughtering your people. They even smile as they do so. So why don’t you smile as you return the favor?” He paused before chuckling.

He craned his head around to look at her face to find a smile forming on her face. “There you are. And what a lovely smile, Charlie. Truly a vision.”

Smile? Was she really smiling? How could she smile as she was killing something? Why did it feel so good? 

The sudden squelch as well as the splattering of warm blood on Charlie’s face instantly removed her grin. The angel stopped squirming, but slid downward from her bloodied hand. Without a head atop its shoulders, there was nothing left for Charlie to grip. With two audible thuds, she watched as the body of the angel slumped over with the head rolling a bit away from its body. 

‘Incredible strength, but I’m not surprised.’ Alastor thought, impressed by her feat. It took a great amount of strength to decapitate a being by just squeezing its neck.    

He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders from behind to assure her. “No matter how many you kill, it’s not your patient’s sin. You cannot go to Heaven anyway dear so you’d might as well take the burden and protect them, right?”

She looked down at the angel’s headless body on the ground. “To protect them?”

He turned her slightly and stood in front of her. He gently placed a hand on her head, keeping her grounded. “Yes. I’m proud of you, Charlie.” It wasn’t a lie, he felt immense pride in the progress she’d made.

‘Proud of me?’ She questioned mentally. She pried her eyes off of the sin she’d just committed to whip her gaze to Alastor. “Alastor...” She whispered, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

“Yes dear?”

She didn’t say anything and instead jumped to wrap her arms around him, catching him off-guard.

He felt her trembling followed by an unmistakable moistness touching his bare chest. “My dear, don’t cry.”

His eyes narrowed as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

‘And all you need is me.’

[bevioletskies]

how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

summary: Although he would never admit it, Apollo really wants to impress Klavier by making dessert from scratch for their first date at his apartment, despite his complete lack of baking experience. With the help of his overenthusiastic sister (and no help from his mischievous cat), Apollo thinks he just might be able to pull it off.

word count: 4.8k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day four of seven (prompt: "cooking"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) by Marvin Gaye.

“Don’t look at me like that, okay? I can feel you judging me, and I don’t appreciate it. I swear, I-I know what I’m doing! But it doesn’t help with you staring at me like you just know I’m gonna screw up!”

Mikeko blinked. “Mreow.”

“Polly, are you talking to your cat again?” Apollo turned to see Trucy walking towards him with huge bags of flour and sugar in her arms.

“Just a reminder - his name is Mikeko, and he’s an asshole,” Apollo grouched, hurrying over to help before she could drop everything on the floor. The last thing he needed was to get white powder stuck in his kitchen tile grout, again. There was a reason Ema wasn’t allowed to bring her forensics kit to his place anymore. “He peed on my rug the other day. I thought he was sick so I took him to the vet, and nothing. He’s an asshole.”

“You talk about your cat like you talk about your boyfriend, and I dunno which one’s worse,” Trucy mused, elbowing him playfully. “Though obviously, you love ‘em both, since that cat tree over there looks like it costs more than your TV. And, y’know, the fact that you asked me to help you bake for him! Er, your boyfriend, not your cat.”

“You don’t say,” Apollo said dryly, hoisting the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Klavier has an insatiable sweet tooth for a guy with a six-pack. I blame his parents and their baking habits.”

“C’mon, you love his parents,” Trucy giggled. She hopped onto the counter, nearly knocking the flour over in the process. Apollo shot her a dirty look that she blatantly ignored. “So, what’re we making? I’m surprised you asked me to help and then didn’t tell me what we were gonna do!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Apollo sighed, smoothing out the wrinkles in his apron. “We’re making, uh...bienenstich, or bee sting cake. It’s one of his childhood favorites, apparently; it’s got vanilla cream and…” He paused to glance down at the recipe on his phone. “...‘a crunchy caramelized almond topping’.”

“Sounds yummy!” Trucy replied, idly swinging her legs back and forth. Mikeko seemed very interested in chasing her untied shoelaces. “Seriously, though, why did you ask me? I mean, when I first started living with Daddy, I learned how to cook pretty fast, but I never really learned how to bake.”

Apollo softened. “I just wanted to hang out with you, Truce. That’s all.”

Trucy folded her hands over her heart. “Aww, Polly!” She then grinned devilishly. “Of course you did.”

“Now you’re an asshole, too,” Apollo informed her, kissing her cheek before turning back to the other side of the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Mikeko, sitting in his sink, lounging lazily across every last mixing bowl he’d just washed. “Mik, what the hell - you were just on the floor a second ago, you - ”

“Meow,” Mikeko interrupted, his tail swishing nonchalantly through the air.

“...cool, cool.” Apollo wiped his hands, then proceeded to lift Mikeko right out of the sink and deposit him onto his cat tree. His paws were still damp; he mewled in protest. “Well, this is going about as well as I expected.”

“I’m excited,” Trucy offered, still beaming. “Let’s go!”

_____

Once Trucy found the appropriate playlist to blast on her phone (“Any performer worth their salt knows they need good background music, Polly!” “But...this isn’t a performance. Also, this is more Maroon 5 than I’m comfortable with.”), she got to work on re-washing the dishes Mikeko had ruined while Apollo shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing the rest of the ingredients. He’d bought quite a few items he didn’t usually have in stock, having next to no experience with baking. The recipe claimed bienenstich was easy to make, though he had his doubts when it came to his abilities - and his luck.

“So, how’ve you and Klavier been?” Trucy asked, drying the last of the spatulas. “Things must be pretty good if you’re baking for him.”

“Good, definitely good,” Apollo replied. “We’ve had a couple of hiccups, but nothing we’ve had to worry about, y’know?”

“Gee, how romantic,” Trucy drawled. “I was hoping for something juicier than that, Polly! Have you had any fun dates lately? Cute moments? Nice gifts? It sure was nice of his mom to send more apple strudels to the agency the other day!”

“Are you my sister, or a tabloid reporter?” Apollo flicked a spray of flour onto the front of her apron, ducking before she could retaliate. “Well, we had a good time at his parents’ house the other day. I made pretzels with his mom, and his dad had a ton of podcast recommendations for like, nerd stuff. We, uh...we even talked about Mom for a bit. They wanna meet her someday.”

Trucy’s eyes widened. “Really? When’s that gonna happen?”

“Not sure,” Apollo admitted. “But hey, do you wanna join us when it does? They’ve been dying to meet you, too.”

“Like you have to ask!” Trucy said brightly. She took a moment to methodically spread out all of their equipment across the kitchen counter, smiling in satisfaction when she was done. “There - we’re ready to go. What’s the actual first step?”

“The dough, it says,” Apollo said, turning back to the recipe. “We’re s’posed to mix the dry ingredients and wet ingredients separately. Although I guess the actual actual first step is measuring the ingredients.”

“I’ll do dry, you do wet,” Trucy replied, passing him one of the mixing bowls. “Y’know…‘cos you're such a wet blanket and all.”

Apollo blinked. “...okay, wow. We’re here to bake a cake, not roast me.” Trucy giggled mischievously, then got to work on measuring out the flour, sugar, yeast, and salt. Apollo, meanwhile, started with pouring the milk - easy enough - then stared at the egg carton and sticks of butter sitting in front of him. He’d never been intimidated by either before, but right now, he found them oddly daunting.

“Polly, are you trying to perceive the ingredients or somethin’?” Trucy asked, rapping her knuckles against the side of his head a little too sharply for his liking. “The cake isn’t a lie, you know.”

Once again, Apollo found himself looking at her incredulously. “Wha - th-that joke is older than you are!” Then, a brief swish of movement over Trucy’s shoulder caught his eye. “Wait…” Sitting on the opposite counter was Mikeko, who was innocently sniffing the bag of sliced almonds. “Mik - ”

“Mrrh,” Mikeko purred, his tail perking up at the sound of his name. He then flopped onto his side, rolling over to present his belly. “Mrrh?”

“Don’t ‘mrrh’ me, get away from there,” Apollo huffed, flapping his hands in Mikeko’s direction. He seemed unmoved. “Do you want me to lock you in my bedroom? Really? Is that what we have to do?” Sighing, Mikeko got up and hopped down from the counter, sauntering off to the living room with a sulky grimace. “Thank you.”

“You really do act like he’s human,” Trucy commented, watching Mikeko go. “Mr. Edgeworth’s like that with Pess, only he’s way nicer to her than you are to Mikeko.”

“Probably because Pess doesn’t sit on his chest in the middle of the night while he's sleeping and make him think he’s having a heart attack,” Apollo said wryly, reaching for the sticks of butter. If he let them sit out for too long, they were going to start melting. “How’s that whole...thing going, anyway? I feel like Mr. Edgeworth’s been visiting the agency a lot lately...only, nothing ever seems to happen.”

“Story of their lives, according to Ema and Aunt Maya,” Trucy said, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “At this rate, I’m gonna get married before Daddy does!” She then smirked. “Or should I say, you’re gonna get - ”

“Hey, l-let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Apollo protested, his cheeks reddening. “How’s it going with the dry ingredients?”

“All done!” Trucy chirped, tilting her bowl slightly so he could see. “Wait, you still haven’t done the butter or eggs yet? Apollo!”

“Yeah, yeah, I was kinda busy dealing with that jerk over there.” Trucy glanced across the way to the living room; she could’ve sworn Mikeko was sticking his tongue out at them. Apollo then pushed the butter towards her. “Here - you do the butter, I’ll take care of the eggs.” The two of them worked in silence for a minute or so, the only sounds in the apartment being the crinkle of the butter’s parchment paper and the tap-tap of the eggs against the mixing bowl. It didn’t take long before their silence was broken. “...shit.”

“Eggshell?” Trucy guessed without looking up. “Sheesh, you really did need help. Here, give it to me!”

Apollo nudged the bowl in her direction, defeated, then wiped the sweat off his brow. “Damn, I didn’t think I was gonna be this bad! I made bread and pretzels with Klavier’s mom, and that went pretty well.”

“I bet it’s ‘cos she did most of the work,” Trucy teased. “Wait - Apollo, there’s more eggshell in here than actual egg!”

“I…” Apollo paused. “...have no excuses.” He then groaned. “Ugh, we still have so much left to do! This cake better be worth it.”

“It’s more like if you think your boyfriend’s worth it, and he is, isn’t he?” Trucy finished fishing out the last of the eggshells, then poked Apollo’s side with her yolk-covered finger. “So c’mon, let’s keep going. We mix them together, right?”

Apollo smiled softly. “Yeah. And hey, I’m...I’m really glad you’re here, Trucy. Thanks for helping me out.”

“It’s just baking, Polly, you don’t hafta be so dramatic,” Trucy said, though she was beaming regardless. “Now move it, or this cake’s still gonna be in the oven when he gets here!”

_____

A little over two hours later, Apollo jumped up from his couch at the sound of his doorbell. His face brightened when he saw Klavier on the other side of the door, dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and joggers. Klavier had been so particular about how he’d dressed for their first few dates that Apollo was always happy to see him in more relaxed attire. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “You always greet me in the strangest ways, schatz. Did something happen, are you okay?”

Apollo let out an internal sigh of relief; Klavier had yet to notice anything off-putting at all. “No, no, I-I’m fine, just - i-it’s been a long day, and it’s good to see you. I mean, it’s always good to see you - usually good to see you, depending on what’s going on, ‘cos not gonna lie, you still pull the most inane crap in the courtroom, but, uh. It’s good that you’re here. Hi.”

Klavier’s eyebrows remained raised. “...hi. Anyway, I brought dinner and dessert.” He lifted the two bags he was carrying so Apollo could see. “As it turns out, our favorite Taiwanese place was having a promotion. Spend thirty dollars or more, we get free tofu pudding. Achtung, I love a good deal!”

“That’s not what your bank account says,” Apollo teased. “And, er, that’s great, and we should definitely eat it while it’s fresh, but I actually made dessert for us, too.”

“Really?” Apollo was starting to think Klavier’s eyebrows were never going to come back down. “What did you make?”

“No spoilers,” Apollo said, tugging on Klavier’s sleeve. “C’mon, get in here before my neighbors spot you. I swear, I heard one of them blasting Love With No Chance Of Parole the other night. If they find out you’re my boyfriend, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Finally starting to recognize my songs, are you?” Klavier chuckled, stepping into Apollo’s apartment. “I’ll make a Gavinners fan out of you yet, baby.” He then looked around, curious, as he took off his shoes. “Your place doesn’t look nearly as bad as you made it sound. It’s...charming.”

“Real diplomatic way of saying it looks like crap,” Apollo said wryly, closing the door behind him. He was well aware of his peeling wallpaper and cat-scratched furniture, his dusty windows and his water-damaged ceiling. “Wait until you have to use my bathroom. I swear the sink is haunted.”

“How comforting.” Klavier’s eyes lit up at the sound of tiny little feet padding over in his direction; he crouched down so he could be at eye level, one hand outstretched to beckon him closer. “Why, guten tag, kätzchen! I’m so glad I finally get to meet you.” Mikeko stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Klavier up and down warily. Then, without another sound, he turned and walked away, tail swishing pointedly in the air. Klavier looked up at Apollo dejectedly. “Ach, what did I do?”

“Mikeko only likes me and tolerates Trucy,” Apollo shrugged, trying not to laugh at Klavier’s miserable expression. “I wouldn’t take it personally. C’mon, let’s eat!”

“I’m going to take it a little personally,” Klavier muttered under his breath, following Apollo across the open living space. It wasn’t long before they were set up at the dining table, working their way through their Taiwanese beef noodles, fried chicken, and scallion pancakes. Apollo hummed happily as he ate; he hadn’t realized how hungry he was or how difficult baking could be until now. “So, how was your day?”

“Didn’t do much,” Apollo said, shrugging. “Since it’s my day off, I just kinda - y’know, played video games, watched some TV. Re-organized my bookshelf for the millionth time. I still haven’t decided if my brain likes it organized by author, title, genre, or color.”

“You also made dessert, apparently,” Klavier replied. “Are you really not going to tell me what it is?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, and even though my cat’s an asshole, I prefer him alive,” Apollo said, playfully nudging Klavier’s leg with his foot. “You can wait thirty minutes, can’t you?”

“Ach, the suspense,” Klavier laughed. “Fine, fine. Can I at least ask why you decided to bake for us?”

“It’s the first time you’ve been to my place, so I figured I’d do something nice,” Apollo said, sniffing very slightly. The smell of burnt sugar was starting to waft into his nose; he crossed his fingers underneath the table in the hopes that Klavier couldn’t smell it, too.

“Er - are you okay, Apollo?” Klavier asked, lowering his chopsticks. “You’re...sniffling. I didn’t accidentally bring some pollen in here, did I?”

“Sniffing, not sniffling,” Apollo corrected. “There’s a difference. And nah, it’s nothing. Just wasn’t sure if Mik might’ve peed somewhere...as he does.”

“Ah, cats,” Klavier said, nodding sagely. “Don’t tell your kätzchen I’m more of a dog person, bitte. We’re already off to a bad start as it is.”

“Brave of you, saying that out loud,” Apollo remarked. “If Mik comes after you in your sleep tonight, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Klavier turned to look at Mikeko, who was currently on the kitchen counter, scarfing down his dinner. He lifted his head to make direct eye contact, chewing menacingly all the while. Klavier shuddered. “How about you, what were you up to today?”

“The most boring prosecutor’s office meeting ever, not that that’s anything new,” Klavier sighed, turning back to face Apollo. “And I had no cases to prosecute, so I spent my day wishing I was here instead. Even if you and Mikeko weren’t around, I’d rather watch your wallpaper die a slow death than listen to Herr Payne whine about his life while we’re all waiting for the coffee maker. I don’t see how it’s my or Herr Blackquill’s fault that he hasn’t had a raise in over ten years. If all he can brag about is making new defense attorneys cry instead of actually doing his job, then he should be grateful he still has a career to begin with, ach.”

Apollo blinked. “...huh. I guess I never really thought about the kind of office politics you have to deal with. Meanwhile, the only thing I’ve had to deal with lately is Athena nearly breaking Trucy’s finger during an arm-wrestling match.”

Klavier winced, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Is that something that happens often?”

“More often than it should,” Apollo replied sagely. Klavier wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or slightly terrified.

After they finished dinner, Klavier insisted on helping Apollo with the dishes, seeing as how there was a huge pile of them in the sink, almost none of them from their dinner. Some were splattered with cake batter, others with vanilla cream. Thankfully, Apollo had already rinsed all the pans and utensils he’d used to make the topping, or else the sliced almonds would’ve given him away entirely.

“No peeking in the fridge or you’re not getting any,” Apollo warned, waving a spatula in his face.

“Are we talking about dessert, or...something else?” Klavier blinked innocently when Apollo continued to glare. “Ja, ja, I hear you.” He then paused. “Can I at least speculate? I have an educated guess.”

“You have zero patience sometimes,” Apollo complained, knocking his hip against Klavier’s, though with their height difference, it was more like his hip against Klavier’s thigh. “Let’s finish up here so you have nothing to complain about, alright?”

As they puttered around the kitchen together, Apollo had to subtly, but constantly direct Klavier away from the oven before he could see the remnants of a burnt pan still left on one of the stovetop elements; he hadn’t had enough time to completely scrub them away, though he had gotten rid of the worst of it. For once, he was grateful Klavier favored heavy scents, which seemed to be masking the smell for him.

“Mrrp.” Just as Klavier was drying the last of the plates, he felt something weaving between his ankles. “Mreow?”

“Have you changed your mind about me, kätzchen?” he asked, delighted. Mikeko aggressively smushed his face against Klavier’s calf in response. Apollo watched them both in amazement. “Is that a ja or a nein?”

“Mrrh,” Mikeko rumbled.

“Oh, this is definitely a trap,” Apollo warned. “He probably wants something from you, so don’t fall for it, Klav.”

“You talk about him like he’s an unruly witness on the witness stand,” Klavier said, amused. “He’s just a sweet little kätzchen, what could he possibly - ” Mikeko sneezed, violently.

“There it is,” Apollo sighed.

Klavier winced at the wet spot Mikeko had left behind on his sweatpants. “Achtung, gesundheit!” He then chuckled, shaking his head as Mikeko wandered off, clearly pretending nothing had happened. Either that, or he was embarrassed, though Apollo suspected it was more the former than the latter. “Like human, like cat, I see; it’s allergy season all around. Is it my cologne, do you think?”

“Might be,” Apollo shrugged, wiping his hands. “Okay, you big baby, are you ready for dessert now?”

“You’re acting like I’ve talked about nothing else,” Klavier protested, wrapping his arms around Apollo from behind and burying his face against Apollo’s neck. He then began pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the length of Apollo’s throat. His nose was momentarily filled with the scent of Klavier’s aforementioned cologne, the scent of sandalwood instead of burnt sugar. “I would love to have dessert, baby.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then we can eat what you made after.”

“Why am I dating you,” Apollo groaned, lightly shoving him away. Klavier snickered, hopping up onto the kitchen counter. “Sheesh, you’re like a cheap Hallmark card and a bad pick-up artist at the same time.”

“Is there such a thing as a good pick-up artist?” Klavier mused, still grinning. “Anyway, I’m serious. Let’s see what you made for us, liebe.” Apollo felt oddly nervous as he opened his refrigerator and carefully pulled out the covered tray from the top shelf. He set it down on the counter, right beside Klavier, then went to grab plates, forks, and a decent-sized knife. “Ah, a knife! Was my prediction correct?”

“Can you let me live for two seconds, please?” Apollo grumbled, softening when Klavier leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Okay, okay, careful around the guy with the knife in his hand. I-I’m gonna take off the cover now.”

They both held their breaths just as Apollo lifted the tray cover, as overly dramatic as it sounded. The sensation was stupidly similar to how they felt during a particularly stressful trial. Klavier’s eyes widened at the sight before him. “...bienenstich?”

“Wait…” Apollo leaned closer. “...what happened?!”

The state of his bienenstich was...questionable, to say the least. To start, the caramelized almond topping, which had hardened nicely in the refrigerator earlier, now looked like it had been through an earthquake, full of little holes and fissures. The thick layer of vanilla cream between the two layers of cake was oozing out the sides, having somehow melted since Apollo put it in the fridge over an hour ago. Finally, most of the bottom layer of cake was soggy and crumbling apart, clearly thanks to the melting cream.

“You gotta be kidding me!” Apollo exclaimed, setting the knife aside and hurriedly digging his phone out of his pocket. “Here, I took a picture earlier, i-it - it looked perfect, I-I made sure of it - ”

“I’m sure it did, Apollo,” Klavier said gently, rubbing his shoulders in sympathy. “Let’s see your picture, then.”

Groaning, Apollo held his phone up to Klavier’s face. “Seriously, look. I took so many photos, I was gonna send ‘em to your parents and thank them for teaching me the basics...I even made the topping three times ‘cos I burnt the first two attempts!”

“Is that what that smell was?” Klavier shrunk at Apollo’s venomous expression. “Sorry, baby, I just - I didn’t want to say anything in case it was, you know, a weird apartment smell.” He then perked up. “But if you ask me...looks have nothing to do with taste. That goes for both food and people, apropos, though I consider myself blessed that you’re the very best of both.”

“Har, har...also, ew,” Apollo added, wrinkling his nose. “Well, let’s hope you’re right.” With renewed vigor, he picked up the knife once more and carefully cut two modest-sized pieces, transferring them to their respective plates. He passed one plate to Klavier, then, after they exchanged nervous looks, they both took their first tentative bites. “...oh.”

“See? It’s just as I said!” Klavier declared, grinning victoriously. “I’m not going to pretend it’s the most perfect bienenstich I’ve ever had, but - it’s good, Apollo. It’s really, really good. I wouldn’t have known it was your first attempt if I hadn’t seen it. Even then, it’s hardly a disaster. Just a bit, ah, lopsided.”

Apollo was quiet for another moment or so, letting the taste linger on his tongue. The texture was a bit odd, thanks to the half-melted cream and the soggy cake, but it was just as sweet and satisfying as he’d been hoping it would be. “...huh. So I guess we didn’t accidentally swap the salt and sugar like I thought we might’ve done.”

“We?” Klavier echoed as he took another bite, more generous in size this time.

“Yeah, Trucy came over to help me. Guess I forgot to mention that,” Apollo added. “We haven’t had much time to hang out outside of work stuff lately, so...I thought it’d be a fun afternoon thing. Kinda turned into a nightmare instead? Like, the smell of burnt sugar is everywhere for a reason. Don’t look inside my oven, please.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Klavier laughed, delighted. “I can only imagine what went on before I got here, achtung.” It wasn’t long before he was scraping his plate clean; he was still eyeing the rest of the cake hungrily. He turned when Apollo made a mild noise of disgust. “Ah - what happened?”

“What always happens around here.” Apollo plucked a tiny, but obvious cat hair from the end of his fork. “At least I didn’t eat this one. I think I’ve consumed more cat hairs than I’ve had paying clients.” He then looked at Klavier with raised eyebrows. “You’re not expecting another piece right now, are you?”

“I like bienenstich, okay?” Klavier said defensively, though he finally got down from the kitchen counter so he could put his fork and plate in the sink, dropping a sticky-sweet kiss on Apollo’s cheek on his way over. “Danke, baby, that was really good. Can I take some back with me, bitte?”

“Of course, babe. I’m certainly not eating the rest of it by myself,” Apollo snorted, finishing off his own piece. He put his dishes in the sink, taking a moment to rinse off his and Klavier’s plates, then let out a relieved sigh. “Well, at least it tasted good, even if it looked like crap.”

“I know it’s pointless, saying this to you, but - don’t worry so much, hm?” Klavier wrapped his arms around Apollo’s midsection; before Apollo knew it, he was being lifted and set down onto the counter, right where Klavier had been. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, bringing his hands to rest on Klavier’s shoulders, his legs wrapped loosely around Klavier’s waist. “I’m impressed, liebling, I mean it. I know Mama’s been teaching you how to bake, but for you to do it on your own time for us to enjoy...I should really step up my game here, don’t you think?”

“Hardly,” Apollo said, dropping his head to Klavier’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to Klavier’s neck. “Thanks, Klav. Glad you liked it.”

“Bitte schön,” Klavier replied, gently lifting Apollo’s chin so he could kiss him properly. They both tasted like vanilla and honey; Apollo pushed Klavier’s hair out of his face so it wouldn't run the risk of getting sticky. Mere seconds later, they were interrupted by a tiny, impudent meow. Sighing, Klavier reluctantly broke away so he could stare down at the culprit by his feet. “Can I help you, kätzchen? I thought we were cool...until you used my sweatpants as a tissue, that is. These are Moncler, I’ll have you know.”

“Mreow,” Mikeko trilled, tail thrashing violently against Klavier’s leg. Shaking his head in amusement, Apollo got down from the counter so he could pick him up and cradle him, rocking him back and forth like a baby. “Mrrp.”

“I’m kinda curious to see if he’ll let you pet him,” Apollo said. “You wanna try?” Klavier lifted a cautious hand, then slowly began petting Mikeko, taking care not to disturb the sleekness of his long, thick fur. Klavier let out a soft laugh when Mikeko began to purr, his eyes closing contentedly as he smushed his face against Klavier’s hand, just like he’d done to his leg earlier. “Hey, would you look at that - it’s a not-Christmas miracle!”

“I feel as if I’ve been blessed,” Klavier chuckled, rubbing Mikeko’s ears for good measure. “Have I passed your secret test somehow, kätzchen? Am I a good partner for your papa?” Mikeko mewled happily.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even do anything and he already likes you,” Apollo sighed. “Mik, I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I can’t tell if you want him to like me or not,” Klavier said dryly, dropping a kiss to the top of Mikeko’s forehead. Mikeko’s purr only seemed to intensify. Apollo rolled his eyes; now Klavier was just showing off. “So now that all of our bienenstich excitement is over, should we put a movie on, maybe try a small bite of that tofu pudding? I have a desperate need to cuddle after the day I’ve had.”

“Day you had?” Apollo echoed, neatly depositing Mikeko back onto his cat tree. “You said you had a boring meeting and no trials. How bad could it have been?”

“I had to listen to Herr Payne gush about his wife that definitely exists,” Klavier bemoaned, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead as if he were about to faint. Apollo was sure if he rolled his eyes any harder, he would sprain something. “Herr Debeste kept asking to borrow a pencil for some reason. I’m serious, baby, don’t laugh at me, he kept knocking on my door every thirty minutes - ”

“The only baby I see around here is you, baby,” Apollo teased, prodding Klavier in the chest. “But fine, fine, I hear you. You go sulk on the couch and pick out a movie while you wait. I'm gonna put the bienenstich back in the fridge and send your mom my pre-disaster pictures. Maybe she’ll have some advice for my next attempt.”

Klavier perked up. “Next attempt? You mean you’re going to make it again? Ah, ich liebe dich, mein schatz, mein süßer, mein - ”

“Oh my god,” Apollo groaned, sighing. “Maybe, okay? Maybe. I’m not making any promises, I don’t want my apartment to permanently smell like burnt sugar hell.” Still, Apollo found himself biting back a smile, kissing Klavier briefly before lightly nudging him in the direction of his living room. “...and I love you, too. Dork.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the sixth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Mikeko being a jerk who only likes maybe three people at a time is one of my favorite random headcanons! I know I set a lot of my fics in Apollo's apartment (or Klavier's), but one of the main reasons that I do is for Mikeko and Mikeko alone. If you're looking for a Mikeko-centric fic (kind of), if you could read my mind is one of my favorite short-ish fics that I've ever written.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[a-libra-writes]

How the GoT Characters Confess To You

Lordy, this took waaaay too long, didn’t it? That’s silly work schedules and chronic migraines for ya. Some lil drabs are a little more dramatic than others 😅

If I missed someone you love, please give tidings to my ask box and I’ll add em~

In this preference, you'll be confessed to by: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion

NED STARK

Truth be told, Ned was already catching feelings when you two were courting. It was obvious in how kindly he treated you when you visited Winterfell, how he’d light up when you both talked. You thought it was cute how he was a little red in the cheeks at your wedding ceremony, and you talked through the feast. 

It was fairly obvious to everyone that you both were a good match. Ned didn’t plan to spill out his feelings right away, he was confident that you knew, but during the bedding ceremony he thought you looked absolutely beautiful against the firelight.

“What’s the matter, Ned? You’re staring,” You teased as you unlaced your dress.

He placed his hand over your’s and began unlacing it himself. “I’m happy you’re finally here with me, Y/N. … I love you.”

ROBB STARK

Honestly, Robb had been smitten with you since you first met as children. You just had such a bright personality and natural kindness, he found plenty of chances to talk with you and learn more about you. When you visited, you two would find each other right away and spend all day running around and talking. He started to hope that maybe, just maybe his parents and your's would consider a marriage offer, especially as you grew into such a beautiful lady.

When the war broke out, he knew his desires would have to be set aside, but Robb couldn't leave Winterfell until he told you how he felt. Even if you didn't see him in that way, he had to say it. Robb paced around his room a few times as he thought about what to say. He'd be riding out tomorrow; he had to tell you before he left.

Robb woke up early the next morning and beelined for you. He asked you to accompany him to the Godswood.

"What's this about, Robb?" You asked. He looked beside himself. When you reached out to take his hand, he pulled you into a tight hug and his rehearsed words went out the window.

"Y/N, I have to say it. I love you. I always have, I think, from the beginning." His cheeks were as red as his hair, but the words were all spilling out now. "When I go South, and I come back -- I want you to be my wife, if you'll have me as your husband." 

SANSA STARK

You met at the tourney celebrating Ned's appointment, and you two hit it off right away. You were inseparable, and even when the worst came for her, you refused to leave Sansa's side. They'd have to imprison you along with her. Sansa was sure you were special to her, something more than just a friend or protector. 

She was positive about this when you stood up for her in the middle of court, at great risk to yourself. You knew your family wouldn’t be pleased, let alone the bastard king. In her chambers, she fixed your bloody lip and your hair, looking less upset and more angry. “I can’t believe this, how could they - you’re a lady!” She fumed.

“You’re a Stark, and they’re plenty cruel to you, Sansa. I’m minor house by comparison.”

She kept talking, almost as if she didn’t hear your comments. “The Lannisters are so cruel, they take everything - my father, my sister - then they hurt the person I love…" 

"What?" You blinked.

Sansa just realized what she said. She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around you in a crushing hug. "You're the most important person I have, Y/N. I can't stand the thought of them doing something to you, too."

JON SNOW

He crushed on you early into your friendship, and he only noticed it after he was way, way too far gone. Jon told himself that he’d never say anything, though - you deserved better than a bastard, and you’d probably be married off to whoever, anyway. It hurt to think about, but it was for the best, he told himself. He’d only burden you if he confessed his feelings.

Jon didn’t begin to change his mind until, like he feared, you were going to be married off to a lord you had zero interest in. You were telling him about it with tears in your eyes, and he squeezed your hands even tighter and had you sit down. He listened to you, his heart tightened with every word. When you had gotten it all out and leaned against his shoulder, Jon just had to blurt it out.

“Y/N, I know it’s stupid to say this now. I should’ve said it earlier, but ...” He pushed his doubts down and continued. “I love you, no matter what happens. I always will.”

BENJEN STARK

You always sought him out when he visited Winterfell, first out of curiosity, then out of friendship once you two began to visit and talk more. Eventually that led to much more, and you enjoyed the time you had with him. You missed him terribly when he was gone, but you knew how seriously he took his duty to the Night’s Watch, even if he loved being with you, that came first.

Benjen did have his moments of guilt. He’d try to joke and tell you to look elsewhere for a lover, but that always made him feel bitter after he said it. He always loved it when you reassured him, in fact, he loved most things you did, even the mundane things. Benjen was quite aware when his feelings got too far, and he knew it was important to tell you.

He curled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair as he ran his hands down your bare back. “Are you asleep? Stay with me a little longer, Y/N. I want to tell you how much I love you. I want you to know that before I go.”

JORY CASSEL

Jory met you by chance in King’s Landing, when he got … a little turned around in the Red Keep, and happened to stumble upon you being harrassed by some man. You insisted to repay the favor by helping him find his destination. You thought it was cute how flustered he was around you, and you began to seek him out. As much as you enjoyed his company and your feelings for each other grew, there was always a dark cloud hanging over. You were above him in status, and your father expected you to marry some Crownslander, once he found someone suitable.

Your hand was tight over Jory’s as you both walked along the beach. The sea air was cool in the evening, and as scandalous as your father would find it, this was your favorite place to meet Jory. He was unusually quiet tonight.

Finally, he said, “Y/N. I heard about … I heard rumors your father was looking for a husband.”

“Yes. He wants someone close, preferably.” Your shoulder brushed his. “I wouldn’t mind going somewhere farther, though.” 

Jory’s light chuckle didn’t sound right. “Even the North, my lady?”

“Why, are you offering?” You tried to joke, to ease the knot in your stomach.

He stopped, and took your other hand in his. “... I know it’ll just cause trouble to say this, but I love you, Y/N. It may not ever be possible, but if there’s even a chance… I’d want to take you back to North with me."

EDD TOLLETT

It was a cruel irony that the girl who seemed to light up this bleak place was also of the Watch, and only came to Castle Black a few times out of the month from Eastwatch. You two quickly made friends and sought each other out, and you were one of the few things he looked forward to in this bleak place.

He didn’t think you’d find him this early in the morning, especially since you didn’t often climb to the top of the wall. “Edd,” You called him, and it made his heart jump at once. “You’re looking at the wrong side.”

You grabbed his shoulders and he really thought he was on fire, even under all his layers and fur. You turned him toward the other side of the Wall, away from Castle Black. “If you want to brood and squint into nothing, do it where there’s actually nothing.”

Edd just sighed and you were actually worried. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“Aye, I was trying to decide if the gods have continued their spiteful campaign against me, or if they’ve actually thrown me a scrap and I’m too stupid to pick it up.” He turned to you and casually said, “Which is to say, I’m in love with you.”

YARA GREYJOY

Yara was not a woman of wordy sentiment, you knew this. It was just her way, and you were sure of her feelings by the way she protected you and kept you so close. It wasn’t just in bed, if you were within arm’s length and she wasn’t working on her ship or tending to whatever duties her father threw at her, she had you with her. Sometimes she’d pull you right in her lap, sometimes it was just an arm around your waist, sometimes it was a firm kiss to your neck before she left. You noticed she was spending less and less time with other men and women, until you were positive she was only seeing you. 

“What’s with that look?” She asked as she walked into her cabin. She began pulling off her leather and smirked, looking you up and down. “Something on your mind?”

“You could say that.” You were dressed for bed, which meant you stole her shirt again. “I was just thinking about you.”

“What a coincidence.” Yara didn’t wait to remove everything. She already had you in her lap, and was pulling your collar lower. “I was thinking about you, too.”

“I’d be willing to bet I’m the only woman on your mind as of late,” You grinned. “I was thinking you’re very fond of me.” 

The way the candlelight flickered in the cabin, you were allllmost sure she had a blush to her cheeks. Yara didn’t immediately respond, pushing you on your back and hovering over you. “Cheeky today, are we? How about I show you what I think of that?”

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You had been there for Daenerys from the beginning, before she was khaleesi, and of course you supported her after, when her khalasar was at its smallest and most desperate. You weren’t Dothraki, but you believed in her and you protected her. More than that, you were her friend, someone she could trust. You may have felt deeper feelings - well, you did - but that was just another problem she didn’t need. You expected to keep it to yourself until the day you died.

That day came much, much sooner than you ever anticipated. An assassin had found its way into her palace in Meereen, and in defending her, you received a punishing stab to the abdomen. 

You awoke in great pain, with Daenerys hovering above you, wiping the sweat from your brow. She helped you sit up, gave you a drink of water, and to your surprise … looked like she hadn’t slept in some time.

“How could you do something so careless?” Daenerys said, although she tried to sound angry, she just sounded tired and beside herself.

“I’m sworn to protect you, khaleesi, I was just --”

“Enough! Barristan and Jorah were there to help, but you just had to -- you just had to throw yourself in front of me.” She squeezed the rag in her hand. “Don’t ever do that again, Y/N. I won’t have the woman I love killed in front of me.” 

JORAH MORMONT

Of course, it was easy to tell that Jorah was completely smitten with you, as he wears his feelings on his sleeves. You also pledged yourself to Daenerys, and as a result you and Jorah spent plenty of time together. Regardless if it was a battle or just a day at the market, there was a pretty obvious connection between you two. Jorah was pretty aware of it right away but he wanted to take his time and make sure you felt the same. Once he had his confidence, he was a bit beside himself, wanting to tell you once there was an opportunity.

Being a romantic, he had something nice planned. He knew what sorts of food and flowers you liked, so he was hoping to tell you on what was basically a date. It didn’t work out that neatly, unfortunately - an assassination attempt happened against Daenerys, and you both were quick to intercept. You took a nasty hit to the shoulder, and Jorah was the one who wanted to patch you up. He couldn’t believe you were still smiling, insisting you were fine. 

Without thinking he took your hand and gave you a tired smile. “I’m glad you’re safe, Y/N. I love you … I have for some time. Please be kinder to my heart and look after yourself.”

MISSANDEI

She’d admired you and enjoyed your friendship for some time before she began to really consider telling you. Missandei knew she had strong feelings for you as soon as they happened, she was just worried what you’d think of her. Some days she was content to just be friends, but other days it was a source of anxiety.

Finally, Missandei decided to get it off her chest. She knew you were a kind person who would let her down gently - she was fairly certain you would. You both usually spent time together in the evening and you noticed she was being unusually quiet. You leaned against her shoulder. “Missy, what’s the matter?”

Why did you have to use the cute nickname now of all times? Missandei sighed and just let it out. “Y/N, I wanted to talk to you about my feelings. For some time, I’ve felt … very strongly for you. I care about you, and even if you don’t feel the same, I just wanted to tell you how much I love you.”

GREY WORM

What brought his attention to you first is how kind you were. You offered to help him speak the common tongue and adjust to a somewhat normal life, even if he was still a sworn guard to Daenerys. You began teaching him to read and showing him new things to eat and see, so it wasn’t a surprise that he was growing smitten. He just wasn’t sure what to do about his feelings, and how to express them. He ended up needing some gentle pushing and advice from Missandei before he was fully comfortable.

You both were enjoying a rare day when it was beautiful outside and the two of you had a chance to talk. You decided to walk around the gardens surrounding the Great Pyramid, and he was glad to take your hand, as he often did. The urge to tell you just came to Grey Worm - somehow, it seemed right. “Y/N, I wanted to thank you, and tell you something. I want to protect you and keep you close.”

TYWIN LANNISTER

You did not expect this marriage. The reasoning was he needed a “proper” heir, and your powerful family wouldn’t settle for a Lannister cousin. You were pleasantly surprised that he was respectful and even gentle at times, even if there were times when you two had some friction. While he recognized your wit and intelligence, especially when it came to managing Casterly Rock, he wasn’t used to someone subtly speaking against him. 

After giving him a son, who you loved more than anything, he was even more caring toward you, in his own ways. Tywin was becoming fond of you, even the little verbal spats you two would have behind closed doors. You were sure of his feelings, but you didn’t anticipate him to actually say anything. That wasn’t his way, after all.

It certainly came when you weren’t expecting it. It was a rare moment when he allowed himself to you hold you in your shared marriage bed, pulling you close and even running his fingers down your hair. He was tired, and it was late. His embrace had pulled you out of sleep. Just as you were dozing back off, you heard him say it against your temple.

TYRION LANNISTER

Tyrion initially pitied you and didn’t look forward to the marriage. He was sure it was some cruel joke by his sister, and your family was glad to wed you to any Lannister, especially since Jamie was unavailable. While he appreciated your polite acceptance, he figured you were actually miserable.

He wasn’t expecting your efforts to get to know him and you both began to find things you had in common. You’d read similar books, he often had you in stitches with the snide remarks he’d whisper to you during feasts and he couldn’t deny how sweet your smile was when he found something he knew you’d like. Tyrion actually fell for you in a short time, but he did what he could to not rush all the words out. He thought you’d be more content as friends, keeping a respectful distance. It’s what he owed you, he thought, especially since the court considered the marriage a funny little joke.

A particularly stressful dinner with you and his family, filled with Cersei giving you plenty of venom, had him well into his cups. You helped him as you both walked back to your royal apartments. “Tyrion, you really went too far this time,” You sighed. “You can’t listen to those terrible things she says, and you can’t investigate you like that.”

“She insulted you, I wasn’t about to let her --”

“Yes, I know, she often does. I can handle her. Please don’t aggravate her on my account.” You offered him water. “Drink all of this, or you’ll be miserable tomorrow.”

Your caring gestures and soft voice was just too much. Tyrion drunkenly blurted out, “I love you, Y/N. You’re too good for this.” 

“I love you too, Tyrion,” You said easily, and he was so relieved he completely forgot about Cersei and the water. You had to set the latter aside while he pulled you into an embrace. 

JAIME LANNISTER

You were absolutely sick when Jamie was captured. It was up to the gods if he was alive or dead. You knew you weren’t getting any information from Cersei, so you just had to wait, your head swirling with grief and madness. When word of his return was finally brought to you, he’s coming home, you cried alone. No one knew of your relationship, after all, least of all his family, his sister. 

You told yourself you’d meet him some days after in his chambers, no one would suspect a thing. That plan was swiftly foiled when you accidentally crossed Jamie in a hall. You both stared at each other, before he closed the gap in just a second. You felt the air squeeze out of your body as he held you harder than he ever had before.

“Jamie,” You gasped, trying to hold back tears. “Gods, I was so -- I thought -- I’m so relieved -”

He had to say it now, because it was all he could think on that horrid road, when he was at his lowest. He couldn’t stop seeing you, and now you were here. He hadn’t said it before, and that was a mistake. 

Jamie pulled from you, hardly giving you a moment to recover. “I love you,” He shuddered against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you.” 

SANDOR CLEGANE

You didn’t predict your relationship with Sandor would end up like this. He tried to dissuade you from your crush, only to be more than startled when you said you meant it. Once he became comfortable, he became more protective and possessive of you. Sandor was definitely developing feelings and it wasn't sitting well with him. 

The way he held you so close when you two were together in bed, and he’d grunt when you’d have to leave in the morning, and all the marks he’d leave on your body - you began to notice his behavior, so when you both were curled up in bed, your cheek resting against his chest.

“Sandor.” You looked at him. Something was obviously bothering him, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Haven’t you had enough?” He finally said. “You could be doing better than a mangy dog watching a shit of a princeling.”

"I enjoy being with you. I care about you," You said, wondering if you should just blurt out your feelings, or if it would scare him away. “I love you.”

You felt him flinch, as if the words hurt him, and his heart was pounding in his chest. You were going to say more, but suddenly you were pulled into a tight embrace. “I love you too,” He grumbled against your hair, not wanting you to see his expression.

BRONN

You knew the mercenary cared for you more than he wanted to admit to himself, and it would be almost endearing if it wasn’t also infuriating. You could tell how unsure he’d get with your softer and more affectionate gestures, he wasn’t used to something like this. He probably denied it his whole life - the fact he could love or be loved in that way, the kind of way people daydreamed and wrote songs about. 

You weren’t going to force him to say anything or commit, but gods, when would he realize it? You knew when he stopped seeing the whores, when he’d stay in your modest home despite having better quarters at the Red Keep, when he’d curl his lips at any mention of someone of higher birth trying to court you. His denial was palpable, and sometimes it hurt.

For gods’ sake, you were in his lap right now, cuddling. He wasn’t even trying to get you into bed. His feet were thrown up on the table and he was telling you some funny story about the city guards, but it was hard to pay attention. Bronn finally caught on. “What?”

“I think you have something to tell me, Bronn.”

He blinked, then tried to look away. You already caught the look in his eyes. “What’re ya talkin’ about?”

“You know.” You sighed, feeling like it was a little pointless. “Just once, even if you don’t mean it.”

“Hey,” He looked you in the eyes and ran his hand down your legs. “Ya know you’re important to me. You’re the most important thing in my sorry excuse for a life.”

PETYR BAELISH

From the beginning, Petyr had presented himself as an ally to you. At first it was to for the purpose of influencing your House, which had the court’s attention, but he quickly became interested in you personally. He began to like the slight smiles you gave him when court was in process and the way you liked to sit in the garden and read, looking pretty as a picture. He had a plan in place, slowly courting you and keeping your interest in him. Your parents would never consider him for a match, but he knew they’d listen to you. 

He didn’t worry until he heard word of a sudden proposal given to your family. He immediately sought you out and found you hiding from the court, trying to hide your anger.

“Petyr,” You said, and even if he didn’t like the situation, he loved the way you so desperately said his name. “My parents, they listened to that horrid lord, they’re going to accept the betrothal. 

He was quick to sit very close to you, taking your hand and leaning in as he spoke lowly. He wanted to make sure you knew he was serious. “So I’ve heard. You needn’t worry, little Y/N, I’ll take care of it. I love you, after all - I’d do anything to have you happy again.”

STANNIS BARATHEON

You both had been married for a time before Stannis began catching feelings, and it was slow process that he didn’t immediately notice. He appreciated how kind you were to him, how knowledgeable you were and your level-headedness. His appreciation began turning into admiration, and soon that was a crush that he was struggling to make sense of. He’d finally realize how strong they were when he had to leave you for a time, or worse, if he noticed you were enjoying someone else’s company. He’d start feeling loneliness and doubt, and would want to be at your side again.

Truthfully, he was hoping you say it first, he was waiting for it. Even if your actions to him and your child made it obvious, he still wanted to hear it. It wouldn’t be until he was feeling especially vulnerable in your shared bed, when you were curled up next to him and discussing some matter with the small council. You reassured him of his plans and rested against his chest, and he couldn’t help but pull you a little closer and mumble that he loves you.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

Your father swears fealty to Stannis Baratheon, and you often accompanied him to important meanings. You were a clever girl and observed the meetings closely, later discussing them with your father. Ser Davos spoke to you with respect, which was much better than most men gave you, and you began talking with him after meetings. You grew quite fascinated with him, and as the war began he was a source of kindness and comfort for you. 

Davos felt guilty about his crush, and he denied such a thing, but he really did enjoy your company and wit. He thought he was too old for you, and too low of status. Anytime he saw you, he found it difficult to disguise his feelings, especially when you’d be so sweet and make him laugh. You noticed he was especially troubled, and you took both of his hands and entwined his fingers with your’s. It wasn’t helping his beating heart.

“Davos, what’s the matter? You aren’t usually so nervous.” You smiled and tried to ease him, and he liked that you were comfortable just using his name. It gave him some encouragement.

“I have to tell you somethin’, Y/N, before I lose my nerve. I know you deserve better, someone with a proper family line …”

“Davos,” You pulled him closer and tried not to grin. “What are you saying?”

“I-I’m trying to say I love you, and… I’d be honored if you’d consider being my wife.”

MARGAERY TYRELL

You and Margaery hit it off quickly when you arrived at court in Highgarden. She immediately noticed your wit and beauty, and even better, you were fun to talk with at galas and feasts. More than not, she’d seek out your company when she was tired of lords fawning over her, or you both would play coy with them and snicker to yourselves afterward. It wasn’t long before she’d give you little compliments and touches that could be considered something more, and Margaery was buzzing when you did the same. 

She was so sure you’d confess first. There was an obvious spark between you two, and she admittedly felt a little jealous when she’d see you be sweet to other girls. Margaery finally got tired of waiting, wanting to be something more with you. When you two were alone in her parlor, she curled right up to you like a cat. “Do you have something to tell me, sweet Y/N?”

“Hm?” You played dumb. “Oh, I found something interesting at the market the other day. I have a new dress being made. Last night, I walked outside and --”

Margaery gave a dramatic sigh as she wiggled into your lap. “You’re so mean. I’m trying to tell you how much I adore you, more than I adore anyone, and you know it, Y/N. Cheeky girl.” 

BRYNDEN TULLY

He knew he was already in too deep the first night you spent together. You both had been flirting and circling around each other for months, even having a kiss or more here and there. He always had excuses to dissuade you, but they were really just him trying to keep this exact thing from happening. 

As he held you in his arms and kept you there until the morning, he knew he’d have to marry you eventually. The idea of you maybe not being there in the morning, being with someone else, was too much. When Brynden caught the rumors that your parents were considering engaging you to some Vale lord, he found you right away.

“Heard about that betrothal,” He said, taking you in his arms, not even caring if someone walked into the room. “Afraid to say it can’t happen, sweet.”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head.

“Cause I love ya too much to let some Lord whoever take ya away from me.” He’d press his face into your hair, trying to hide his burning cheeks. “Tell me ya feel the same, and I’ll take ya to Riverrun as a proper wife. I swear it.”

EDMURE TULLY

You had been married for some time, and you already knew Edmure was smitten with you. Everyone knew it, really, but you had enjoyed getting to know him in the short months you’d been together. He was just as sweet as he was during your courtship, and you were glad the matched worked out so well, but neither of you had really had the guts to admit it was any more than that.

Edmure ended up falling sick, nothing too serious, but you felt bad that he was stuck in bed and feeling miserable. When he woke up, you were at his bedside and offering him water. You helped him drink then patted his hair in place. Right when you were going to mention how flushed and feverish he was, he suddenly said, “Y/N, I love you.”

You just smiled. “I know, Edmure.”

He relented but tried to hold your hand.You let him take it, even if his grip was weak. “I thought you should know. Um, in case you didn’t. You’re so kind and considerate, and you’ve helped me so much already, and you’ll make a great mother--”

He was cut off by a bout of coughing, and you were quick to bring a rag to his mouth. You smiled and shook your head. “Thank you, Edmure. Lie down, dear, before the Maester comes for me.” 

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She was initially uneasy being parted from Lady Catlyn to guard you, but you two quickly developed an easy friendship. She was very attracted to your kindness and fairness, not to mention how you'd defend her in front of anyone that dared insult her in front of you. 

No surprise, she fell for you very quickly, but she was positive you wouldn't feel the same. Brienne was more than ready to keep her feelings to herself, although they always threatened to slip when you took her hands to reassure her or stayed up late joking and talking. It finally got out when you angrily stood between her and a lord - as if they both didn't tower over you - and told him, "One more word about MY knight, and you'll be leaving this keep, either through the door or out a window!" 

Brienne actually had to pull you away to a secluded hall because you were fuming. “Can you believe his nerve? Saying those things to you here, of all places! Gods! You have more honor in your pinky than his whole body! Ooh, and that family of his-!”

“Now then, someone will hear,” Brienne said, holding your hand. She was trying to hide her smile, but she couldn’t keep her blush at bay. “You’re too much, my lady.”

“It’s not enough. I can’t fight like you, Brienne, I know you’ve been teaching me, but I could do so much more for you,” You said earnestly. You didn’t want her to feel those awful things she’d shared with you. You never wanted her to be anything but happy. “You deserve much more.”

The words struck her even harder, and Brienne rubbed at her eyes absently to fight off any tears. She kissed your forehead firmly, then rested her head there. It just spilled out. “Thank you, Y/N. I love you.” 

RAMSAY BOLTON

You had the dubious honor of being married to newly legitimized Bolton bastard, a match arranged by your family with little concern to your wellbeing. Of course you knew what he was like, especially after you married, but Ramsay did have his odd moments of what you’d cautiously call “sentiment”. Sometimes when he almost seemed curious or in awe of you. 

In spite of this, you didn’t take him seriously when he’d say he loved you. He always had that glint in his eyes when he did it, after all, you chalked it up to an attempt at swaying you. Today Ramsay was angry with one of your guards; you were positive it was just jealousy, and you wanted to save the poor man from a grisly fate. Ramsay pulled you into a crushing embrace. “Why are you defending him? He’d never love you as I do, Y/N.”

“Of course not, my lord,” You said dismissively. “Let’s assign him to another post, and someone you trust can-”

“Don’t you believe me?” He interrupted you, his eyes taking that dangerous glint you knew well.

“I do, my lord. If you don’t like the man, he can go back to his old duties.”

“Not that. You don’t think I care for you.” 

Was he … sullen? His jaw was tense as though he were pouting. No, you really thought he was. Maybe it was just jealousy talking. You couldn’t be sure, and he was antsy as he waited for you to answer, leaning his head in so your foreheads touched.

ROOSE BOLTON

The truth of the matter is Roose had been interested in you for some time. When he first saw you at a feast, he was certainly taken, and he talked to you and danced when it was appropriate. Anytime there was a gathering, he’d seek you out, always trying to talk to you, trying to see what sort of person you were. After holding you in his arms for so many dances and getting you to smile several times, he admitted to himself that perhaps he really was infatuated. Of course, your parents wouldn’t agree to a marriage, so he did a variety of underhanded tricks to secure you - frightening your other suitors, subtly suggesting different matches for them to their parents - perhaps more serious methods, if he needed to.

It was worth it, he decided, when he draped the Bolton cape around you on your wedding day. His affection for you only grew as the months went by and you began to settle into your role as Lady of the Dreadfort. You were positive by his actions and words that he did love you, so it didn’t bother you so much if he didn’t say it. Truthfully, he didn’t want to admit to himself how much he cared what you thought of him. You were a definite weakness that an enemy could exploit, because he’d grown to completely, terribly love you.

You two were walking the godswood, your arms entwined, and Roose stopped under the heart tree. He brushed your hair aside. “You know I love you more than I can say, Y/N.”

You smiled and leaned into him. “I know, Roose.”

OBERYN MARTELL

His affection and love for you is obvious to anyone who watches you two. At feasts you’re practically in his lap and making him feed you, at galas you both dance until the sun is almost coming up, and at tourneys you’d be too busy grinning at his flirtations and whispers to pay attention to the lists. Honestly, it was kind of sickening, but you loved how doting and passionate Oberyn was for you. It really seemed as though you hung his moon and stars.

So naturally, he confessed to you very quickly. You remember just a month in, he told you. “I love you, my dear Y/N.”

You smiled, thinking the flamboyant Dornishman with a scandalous reputation just saw you as another flame. “That’s very nice, Oberyn.”

The months went by and it seems every other day you’d receive another declaration of love. One morning, you’d woken up to him curling around you like a cat. He said the three words again as he dozed off, pressing against your hair. He’d brought you to his family home, the Old Palace in Sunspear, and you’d spent a week meeting his family. He positively beamed as he introduced you.

Finally, you said, “I love you too.”

His arms tightened around your waist as he kissed your hair and fell back asleep with a satisfied smile.

BERIC DONDARRION

The Brotherhood Without Banners had saved you from Lannister men, and seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you began to travel with them. You started to learn how to fight, how to survive in the wild, and you began to befriend Beric. Not that it was difficult, friendly as he was, and soon your relationship turned into something much deeper.

It was a week after he’d “died” and been “revived” by Thoros. The Lord of Light was always strange to you, and now you’d seen a man you cared for fall in blood and come back as if it hadn’t happened. It was jarring, and as you stroked his hair while his head laid in your lap, you kept thinking back to it.

“You looked troubled, my Y/N,” He said suddenly.

“I’m thinking about that fight in the cave.” You said. “You told me before, but you said something about … sometimes you lose pieces.”

Beric’s light expression became more serious. He sat up and drew you into his arms. “It’s true. I feel a little less whole after it happens, a little less… me. So I should tell you, I love you, very dearly. No matter how often I come back, I know I’ll always be your’s, Y/N.”

[everythingisgayandnothinghurts]

Tarlos running into Carlos' ex on a night out

Okay so I know TK hasn’t been diagnosed with depression on the show, but that’s my theory.  I’ve had really bad anxiety brain the last few days so I kind of played off of that.  Hope you enjoy!! 

Their last call ran late so TK was late meeting up with Carlos at their favorite bar.  It was crowded as usual and TK glanced around but couldn’t see Carlos quite yet.  He ordered himself mineral water after waiting at the bar longer than usual.  He navigated himself away from the crowd and turned his attention to the back tables where Carlos was likely to be.  Sure enough he spotted his boyfriend at a back corner table, but he wasn’t alone.  There was another man standing close to Carlos, too close to be casual.  TK frowned and told himself there was probably an explanation for this.  An explanation that definitely explained the man’s hand on Carlos’s elbow squeezing gently.  

“Hey,” TK said loud enough to be heard over the crowd and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek in greeting.  Carlos smiled to see him and that helped put him at ease.  The other man didn’t look as thrilled to see him.  TK saw dark brown eyes looking over him with what he could swear was disapproval in them.  He had no idea who this guy was, but he didn’t feel welcome.  

“Hi babe,” Carlos subtly moved from the man’s grasp, but TK didn’t see any guilt in his eyes.  “This is Mark, I’ve known him for years.”

An old friend, TK could deal with old friends.

“We used to be close,” Mark supplied with a smile that was meant to be charming and TK supposed it was white enough and friendly enough but it made him feel off kilter.  “We were in the police academy together for a while.”

“Mark dropped out due to some health concerns,” Carlos explained with a grin to his friend.  “Mark moved down to El Paso after that so we lost touch.  He’s back in town for a long weekend to visit his parents.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” TK told him even though he couldn’t say he truly felt that way.  Something about Mark felt off to him and it took another hour for him to realize what it was.

Mark was an ex.

Neither of them had acknowledged it, but TK could tell by the looks and the casual way they were in each other’s personal space told him they once were used to being there.  It was why he felt so off being around them and like he was the third wheel.  They had inside jokes together and seemed to have endless things to talk about and all of a sudden TK viewed Mark in a different light.  

This guy used to be with Carlos, and it made him feel insecure in a way he wasn’t used to.

Mark seemed perfectly normal.  He was drinking and laughing with Carlos and didn’t have some dark and mysterious past to negotiate with every other minute.  TK had a lot of issues he struggled with each and every day and while he didn’t always tell Carlos about his ongoing battles he knew the other man could tell.  TK would get quiet at random times and go off into his own head.  He couldn’t touch alcohol and relax that way.  He hesitated to take even Tylenol when he was in pain.  He struggled sometimes to laugh and be carefree when Carlos had a night off from work.  Sometimes anxiety would wrap him in a tight blanket and every time he heard sirens he felt bad not being out there to help when he had a night off.  He wasn’t at all like Mark.  He was hard to love and Mark seemed like he would be so, so easy.  Mark’s parents were happily married after what was probably thirty years or more.  Mark didn’t have abandonment issues from not one, but two women walking out of his life before he was eighteen.  

What was Carlos doing with him when he could have a guy like Mark?  

“You seem tired, you wanna go home?” Carlos put a gentle hand on his hip and TK was too exhausted and caught up in his thoughts to even try and pretend he wanted to stay.  Carlos and Mark made plans to meet up for lunch tomorrow as well before Carlos would be back to work the rest of the weekend.  TK bit his lip and tried to be fine with Carlos meeting up with an ex.  He should be fine with it.  Carlos was the most trustworthy guy he could think of.  He had no worries of the man cheating, but he was worried that Carlos might realize he could do so much better than him.  

He went to bed as soon as they got home instead of joining Carlos to watch TV the way he normally did.  He was being stupid and insecure, but his mind wouldn’t let it rest.  Carlos might be happier with someone else and TK was being so selfish to tie Carlos down with him.  He was too damaged to deserve the kind of bright and happy love Carlos brought with him to a relationship.  Tears slipped down his face as the comparisons wouldn’t stop flowing through his thoughts.  He couldn’t bring himself to leave, but it was only a matter of time before Carlos found his way back to Mark, or even a new Mark, and left him behind to deal with his problems alone.  He would lose Carlos because of demons he couldn’t be rid of, and he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to get the opportunity to be happy.  

He held his breath as Carlos came into the bedroom and buried half of his face into his pillow to hide his ridiculous tears and tried his best not to sniffle.  Carlos shouldn’t have to deal with his anxiety monster tonight.  He had had a great time with his friend and probably had a nice buzz from the four beers he’d had tonight.  TK had no right to be a buzz kill tonight.  He was a big boy and could deal with his thoughts alone.  

“Carino, I know you aren’t asleep,” Carlos told him as he flicked on a lamp.  A warm hand rubbed his shoulder gently.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” TK said, but he knew as soon as the word left his mouth that it wasn’t convincing.  His voice was wobbly with tears and the way he stayed facing the wall was a certain tell that he wasn’t okay.  

“You’ve been quiet all night.  I know something’s up.” Carlos’s voice was gentle and patient, but he wasn’t giving TK an out.  He still wasn’t fully used to someone pursuing him when he was upset, determined to help.  He could tell Carlos, but he didn’t want to ruin his good night because of his stupid anxiety.  “Come let me hold you at least.  I can’t leave you crying and not hold you through it.”

TK couldn’t hold out on that offer and he slowly shifted so that he was cuddled into Carlos’s side snugly.  The other man had an arm around him, rubbing his back gently as he hiccuped his way down from tears that wouldn’t stop falling from something so stupid.  “I’m fine, honestly.  I’m just being stupid.”

“Nothing that makes you cry is stupid,” Carlos murmurs to him with a kiss to his head.  “If you tell me I can help.  At least I can listen if nothing else.  Don’t bottle things up, it isn’t good for you.”

“It’s seriously the stupidest thing,” TK tried to stop crying so he could start to convince Carlos he was fine.  He wasn’t, but he would be when his anxiety calmed down and he got his rational mind back.  “Mark is...your ex isn’t he?”

“With those deduction skills you would have made a good cop,” Carlos sounded surprised he had figured it out.  “Yeah, we dated for a little bit before he moved away and we decided long distance wasn’t our thing.”

“He seems nice,” TK said slowly.  Telling Carlos he seemed normal was a little weird.  “He seems like he has a nice family and stuff.  Very All American Boy and all that.”

“I guess he is kinda vanilla,” Carlos said with a laugh and TK sighed.  

“So, is that your usual type?” TK pressed on, the anxiety fueling his questions by now.

“I don’t know if I really have a type,” Carlos said slowly and pushed him far enough away so he their eyes could meet.  “You didn’t like Mark?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” TK mumbled even though the truth was yes he didn’t like Mark for being neurotypical and wholesome and so damn simple.  “So, you guys had a nice and simple relationship?”

“Are you feeling insecure?  Is that what this is about?” Carlos was always quick to get to the crux of a situation.  He was going to make a hell of a detective one day.  

“I-” TK knew insecure was the word for what he was feeling, but he couldn’t explain that he wasn’t acting like some teenager.  “I don’t get why you’re with me.”  Oh shit, that was much more honest than he meant to be.  “Mark just seems happy and simple and you wouldn’t have to worry so much with him.  I know you worry about me.  I know I’m a lot to handle, too much some would say.”

“That sounds like an Alex thing to say,” Carlos said and TK would never get over the protective growl he got to his tone whenever his ex came up.  “Tyler, you are never too much to handle.  You are always enough for me, no matter what.”

“ “Los I can’t ever drink with you, or half the time I don’t even want to have sex because I”m caught up in stupid shit going on in my own head.  I have really dark days when I don’t want to do anything but stay in bed.  You can’t say I’m a bundle of fun.” TK protested all the thoughts that had haunted him laying in bed in the dark.  

“TK, you have depression,” Carlos said seriously and he took TK’s hands in his own.  “That isn’t going to scare me off.  That isn’t something you can ever control, only learn to live with.  You push through and help people even when your mind is making you feel like you’re in some dark hole.  You go out there and give your all each and every day.  I do worry about you, but I’m also endlessly proud of you.  I never felt with Mark half of what I feel with you.”

TK blushed at the compliments and loved how Carlos effortlessly put the voice in his head to rest.  “I’m sorry.  I just…  I don’t feel like I’m enough for anyone sometimes.”

“I love you,” Carlos replied, with conviction and feeling in his voice.  “You never have to doubt that.  I’ve never been with anybody that could compare to you and compare to what we have.”

“I love you too,” TK melted into Carlos’s arms again and felt the strain of his shift and his whirling thoughts bear down on him.  “Thank you for always being here.  Thank you for always being patient with me.  You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You need to sleep,” Carlos said wisely as he started running a hand through his hair.  “I’m not going anywhere.  I’m here, my love.”

In a matter of minutes TK was asleep, secure in his love once again. 

[marmolady]

Livita: Part Two

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. Freed from Vaanu, Taylor has been building a life with her soulmate… but their family remains not quite complete. Read PART ONE and PART THREE.

Word Count: 3545

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @sceptilemasterr​ @saivilo​ @greengroove 

San Trobida, March 2023

 The months initially dragged by; the nervous wait for those vital early milestones agonising. Life had taught Estela that nothing good ever came easily; at any moment this could all turn to tragedy-- she woke up each morning with no expectation that she wouldn’t have lost the baby by the next. Taylor was far more secure in her optimism, though at times it did threaten to crumble. Some five weeks in, the pair were married, officially, in the grounds of Catalyst International’s new San Trobidan resort, surrounded, of course, by their extended family. At the end of the night, Estela had said ‘screw you’ to fate, and confided her condition to her tio, who had wept with joy. His belief in her, the support unyielding as always, did wonders to help her through those most vulnerable days.

After the twelve week scan, there was a joint exhale of relief, and the reality that this was happening at last began to set in. Through those early months, home was San Trobida with Tio Nicolas. In time, Estela and Taylor would return to La Huerta, where they had always planned to raise their child, close to Aleister and Grace’s own little family, and to Diego and Varyyn. Estela would not be fit to travel for a whole lot longer, though, so the time spent with her uncle was precious.  While in San Trobida, Taylor was faced with a rush to establish her youth programmes during the brief window in which she’d be available with her full attention. The country was in the midst of a great rebirth, its people boldly stepping out from the shadows left by the cruel dictatorship that the revolutionaries had brought to its knees. To be able to play her own part in that story was, to Taylor, an immense honour, and a responsibility she took very seriously. Those fleeting months were intense, with meetings on top of meetings and enough networking to test even her people skills. Once the baby arrived, everything else would take a back seat, and her role would be as a part-time counsellor specialising in LGBTQ+ youth, and a mentor to students-- all of which she could carry out from their La Huerta home.

Estela had slowly dialed back her role with Catalyst International-- with both herself and Aleister on parental duties, delegation had become increasingly necessary. She kept up with the few bits and pieces that interested her, primarily assistance and scholarships for San Trobidan students, which allowed her to work nicely in tandem with Taylor, but anything else could be someone else’s problem. Staying with her uncle, a sense of peace had descended upon Estela. Her body gradually changed-- and morning sickness had plagued her-- but she took it in her stride.

The front door creaked as Taylor strode through. “Honey, I’m home!” She found Estela sitting cross-legged on the couch, leafing through a collection of baby sewing patterns. “Hey, are you feeling better?”

“Better. You didn’t have to come home….”

“As if I need an excuse to be with you.” Taylor crossed the room, and sat herself beside her wife. “I finished what I needed to get done. So, I got myself back to where I needed to be.”

Estela huffed happily. “I won’t complain. Maybe we could work on that blanket some more. You know how much of a kick Tio gets out of the sight of me knitting.”

“Yeah,” Taylor giggled. “He laughs, but I’m pretty sure he knows you are more than capable of disemboweling someone with those needles if a threat came up.”

“Of course. A spear could never be so subtle.”

They laughed together, then Estela took Taylor’s hands. “Actually, I wanted to share something with you, in my room. We can knit at the same time.”

Estela’s old room had changed little since she was a teenager; it was a cramped but cosy space, decked out with just a few shelves of childhood possessions and faded photographs upon a narrow dresser. Nowadays, alongside the charred-edged photo of a young Estela on the beach with her mother and uncle, was another of Estela-- now older, far more battle-scarred and world-weary-- on the very same beach, her arms around a smiling Taylor. Sat on that worn single bed, Estela could enjoy the comfort of familiarity as she carried on her journey toward a great unknown… and with her wife beside her, she found the courage to face the shadows that crept in along with those memories.

“Gordita, I made you up some of your horrible patacones,” Nicolas announced, pushing open the bedroom door with a shoulder as he presented a large plate. Since the pregnancy had been announced, Estela had been his gorda, with no care paid to how small her bump might actually be. At six months along, though, the belly was living up to that new nickname. “I despair. You get rid of one dictator, and suddenly we have jumped-up young people thinking they can eat peanut butter and jelly with their patacones. Is this the terrible price of freedom? Have I made a grave error?”

Estela snorted with laughter, taking the plate as her uncle kissed her forehead. “And yet you made these up for me; I must be very loved.”

“Always, mija. But you should notice there are some with mango salsa for your poor wife. I won’t have her suffer for your insanity.”

Taylor smiled, gratefully taking a patacone.Nicolas has been doting on the both of them relentlessly since the news had been broken-- Taylor didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite so happy. When the time finally came for them to leave for La Huerta, it would be a great wrench. “Cheers! You’re the best.”

“I’ll have that in writing, Taylita.” Nicolas’ eyes twinkled as he looked over his nieces. The time was fast approaching that they would be on their way again, ready to start the greatest of adventures. He would miss them so. La Huerta had never been a draw to him-- he’d not visited once-- but there was no doubt in his mind that even his stubbornness would have to concede once Estela had that baby in her arms. There was not a force on heaven or earth that could keep him away. “Okay, gorda. I will leave you to it. I’m sure you’ll let me know if you have any other culinary abominations you want me to whip up.”

“Thanks, Tio.”

Alone together in their small sanctuary, Estela and Taylor cuddled close. Taylor braved a nibble of one of Estela’s controversial patacones and admitted that Nicolas had a point. Those things just weren’t right.

“I’m with Tio,” she said. “Our little nene has played havoc on your taste buds.”

Estela chuckled, more forced than she’d have liked. There was something else on her mind. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Hey. Are you okay? You had something you wanted to show me?”

For a moment, Estela considered changing her mind. It had been over a decade that she’d avoided this, what was to say that now was suddenly the right time? The bump of a little foot up against her ribs gave her clarity. She wanted to show this to her baby someday; that meant she had to brave it. She pulled up her laptop and placed it on the bedside table, then rummaged in a drawer, taking out a disc.

“It’s… it’s our old home videos.” She took a deep breath. “Tio put it on a DVD ages back to make sure we didn’t lose it, and he had an extra copy made for me. You know, just in case I ever….” Her cheeks became pink. “I… I haven’t watched this for a long time.” How long, she didn’t say, but she didn’t doubt that Taylor would know, understand.

Taylor squeezed her wife, her own pulse quickening. She knew this was huge. “I would love to watch with you. So much. But only if you’re really ready.”

“I think sometimes, the closest thing you’re ever going to get to being ready is wanting to be.” Estela offered a wobbly smile as she picked up on Taylor’s concern. “Mi amor, I’m okay. I’m doing this with you.”

She leaned into Taylor as the DVD began to play. Then came a voice that made her heartbeat quicken.

“Hola Nicolas!” Olivia said, waving with one hand, while she supported the small infant Estela with the other. “Here she is! This is your niece. This is Estela.”

Taylor felt Estela’s hand clench around the bottom of her shirt, clinging on for comfort. She placed her own hand on top and gently squeezed. I’m here.

They watched as Olivia placed the infant in a bassinet, then picked up the camera to give a tour of her home.

“So, this is the first place I lived; my mom’s apartment in Colombia,” Estela explained, her voice shaking at first, then steadying. This… didn’t hurt as much as she’d anticipated. If anything, it was a comfort. The last pieces of film she’d seen of her mother had been that horrifying footage in the Elysian, and the VR warning message from Olivia’s office in the MASADA complex. This was Estela’s mother as she knew her, the person she’d been missing so painfully. There was the inevitable pang of longing as she looked at that face, but the wash of memories made her seem closer than she’d been for so many years. “It was a few months before she had everything sorted so we could move to Tio Nicolas’ place, so Mom made a videotape to send him. A friend at the lab she worked at gave her the camera; it was so Tio could see the new baby, but we used it a long time after that.”

With the apartment tour complete, the camera was placed down on some unseen table or stand, and Olivia came back into the frame, picking up baby Estela and cradling her in her arms.

“If you’re lucky, you might get a smile out of her,” Olivia said, grinning as she gently tickled Estela under her chin. “The twentieth of July was her first real smile. You’re going to laugh at me, but I cried. Maybe you’ll get it when you meet her. She’s just so, so beautiful. I swear I’m addicted to this girl.”

Taylor snuggled under Estela’s arm, and watched, entranced, as the baby on the screen grew and changed under the loving care of her mother, and then uncle as well.

“Wow, Tio Nicolas looks different!” she commented, to Estela’s chuckle. Time, unimaginable stress, and facial hair could do that to a person. It was impossible not to smile as she watched the young Nicolas bouncing his little niece on his foot. That he’d be utterly, totally smitten with Estela’s own child had to be the surest thing in the world. Taylor saw on that screen an image of a dream come true, a future that now lay before her and Estela. God, could I be any more clucky right now?

“That’s going to be us, Taylor. Our own little family.”

Instinctively, Taylor put her hand to Estela’s bump, stroking it. Her family with her soulmate; it wasn’t what she’d been made for, but she was certain it was what she was meant for.

“I’m going to be someone’s mom. When I think about it, it’s just… incredible.” She cuddled in close, and gently kissed Estela’s cheek and forehead. “It means so much that you shared this with me.” She gestured to the screen. That had taken a whole lot of bravery. “Watching this… I see so much of you when I see your mom.”

“She would have been an amazing abuelita,” Estela said softly. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Her mother’s sacrifice had brought her to Taylor. This new family would carry a great deal of Olivia Montoya’s influence, though she’d never know. “Thank you. I know it’s silly for me to say this, but I really appreciate you saying that. I’m gonna do her proud.”

The child on the screen was older now, toddling around the so-familiar house on stumpy legs. She held in her arms a soft doll.

“Oh-- that’s Babydoll. I was… creative at naming things when I was two. Mami gave him to me on my birthday, and I just took him everywhere. It always made sense to me; there was no way in hell Mami would ever leave me it home, so how could I ever leave my baby?”

“So, when you say you always wanted to be a mom?”

“Yeah, it goes back a long way.” Estela stroked her belly, meeting Taylor’s hand there. “I’m glad I had no idea just how rough the path would be… how that dream just burned and died. But we’re going to get there.”

She could see it. A lot of what had made her childhood had been lost in a wash of pain and trauma, but it couldn’t be taken away completely. Those memories, there before her, they were still a part of her. Those warm family moments were hers to pass on to her own child.

“Actually, I think Mom kept Babydoll. Maybe as a souvenir of my brief period of childhood innocence. I should dig him out--” She faltered, and her cheeks flushed. This shouldn’t still be a problem….

Catching on in an instant, Taylor squeezed Estela’s knee, and met her eye with a warm and loving gaze. “We have time. And if we need to enlist Tio Nicolas to do most of the necessary rummaging, that’s fine too. It would be really nice for nene to have something of yours.” Memories were powerful. They made up so much of who each person was. Lacking her own childhood, Taylor had found herself gain a great deal from Estela’s, something that had always been generously shared with no hesitation, in spite of the pain that came with those memories. That family history was important, and it bonded them together.

With a small, appreciative smile, Estela nodded. “Yes… we have time.”

  La Huerta, May 2023

 “Right; tell me. Which end am I kissing?” Taylor scooched forward in the sand, reveling in the gentle heat of the lowering sun upon her back and shoulders.

“That’ll be nene’s back.” Estela gestured to her lower belly, then the top. “Head. Butt. Right where they should be.”

Taylor smiled warmly, and went back to lay another kiss against her wife’s swollen abdomen. “Bub’s got it all worked out. Ready to high-tail it outta there and start lapping up the cuddles.”

“It’s come around fast,” Estela stated. It had. Almost too fast. Pregnancy had been an adjustment for sure, but she’d become comfortable with sharing her body with the small passenger. She could take care of herself, and that meant that baby’s needs were met too. What came next was a great unknown. Estela knew better than most how good intentions of keeping a beloved child out of harm’s way could go up in flames. What her life had been… grateful though she was for the person it had made her, she didn’t want a life like that for her baby. She could tell herself that it would be different, that the fight was over, but she’d seen too much to not be protective. The person she might have gone to for reassurance, the person who’d truly have understood, was long lost to her. Rarely had Estela missed her own mother more than in these days leading up to the big event. It made her all the more grateful for Taylor; already completely besotted with the tiny person they were waiting to meet. In Taylor, her loving hero, she had all the faith in the world.

“Yeah...” Taylor put on a forlorn gaze as she looked up into Estela’s shining eyes. “Just a few more days, and I won’t be able to outrun you anymore. I’m pretty devastated.”

“You’re a beautiful dork, Taylor. But don’t worry. You’ll be able to keep ahead of nene for a few years, if you’re lucky.”

Taylor snuggled into Estela’s lap, and together, they watched the sun journey towards the horizon. The rising tide licked at their bodies. All was peaceful, tranquil; the only sounds were the rolling of the waves, the calls of tropical birds, and the distant laughter of children in Elyys’tel, voices carried upon the wind. Taylor quietly studied Estela from head to toes, taking in everything. The pregnancy had added further lines to Estela’s scar-painted body; marks of something happy at last. Her carriage gave off a quiet confidence; the baby was safe in its strong, resilient vessel. And in Estela’s face, once the vision of heavy burdens, so great that it might might have been those of the whole world… quiet, happy serenity. Taylor felt a wave of affection wash over her. It happened to her a lot. Goodness knew how she’d ever get anything done when she had Estela and the baby to love on all day.

“Estela?”

“Mi amor?”

“You know, I think a part of me is going to miss this. Being able to put my arms around you and hold the two people I love most in the world at the same time.”

Estela’s lips quirked into a smile. “You’ll still be able to do that. Soon enough, baby will be hugging you back.”

“It’s… got to be normal to be a little scared, right? I’ve got nothing, nothing at all to look back and remember as a reference for how the hell to raise a kid. What if I--”

“Taylor.” Estela took Taylor’s face in her hands; gentle but firm. God, Taylor… no one could ask for more than to be loved by you. “I’m scared too. But I’d be a hundred times more scared if I wasn’t doing this with you. It’s a whole actual person depending on us. A whole person we could screw up in a million different ways. But we won’t. Taylor, look at me. You won’t. Just… be scared with me. And all of us… we’ll be okay.”

Taylor pulled herself up and put both arms around Estela. Holding the two people she loved most at the same time. To be scared with Estela was almost to not be afraid at all. “You’re right. Wise Mama Estela.”

“Because of you. Don’t forget that.” And Estela kissed the tip of her beloved’s nose, growing cold with the retreat of the sun. She gave a little wink. “Mama Taylor.”

Her eyes glazing dreamily as she stared out to the sunset over the sparkling sea, Taylor felt a little kick against the arm that she had around Estela’s middle. She didn’t even need to look to know that there would be the most beautiful of smiles across her wife’s face. Pure elation. Mama Taylor? She could get used to that.

[mikauzoran]

Marichat: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Three

Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...goodbye.

“You’re really late tonight,” Marinette noted, switching off her sewing machine and getting up to meet him. “After eleven thirty, I sort of gave up on you coming. Is everything okay?”

Chat Noir hopped down from her loft, landing softly in a crouch on the chaise longue. “Yeah. Sorry. I got held up.”

Marinette dropped the skirt she had been working on when she caught sight of his chalky complexion and puffy red eyes that not even the transformation could hide. “Minou, you look awful! What happened? Are you all right? You’re not sick, are you?”

In an instant, she was at his side, hands all over his face, studying his eyes, feeling for fever.

He pulled away, retreating to her desk chair with a weary, “I’m fine” muttered back over his shoulder. “You’re not looking so hot yourself, Princess. Have you been crying?”

She looked away and down at the floor. “I had a fight with a friend. I hurt him, and there’s nothing I can do to make it better…no matter how much I wish there was.” She sighed, sinking down onto the chaise. “…How about you? Why are you so late?”

“I got held up,” he repeated numbly.

He’d been out with Nino and Alya until almost eleven at a Greek restaurant not far from school.

His bodyguard Victor had supervised and kept Nathalie abreast of the situation and the reason for the unscheduled outing. Nathalie had thought it best to keep it all a secret from Gabriel and had covered for Adrien. Then, Victor and Nathalie coordinated in order to sneak Adrien back into the Mansion without Gabriel’s notice.

After that, the delay had mostly been the fact that Adrien wasn’t sure if he wanted to face Marinette again so soon after the heartbreak, but…Chat Noir had promised to come again, and, to Marinette, Adrien and Chat Noir were two separate people; therefore, Chat Noir had no choice. He’d waited until the last minute so that he could get away with popping in and popping out with the excuse of her parents’ midnight curfew for the shortness of the visit.

“A friend needed me,” he added, suddenly seeing a way to get more information about this boyfriend situation. “Adrien Agreste?”

He saw Marinette shrink out of the corner of his eye.

“Is he okay?” she asked tentatively, fearing the answer.

Chat shook his head. “You kind of demolished him.”

She dropped her head into her hands.

“I found him having a meltdown on a park bench, and I was kind of concerned he was going to get akumatized, so I stopped to talk to him.”

Marinette folded in on herself even further.

He watched her trembling, and it felt oddly better to know that she was suffering too. He wasn’t alone in his misery. Maybe she didn’t love him, but she cared about him. This was tearing her apart too.

“When did you get a boyfriend?” he wondered masochistically.

Marinette suddenly went very still.

Chat frowned. “…Or…did you just make up the boyfriend so you had an excuse to turn him down without having to say that you didn’t like him? Were you just trying to spare his feelings? It’s not like you to lie, Marinette…and what you did wasn’t kind.”

She looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks once more. “I…didn’t mean to lie. It wasn’t exactly a lie. More like…stretching the truth.”

Slowly, he turned in her desk chair to face her, expression blank. “So…what is the truth? You found out he’s a real person with issues and a nerdy streak, and, suddenly, he’s not so appealing anymore? He said you said you’d liked him before. What happened?”

She shook her head vehemently. “You did.” It came out almost as a sob.

He blinked, composure crumbling. “W-What?”

She rose, hastening to his side and dropping at his feet.

“You,” she choked, gazing up at him with equal measures hope and despair. “You. For a long time, my heart was divided between the two of you, but about a month ago I decided that you were the one I wanted to be with, so…so I tried to let go of my feelings for Adrien. I haven’t been entirely successful. It was really tempting today to let him kiss me, but…I decided that you were the one I wanted, so…I told him I had a boyfriend who I cared about very, very much and wanted to be faithful to…hoping that it would be true soon.”

Chat could only stare at her.

His head was spinning.

Was this really happening?

“M-Me?” His lips tripped over the word. “You…want me?”

Marinette forced herself to meet his gaze. She was surprised at the confusion she found there, as if he couldn’t quite figure out the meaning of the words.

She nodded. “I do.”

Her cheeks were so hot, it felt like they would melt right off.

“I…Over the years, getting to know you better, I’ve seen what an amazing guy you are, Chat Noir, and I’ve developed feelings for you,” she confessed, and, even though she didn’t expect him to reciprocate, it was such a relief to finally get the words out.

He continued to gape down at her. “You…You’re picking me? Out of all the people you could date? Over all of them? Over Adrien Agreste? Even though you have feelings for him too?”

She nodded resolutely. “Yes. You’re the one my heart wants.” Her expression turned shamefaced, and a sheepish smile spread across her lips. “Sorry, Minou. I didn’t mean to spring this on you, and I know you’re not dating again until you feel like you’re truly over Ladybug. I’m not narcissistic enough to think you’d return my feelings, anyway,” she laughed self-deprecatingly, “so if we could just forget that this happened and keep being friends, I would be really grateful. Your friendship is so important to me, Chat, and I don’t want my feelings for you to mess things up between us.”

“What?”

His brain was having a hard time keeping up as she flipped his world on its head over and over again. After the hell he’d been through the last few hours, he’d never thought he’d taste happiness or know love ever again.

Marinette winced, taking his baffled exclamation the wrong way. “Please, Chat. Pretend I never said anything. We can just go back to how things were, can’t we?”

“No!” he shouted, shooting to his feet.

The desk chair was rocketed backward by his sudden motion, sailing out of the way and allowing him to drop to his knees on the floor beside her.

“Marinette, no!” He scrambled to clasp her hands in his own as they trembled. “Sorry. I’m doing this all wrong. I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“O-Oh?” She frowned, trying to follow his frantic bursts of words.

He nodded and then shook his head, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just I’ve been a wreck since I found out about your supposed boyfriend because I am crazy about you, Marinette.”

Her jaw dropped.

He laughed in a slightly hysteric mix of emotions. “I’ve fallen for you too, so hearing that I was too late and you already had a boyfriend shattered me.”

“Oh, Minou,” she breathed, squeezing his hands. “No. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. I mean…provided you ask me out now,” he added with a snort.

She scooted closer so that their knees were touching. “Really? Is that—You’d want that too?”

He took a deep breath and looked her confidently in the eye. “Yeah. I’d want that. Honestly, I think I’ve had feelings for you for a long time now, so…” He licked his lips nervously. “…if you like me too, I’d like to give a relationship a try.”

An ecstatic smile broke out on Marinette’s lips, making her whole face glow. She giggled, unable to believe that this was happening…but then a twinge of doubt crept in, dimming her expression. “I should probably just ask you out before you change your mind, but…I know you’ve been purposely not dating the past few years.”

She grimaced and asked even though she didn’t want to, “…Do you think you’re ready now? I definitely want to date you, but I don’t want to rush you if you’re not ready.”

A soft smile slowly slid across his lips. “Thank you, Marinette.” His voice radiated warmth and love. “You’re always so thoughtful.”

He had told her about the breakup with Kagami as Chat Noir. Not naming any names, he’d confided in Marinette that he’d been trying to let go of his feelings for Ladybug and move on to be happy with a girl he’d harbored burgeoning feelings for. He’d told Marinette how he hadn’t been ready to date someone else, how he was still hung up on Ladybug, and how his feelings for her had soured and destroyed his romantic relationship with Kagami. Chat Noir had actually ended up seeking comfort from Marinette on the night Kagami had broken up with Adrien, and it was actually Marinette who had suggested that maybe it would be better for Chat not to date seriously until he’d gotten over Ladybug.

Chat gave Marinette’s hands a gentle, bolstering squeeze. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be totally over Ladybug,” he admitted. “There’s always going to be a little piece of my heart that’s hers, but I’m in a better place now than I was three years ago when I tried to date my one friend. Things with you are different, Princess. I think I’m ready to give this a shot.”

Marinette nodded, giddiness surging back. “Okay. Then…Chat Noir, would you go out with me?”

He could barely contain himself as a thrill of elation shot through him. “Yes,” he responded, releasing one of her hands so that he could reach up and cup her face. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Marinette surged forward to press her lips to his…only to be interrupted by his baton alarm going off, causing them both to jump.

“Wh-What’s that?” She blinked in confusion, still somewhat startled, as Chat groaned, grabbing his baton and navigating through the menus to turn the alarm off.

“It’s midnight,” he grumbled.

She continued to blink, uncomprehending.

He averted his eyes, explaining, “I set an alarm for midnight before I came over here so that I could use your parents’ rule about no cats in the bedroom after midnight as an excuse to cut our visit short.”

Regaining her wits, Marinette arched an eyebrow at her boyfriend. “Why would you want to cut our visit short?”

“Because you’d just broken my heart vicariously through Adrien Agreste with your sudden boyfriend-who-I-didn’t-know-was-me announcement,” he pouted. “I was still licking my wounds, but I’d promised to come see you, so I waited until the last possible minute to make an appearance and set a timer so that I could leave as soon as possible.”

“Oh, Minou,” Marinette chuckled, reaching out to tenderly stroke his hair. “I’m so sorry. I feel horrible about hurting you and Adrien. Can I ever make it up to you?”

Chat sighed, shrugging in an “it can’t be helped” manner. “Well, the romantic moment is totally ruined, but you could still kiss me goodbye,” he suggested, offering her his cheek and tapping it pointed.

“I guess I could do that,” she hummed, leaning in and pressing her lips to the spot.

Chat Noir and Marinette had been exchanging cheek kisses like that for months, but this kiss in particular felt so much more solid and certain than the others. There was no second-guessing the feelings behind it.

She pulled back, and a troubled expression quickly took over her face.

“What is it?” Chat prompted, tucking a stray bang back behind her ear.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Just…thinking about Adrien. I don’t know when he started having feelings for me, but…I must have been leading him on this whole time. He probably hates me now, and I don’t know how to fix things. I think I’ve lost his friendship, Chat,” she explained, voice shrinking.

Wiping away the pained tears once more streaming down Marinette’s cheeks with his thumbs, Chat cradled her face in his palms and shushed her gently. “Hey, Princess. It’s okay. Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay. I promise he doesn’t hate you.”

Hope shined through the tears blurring her vision. “R-Really?” she sniffled.

“Really,” he insisted. “I talked to him. He’s still very much enamored of you and eager to keep your friendship intact.” He knew he’d later regret throwing himself under the bus like that, but his girlfriend was crying, so he would worry about saving face as Adrien later.

She frowned, certain that she couldn’t be that lucky. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he assured. “Adrien is hurt, yeah, but he’s mostly beating himself up for whatever he did to make you liking him be a past tense thing, and he’s mortified that he read the situation wrong and tried to kiss you earlier. Hating you is far, far down on the list of his priorities.”

“Poor Adrien,” Marinette sighed, wilting, nauseated at the pain she had unwittingly caused. “I feel horrible.”

“Don’t, Marinette,” Chat coaxed, taking one of her hands in his own once more. “Just be nice to him going forward. Be his friend. Bring him pastries tomorrow.”

“You think he’d still want that?” She tentatively began to allow herself to believe things could be fixed.

He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes playfully. “Come on, Princess. Everyone wants fresh Tom and Sabine’s brought to them. Keep up.”

Despite herself, she laughed, starting to feel better. “Okay, okay. I’ll bring him pastries. Be nice to him. Be his friend.”

He squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be fine, Marinette. You’ll see.” He leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. “…Gotta go,” he apologized, getting to his feet and then helping her to hers.

“Come back tomorrow?” she entreated.

“Definitely,” he promised, giving her other cheek a quick peck. “Bye.”

“Bye,” she echoed, pressing another solid, anchoring kiss to his cheek.

Reluctantly, the new couple parted.

They lay awake in bed for hours afterwards, reliving all the ways their faces had heated, their hearts swelled, their stomachs fluttered.

[tehri]

Here’s a birthday gift for you, @panpervinca! Story from this post, I had a lot of fun writing this!

Also it got much longer than I thought it would be, but that’s me being wordy as hell...

Working for an airline would never get Salvia anywhere in her life – at least, that’s what her family always told her. In their eyes, she could have (should have, even) done a million other things. She could have been a lawyer, a doctor. An astronaut, even, if she had just put her mind to it. She could have gone into politics, though her grandfather had looked her right in the eye and said very seriously that if she became a politician, he would find the clue to immortality so that he could tell her off for it.

But no.

No, Salvia hadn’t precisely had the luxury of choosing. Finding a job after she was done with her studies was rather akin to hoping to scuba-dive to the bottom of the Mariana trench. When she’d gotten the offer of a job working at the ticket counter for an airline, she’d quite frankly jumped onto the possibility, leapt onto that train before it could leave and never looked back.

It wasn’t easy. It absolutely wasn’t. But it was worth it. It was a job, it paid the bills, and it wasn’t too far from home. The hours could be hell, she hated the uniform and hated how her boss had taken one look at her the one day she didn’t wear makeup and said she couldn’t show herself to customers like that. But it was worth it, to keep the apartment. To avoid having to move in with her parents again.

Then, of course, there were the days, the little moments, that made everything even more than worth it.

 It hadn’t been an overly busy day. Flights came and left, of course, but there were few people at the counter, and Salvia could breathe easily and could focus on other aspects of her work for a while. So when an old man, perhaps in his late seventies or early eighties, approached the counter and said he had a question that needed answering, she didn’t think twice about it.

He was rather tall, she noted – taller than her, at the very least, though she came from a family filled with people under five feet and six inches. But this old man, broad-shouldered and without a back bent by his age, had to be pushing six feet. His hair was white as snow, though she could spy a few streaks of a faded copper red here and there, and his eyes were a brilliant green that seemed to stand out a little from his olive complexion.

“I’m supposed to meet someone who came with the last flight from Spain,” he explained. “From Barcelona – the flight number was BA475? But the plane landed an hour ago, and he didn’t show up. Do you keep records of passengers on various flights? I just need to know if he was on it and I missed him somehow…”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Salvia answered, giving the old man a kind smile, “but I’m not allowed to give out that kind of information, sir.”

If he had looked somewhat worried before, it was nothing to how his expression fell now.

“I understand. Thank you, either way.” He smiled back at her, though it fell quite some miles short of being anywhere near cheerful; if anything, he looked almost like a kicked puppy. “I’ll go and have a look near the baggage-claim area, maybe he’s there…”

Maybe it was his expression. Maybe it was simply that he was an old man who shouldn’t have to be waiting for someone like this. Whatever it was, Salvia couldn’t just let him walk away like this without at least trying to find some other way to help.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, could you tell me what happened?” Curious though she was, she kept it from her tone. Knowing the background, she thought, would only help her make a better decision. “Were you supposed to pick them up, maybe?”

Though she had perhaps expected him to decline to answer and walk away, she was pleasantly surprised; he did indeed stop, and some measure of joy crept back into his expression when he looked back at her and smiled again.

Happiness, Salvia decided, absolutely suited him better.

“I fell in love,” the old man sighed, and something in his tone had Salvia’s own heart fluttering wildly in her chest. “That’s the gist of it. But well, see, it’s the circumstances that are a bit odd. But I don’t want to keep you from your work, miss, you’ve better things to do than to listen to an old man babble about such things.”

“It’s a really quiet day,” Salvia shot back. “And it’s not like I’m here all alone. Please, I’d like to help somehow, and maybe if I know the circumstances I can think of something. Please?”

Throwing a somehow doubtful glance at her co-worker, busy helping another customer, the old man took the few steps back to the counter.

“If you’re certain,” he said slowly. “Just… Do tell me if you’ve had enough, I know I can start to drag on at times.”

It took several promises to convince the old man that it was quite alright and that she would absolutely tell him if it grew too longwinded. But soon enough, he was telling her everything that had happened, and it sounded to Salvia’s eyes almost like a modern fairy-tale.

“See, I’ve known this man for some time already,” he explained. “My eldest daughter – I have twelve children, she’s number nine – she’s just married this man’s eldest son, and they married in Canada, of all places. Canada! I don’t understand why they chose that, really, though I’d wager it’s my daughter insisting on it. Anyway, I’ve been to visit them, and so had he, and we happened to be on the same flight back and had managed to get connecting flights through Spain. Odd choice, I know, but last minute booking and all that, I’m sure you know how it gets.”

Salvia did indeed know. It was simply insane how some bookings were handled; to get a flight from Canada to Spain connecting to a flight to Birmingham in England seemed more than a bit mad. But whatever got one home would work, right?

“You know, it’s strange. We’ve known each other for years and years already – friends in the same circles, and such, but we could never stand each other before. Something always felt off. But now, on this flight, something happened.” The old man’s tone changed again, something wistful coming into it that reminded Salvia of how her grandfather would sometimes speak of her grandmother. There was such warmth in his voice, something so gentle and wonderful, that she felt almost as though she were just a little girl again asking her grandfather about how he met his wife. “We sat next to each other. And one way or another, we started to talk. I mean, it’s a long flight, almost eleven hours. What else were we going to do, pretend the other didn’t exist for that whole time? We just started talking, about our wives, our children, our homes, our friends, anything. And I’ve never seen him like that before, and something… something just melted, I suppose.”

And his dimpled smile widened and warmed, so much so that Salvia couldn’t help but think that he was quite handsome; had he been younger, she would perhaps have tried for him herself, just for a smile like that.

“I fell in love,” he repeated. “Just during those hours, I fell in love for the second time in my life. Never knew I could love anyone but my wife, but here I am now. And as luck would have it, he feels the same way.”

It took an incredible effort to keep herself from letting out an audible squeal of delight at such words, but Salvia managed and said:

“Oh, that’s incredible! It’s so sweet!”

“Sweet as honey,” the old man agreed with a laugh. “Ah, he’d hate hearing me say so in public, but it’s true!”

“But what happened, then? How come he’s not here?”

“Well, see, we had different connecting flights, so I got here earlier. But we agreed that we would meet here, and I’d drive him home so we could spend a bit more time together.” In a flash, his smile was gone again, and he sighed deeply. “I wonder why I didn’t see him. I might’ve missed him, I suppose, but he must’ve been on that flight, unless he missed it.”

Maybe it was simply that there hadn’t been much to do that day. Maybe it was her love for a good story, especially sweet ones. Or perhaps it was Salvia’s memory of her own previous fling with a girl from school. Whatever it was that compelled her, she found it quite difficult to keep her hands away from the computer’s keyboard and to remind herself of the company’s policies.

“It really is very sweet,” she said, her heart weeping in her chest, “but I’m afraid I really can’t give out information about passengers. But you can try to have him called out, I think, and maybe that would work? Or you could call him?”

Her poor heart broke just a little further when the old man shook his head and explained that he had already attempted to call, but had received no answer. This sweet old man didn’t deserve such treatment – that is, if he had in fact been ghosted. Salvia had been through that a few times, and had no wish to see a sweet old man going through the same thing.

“Wait a moment,” she cried when the old man said a soft-voiced goodbye and turned to leave. “Wait just a moment! Look, I can’t give out any information, and I’m very sorry about that, but tell you what – how about you leave your number here with me, just in case? Maybe he is here, or maybe he was moved to another flight and is late. Either way, if he comes looking, I could call your number and let you know. Would that be alright?”

He hesitated, gave her the same thoughtful once-over that her own dad had given her on occasion – as though attempting to figure out if she was asking because she genuinely wanted to help. And finally, just as Salvia was sure that he would kindly refuse and walk away, taking this sweet story with him, he gave her a small smile and stepped back towards the counter.

“That would perhaps be a good idea,” he agreed. “So long as it won’t interfere with your work – I know it can get busy at an airport, I’d rather not make things worse for you.”

“It’s customer service.” Salvia grinned back at him and quickly grabbed a piece of paper and a pen for him. “I’m meant to help customers, and this kind of falls under that, right?”

Just a short while later, the man had left, and Salvia was curiously eyeing the name and phone-number on the paper. It was an odd name, she thought; not one she’d ever heard before. So many people had common surnames like Johnson, or Smith. Who ever heard of a surname like Took? And the first name sounded like something out of a story. The old man had laughed at her initial surprise and told her that most in his family had somewhat odd-sounding names, and that Gerontius was not the worst of the lot.

Well. At least he had been very nice. Which she made sure to point out to Mike, her co-worker, when he tried to tell her that it was a lost cause.

 Around lunchtime, Salvia retreated to the back room in order to eat what she had brought from home. It wasn’t much – a sandwich and an apple, really, but it was better than nothing. She wouldn’t have time with more than that, her break was too short. But at home, she had a container of leftover takeaway food waiting in the fridge that would make a wonderful dinner; it would make up for what she was missing earlier in the day.

She hadn’t been sitting there for long, however, when she heard Mike greeting a customer. At first, it seemed to be the usual stuff; someone who needed a bit of help, that was all. But then came the words that caught her attention and had her putting down her sandwich and rushing to the door.

“I was supposed to meet someone here,” said a man’s voice, a steady and relaxed tone that somehow reminded her of an older teacher she’d had in school. “He was meant to arrive from Spain, but I think he should have gotten here before me.”

Mike, bless him, caught on just as quickly as Salvia did and turned his head to call for her, smiling when he saw her peeking out from the back room.

“I think my colleague here might be fit to help you, sir,” he said, waving for Salvia to come out. “Though it’s her lunch-break, and-“

“Never mind the lunch,” cried Salvia as she came up to the counter. She gave the customer a bright smile. “Sir, you said you were waiting for someone meant to arrive with a flight from Spain? Did you by any chance just come from there too?”

He was quite short, she thought, much shorter than the previous man. If she were to take off her heels and step around the counter, she was willing to wager that she’d find him just around her height, if not a tad shorter. His dark skin was wrinkled, his hair was iron grey, but his grey eyes were bright and sharp – less shuttered than his expression, which reminded her equally of her old teacher. And he looked back at her, brow furrowing ever so slightly, and nodded.

“I did, yes. How did you know?”

“Call it a hunch.” She grinned and shuffled through the papers at her computer. “Hang on, give me half a moment.”

Still fixed with a somehow equally confused and annoyed sharp stare, Salvia dug out the paper with Gerontius’ number and pulled her work-phone towards her. This, she decided as she picked up the receiver and swiftly dialled the number, was by far the highlight of her day – no, of her entire time working there. This made everything worth it.

One signal.

Two, three, four.

Just as her heart began to sink just a little in her chest, the dial-tone broke and gave way to a slight crackle and a familiar voice:

“Gerontius Took speaking.”

“Hi there, Mr Took,” Salvia said blithely. “There’s someone waiting here for you by the counter you were at earlier!”

If not for the background noise over the line, she would have thought that he’d hung up by how silent he was for a moment. She kept her eyes on the old man on the other side of the counter, whose expression now was one of astonishment and a budding relief and joy.

“He’s there?!” cried Mr Took suddenly, and by the sound of it, he must have started to run. “He’s really there?!”

“He is, I promise! Here, I can hand the phone to him for a moment, I think he needs to hear your voice.”

She held out the receiver to the old man. Later on, when she was recounting the story to her family and to her friends, she would swear on whatever she could think of that he had tears in his eyes as he smiled at her, an action that transformed his face just as the sun transforms a landscape after a rainstorm.

“I’m here,” the old man said finally. “I’m here. My flight was full, I got transferred to another, and I couldn’t reach you when I tried. I know, I should have checked sooner… But you, you dolt, where did you go? Why didn’t you wait here? No, no, I don’t mean to snap at you! Please, just hurry, love, alright? I miss you. I miss you very much.”

Exchanging a look with her co-worker, Salvia felt almost close to tears herself. The softness in the old man’s voice when he professed to miss Mr Took was almost too much for her heart to handle.

A few more words exchanged, and finally the old man returned the receiver with a relieved smile.

“He just said what you did for him,” he said softly. “I can’t thank you enough. Stars know what I would’ve done if I’d arrived here and found that he’d already left.”

Smiling and feeling heat rush to her cheeks (though whether from pride or embarrassment she couldn’t be certain), Salvia replied:

“He just made the whole thing sound so sweet and romantic. I couldn’t just tell him I couldn’t do anything, you know?”

“Oh, that. He does that.” The old man’s smile widened as he spoke. “At least he can’t have made the whole thing sound too ridiculous.”

 They had time, Salvia thought to herself as they continued to talk. She could keep him company; if any other customers came, they could speak to Mike. This was a story that she wanted desperately to see the end of.

His name was Mungo Baggins, she learned as they spoke. Another very odd name – but he laughed at her surprised expression and told her that where he lived, names such as that were quite common. He told her his side of the story in short terms, explained how the eleven hours spent on a flight with Mr Took had changed quite a lot in his life.

“I used to find him so arrogant,” sighed Mr Baggins. “Insufferable lout that he was, he was always acting as though he owned whatever establishment he stepped into. Loud and brash and impulsive. I couldn’t stand him before, even if our fathers were quite close – did he tell you that? Anyway, I had to deal with him sooner or later, when my son fell in love with his daughter. And this flight was… It was ideal, I suppose. I mean, I love my wife, of course I do. I adore her. But he’s… Gerontius is just…”

“He’s just different?” Salvia filled in with a smile. “You know, there’s a word for that. For loving more than one person, I mean. Polyamorous.”

“Oh, I know, I’ve heard. It just isn’t something that I had associated with myself or with him before. It’ll take a bit to get used to it.”

Ten minutes passed, and still they were chatting. And suddenly a call rang out not very far away, and as they looked, Mr Took came rushing towards the counter. Mr Baggins, seeming to momentarily forget all about the conversation with Salvia, left the counter and hurried to meet him, and Salvia couldn’t help but give a small squeak of sheer joy when she watched how Mr Took pulled the significantly shorter man into a tight hug.

“Got your happy ending, huh?” Mike asked with a laugh.

“This,” answered Salvia, “just makes it worth working here. It’s like a film!”

When had she last been thanked so profusely by a customer? Never. She was quite sure of that. But Mr Took and Mr Baggins were beyond grateful, and there seemed to be no end to their words of thanks. And when it was time for them to leave, they left hand-in hand, looking quite happy. It was more than enough for Salvia to see them smiling at each other.

 Even in the car, Gerontius wasn’t willing to let go of Mungo’s hand, no matter how the man tried to tell him to focus on keeping the car on the road.

“It’s an automatic,” the Took said firmly in the end. “I can damn well steer with one hand and hold your hand with the other, there’s no worry about that.”

“The gears aren’t a concern of mine,” Mungo sniped back, without any real heat in his voice. “I only want you to live long enough for this-“ and here he gestured between them “-to actually be explored.”

It certainly didn’t have much effect on Gerontius, other than making him a little misty-eyed. Mungo wanted this, just as much as he did; it still didn’t seem quite real.

“That lass really was incredible, wasn’t she?” he said instead, hoping to push his mind away from any second-guessing. “Very sweet one.”

Mungo laughed softly and gave the older man’s hand a gentle squeeze, unknowingly chasing away any worry and second-guessing.

“She was, yes,” he agreed. “Though I do wish we could have given her something more as thanks.”

“A chocolate bunny was about what we could manage.” Gerontius smiled, his thumb rubbing small circles over the back of Mungo’s hand. “We’ll see if we can’t find a way to send some flowers later, eh? She helped more than she knows.”

[of-muppets-and-men]

Penumbra

Chapter 4: A Glimpse of the Sun

Children were few and far between in the Soul Society, at least in the Seireitei and especially amongst the noble families. The usual culprits being either widowed all too soon or being duty bound to create an heir, loving couple or not. A thing Rukia found to be rather tragic. Souls often lost track of how old they became; the insignificance of it after a few decades. Yet somehow, spending your life with your beloved was as rare as having a Bankai.

The misfortune of it all led her mind astray. She thought of her Sister and the void she’d left behind, the greatest of them in Byakuya’s heart. And of course, she thought of her own predicament; her decisions… and regrets. As charmed as her life was, what if she had stayed? Said something to him? Questions that lingered and tormented her ever since.

Then perhaps she wouldn’t have to formulate this ridiculous plan a visit to her own child.

A tug at her sleeve drew her gaze away from the monotone streets and to her pleasure, it was Ichika. Her second-born bore a concerned expression with eyes that mirrored her own.

“Mama? Are you okay?” the sweet child asked.

Rukia gave off a quick sigh and put on a brave face for her daughter, “I'm okay, pumpkin.”

In a moment’s notice, Ichika was swept up by her mother and held in her arms. The boisterous little girl giggled with glee as she nuzzled in her mother’s embrace. Outside her numerous regrets, Ichika was most definitely not one of them. But naturally, her husband had to spoil the moment. With a scoff and a scowl, Renji made his complaint abundantly clear.

“I don’t get why the hell we have to visit Yoruichi just because she adopted some kid.”

“Because...” His wife explained, trying to ignore his slight, “It would be rude to decline Yoruichi’s invitation and it would give Ichika a friend her age. Plus we haven’t seen her in months, so it wouldn’t kill us to get back in touch. Also, mind your language. I won’t have our daughter picking up your boorishness.”

Renji choked in offense at his wife’s backhanded comment while their daughter snickered at him. His famous scowl returned, prompting Ichika to raspberry at his defeat. Unfortunately for the lieutenant, he was outnumbered this time.

“Knock it off you two, we’re almost there.” Rukia reprimanded.

Her Husband begrudgingly fell in line as he took Ichika from Rukia’s arms and placed her on his shoulders. Renji was and still is far too proud to ever admit, but this was without a doubt his favorite thing to do outside of combat. Given his duties as a lieutenant and Rukia as acting Captain of Squad 13, it was a genuine difficulty for them to act as a family. By the Soul King, he hated when Rukia was right.

The Abarai family at last made it to the front gate of the Shihouin Manor; gaudy as always. Renji audibly groaned as he rolled his eyes at the lavish mansion. Several members of Yoruichi’s guard appeared before them, before bowing respectfully. Rukia, Renji and Ichika nodded in acknowledgement as the guards opened the gate, revealing their Mistress.

Yoruichi stood along the path, as informally as she could get away with. Just as they had prior, the many attendants of House Shihouin flanked the family on both sides, bowing in honour of their guests.

“Thank you for having us.” The Abarai family said in unison as they bowed before their host.

“Oh, come now. You guys should know I’m not big on formality.” Yoruichi chuckled.

With a quick snap of her fingers, the attendants and guards dispersed; allowing the old friends to greet each other without tradition snuffing the fun out of it. Rukia and Yoruichi shared a long overdue hug, the latter of whom towered over Rukia. As their embrace continued, Rukia felt the reiatsu of another person emanating from the rooftop. It was odd, like it was trying to mask itself. But even so; it was remarkably immense.

“You feel it too?” Renji piped up, sensing the same thing, “Who is that?”

A chuckle led both off their astounded faces back to Yoruichi, wearing a mischievous grin.

“You can come out now.”

And just like that, the culprit appeared before them. A little girl no bigger than Ichika sporting a uniquely tailored Shihakusho bowed politely before her elders. Rukia’s breath seemed stolen away; the girl’s violet eyes, practically identical to her own. And more distinctly, beautiful bright orange hair so reminiscent of him… it had to be her.

While Rukia silently marvelled out how breathtakingly beautiful her firstborn had become; her husband was more hard pressed to know how this seemingly random kid had such immense spiritual power. It had to be at least Captain level, given his arms still had goosebumps.

“Rukia. Renji. I’d like you to meet my daughter.”

“Katsumi Shihouin! Nice to meet you!” the little girl announced with pride.

“It’s my pleasure.” Renji remarked, “Yoruichi, where the hell did you find this kid?”

“I’ll tell you once we get inside, it’s starting to get hot.”

Nobody could disagree with that assessment, the blaring light of the afternoon had no mercy to spare. The shinigami made their way inside the expansive manor with Katsumi and Ichika already proving to be fast friends. Their parents could hardly make out a word of what they were on about but decided to let them be. Growing up in a noble household didn’t elicit a lot of time for friends. Not to mention it was frowned for upon for nobles to associate with the 'lower ranks', even if either party were children.

While the girls zipped down every hallway, the adults found themselves content to find a room to chat. And Yoruichi’s living room happened to be perfect. A brief warning for the kids not to break anything; a warning they probably didn't hear and the were off. Resting their zanpakuto upon a recently acquired stand, the shinigami let themselves melt into the couch. It was as encompassing as Renji remembered it to be, but this time, he neither complained nor cared. Yoruichi sprawled out like she normally did, letting out a sharp whistle that bounced off the walls. Not a moment after, another member of her court appeared, carrying her beloved pocky sticks and a fresh pot of tea.

“Seriously? Where do you keep getting these things from?” Renji whined.

Yoruichi smiled coyly as she placed one in her mouth, “Kisuke knows better than to let me run out.”

“Ah… so you two are…”

“Partners. In every way possible.” she purred in response.

Lovely. Imagery neither of them needed. Rukia rolled her eyes, elated her old friend would probably never change.

“Oh yeah, before if I forget. Where did you adopt Katsumi from?” Renji abruptly asked.

The princess of the shihouin clan sighed deeply, fixing her posture into something more dignified. At the same time, Rukia’s grip clenched tight around her tea. Lucky for them both, Renji wasn’t one to pick up on such subtleties.

“The South Rukongai, in Inuzuri. I found her swaddled up and alone while I was on patrol. My conscience wouldn’t let me just leave her there, so I took her in. Plain and simple.”

“Hmph… the Inuzuri District of all places.” the lieutenant recollected, “Kid was lucky you came by…”

A lull of silence fell over the shinigami. Whilst Renji bitterly re-lived his life as a street rat, Yoruichi breathed easier knowing her ploy had worked. Inuzuri held many memories for both Renji and Rukia; some good but most, not so much. Name dropping the seedy little district ensured he wouldn’t pry any deeper than necessary. The acting captain of squad 13 curled up, taking a slow and deliberate sip of her jasmine tea. She had partly fabricated that story, a bit of guilt nibbling away at her core. When the warm liquid settled, Rukia hardly recognized the woman staring back at her.

“Her spiritual pressure… it’s incredible.” Rukia randomly noted.

“You’re telling me.” Yoruichi breathed, “Some of my attendants can barely withstand it.”

It was true. A feat typically reserved for Captains, was similarly accomplished by a girl of seven. But even most of the current captains couldn't make lesser souls pass out entirely. Only Yamamoto himself could ever have claimed to. As troubled as her heart may have been, Rukia couldn't help but feel a sliver of pride. Her little one was bound to be a force of nature.

“MY LADY!” another voice said, piercing through the tranquility of the living room.

Three pairs of eyes panned towards the entrance of the adjacent hallway where a lone messenger now knelt.

“What is it?” interrogated the Shihouin princess.

“A messenger for Lieutenant Abarai.” the man spoke, quick and concise. “Captain Kuchiki has requested he return to the Squad 6 barracks.”

“Did he give a reason why?” Renji similarly questioned, sitting up from his spot on the sofa.

“No, sir. He only said it was urgent.”

The lieutenant rose from the couch, his legs taking a second to remember the weight of his frame. Damn thing was more effective than most Binding Kido. He reluctantly took Zabimaru from the sword stand, letting out a sigh that matched his annoyance.

“Damn… Looks like I’m gonna have to cut our little reunion short. Will you and Ichika be okay?”

“Yes, we’ll be here for a while longer so don’t worry about us.” His wife reassured him.

“Alright, see you soon.”

Renji planted a loving kiss on Rukia’s forehead before subsequently leaving. Rukia faked a smile the whole time until she was sure he’d exited the manor. Yoruichi slumped back down, enjoying herself as she greedily consumed her snacks. A deep sigh escaped the acting captain’s lungs, hard pressed to know more of the daughter she left behind. Her brave face waned as tears of joy formed in the corners of her eyes.

“She’s beautiful…” Rukia suddenly beamed, wiping away at her cheeks. “Tell me. Does she have a zanpakuto?”

“Indeed she does.” Yoruichi divulging, reaching under the couch to reveal a massive odachi.

She handed Rukia her daughter’s zanpakuto, staring in awe of the blade’s size. If the blade reflected the power of the shinigami, then there was no doubt Katsumi was Ichigo’s child. Rukia positioned the greatsword to inspect the guard. A four point star style guard with circular grooves between each point and a vague snowflake design atop it. A true zanpakuto at her age was unprecedented, let alone one of such size. The forlorn mother pressed the handle against her forehead, weeping softly on the milestone she missed. Without a sound, Yoruichi scooted beside her, hugging her for what it was worth.

“Does she know it’s name?” Rukia asked weakly, still clutching the blade.

“No, not yet. Though given her parents, I doubt that it will stay that way for long.” Yoruichi complemented.

A half-hearted laugh came from the both. But eventually, it was drowned out by the thrilled screamed of her daughters. Ichika and Katsumi came barreling through, after tormenting the manor for the past 30 minutes. Rukia’s heart felt more at ease when she them getting along; if only they knew they were sisters. Ichika’s eye flared with worry, however, when she noticed her mother’s anguish.

“Mama!” She bolted over, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m okay.” Rukia responded warmly. “Having fun?”

As Rukia spoke, Yoruichi tucked the zanpakuto back under the sofa, hoping they weren’t any the wiser.

Both girls shook their heads in excitement, “Mhmmm!”

“You two didn’t break anything, right?” Yoruichi chimed in, crossing her arms.

Neither of them said a word but the devious look in their eyes betrayed their words; a messy disaster more than likely in the cards. Neither of the elder shinigami were convinced, but decided to let it be. After all, that’s what servants were for. The unknowing sisters joined them on the sofa, intent on starting a pillow war.

A looming sense of dread filled Rukia’s heart. Innocent as they were now, one day her daughters would learn the truth. It scared her to think of the possibilities. What if that knowledge made them hate one another? Or if both of them came to resent her. Would it have been worth all the secrecy then? Her mind lingered and strayed. Only at another tug of her sleeve, did its tension cease. Rukia half expected it to be Ichika, but gasped when Katsumi stared back at her instead.

“Auntie Rukia… Will you visit us again?” Katsumi wondered.

Taken aback by the question, Rukia took a moment to answer, “Umm Yes sweetie. Why do you ask?”

“I like playing with Ichika… I don’t have many friends so...”

Rukia rested a hand on her firrstborn’s head and gave a reassuring smile.

“We’ll come back as many times as you want.”

“Really?!” the girl’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Of course.”

Without warning, Katsumi lunged into her for a hug. Ichika followed her half sister’s lead as they both screamed with joy. A sly smirk formed on Yoruichi’s face as Rukia was overwhelmed by her children's love. The small woman’s arms enveloped them both; her face home to her first genuine smile in months. The future was bound to be racked with hardship of her own making, but at least for now, she had this...

[zairapvrker]

Teeth: Vampire!Luke // Chapter 5

Author’s Note: this took fucking f o r e v e r to write i’m so sorry. btw, happy new year everyone!!

Summary: Luke knows the rules and his boundaries, he has respected them for centuries. He knows he should stay as far away as possible from every human on his path. But that was before she came along.

Warnings: harassment

masterlist | chapter 4 | chapter 6

Done. That’s what I was. It had been two weeks, two weeks, of insufferable headeaches, hellish and way too vivid nightmares and unreasonable shaking, zoning out, all because of him. I was done having to endure all of this. I didn’t know how or why all of this was happening to me, but even my newfound friends were starting to realise something was off with my behaviour. What bothered me the most was that he walked around seemingly carefree, unbothered and only when our gazes met - which was way more often than I was willing to admit - he put on a sarcastic, knowing smirk. I didn’t even know why I was so frustrated and angry at him, I didn’t even know the guy, but it felt right.

“Do you guys know each other?” asked Ashley, bringing me back to reality. Only then I realised I had been, in fact, caught in the middle of a staring match with Luke - who was sitting on the other side of the cafeteria. I shook my head no as an answer. Michael laughed.

“It looks like you’re either going to rip each other’s throats or, I don’t know, hook up in the genitor’s closet” he stated, taking a bite of his sandwich. I looked at him with wide eyes, choking on my own lunch. “What?!”

The other three smiled, amused. “You should go talk to him” said Calum. “You two look like you have unfinished business” I grew more and more perplexed as something in me told me that my blue-haired friend was right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” I stated then, resolute not to leave my table just to go over there and feel like I was about to faint just because he was so close to me.

“For God’d sake, Bea!” sighed loudly Ashley. “Just go! We want to know what’s up with you and big bore Hemmings” she laughed lightly. Don’t call him like that - was the first reaction my brain had. “Come on! You’re always staring at each other and there’s this weird tension even if you avoid each other a lot. Talk to the guy and find out which one of Mike’s two options it is” they all smiled encouragingly, but at this poit it felt like they only wanted something new to talk about. Shaking it off I gave in, giving a death glare to the beaming trio as it watched me take my tray and stand up. “You’ll pay for this” I tried sounding threatening.

“You’ll thank us later!” shouted Michael as I turned my back to them, making a beeline for the lonely table at which he sat alone.

Again he smirked, amused, as I plopped down on the chair in front of him, snorting. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asked then.

“Nosy, insufferable friends” I answered dryly. He laughed, I sighed. Actually being here felt very strange, unlike all the other times when just knowing he was around gave me enormous waves of anxiety, I felt very calm. Still, I didn’t know how to avoid the awkwardness of the silence that was alienating us from the rest of the cafeteria. “I’d never thought you’d come up to me” he said quietly then.

I looked at him confused. “Well, you usually startle me into very short conversations so I thought it’d be only fair if I did the same for once” I smiled.

“You didn’t startle me”

“You kind of look like nothing could ever scare you, so I gave up” I offered as an explanation. He shrugged, admitting the truth of my statement. None of us spoke after that, I started eating my lunch once again as I felt Luke’s gaze on me, following my every action attently. “Your friends really don’t know how to mind their own business, huh?” he asked and looking up at him I noticed his eyes were focused on something behind me. Turning around slightly I caught my three friends hurriedly going back to eating their own lunches and engaging in a very nonexsistent conversation. I laughed lightly as I saw Michael trying to subtly wink at me before letting his eyes wander back to the improvised conversation Calum and Ashley were having.

“What did he wink at you for?” of course he would’ve noticed. Turning back to face him I felt a rush of heat possessing my face - no doubt I was blushing thinking back to my friend’s words. Against my better judgement, as if my filter had been completely removed, I let myself voice my thoughts. “He thinks we’re either going to kill each other or end up hooking up in the genitor’s closet”

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Luke smirked as soon as the words left my mouth and I felt the urge to run out of the cafeteria and go bury myself six feet under. “Is that so?” he asked quirking a brow, the smirk everpresent on his face. He leaned towards me, resting his elbows on the table and his face in his hand. “So what’s it gonna be, the former or the latter?”

As if a wave of bravery had washed over me, I found myself discarding my lunch tray and mirroring his actions. “The former if you dare ask again” and his smirk only widened some more at my words as I struggled to keep my cool, yet somehow managed. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart” he said lowly, swiftly standing up and walking towards the exit. I sat there, frozen. After a few moments I regained the strength to stand up, leaving my luch behind as I had lost appetite, and walked back to my table where I was faced by three pairs of wondering eyes.

“Did he give you a time to meet at the genitor’s closet?” asked Ashley with a teasing smile.

“Sure looks like it” laughed Michael.

“Oh, shut up” I said sitting down, realizing soon after that they were still waiting on an answer. “No, he didn’t!” I exclaimed shoked that they were seriously thinking he had. They all laughed, leaving the topic to rest when they tried interrogating me about what he’d said and saw my expression.

After the last lesson of the day I walked with my friends towards Calum’s car in the school’s parking lot. Chatting for a while longer I informed them of my decision to spend the rest of the afternoon at the public library to do some work, hence declining the blue-haired boy’s offer to drive me home. I waved at them as they all got into his old Toyota, the scene quite funny to me as Ashley and Michael wrestled for the front seat.

As they drove off I started my walk towards the beautiful gothic building, finding it shorter than expected. Deciding upon entering it to find a quiet space away from the study hall, reserved for students to study but used by them to fuck around and be loud, I marched towards the classics section once again. Most of the tables set in some of the wider corridors created by the bookshelves were already occupied, but I luckily found a chair no one was using in a nook and deciding it would have to make do, I sat down.

Two hours and little to no progress on my Maths worksheet later, I decided to give up. This afternoon my attention span was shorter than ever before and a headache was quick to originate after losing my mind on the first excercise out of eight. After packing my belongings I stood up from my spot and walked through the bookshelves on my way to the exit. The sun was about to set and the air was chillier than when I had entered the building. I almost wanted to call my mom and ask if she could pick me up, knowing that by the time I would’ve reached home it would be dark out. However, my phone was dying and I decided against it, thinking saving battery for emergencies would’ve been smarter. Nothing could possibly happen and the walk wasn’t that long after all.

Except it was and I had forgotten the way after just about ten minutes and two wrong turns. I’m an idiot - I thought, groaning in frustration, noticing the sky was already almost dark. Giving up, I decided to give my mom a call but while looking for her contact, hoping my phone wouldn’t give out after using it unsuccesfully for the Maps app, my phone did exactly what I expected. Fucking amazing. I sighed heavily, turning around and making my way back to the library, knowing it was the smartest decision. Someone was bound to be there and willing to lend me their phone for a call.

“Lost your way?” things just keep getting better and better, huh? I just kept walking, fastening my pace to match the quick rythm of my heart. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” the voice kept calling, but I ignored it, not daring looking behind me. Suddenly someone grabbed me from the elbow and spun me around, my heart getting caught in my throat in fear. “I expect an answer to a question, didn’t your parents teach you that?” terror was coursing through my veins, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. The man was now closer than he needed to be, invading my personal space. I tried shoving my arm out of his grasp but it didn’t work, only making him laugh at my feeble attempt of rebellion. “Let me go” I said, trying not to let the fear get the best of me but my voice sounded weak and fragile to my own ears. The man only laughed harder. “I don’t think I’m gonna”

I tried breaking away from him once again, failing, but at least I managed to stomp on his foot. He let out a huff of frustration, quickly looking up at the sky in what I hoped was at least a bit of pain. Taking advantage of the moment I landed a kick in his groin as hard as I could and it worked as he loosened his grip on my arm just a little. I shoved him again, effectively freeing myself from his grasp and started running as fast as I could in the direction I came from, ignoring his voice screaming at me. With every stride I took I saw a more trafficated street coming into view, my heart feeling the least bit lighter as I approached it. I was still running -panting heavily- right before turning onto the street the library was in, when I collided with something. Or better, someone.

His familiar eyes searched mine as he put his hands on my shoulders to keep me from falling, I tried catching my breath, his hold onto me disappearing once I was stable on my feet. “Is everything okay?” he asked, noticing my state. For a second I tried to think of an answer. Of course I wasn’t in the slightest bit okay and thinking back to what just happened made reality come crashing down on me. I felt my eyes burn with tears as I struggled to breathe. Worry was etched on Luke’s features, I could tell, and my lack of an answer was probably upsetting him even more. “I-I just.. I was trying to go back home b-but, I forgot the way a-and got sort of lost and this m-man..” I couldn’t bring myself to say more as I hid my face behind my shaking hands and cried. I really didn’t want to break down in front of him, but I couldn’t help it. I tried drying my tears after a short while and taking long calming breaths, still I couldn’t manage to calm down. I let my eyes search for Luke’s, which held a look that could kill; he was visibly angry, very much so, and was scanning the little crowd of people coming and going.

“I-I don’t think he’s followed me” I muttered, catching his attention. “I didn’t stop to c-check” He nodded, his stance relaxing just one bit and his eyes softening as he seemed to be taking my appearence in. “I’ll walk you home” he said then. “Where do you live?” I told him the name of the street, before following him in the right direction.

The walk wasn’t too long, as I remembered, and comfortably quiet. I sometimes looked at Luke, taking in his resolute gaze, while trying to come up with excuses for my mom - eventually failing.

As we reached the front porch of my house, he waited for me to go up to the door first. “Thank you for walking me back” I said, hating that my voice still sounded so small. Then he took a step closer to me, giving me a little smile. “If you ever want to walk back home when it’s dark out, please ask me” he said with a kind, soft voice. I was a little taken aback by this side of Luke and his offer, nonetheless thankful for it, and found myself mirroring his little smile. “I will”

Luke waited until her figure disappeared behind the front door, lingering for a bit and listening to her mother’s worried questions. The literal fury that had took over him the second he understood what had happened came back with vengence as he listened to her small voice explain the events. It subsided only when she mentioned his name, but as he made his way back to where they came from and her voice disappeared slowly, the feeling took over once again. And although he had sworn to never do this again, although he knew what he was allowed and what not, he threw all of it along with caution out the window. He couldn’t let this slide, he wouldn’t. Especially when it came to her. It had been less than a century and absolutely nothing had changed - even if he had tried hard to, he realized.

So as he set out for the hunt, he stopped fighting the urge to suppress the memories altogether.

tags: @keithseabrook27

[casualcatte]

RP Journal 8/24 and 8/25/2020

08/24/2020

The Bounty Call Elite Hunt was today and I was /severely/ disappointed in my own performance. Everyone else that came along with us was splendid, but for my own part -- Gods, I think my parents are turning over in their graves in shame. I’ve lived and breathed the Hunt since I could walk, yet I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn today if my life depended on it. It was likely the fault of the aetheric blast I took immediately after I drew first blood on the beast, so I really shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Nan’to Vaadrage told me as much when we returned to Headquarters.

(Courtesy cut for length -- and for you to get your tissues!)

Regardless of my poor performance, we managed to take down the Elite Hunt with only a modicum of trouble. For a short while, it seemed like no one could get a blow to land on the beast until I landed that attack. After that, the others seemed to rally and fight all the harder -- while I mostly stayed behind a rock and tried not to puke my guts out like Zanshin Kutabare.

It was curious to see Loksia Grimheart with a bow, considering that when we’d gone hunting for coral she’d opted for a sword and shield. A woman of many talents, that. The others, Azazel Hasegawa and Ryza Eclipse I’d never before met, but they both did well between their various magicks. Still, I was glad to finally see the beast go down.

I stayed long enough to have a celebratory drink with everyone, then I stumbled off home. I wasn’t badly injured, but aetheric bullshit always messes with me. Gods, to say nothing of the two aetheryte trips. I know I’m trying to learn Astromancy and all, but some days I really, really hate aetherical magic.

I’m not sure how, but I managed to make it home, get cleaned up and changed out of my hunting leathers before falling face-first in my couch. Lorrendor, I knew, had gone back to Ul’dah, but I had no idea where that dragoon, Edgard Beaumont had gone. All I knew was that I was exhausted and had to rest.

The remainder of the night, I’m told, was passed in a fevered haze as the after-effects of the aether poisoning got to me. I don’t know what I said or what I did, but I have a feeling that I was a lot of trouble for Ardi.  Between you and I, journal, I was touched that he stayed right next to me, sitting on the floor beside the sofa, watching over me all night. 

Wilbur, a porxie familiar that was gifted to me by Rae-Hann, apparently put in an appearance when I started to have nightmares. He siphoned away the excess aether and that seemed to help me a fair bit. I’m sure that it was just a fever-dream, but I recall waking at one point with Edgard’s arms around me as he held me close, telling me that everything was going to be okay, that I was safe at home in my cabin. My face was wet from tears and I felt like I’d been screaming. The nightmares Wilbur took away must have been severe. I don’t remember much else except for a pink book that Ardi kept hiding.  Why would he need to hide a book?

I slept.  And this time I didn’t dream.

8/25/2020

When next I awoke, I sent Edgard off to get some fresh air and to stretch his muscles.  As I mentioned, he’d sat on the floor all night watching over me as I slept. No doubt that man was achy and in need of some activity.  While he was gone, I gingerly made my way to the bath and gave myself the promised soak I’d meant to have when I got home, but skipped in deference to sleep.  Once more dressed and ready to face the world, I settled back into my comforter nest on the sofa that Edgard had made me and read one of the books he’d left to keep me entertained, along with a cup of tea and some medicine to help with the nausea.

It was thus that I was found by Lorrendor Hauland when he came to visit. I was surprised to see him come all the way from Ul’dah, given that our last encounter had been… unsettling to say the least. I can’t really tell you what happened between then and now, but this Lorrendor was a different man entirely.

Have I not said before that every encounter with this man feels like it’s with a different person?  Today was no different.  This was a Lorrendor who was stiff and austere, emotionless save for the one point he laughed when I proclaimed him an automaton. He fetched me tea, he was exceedingly polite and complimentary. I told him at one point I half expected to hear him replying with “Yes, Mistress” and “Whatever you wish, Mistress” to everything I said ere long.

He kept saying that he was “Lorrendor as he should have been instead of the Lorrendor he became.”  So this was another version, another mask, as he tried to tamp down his love for me and simply be my friend. Sometimes it makes me wonder if the man has ever lived an honest life and if anyone knows who he truly is?  The many Lorrendors I know may be nothing at all like the Lorrendor that Loksia knows or anyone else among his friends.  There’s really no telling and there’s really no comparing notes.  I don’t know the man.  I’m not sure I ever will.  He doesn’t trust me enough to be himself around me and I don’t trust him enough /because/ he chooses to hide.

Still, I owe it to him to bring him with me into Dusk Vigil when I go. We’d tracked the Saurotaun to the ruin and think that it may be a lair for it, so that alone is worth investigating. He suggested I bring along people I trust.  Naturally, Edgard as my hunting partner, and Rae-Hann as my closest friend, and after some debate, Lorrendor.  He’d brought me this information to begin with, the least I could let him do was see it through to the end with me.

Somewhere during this conversation, Ardi returned from his walk. When I queried why he’d been gone so long, he said he’d gotten “distracted” then he tried to hide the same pink book he’d had yesterday behind his back. I tried to get it from him a number of times, even tried to get Lorrendor to fetch it when Ardi threw it across the room, alas.  Neither of us could foil that wily dragoon when he’s of a mind he has a secret to keep. 

With Edgard present, we discussed the plan for Dusk Vigil again and the dragoon recommended we make it a scouting mission in case the monstrosity was at home. If we saw it, we would retreat and come back with a more tactical plan. Part of me rankled at being made to wait, especially if it was /right there/ but I knew better than to argue. Certainly not with /both/ he and Lorrendor there.  

Eventually, Ardi and I settled into our usual banter with Lorrendor chastizing us both as children -- though this time we /were/ being pretty childish -- but all of us laughed and had some fun, I think.  Lorrendor needed to catch the last flight from Ishgard to Ul’dah, so he took his leave. 

Which left just Edgard and I.  Again, I tried to get the secret of the pink book out of him, but he refused to tell.  He made me another cup of tea and we talked, as we often do.  I pointed out to him that he seemed much more relaxed that he had when he first arrived in Kugane after his fight with Edmond. He seemed more at peace with himself, that whatever chains holding him down had broken and now he had a chance to soar -- but had no idea how to use his wings.

He told me that I’d helped him a great deal, that he’s actually excited when he wakes up in the morning. And in this excitement he gave me a linkpearl, so that we could talk even when we’re apart. It’s a silly, common thing that everyone uses, but it felt meaningful coming from him. Naturally, I had to tease him about it, though, saying that he just wanted to whisper sweet nothings into my ear whenever he wanted. 

He inferred then that Something Happened last night in my fevered delirium.  He refused to tell me though, saying that something so /intimate/ was meant to be kept a secret. It worried me.  Had I said or done something inappropriate?  I think I would know, physically, if I’d slept with him and I didn’t really feel that was the case. Idiot, of course he’d delight in worrying me like that.

Still, when I demurred that I didn’t do much of anything for him, he said that I was one of few people who took him seriously, outside of his brother.  I listen to him and he feels like he can talk to me about anything. That I could be trusted with his problems. It was heartwarming to be so trusted and I reassured him that I would always be there for him as long as he wanted.

It was then that his mood shifted somewhat and he told me that he was finally ready to go to Valentina’s graveside, to finally find the closure with her that his heart and his soul both needed. He asked me again if I would still go with him.  And my answer was of course, I’d promised him that I would. For the first time since I’d know him, I saw fear ripple through Edgard.  Fear, uncertainty, and a vulnerability that made my heart ache for him. 

I sat next to him, leaning into his side, just to give him a real, living presence to comfort him in such a troubled moment.  I reassured him that he wasn’t alone.  He would never be, so long as I drew breath.  When next he looked at me, his eyes captured and held me within their blue crystalline depths. It was in those depths that I could see … longing. Like a moth to a flame I was drawn to it, enchanted by it -- for a moment, I reached out to that flame…

Before I came to my godsdamned senses!  I made my excuses to leave, claiming I needed sleep in my own bed and I left the room. Ardi seemed bewildered and confused, it made my heart ache.  I couldn’t believe I’d gotten that close to going against my own expectations. I can’t.  I can’t do to him what Tristane did to me. I don’t want to hurt him. I was angry and disappointed in myself for not minding my /own/ boundaries. 

As I sat in my room, rebuking myself for my behavior.  I heard him talking to himself on the other side of the wall.  What I heard, what he said, made my heart hurt all the more. Part of me wanted to go to him, to reassure him, but I knew it was better for us both to remain silent. The Hunt must always be first in my heart.  Until it is done, I can’t… I won’t put anyone in the position to love me only for me to die.  I knew that pain once and I swore I would never inflict it on anyone else.

What do I do now?  How do I act?  I never meant for things to get this far. Somewhere, somehow… what wasn’t serious became serious.  If I deny his feelings like I did Lorrendor, will he do the same thing?  Turn into some emotionless marionette, just going through the song and dance of friendship?  I don’t know that I could take that.  Ardi is a source of joy to me and a good partner. I don’t… I don’t want to have to be without him.

Why does making the right choice have to be so goddamned hard?

[wacem]

Alone in the Dark

An Until Dawn fic by Wacem Chapters: 1  2

Read it here or check it out on AO3 where everything is definitely formatted properly, because I suck at Tumblr.

Chapter 2

Chris --- 5:51 AM Tunnel to the Sanatorium

Wood slammed against wood, jolting Chris back to his senses. That was the trap door. Had to be. But surely Sam hadn't doubled back already, so who-- 

A far-too-familiar screech filled the chamber like a physical thing. Chris cried out in abject terror, but his voice was utterly lost in the deafening wall of sound. Every muscle in his body froze solid. His hands balled into fists beneath him, clutching Ashley's hoodie like his life depended on it. His expended lungs gasped a fresh load of air through the fabric of Ash’s clothing and stuck that way, his body too rigid to even breathe. The screech faded away in a chorus of echoes and was replaced by the click click click of claws against stone right above him. The wendigo was back. Returned to the scene of the crime. Why? 

Obviously, to collect the rest of its meal.

Ashley? No. No, no, no. He couldn't let that thing have her. It was bad enough that it had her head. The wendigo could take the rest of her over his cold, dead body. Which, admittedly, looked like an extremely likely outcome. But, for all his heroic intent, he still couldn't get so much as a fingernail to quiver. His body was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. People always talked about Fight and Flight, but nobody ever mentioned their derpy little brother Freeze. Maybe it was because it didn't rhyme, but more likely it was because freezing in the face of danger-- utilized to stunning effect by such apex predators as goats, deer, possums, and now… Chris Hartley-- was usually a great way to get dead. The stranger's voice whispered through his mind. They can’t see you if you’re standing still. 

So maybe he'd accidentally stumbled into the one situation in human history where freezing as a fear response wasn't a death sentence. Yeah, well… I wouldn't recommend testing that out, the stranger sneered.

Fuck you, dude, I'm trying.

There was a soft thud by his head. Something sharp jabbed into his spine and immediately recoiled with a screech that almost sounded surprised. The pressure returned, poking, prodding up his back. Chris’ eyes screwed shut. He badly needed air, but he still couldn’t get himself to breathe. There was a soft ffffwwip sound as claws scraped along the nylon of his coat, followed by a bizarre, wet clicking from the thing’s throat a couple feet over his head. After what felt like ages, the thing’s long fingers tangled through the fuzz of Chris' hood and hoisted him into the air by it, like it was holding a kitten by the scruff. Ashley's hoodie tore out of his grasp, and he'd have rather lost one of his hands. But he had little opportunity to even think about it. His stomach lurched into his throat, replacing the cry of dismay that threatened to rip through the embargo of paralysis; he collided with the floor yet again as he was hurled to one side like an unwanted Raggedy Andy. He shook, rattled, and rolled, end over end, and the stone floor absolutely battered him until he smacked into the wall, and his momentum came to an abrupt halt. He felt something snap, but he wasn't sure what, because his whole body was a distracting injury. He thanked his lucky stars that his vocal cords were still too petrified to give sound to his pained moan. It came out as a sharp hiss instead. 

His glasses were resting skee-jawed on his face, and it took a moment to regain his bearings, but when he did, he hazarded a glance up. From where it lay, the flashlight was facing the wrong direction for him to see anything more than vague shadows, but the creature was definitely distracted by something. A horrible, wet, rending noise filled the small chamber. Slowly, carefully, Chris straightened his glasses, pushed them back up his nose, and propped himself stiffly on one elbow to see better. It was Ashley. The thing was eating her. Or what was left of her. It buried its teeth into her leg and jerked its head back, tearing off her calf muscle and slurping it into its mouth like spaghetti. Chris’ gorge rose into the back of his throat, and it was everything he could do to swallow it down again. But beneath the overwhelming nausea and disgust was an undercurrent of righteous indignation, frothed into a boil by a raw fury that was almost wholly alien to him. His hands clenched into fists. That was Ashley. She might be-- Chris swallowed hard, forcing himself to think it-- dead, but she was still a human being, and she deserved better. She deserved respect. As if it wasn’t enough that this thing had killed her, now it was positively relishing desecrating her body. Something inside Chris snapped. It was too much. 

Well, what exactly do you intend to do about it, tough guy? If you so much as stand up, it'll see you, and you're a goner.

The hand not holding him up drifted carefully through his pockets, looking for anything that might help. The first couple pockets turned out useless-- glasses cleaning cloth (huh… how long had that been there?), pill bottle, pocket knife. He considered the pocket knife for a moment, but his Voice of Better Judgment just scoffed. Then his fingers brushed an unfamiliar object and instinctively wrapped around it. It took him a second to figure out what it was, but when he did, his heart soared with hope. Josh's lighter! He'd forgotten to give it back after defrosting the lodge's lock about a century ago. The wendigo didn't like fire, right?

I seriously doubt a tiny lighter flame is the sort of fire the old guy was talking about. 

No, but those old storage drums over by the ladder were leaking something, weren't they? They had flammable hazmat stickers on them…

Yeah, okay, genius. Incinerate the way back to the lodge. Great idea! And if the crap in there is explosive? The concussive force has exactly nowhere in this tiny chamber to go except through your soft, little body. You really feel like blasting yourself to smithereens? To defend the honor of a corpse?

Honestly? Despite the persistent effort of his obnoxious Voice of Better Judgment to try to talk him out of this, he found that the answer was simply… yeah. He did. Because it wasn't just a corpse. It was all he had left of Ash. And if there was one damn thing he could do right tonight, it was to give the Browns something to bury. As hard as his brother's closed-casket funeral had been when he was a kid, seeing Josh absolutely disintegrate at the twins' funeral, there was zero doubt in his mind… an empty casket was worse. There was no resolution with an empty casket. Visiting an empty grave just left a hollow ache in your heart because you knew they weren't really there. You were only mourning a headstone. A rock. It couldn't hear you. Tears just rolled off of its cold, uncaring surface and sank into the empty soil beneath. He wouldn't let that be all that remained of Ashley. He couldn't. 

Slowly, he drew the lighter from his pocket. His thumb found the sparkwheel, and he silently prayed the damn thing would light on the first try. That was the only chance he was likely to get. Chris licked his lips anxiously. Before his nerve could falter, he flicked the lighter and suppressed an exclamation of relief when it caught.

Snik! 

The creature dropped whatever unrecognizable appendage it had been devouring and, faster than Chris could possibly perceive, whirled towards him and shrieked, blasting the putrid stench of death and blood directly into his face. He couldn't stop the scream of horror that ripped out of his chest. Every muscle in his body threatened to lock up again, but he knew if that happened, he was dead. Before panic could get in the way, he threw the lighter toward the drums. 

The wendigo was on his arm like a pitbull, teeth tunneling through the fabric of his coat, sweater, and shirt like they weren't there and ripping into the meat of his forearm. The weight of the monster flattened him onto his back and jarred his ribs excruciatingly. This time his scream was one of agony. The thing's jagged teeth plunged down to the bone, the power of its jaws threatening to snap his arm in two. He punched frantically at its head with his other hand, yelling and wailing mindlessly, but he might as well have been hitting a bowling ball, for all the good it did. The wendigo just bore down harder, and Chris definitely felt the bones in his arm crunch.

"Aaughaah!!" He started kicking madly, like a trapped animal, utterly mindless of his injured ankle. He was dimly aware that the lighter should have ignited something by now and hadn't. And that snuffed his last, pathetic hope of getting out of this alive; he was fighting the inevitable, now. And with him died the knowledge of where they were. Even Sam, if she survived, couldn't know they'd gone down into this trap door. They'd just… disappear. Exactly like the twins. So the Browns would not only be burying an empty casket, but they'd be doing so not knowing if she was really dead. 

And your parents will be doing the same to you. 

He screamed louder and fought harder, aiming a punch right at the thing's big, gray eyeball. The wendigo released his arm with a huff of displeasure and wrapped its gangly fingers around his throat, lifting him into the air like he weighed nothing. Chris' screams were abruptly cut off in a choked gasp. Both arms came up, but only one hand was actually able to pry at the monster's claw, but he might as well have been prying at granite. His feet ran through the air wildly, looking for purchase on anything. The contact of the thing's claw against the burns on his neck and jaw made him want to scream, but he couldn't. The wendigo drew him close to its face, looking him dead in the eyes. There was a flicker of something in those eyes, and Chris could feel it reflected in his own. Was it… recognition? There was something vaguely familiar about those stretched features. Something behind the cataracts of its eyes that he knew. Then the creature snorted, its face contorting in rage as its mouth stretched open and unleashed a scream that pierced his soul. 

And the moment was over. Whatever recognition he thought he felt was gone, and the monster slammed him hard against the wall behind him. The back of his head collided with stone, and white spots exploded across his dimming vision. His limbs went limp as he struggled to maintain consciousness, but it was difficult. Both the impact and the fact that his chest muscles were madly spasming to try and draw in oxygen made his ribs hurt so much he wanted to cry. Darkness engulfed his vision fully. His face felt tingly, full, and hot. For the first time since Josh's fucked up game, he could barely feel the burns on his jaw. His empty lungs cried out for new air, but his gaping mouth could not oblige. He tried kicking again, more weakly and attempted to wedge the fingers of his good hand between the claw and his throat, but it was no good. He felt the wendigo wrap its other hand over his head like a cowl; its long fingernails dug agonizingly into the soft flesh of his neck. He closed his useless eyes, waiting for the end to come. 

A massive thunderclap filled the chamber. Searing heat licked his face and hands. His back slammed into the wall again. A fidgeting weight smashed against his chest and face and then disappeared. A disorienting feeling of weightlessness swept over him, then a sharp pain lanced up from his ankle, and his legs buckled bonelessly beneath him. Blind agony made him scream when he landed on his ravaged arm. He could feel the air surging through his ragged throat, but he could hear neither the scream nor the ensuing coughing fit. All he could hear was that damned ringing he'd grown to detest. 

Chris rolled miserably onto his back and stayed like that until he felt a little less like puking. Then he opened his eyes and realized his glasses were gone. The cavern was filled with orange light; he guessed Josh's lighter must have found its mark after all. It just took its sweet time getting down to business. 

Not that he could see, but there didn't seem to be any sign of the wendigo. Slowly, agonizingly, he managed to get his feet under him, hugging his mangled arm to his throbbing side. Before endeavoring to straighten upright, he felt around the cavern floor with his good hand until his fingers stumbled across familiar plastic. He slid his glasses back onto his face with the practiced ease of a man who's done it since kindergarten. Miraculously, they weren't broken. Absolutely filthy? Yes. But not broken. He could deal with that. He straightened up as much as his broken body would allow and quickly looked around. His earlier impression held up. The wendigo was gone. Not killed, he noticed with a pang of regret. There was no corpse. But at least the explosion had driven it away. The cavern was rapidly becoming unbearably hot. Embers had caught on Ashley's clothing, igniting little fires. 

"Oh, shit! No, no, no," he felt his mouth saying.  

Chris dropped to his knees by her side and batted at the flames to put them out. It burnt his hand to blisters, but the whole reason he'd done this was to salvage something recognizable of Ashley. He bit his lip to keep in a pained sob he couldn't hear, but the flames spread too quickly across the fabric for one meager hand to keep up. With how fast the fire spread across her, she must have been dragged through whatever was coming out of the barrels. Soon, she was engulfed, and Chris had to back away or get swallowed up with her. 

He sat there for a while, just watching her burn. Her clothes peeled away to nothing, revealing charred and boiling skin beneath. Her delicate fingers curled and blackened with the heat, her nails cracking and falling apart. Everything that made her her was stripped from her, bit by bit, and Chris could only watch, powerless to stop it. He'd failed to protect her, even in death. He'd failed to secure for her the basest modicum of identity and decency. He'd failed, because he was a failure. In everything. Every damn thing he touched turned to ash in his hands. 

"Ash to ashes," he muttered. "Ashley to ashes." The words repeated in his mouth nonsensically for some time before he could hear them. Then, when he could actually hear what he was saying, giggles bubbled up inside of him, completely humorless, frantic. Hysterical. It wasn't long before they decomposed into sobs. She’d looked out for him all night, even when he was too exhausted to look out for himself.  She’d saved his life. More than that, she’d had his back for as long as he’d known her. He told her he had hers. He should have had hers.

But he didn’t.

And now he never would.

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 13

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

HI WOW TIME HAS SERIOUSLY FLOWN BY FOR ME - enjoy your fratty frat boy in all his angsty glory ;) Let me know what you guys think I miss you!!

“Down to watch Hocus Pocus and pass out candy to wee ones? My parents invited me down.”

Renny’s eyes softened, imagining the cuteness of last year when a toddler showed up dressed as a magnet with an attached note card saying “chick.”

“Okay, usually, yes, but the-”

“DG’s,” I groaned.

Midterms were creeping up and I was slowly dying between late night grading biology tests and the stress that’d been building up wondering about what in the fuck Harry had going on in his mind. He was hot, he was cold, and I wasn’t sure if this was all a massive game to him. It’d been relatively silent on the Harry front ever since the day of island paradise. The memory of his penetrating eyes examining me on the pier, and the twinge of electricity between us had inspired my wandering fingers more than once. I wouldn’t admit that to him, hell, I could barely admit that to myself.

I’d been too stubborn to text him, but not too stubborn enough to wear his sweatshirt out this morning. If we were friends, wearing his sweatshirt wouldn’t be weird. Technically he’d just invited me to meet his dad, which I admit, stung a bit, but a part of me couldn’t give up that he wasn’t into me. Could eyes lie so easily?

The ball was technically in my court to tell him whether or not I’d be going, so…

I slurped a scalding sip of tea, cringing at the inevitable. “Welp, if you’re going to ditch me for the DGs then I might as well go to Harry’s.”

She smirked, “I know.” 

I smacked her arm. “Is that why you’re ditching me?!”

“Hey, I’m not ditching you. It’s a thing for new recruits. You were invited, too.”

My ear still ringed with my mom’s shrill scream on the other end of the line when I’d told her - though I’m not sure if she’d be more excited by the fact that her daughter was going to visit the Styles residence or a sorority party.

Renny continued, “And please, as if you’d really go hang out at your parent’s alone when you have an offer to play co-host with Mr. Hunky Mystery Man. We’re sad sometimes, but we’re not that sad. Actually…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… I’m surprised Harry isn’t going to be at the frat’s party.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “He said it was a family tradition.”

Renny’s brows rose at the F word. 

“Okay, but their house is also huge, I doubt it’s going to be an intimate affair.” Truthfully, I was excited to see how their house would be decorated. When I told my mother I probably wouldn’t be coming home to pass out candy, she’d told me not to worry. The neighbors were coming over and they had a couple of cheap wine bottles to drain. I’m sure not telling her I was going to the Styles's house wasn’t going to be that big of a deal.

“Are you kidding me? If Harry hands out a grand to cabana men then I can’t imagine what they’re going to spend on this party. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous.”

“Wait- what? He gave Ben a thousand dollars?”

 “Is Ben the cabana man?”

 “Yes.”

 “Then yes. Or about a grand, I mean I didn’t count it myself but it was a thick. Stack.” Renny’s brows shot up. “You seriously didn’t see that?”

 No wads of cash were in my memories. I was too busy retreating away to the golf cart to notice any grandiose money exchange. Ben’s words when he was saying goodbye to me at the golf cart suddenly flashed in my mind - tell him thank you for me.

 Thank you.

 I hadn’t even assumed the reason why. Probably because out of all things, I wouldn’t have guessed that.

 Renny tapped on her lips, signalling to mine that I painted a nice neutral. “Like the shade. What’s it for?”

 I looked to my watch. “Zayn. And I’m actually going to be late.”

 “Ugh, not fair!! Why can’t I have an artist draw me?”

 “Please, Felix was practically drooling over you last year, and he’s a graphic designer, right? I’m sure he has some sketches of you locked away in a cabinet somewhere.”

 Something that resembled a blush spread on her cheeks.

 “Oh my god. Does he?!”

 “He probably got rid of it by now.”

 I shook my head, scooping up my tea and 50 pound school bag with me. Leave it to Renny to have a collection of men up her sleeve at any given time. Even the beautiful brainy boy.

 “Tell Niall to try drawing,” I called back. The mention of the frat star turned a few heads at the crowded campus coffee shop, and I bit my lip at the scene, skirting across campus to the art studios where people wishing to escape found their haven.

 ---

 “A little to the left,” he murmured. His golden brown eyes peered over the white canvas, tirelessly scrupulous as they focused on each feature, and I felt my heart beat faster at the intensity of attention. “A little up.”

 My head tilted to his command, my exposed neck feeling even more naked as I noticeably swallowed.

 Did he hear that? Did the music need to be played louder?  

 “Beautiful.” He reached for another charcoal pencil in his kit. “Have you been in here before?” His voice gently rose over the Coldplay softly playing from the speaker system.

 “No, not yet,” I admitted. “I was going to take a ceramics class, but I dropped it the first week. Not exactly the sculptor type.”

 “So you’re not the artist, more the painting?”

 My brows furrowed. “What?”

 “I’m taking ceramics,” he said, not bothering to clarify.  

 “Yeah? You like it?”

 He didn’t answer, sweeping his pencil across the page - the aesthetic lulling of the way it scratched along the paper making me realize that yes, he’d definitely heard me gulping earlier.

 The soothing noise didn’t stop, and he didn’t answer for a time that seemed much longer than a minute. I wonder what Harry was doing right now? Was he in class? Practice? Not that I should even be thinking about him.

 The little smug version of me was dancing in my brain, delighting in the fact that somebody else was paying attention to me, that there were other people who found me desirable besides Harry. Sure, this was solely for Zayn’s assignment, and yeah, Harry could easily have any number of women he merely glanced at - but me? I could get by without him just fine, and-

 “Your face comes across so soft on paper. Gentle,” he said, glancing first at his work, then up to me, as if trying to see if the reality mirrored the copy.

 I shifted nervously, but the swivel chair was more sensitive than I’d thought and I almost went flying off the other side. He laughed a bit, before taking his top lip between his fingers.

 “Look, I’ve nearly got this one finished right. I’ve got your basic outline to finish the rest on my own, creative liberties ‘n that, but I’ll need a few more still lifes from you if that’s…”

 “Yeah! That’s fine.”

 “Might be a longshot with the holiday, but do you mind coming in this weekend?”

 Plans of the Styles’ Halloween bash rang as a reminder, and it buzzed throughout my entire body. “I can’t, actually. I’m going to a party, I think.”

 “Really!” he set down the pencil dramatically. “Am I going to see you in a plaid skirt up your bum again, missy?”

 “Ouch, no! But fair. Cringeworthy, but fair.” I slid down the chair, crossing my arms. His eyes didn’t change in their intensity even if he wasn’t holding a pencil. “It’s the Styles’ Halloween bash Saturday. I’m guessing it’s a family-friendly affair so no, I will not be in anything showing any skin, anywhere. I guess they do it every year.”

 Realization sunk in, but it seemed a bit of a show. “Harry, yeah, that’s right. Are you two…?”

 I shook my head, thinking of what Harry must say when (or if) he got asked the same question. There was no doubt in my mind.

 “No.”

 It was some weird “in between” with us, but no was a much easier answer.

 “Right, well, that’ll be interesting then.” He bit his cheek, mulling over something he wasn’t quite sure he should say.

 “What?”

 He opened his mouth, closed it again. “Nothing, it’s just… I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a part of that family. It’s got a lot of history.”

 “Yeah? Like what?”

 “Let’s just say there aren’t that many British boys that get adopted by Americans.”

 I tilted my head back, put off at the slight arrogance in his tone. There was a protective side of me that wanted to rear its head and bristle whenever somebody talked down to Harry, and I wasn’t sure how to put it away.

 “I’m not sure what you mean.”

 “You can look up the story, but-”

 A knock at the door, and a petite black-bobbed Asian girl peered her head in.

 “Hi, I have the room at 5:30.”

 I glanced to the clock on the wall, just a little past.

 “We’re finishing up,” he said. She nodded, not budging. A little territorial over the studio space. Which, I completely get. Once midterm season hits, the library starts to resemble a refugee posting with people camped outside cubicles and “quiet rooms,” hoping for the prior group to leave a little earlier if they didn’t have reservations of their own.

 “Yeah, we’re done.”  I picked up my bag, and put my beanie over my head.

 “Well, I’ll be in touch then. Sometime next week?” He followed me to the door, and placed a hand to my lower back. I stopped, trying to discern if there was something else behind his eyes. Maybe this hadn’t just been for a project.

 But his hand was removed just as quickly, and with a little “See ya,” he closed the door behind me.

 -----------

 Lines of vintage cars parked outside the Styles’s home wasn’t what I’d been expecting when Harry had shot a text that it was a masquerade gala. Maybe it should’ve, but it wasn’t. I squinted my eyes at a woman in a neon vest waving around her flashlight to the approaching cars and signalling them to available spots along the street.

 How was I meant to find him in this madness?

 “Here is fine,” I told the Lyft driver. I’d bit the bullet (or rather, my wallet) to get a ride. I thought I’d bypass the embarrassing “car dying” scenario again and just play it safe. Not that I was expecting to spend the night again… the toothbrush I’d stuffed in my purse screamed otherwise, and seemed to burn a hole into my thigh.

 But still, totally not expecting to spend the night.

 Totally …. not ….

 The sound of the Uber leaving made me realize I was doing this. Again. Willingly walking into the lion’s den simultaneously with at least ten other well-dressed individuals.

 Expect me tonight, I’d sent. It was a little bold. I had to refrain from sending any emojis, but I’d done it. Played it cool.

 Wear a mask, he’d replied. And I felt my stomach drop a little bit. He hadn’t said-

 Cool! Gee, thanks for letting me know! Wow that’s so nice to hear! You made my day!

 No.

 Just a simple three word request. Actually, more like demand. I bristled the same moment my phone buzzed.

 Please.

 I sighed. I guess it was four words.

 Of all the themes to pick though… I rolled my eyes at “masquerade.” Renny had done the opposite, and flew to her dresser, opening a drawer full of toys and masks and - oh my gosh was that a leash? She handed me one, black lace over the eyes that could lift up and over the cat headpiece. I didn’t ask any questions for why she had this so readily available, because guessing from the other contents in the drawer, I already knew the answer.

 “You look-” Renny kissed her fingertips- “Bellissima.”

 Older, sophisticated silver foxes arm-in-arm with their wives took the time to glance at the young woman approaching the estate.

 I blamed it on the deep red dress Renny stole from the theater department (or borrowed as she insisted). It fanned out with dramatic flair like an 18th century production of Shakespeare would - or how our school’s production of Much Ado About Nothing would (which was now short one costume).

 The doors opened to the tinkling of a piano.

 Amidst cocktail waiters weaving between the masked strangers, someone was actually playing it. He had brown curly hair and I practically raced to his side to avoid standing in the foyer alone any longer.

 “I didn’t know you could play.”  

 The man quirked his face, his hands not stopping.

 Even with the mask I could tell it wasn’t Harry.

 “Oh, sorry,” I said, stumbling back.

 Hands gripped my shoulders, as lips went to my ear-

 “Not well.”

 Twisting in his grasp, the familiar curve of his smirk appeared. His green eyes were highlighted by golden flakes etched into a black mask, and my breath quite literally caught in my throat. Somehow, each time, I forgot the magnetism they held. And somehow, each time, I forgot that I was absolute putty in his hands.

 “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

 Something flashed in his eyes and I knew it didn’t come out right. “The house looks… amazing.”

 I was floundering, FLOUNDERING.

 His nose crinkled the same time he placed a hand to the small of my back. “Too many cobwebs.”

 And without a word, he started leading me through the crowded rooms. Cobwebs over the banister and scary paintings of haunted people replaced the usual art in their home - except for the centered family portrait, intimidatingly framed in gold. The cobwebs were a fitting touch. I wondered how many secrets these walls held, how many years things have been kept in the dark, or swept under the rug.

 Every family had them, but something told me this place had enough storage in all its rooms to hold more than I could imagine.  

 We passed a room set-up with aisles of empty chairs and a projector screen that read “Jane Foundation.” Pamphlets and envelopes were lain on each of the chairs, but we walked too quickly for me to get a closer read.

 “What’s that for?”

 “Later. You don’t know?”

 I shook my head. He slowed to a halt in the hallway.

 “My parents put on a fundraiser every year for the children’s hospital. It’s how we end the evening.”

 My mouth opened and again- floundering. He scratched behind his ear.

 “Yeah, I thought.. I don’t know, I thought everyone knew. But I shouldn’t assume I guess.”

 I just shrugged my shoulders, accepting that his family had the capacity to pull something like this off. That the were pulling this off. That I was even here. Clearly living ten minutes away was certifiably living under a rock.

 He paused, a slight quirk in his lips. With the distraction of the music and the people, I hadn’t had the chance to really look at him. Or him, at me. If anyone ever asked, I’d call him shameless, but I wouldn’t even call it that as he drank me in. It didn’t seem as intentional as that. It was instinctive.

 I drank him in as well, and even if it was just a brief moment facing each other in the hallway with masked strangers streaming through, it felt like it was just him and I. How long had we been like this? Broad shoulders in a nice suit, a tall frame that could cover and protect, brown curls that looked so soft to touch, and eyes that spoke of scary pasts and a soft heart that locked me still in place. He was walking poetry and as much as it made me sick, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted him closer, to lean in closer...

 “Come on,” he murmured, but this time he was in front of me.

 I followed, straight to the dining room.

 “Oh, you are trying to get me to not fit into this dress,” I said. It was full of catered food from the nicest restaurants in Coast Hills. Last time I’d been in this room, it hadn’t been the most comfortable encounter. Now that the corset was digging into my ribs and I was a little short of breath, I predicted I was in for Awkward Dinner Part II.

 “You aren’t hungry?” He faltered, turning to face me.

 I gave a coy smile. “Well I didn’t say that…”

 “Hey! So good to see you.”

 Gemma burst through a small cluster of people, Charlie right behind her. His navy suit matched her slip dress, tapering off at the ends like the foam from a wave.

 She embraced me, Charlie soon after. But it was the same side-hug squeeze that made me remember him. Harry noticed my grimace. Charlie noticed Harry noticing me.

 “All good?” Charlie pulled back.

 “My brother did that all the time,” I said. Harry handed me a glass full of champagne, and I took it, happy to have something else occupy my mouth. I hadn’t expected to say that at all.

 “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Harry said.  

 “You don’t know a lot of things.”

 Gemma perked up. “That’s right, put him in his place.”

 “He’s not around much so, I don’t think to talk about him much.” I left it at that, a slight offering to make Harry feel less offended. His expression was impossible to read, and I wasn’t sure if my words had actually helped or hurt.

 “I have a sister like that. Moved to Lisbon with her boyfriend. We see her on holidays though.” Charlie jumped with a chill. “Jiminy- it’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

 “Have more wine babes, it’ll cheer you up,” Gemma said. And just like me, a champagne flute was suddenly in his hands.

 “Well we were just headed to get some food,” Harry mentioned, eyes slightly widening when they locked with mine - a silent plea to take his cue.

 “Wait! Let me take a picture really quickly.”

 “Gemma,” he sighed.

 “Just a little one! Just a quick...second...” She dug in her purse, struggling to juggle the wine and the mini plate of couscous and falafel.

 I took a step to the side as soon as she pulled the camera out.

 “Hello? Where do you think you’re going? Get back in there.”

 Harry raised his brows to me, both in annoyance and apology. I stood next to him, and he placed an arm around me. It was just for a moment, but I still felt him. Always.

 Gemma smiled at her phone. “Aww, this is perfect. I’ll send it to mom, too. She’ll like it.” She said the last bit cautiously.  

 Harry’s face turned unreadable, his eyes complete stone.

 “One for me now,” she said, reaching down for something else.

 “I swear, she can hide an elephant in that bag and the only reason someone would know is because it’d trumpet during the previews.”

 She pulled out a polaroid camera. Somehow, in the past five seconds, he’d gone from mildly annoyed and embarrassed to deadpanned over it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually growled.

 She held up the camera so I smiled, but as the flash went off and I looked beside me - he was gone.

 “Oh! Harry,” she scolded, but he’d already walked too far away. I saw him weave his way towards the windows of the house and look out.

 “You shouldn’t have mentioned her.” Charlie kicked his shoe. He saw Harry too, looking vigilantly out the window. A second longer and he turned on his heel. He stood taller as he made his way back.

 “Well, at least it’ll be a good picture of you. I’m creating a little collage of the evening.” Gemma put the camera away in her big bag. She reminded me of a mom on prom night and suddenly I felt like I should send that photo to someone, too.

 “That’s so cool! I’m sure it’s going to look so… cute.” Through the crowd, Harry motioned to the food. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to say brief goodbyes to his sister.

 “We won’t keep you. Get the pasta pops though. To die for,” Gemma said. “Charlie and I were going to take a stroll by the pool if you want to join us after.”

 “Yes! Oh, and would you mind sending me the photo, too? My mom wants proof I’m alive tonight.”

 “God, of course. Here.” She gave the champagne flute to Charlie, typed in my number, and sent it off.

 “We’ll see you later,” Charlie said.

 “The pasta poppers!” she exclaimed, flute in the air as they weasled their way out to the patio.

 Before I could wonder where Harry was, he met me by the Sprinkles cupcakes stand.

 “Going for dessert first?”

 “Looking for the moon?” I picked one of the mini cupcakes and plopped it in my mouth to spite him. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away for a split second before looking back. His smile grew.

 “Damn it.”

 My heart picked up its pace.

 “You caught me.”

 He held another cupcake to my lips but I shook my head. “I’m hungry for real food right now.”

 He nodded, and without me saying another word, he took my elbow to bring me to his side. It was comforting to have his hand at my back as we walked through the spread of food. Even if it was lightly placed, in a crowd full of people I didn’t know, at least I had a place with him. My eyes widened when I saw them. The glorious, innovative Pasta Pops. AKA rolled up ball of pesto pasta on chopsticks… I grabbed four.

 “So, when am I seeing your dad?”

 “What?” He piled more food on top of the mountain already growing on his plate.

 “Your dad. The reason why you invited me.” I didn’t believe it. Not anymore. The host of the party wasn’t going to sit down and talk about a potential internship at his own full-fledged party.

 I put a Pasta Pop in my mouth. His attention broke and he watched my lips go over the ball, puckering as I pulled it to the tip. It’s when my lips came off with a “pop” that he sucked in a cheek, smirking.

 “You won’t be talking with Lionel long. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself in the meantime.”

 But when I reached over someone’s arm to grab a slider, they stopped me.

 “Hey, you.”

 His eyes lit up and instantly I was drawn in for an awkward hug. Behind his back, I mouthed did you plan this?

 He shrugged his shoulders and looked away with a sly look.

 Lionel pulled away from our quick embrace and looked to my pile of food. It was my turn for the awkward shrug.

 “No, it’s good! Keep going! We have enough food here to feed a small country. Are you still thinking about medicine?”

 “Yeah, not much has changed in the past couple of weeks. Same old, same old.”

 He paused, raising a finger. “I gave you my card, right?”

 How could I forget the card that’s been burning a hole through my dresser…

 “Yes. I’ve been meaning to call you, but I’ve been so busy studying with these midterms, and work, too...” I let my voice fade.  

 “What do you do for work?”

 Harry slowed as he picked up a napkin, and I knew he was listening in even if he wouldn’t stop and join the conversation. I watched his eyes skirt across the table close to where my hand toyed with the serving spoon.

 “Well, I’m a T.A. right now, but I’m also working in the physical therapy room on campus. It’s pretty easy for the most part, blood doesn’t scare me.”

 “Good. You’ll need a strong stomach for most cases.” A man tapped him on the shoulder, stealing his attention. “Give me a call when you can, we’ll set something up at the practice.”

 He leaned in behind Harry, both hands on his back. “Take care of her tonight.”

 Harry stiffened. I’m not sure why. Lionel had such a warm look in his eyes, I automatically trusted him. As he left with his friend, he flashed us one white smile, and I felt loved.

 What the heck was in this family. What kind of beauty steroids did they take?

 “Penny for your thoughts?”

 The quip sounded weird coming from Harry, the Vogue Italia model, leaning against the table. But then again, I was looking after his father with a dazed look on my face that was screaming “I wish I was 40 and you weren’t married.” I snapped out of it and mimicked his pose, equally skeptical.

 “If I hadn’t seen your dad here just now, I swear I wouldn’t have seen him at all. I barely recognize the place with so many…”

 “People?”

 I nodded.

 “I promised that you’d talk to him.”

 “Riiiight.”

 “You don’t trust me?”

 My brows rose. “That’s a loaded question.”

 A spark of indignance puffed up his chest. “What? You actually have to think about that?”

 “I’m just saying. Communication is usually the key to building that up. Just, you know, a friendly tip to help you with those future relationships.” I tapped his chest, and he reached for my wrist. A bold move, sober. He thought so, too, for he dropped it a second later. I was waiting for a, “You can trust me,” but instead he turned serious.

 “Smart girl.”

 He looked at me that way again. A little too deep, a little too long, and I cursed myself for not knowing what to do. He took a bit of his bottom lip between his teeth.

 “I didn’t know you worked in the therapy room.”

 “That’s because you never noticed me before.”

 “Ah, ah,” he raised a finger like his father. “That’s because I’ve never been injured before.”

 I let out a short laugh. “You’re an arrogant thing, aren’t you.”

 “Just honest.”

 Honest.

 But would you answer if I asked, Harry? Would you answer if I asked you what in the heck we were doing? Did I even want to know the answer?

 “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said. And it looked like there was something more swimming behind those eyes.

 “I am, too,” I said. “Much better than a sorority party...” My eyes narrowed. “What in the-”

 “Y/N?”

 Clearly, Viv was just as surprised to see me. Mary Styles was beside her, and she raised her glass to me in a distant hello before giving Viv a kiss on the cheek, excusing herself.

 “What are you doing here?” The silver blue dress she wore was glued to her skinny frame like snakeskin. Harry shifted his feet as she came closer and I wonder if he noticed how tight it was.

 “I followed the noise and traffic directors and decided to hop the gates,” I said.  

 “You didn’t get the initiate invite?”

 An almost pitiful look befell Harry. “You had somewhere else to be?” His puppy dog eyes confused me.

 “Technically, yes. I just, um” - I looked to Viv - “decided to spend my evening somewhere else. You didn’t care to go either?”

 “Oh, I come every year. I practically live in the guest room anyways.”

 I pictured Viv laying poolside during summer barbeques, coming around for Christmas parties, and waking up in her silk pajamas to Sven handing her delicious pastries.  

 “Well this’ll be fun anyways. We’ll have our own little sorority party here.” She turned to Harry. “Can I speak to you for a second?”

 “Yeah.”

 She looked at me apologetically, then back to him. “Alone.”

 His eyes narrowed just the slightest, but he didn’t even have to think about it. He placed a hand at my back. “I’ll just be a second.”

 Viv gave me a half-smile as she interlinked her arm through his, and they left, abandoning me in a swarming crowd with cold sliders. Without him beside me, I fought the ever-present urge that I didn’t belong, but wandering to the glass doors, I saw the red gown in the reflection, the black lace of my mask. I didn’t look like regular ‘ol me tonight. Nobody knew me tonight. A rush of confidence ran through me.

 I was somebody. With, or without Harry.  

 A twinkling bell carried through the halls the same time I stood a little taller. The piano music died down and everyone quieted.

 “I hope everyone is enjoying their evening,” the shrill voice of Mary Styles carried higher as she placed herself atop the spiral staircase. Some people clapped a little prematurely and she smiled at them graciously. “If everyone could please begin filing into the foundation room, we are about to begin the programme.”

 I stole another flute of champagne. Programme.

 The twinkling sound rang again and people began handing their plates over so they could grab their wallets. Several men apologized as they bumped into me, trying to move around the cocktail waiters. Wherever Harry was, he’d just have to find me later. I followed the crowd when my blood ran cold.

 There was something sweet in the air.

 The air around me seemed thinner. I looked around, quickly, but all I saw were masks. Even if they didn’t have them on, their faces were starting to blur in my mind.

 But that too-sweet scent would never.

 It was the man from Kean’s.

 I inhaled again, but it was gone, carried away and overpowered by Dior perfume and Gucci cologne. Were they here? Were they watching me? Were they waiting to get me alone?

 They’d done it before. Maybe it’d be easier this time...

 My mind went to horrible places, and suddenly I was running against the sea.

 I scanned as I ran, but it was futile. I burst through the kitchen doors and froze. There, Mary Styles was heaving over the trashcan spitting out strands of pesto pasta.

 She looked up at me with the emptiest eyes I’d seen.

 “I’m-I’m sorry.”  I bumped into the counter, stumbling out the way I came. Her glossy eyes were haunting. Had I just seen Mrs. Styles eject the contents of her stomach?

 Alone, I shook it off, trying to calm my breathing. They couldn’t do anything to me here. Hell, Mrs. Styles was on the other side of the door. I would scream. People would hear me.  

 “Hey, you okay?”

 And even though I recognized the voice, when his hands were placed on my shoulders I flinched.

 “I smelled them,” I said, looking over my shoulder to the kitchen.

 “Who?” Harry’s eyes followed my gaze. He took a step toward the kitchen.

 “I wouldn’t,” I said.

 He stopped, confused. “I mean, you can, but I think your mom is sick,” I continued.  

 My tone wasn’t convincing. He bit his cheek. “Right.”

 And even though we both knew that his mom didn’t have food poisoning, that was a conversation for another time.

 “They’re here, Harry.”

 “What are you talking about?” He paused. His eyes saw the panic in mine and he swallowed, hard.

 “They can’t be. There’s security.”

 “I walked through the door, no one searched me or checked my name off a list.”

 “You’re a girl, it’s different. The security has a list of faces to watch out for, and trust me, they’d stand out.”

 “No- Harry,” I stammered. He wasn’t get it. “Their cologne. I haven’t smelled it since Kean’s.” The name tasted bitter on my tongue. “I was there- and your mom was talking and I was following these people but I smelled them. And it was so crowded so I ran and she was in the kitchen, and I don’t- I don’t know how, but they’re here. I didn’t imagine that. And no one else would be wearing that. No one else could smell like that.”

 I gasped for air, not realizing that I was on the verge of sobbing until Harry’s arms came around me.

 “Hey,” he soothed. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

 I let him hold me, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Their living area was too empty now. Too quiet. And even in his arms, even knowing what he’d done to them before, I didn’t feel safe. What was the point of having a massive castle if you couldn’t defend it? Your wealth just made you a sitting duck. A giant target.

 “Why would they be here?” I asked.

 “They wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here,” he reassured me.  

 “You probably think I’m crazy.”

 “No, don’t do that to yourself.” He pulled back just enough. “You’re not crazy.”

 And with no one to see, he took my hand, leading me past the foundation room. A part of me actually wanted to see the auction, but my mounting paranoia was stronger. We passed by the bar on the way to his room. It’d been empty for my last visit, but now the caterers were taking full advantage of its liquor storage capacity.

 “Let’s see,” his voice drawled as his fingers shifted through the bottles. He didn’t ask before pouring us two cocktails.

 “After you,” he said, nodding towards his room. By the time I’d sat down at the foot of his bed, he shut the door behind us with both drinks, and the vodka handle in the crook of his arm.

 “Is the foundation for your sister? Jane?”

 Harry avoided eye contact as he set the bottle down, pushing his hair back, brows raised.

 “Uh, kind of. I never knew her.” He turned to me finally, shrugging with an apathy that had taken years to perfect. “I mean it’s sad, we don’t have to talk about it now.”

 “Is it ever a good time?”

 He looked at me, giving me the chance to take back what I did. I didn’t.

 “She died before I was adopted.”

 “Oh.” My stomach dropped. There was so much I didn’t know, but I hadn’t been expecting this. His eyes didn’t hold any sadness, but guilt still pricked my heart. “I’m sorry.”

 He looked out the window again, distracted.

 “Again, I didn’t know her. It’s sad, but I don’t…” -he tried to find the right words, loosened his tie- “It’s not my grief.”

 I nodded; that made sense. It was his parents. The Styles. But the legacy of that pain couldn’t have had zero repercussions on their second child. There was more to the story than he was sharing, but I didn’t press. I walked closer, slowly toying with my drink.

 “So you find it hard to miss something you never had,” I clarified.

 He took a deep breath. “Cheers.” He raised his glass to me and I mimicked him, cringing at the stiff drink.

 “How are you feeling?” he asked.

 “Warm.”

 He nudged me, growing serious. “You know what I mean.”

 How was I feeling? The inner me cleared her throat and yelled from a soap box.

Jealous.

Scared.

Confused.

ANNOYED at how many windows this house had. I looked at Harry’s dark mask, the swirling madness in his emerald, the way the suit fit snug against his toned body… we were very much alone.

 Add turned on to my emotional cocktail.

 “I’m feeling a lot.”

 “Hm,” he hummed. “I’m feeling a lot too.” And it was so quiet. So bizarre to hear him say something even remotely close to feelings that I stood completely still. Was his drink as strong as mine?

 Our eyes were locked, but he didn’t turn away. I fought every fiber in my screaming to break the intense spell.

 He leaned in closer, tilted his head lower. Our noses brushed.

 Panic.

 “Are you and Viv…?”

 “I’m not up here with her am I.”

 Relief.

 But I didn’t have the courage to say she’d probably been up here before.

 “You know” - he pulled me closer, waists closing in - “I’m going to need a lot of help with that midterm,” he mumbled.

 Elation.

 An almost laugh that just lasted for a moment, because school seemed so trivial for what was happening in this house. There seemed to be split parts of me - the one I’ve always known and the one with him. Which one was more real to me now? I wasn’t sure if I was the same person that I once was - happy alone, solely immersed in school or netflix nights in. I’d been fine. I’d been safe. Maybe a little bored, but I hadn’t known there was more. With him there was a chaos that burned off his shoulders, that simmered in his eyes, and I drank in the warmth like a person frozen from snow.

 His hands squeezed my sides, and my eyes fluttered closed. “How are you feeling now?”

 “Good.”  

 He didn’t say anything more, but our breath was now in sync. It didn’t matter what he couldn’t say. What mattered was him, and the fact that when he looked at me, I felt everything he couldn’t say.

 Eyes couldn’t lie. Not like that.

 So I lifted my lips, and he went in for the kiss.

 It was like I’d been starved of oxygen when his soft lips encompassed my own. Oh God, I’d missed this buzz. I’d missed him.

 His hands cradled my face as he backed me up to the edge of the bed, lips never parting. A greedy hand shifted lower and he gripped the curve of backside. I whimpered a little, lips parting to allow his tongue to sneak in as he marked what I was so willing to give. He wasn’t pulling away this time. He wasn’t telling me no.

 I sat at the edge of the bed where he’d placed us, and leant back, his body falling atop mine. His delicious weight pinned me down, and he kissed down my neck, nibbling, biting. With a particularly hard suck, I moaned and when I looked down I saw him paused, hooded eyes looking up at me from the sound. His hands travelled down, slowly, from my waist to the ends of my dress. He was heavy but not crushing, deliberate but with respect. He waited for an answer.

 I nodded.

 He bit his lip in a smirk as he hitched up my dress. One hand clutching the soft skin of my hips, as the other supported him above me, Harry rolled his hips against me.

 Oh.

 Against the thin fabric of my underwear, I felt him harden between my folds. Gentle kisses were peppered along my chest and I pulled him closer.

 “Harry,” I whispered, lifting my hips against his. He groaned into my ear, a playful bite at the lobe.

 I shivered the same time his fingers travelled lower against my stomach. He stopped at the band of underwear, my breath catching when he cupped my sex.

 “Is this okay?” he whispered.

 I nodded, hummed, as his hand slowly rubbed against me. I could feel him watch me intently, but mostly I could feel him. Up, down, up... the friction against my bundle of nerves made my lips part. Again, and again, my breathing deepened and soon I was rutting against his hand. The damp patch he created was evident as he took several fingers and ran them against it. He applied pressure at my center and I wanted him to do more.

 He kissed my neck and a “please” stumbled out of my mouth. He smiled, letting out a small breath. He kissed my lips as his fingers pulled aside the lace. The cutest gesture of reassurance when there was nothing to reassure.

 I’d dreamt about this too many times for me to back out. This time I wouldn’t shy away. I took his bottom lip between mine. Go.

 But a glass shattering scream carried up the stairs.

 The commotion from downstairs grew louder, and I didn’t need to say anything.

 I’d already known.

 His hand retracted, and as quickly as it started, he’d rolled off to his side, my comforting weight gone.

 “What the fuck,” he muttered. He stood dead still at the edge of the bed but when he heard someone coming up the stairs, he lunged for the dresser, reached for the top drawer -

 From outside, “Harry! Harry, are you up here?”

 The door flew open.

 His arm fell to his side.

 Gemma stood at the doorway, slightly out of breath.

 “You need to come downstairs. Now.”

 I pulled my dress down, but Gemma wasn’t paying attention to me. There was a wild look in her eye only Harry could understand.

 He didn’t look back to me as he barrelled past her, she followed suit. I sat at the edge of the bed; alone, dishevelled, disoriented. I was scared to follow.

 Everything could change in a moment.

 There were footsteps at the door again and I looked up just in time to see Harry striding across the floor to me.

 “What are you-”

 His lips crashed into mine, and my breath was suspended again. There was an urgency in the kiss that hadn’t been there before. Deep, hard, a hand tangled in my hair when another hitched up my skirt. His fingers swiped at my entrance once and before I could kiss him back he pulled away.

 He let out an exasperated breath, and leant his forehead against mine.

 “I have to take care of this.”

 Unflinching, he drew the fingers that’d just pressed against my center up to his parted lips before swiping them against my own.

 He stood tall as he walked away, broad shoulders subtly moving beneath the suit as he drew a key from his pocket and closed the door behind him.

 There was no way in hell I was staying here.

 I shot up, running to the door - but it was locked. I pounded against it.

 “Harry? Harry let me out this isn’t funny!”

 I jiggled the handle again. Nothing.

 I wanted to scream, debated about screaming as I paced around the room. My eyes went to the top drawer of his dresser. I stopped. He’d reached for something there.

 When I pulled it open it was just some old band t-shirts, but my hand hit something in the back. Pushing aside the shirts was a black box.

 I quickly undid the clasp.

 A black handgun.

 I shoved the box to the back as quickly as I’d opened it.

 Fuck no.

 Frickity fracking fuck no.

 He’d been reaching for a gun.

 What kind of threats was he used to that he needed a gun?  

 I took a bobby pin from my hair, and with an expert skill that only growing up with a sibling could teach you, the lock was picked.

 It took me at least five minutes, but the door opened. I booked it downstairs, a flounder of red dress heading into a quiet commotion.

 I didn't see him when I made it down the stairs. There were too many confused bystanders huddled around their phones and switching social circles, whispering frantically about the scene before them.

I didn’t need to see anything in the crowd. For up on the wall, between collectors’ paintings was a vacant space.

 The family portrait was gone.

 And in its place was a snake that matched the one I’d seen tattooed on skin, the same snake that had been wrapped around my neck.

part 14