#was kind of hard tea bee ache

[chopstick-trash]

Hello :)

Could you please try and make a halfbody, peko pekoyama sprite, in a suit with a rose, vincian flag, and transmasc pin? I would really appreciate it if you tried drawing her somewhat like this too ^^ (Art is mine, don't worry). Thank you so much for taking your time reading this request, have a good day :) /g

-Keyla

we wawo whwohhh weee

[xmorguekittyx]

Ever Unlocked

Part 3: Coffee & Mints

part 1: Grey Skies and Blue Eyes

part 2: Caution to the Wind

pairing: Officer!Leon Kennedy x Coroner’s Assistant!Reader

warnings: none so far! darker themes to come in time, be patient my children.

The next morning, rain still beat against the windows of Leon's apartment, the taps interrupted by his alarm, a blaring, teeth grinding sound as his face buries against his pillow. His forehead digging into the soft pillowcase. "shit-", the word is pushed through his teeth, muffled by the padding of his pillow. His hands slamming down onto the device, subsequently shutting it up. A defeated sigh left his lips, his body ached, his mind still fuzzed with the effects of last night. He could still feel what it was like to be in her home, still smell the sickly sweet scent of the peppermint tea, how after she returned from her room, clad only in some old RPD shirt and a pair of sleep pants. She looked even more stunning to him, so domesticated. He could almost imagine coming home to see her like that every night. 

  He wondered what she'd be like in that kind of dynamic. She was so careless, he'd have to fix that. She was too pure to have the decrepit hands of the impure world clawing at her, to have the same kind of people he put behind bars in her presence. He'd save her, she was too weak to be on her own. She needed a strong man like him to help her, to keep her nice and pristine, locked away for only his pleasure. His lips curled back, showing off his very white teeth, Leon was particular about his hygiene. He was a stickler, he wanted to make sure he looked good in front of his fellow officers. He needed this look about him, a gentleman, a good clean cut all around American man. He used his good looks, passed down from his mother and her Italian heritage. He kept a clean shaven look and made sure his uniform was always without wrinkle or spot. He was perfect, that's what he strived for. For this look of success and his boyish charm helped him get there, despite his love hate relationship with his youthful appearance. 

   As his thoughts streamed together, the blaring alarm popped the invisible bubble over his head. The words pouring over his face that now curled deeply into a frown. 7:15 am. He needed to get ready, he had to drive across town and pick up said, purity, as well as stop by the local coffee shop, Honey Hollow Coffee House, better known by locals as Honey Hollow. A sweet elderly woman owned the corner shop, always working hard behind the counter. Her sea green eyes always softened at the uniformed man, repeating phrases of "What a fine young boy." or "such a handsome man." as he checked over the glass casing of sweet treats.

   Usually deciding on a chocolate glazed donut, but today, he'd eagerly order two, along side a mocha frappe and a single black coffee.  Mocha frappe, he'd caught sight of the cup in her trash last night as he threw away the tea bag, opting to help her out in a small way to thank her for her welcome invite into her home, one that still irked him with her trusting nature. He had read the label, her name, followed by the Honey Hollow logo, a bear with his hand in a bee hive, honey running down the side and a double 'H'. Then, he saw it, m. frappe, he was not a coffee person, but everyone had heard of a Mocha Frappe before. He wondered if that's what she'd taste like, those pretty lips, just behind them tasting the bitter coffee and sweet chocolate. He'd bite back his distaste for the drink, if it was her lips he could taste it on.

 His packet of mints secured in his side pocket, he hated the thought of talking with someone, maybe a retail worker, the same brunette woman he saw near daily at the gas station near his apartment, another officer and, god forbid, Chief Irons with the dreaded coffee breath. He wasn't even a fan of coffee, he kept the paper cup on his desk, the contents cooling with every passing tick of the clock. It made him fit in with his older colleagues. It gave a sense of normality to his desk, a sense of common ground. The older men had him feeling a bit insecure, he knew he was pretty, boyish and a newcomer, but the word "rookie" always left a bad taste in his mouth, worst than any mean coffee bean could.

  The frozen coffee, slightly melted as he pulled up to the same dilapidated building, two tones and now familiar to his blue orbs. He scanned his eyes over the bottom floor, looking for the familiar number of 13. His fingers reaching for his phone, an older model, 'i'm here. got you a little surprise :).' a grin pulled at his lips, watching the message slide up, sliding across into her screen. A small ding caught her attention, eyes catching the message bubble that appeared at the top of her screen. 'for me? you didn't have to, Leon. :0', her fingers did a little dance before typing the message, her heart beat a little quicker, he was here. He went out of his way to get her something, no matter what it was, she was more than excited. The screen flashed once more as she places the small socks over her feet, a small image of a flower embedded into the cotton. 'i'm on my way out.', her fingers moved over the smooth screen with ease as she slipped on a pair of kitten heels. 

   He spotted her quickly, her door opening as he watched her quickly shut and step away from it. He noticed her lack of key, the lack of locking said door. He was going to fix that, one of the first things he'd warn her about once she was in a place where he could give her such talks. For now, he was simply trying to weasel his way into her life, into her heart. legs moving quickly as she tried to get to his vehicle and get out of the assaulting rain, she had just done her makeup and hair, now the cursed little droplets gave risk to her put together look.  Her fingers slid under his door handle of his forest green jeep, popping the door open only to be met with a brown paper bag in the seat. "Oh, yeah.", Leon's fingers worked under the paper, careful not to jostle the two donuts inside or to press down on the glaze. "Got us a little breakfast.', as his sentence fell from his lips, the seat was filled with her thighs. Her face so close to his as he looked back up, he wanted to reach out and brush away the slightly dampened strands. He wanted a better look at the woman who, slowly, little by little ate away at his sanity. Her safety always now bearing weight at the forefront of his mind. 

  "You really didn't need to do that, Leon.", her voice was full of gratitude and a slight embarrassment. "You're right, wanted to.", he gave her a shy smile, his mind may have been made up that she was his and that she was a bigger part of his life, but she didn't know that, yet. She would, however, find that one of the coffees sitting in his cupholders bore some resemblance to her dearly beloved favorite. "That too-", he smirked, his fingers wrapping around the sweating, slightly melted drink. "I had to guess which you would like, i could've called and asked but i didn't want to ruin the surprise and we didn't really get to this topic in our, oh so daring, conversation, last night.", his smirk had melted down into a smile, watcher her eyes grow in excitement. "A mocha frap?!", she took the plastic cup from his hands, "That must've been a hell of a guess. These are my favorite-", the way her eyes squinted as she took her first sip has his stomach in butterflies, the soft painting of rose colored blush fanning her cheeks, he felt it rise to his as well. "There's no way, you must've known somehow.", despite the innocence that came from her comment, it had Leon's butterflies turning into flesh gnawing moths, his expression souring as he threw the gear shifter into reverse. "You're pretty basic, figured a girly drink would be something you like.", he hadn't meant for it to come out so bitter, but he didn't like the idea she assumed he was a creep, even though she hadn't so much as thought it so far... today.

  The ride to the station was silent, Leon holding his donut in hand, resting his wrist on the top of the steering wheel. His jaw working on a piece he bit a little too big in a moment of annoyance. "Sorry, I didnt mean it.", his voice was softer than when the venom of guilt wrapped around them. "I've been a little stressed out, shouldn't have taken it out on you.", she didn't know it was her that made his stress level rise. Her careless actions and sweet character, it made Leon's blood pressure rise as he thought about something happening to her, a masked burglar slipping through that open window in her room. That same burglar seeing such a beauty wrapped in purple sheets, asleep and vulnerable to his dark thoughts- "- really, I get it. The increase in bodies has Rebecca and I near hair pulling.", she spoke softly, biting into her own donut, chocolate glaze left on the corner of her lips. Leon's tongue poked out of his own, licking any crumbs left, he thought about how hers would taste, about how he could easily reach his hand under her chin, lick away the sweet glaze that marred her perfect lips. "How is she, by the way?", he nearly had to manually force his eyes to fall away from that small speck of glaze. "She's good, she should be here today. Hopefully, we should get to that McGrath case you were needing. I can text you when the file is ready?', she glanced over, eyes taking in his uniform, the way it was slightly ill-fitted in some places, but was more filled out then when he first came to Raccoon City. 

  "I'd appreciate it.", he moved the steering wheel with his free hand, pulling into the large parking lot. Her car sat in the same spot as yesterday, his jeep taking up the spot next to hers. The station was nearly alive and bustling. A pair of officers stood outside under the awning, feet kicked back onto the brick wall, cigarettes hanging from their fingers as they mindlessly chatter. Thier uniforms darkening with stray droplets. "Would you like me to take you back home after your shift tonight?", his tongue brushed against his now empty fingers, cleaning away that sweet glaze. "I think I can manage as long as the rain lets up between now and then.", her eyes stared through the slightly tinted window, grey clouds swirling over the city. "Well, just message me. I wouldn't mind taking you back home.", had she looked away from the white and grey swirls she would've seen the puppyish longing that he watched her with. The glint of desperation and desire behind the boyish orbs. He was silently thanking himself for giving up his number last night. Using her lack of car as a reasoning.

   "I should probably offer you my number.", his hands slipped into his uniform pocket, pulling out the older phone. "You don't have your car and I dropped you off so it's only right that I take you back to the station.", his eyes reflected her led lights, the blue lights bouncing off his orbs to give them a mesmerizing look. Not that she needed any more reason to get lost in his boyish charm. His charm was only broken by the odd behaviors he exhibited at a minuscule rate.

  Yeah, he was glad, he felt like he was always arms length away, two buttons away. He assured that her message would never be a bother, that he was actually happy to have someone to talk to since he hadn't had the best luck meeting others in the area. The analog clock on his dash read 7:55am. "shit- we need to head inside.", he hissed, the moment gone now, sooner than he hoped it would be. His fingers quickly turned the key, turning off the Jeep's ignition. "Don't forget to message me once you're done with McGrath.", his hand wrapped around her wrist as she slid her legs to step out. His eyes resting on her profile, the curve of her nose the pout of her lips. Leon couldn't get enough of it. "I wont, I'll even have Rebecca pull her first.", she blushed, his rough finger pads unconsciously digging deeper into her supple flesh. "Okay...", his smile grew larger, he knew she was falling, all be it, slowly. He was patient, he could be patient...

[kayetra-spade-queen]

The Swing of Crescendo

I have reached a point where I will settle to write anything my mind tells me to-

He made it to the base with an exhausted huff the moment he plop himself on the couch in the living space.

It was a hella long day, and he didn't have the mood to just go straight back to New York and go home.

"Ah, looks like someone's back from work." A familiar airy voice that belonged to a close friend of his. A ghost halfa.

"Work seems to be getting busier for you as a Pearl Keeper, is it?" Another familiar voice, this time sounding peppy, that belonged to another close friend of his, only sounding more younger. A Iudex.

"You could say that, really. My body is aching from head to toe, man..." The American dragon said with pure exhaustion in his voice.

As a Pearl Keeper, there is literally more than just guarding dragon pearls, or even caretaking a newly laid and hatched baby dragon. It took the every living spirit in him to keep up with the increase of the dark spirits that was out to get the Dragon Pearls. His own talismans could do so much, after all.

Dark spirits isn't really as much as a free spirit, at least compared to any spirits with ectoplasm in them (Danny literally made a whole PowerPoint presentation about it, and he isn't really willing to go into too much detail), they usually have a source of summoning. Jake's guess could only lead that it was some greedy person with a bit of hunger for power and immortality.

But finding the source of the summoning is like looking for a needle in a haystack, or a pencil under the sea. The spirits never really shows who summoned them, they were just summoned and was doing as requested of their summoner, and it was kind of like a contract (Danny even made an entire separate PowerPoint about spiritual contracts between spirits and the living that even Jake was surprised with the the many details and dedication into making the PowerPoint).

Never once Jake didn't think about finding the summoner (summoners if there's more people with similar ideas as his theory), and brought them to separate courts; for the summoner(s) (if they are mortals), he'll give them to Randy's custody as the younger is the Iudex. For the summoned, definitely put into Danny's custody as the older is the ghost king.

"Just chill out for a while. I'll make sure you won't get assigned to the next couple of missions and commissions we're gonna have. I'll brew you some tea." Said the Overview attendant.

"Yeah, that'll be nice. Thanks, man."

After a while, the aching started to come by again. And as much as he wanted to just sleep it off, he couldn't even close his eyes.

A few days gone by, and things hadn't calmed down, it took every bit of the American dragon's strength and willpower to even walk around the halls. He hadn't been feeling well as of late either.

"Master, you looked like you just got dug up from a grave." Another dragon hybrid who works as Jake's subordinate remarked.

She was right though; the dark circles are getting darker, and if you squint hard enough, his legs seemed slumped.

"Oh, is it? Sorry, Jing Hua. Been very tired lately, I could barely keep up." Said the Pearl Keeper. Though he felt a lot more worse than just 'tired'.

Truth be told, although the Head Medicals (particularly Dr. Li Shu) and the Sacred Pillars are Jake's direct bosses, the job of a Pearl Keeper branched out as well, and he happened to be the main head of this specific department. He runs around through the Moon Rite Commission like a bee, attending every newly laid dragons eggs and newly hatched baby dragons with speed that could be considered came from a specific spell, not the mention the work he had at the Shrine of Wisdom to protect the Dragon Pearls from potential predators of knowledge.

Makes him wonder how the title of 'Pearl Keeper' completely had the same meaning as a nurse and a security guard at the same time. If he's not so worn out and on the verge of passing out every single day, he might've asked this question to the Councils.

"Maybe you should take some times off work? You quite literally doing 2 jobs at once, and you'll more than likely gonna collapse like any second now. Master Míngzé could probably take over your work for a while, so just take early leave for now. We might not been able to do the work as efficient as you did, but at the very least, you need rest, you're on the verge of fainting here!" The female dragon hybrid said sounding kind of annoyed, but more on the worried part.

"Alright, alright, I understand. I'll take an early leave today. I do really need some rest, and good food." The head Pearl Keeper said before he stood up from his seat.

After being granted paid-leave for a couple of days until he was back in full energy, he went back to the team base rather than straight home; he's living alone now, and he wouldn't like coming back tired in the sound of silence.

"I'm back..." He entered the base, looking even more unwell by the minute.

"Welcome ba- ancients! Jake!" The ghost king exclaimed the moment he saw his friend really looking like he's about to pass out any moment now.

He hurriedly took all of Jake's stuff, and brought him to the couch to sit down. He put Jake's things in his room before returning to the living space, his face etched in worry.

His body is heating up, his vision is all blurry, his hearing felt like it's decreasing.

The voice of his friend seemed to be even more distant by the second as the moments goes by with his eyes feeling heavier and heavier.

Hours gone by.

He didn't know how long he was out, but he assumed it was a long time.

When he regained consciousness, he was no longer at the living space, but his own room in the base. He put himself in a sitting position to scan the room.

The room is dark. Not dark like all the windows are closed off, but dark like it's night time outside.

Was he really that worn out to the point of sleeping from early noon to night?

'Ugh... My head is still spinning...' He groaned in his mind.

In that moment, his door opened up.

Enter, Ben.

"Oh, you're awake." The anodite-hybrid said, sounding like a statement than anything.

"Y-yeah, just woke up..." The older man said, surprised with his voice sounding so sore.

"You've been out for quite a while, so I hope you're feeling slightly better at the very least."

"Sorta. My head is still spinning like I'm some sort of full-speed Mary-Go-Round..."

"Hm, I'm not surprised. You didn't even have lunch break before coming back, so I supposed your body is still asking for nutrients."

He was silent as he remembered that he hadn't eaten anything all day. He was so focused on getting back to the base, he didn't even stop at somewhere to buy food.

"... How long was I out?" The Pearl Keeper asked.

"1 and a half day. From yesterday noon to now" The younger said.

1 and a half day?

Was his condition really that bad?

"First and foremost, you need to eat." The Omnique Rosula designer said as he put the the tray of a bowl of warm soup and green tea to the bedside table. "Your stomach was practically screaming for food the entire time, and even with just liquid vitamins isn't enough."

He was hungry, that's for sure. He took the green tea first so his stomach won't go into a shock.

"I'll leave you be now. I really need to get back home, but I do hope you get better soon. You may be a nurse or whatever, but you really have to take care of yourself first before someone else. Otherwise, you won't even be able to someone else. Take care, dude." The wielder of the Omnitrix made his way to the door.

"Yeah, thanks a lot. Stay safe, both of you."

The Omnique Rosula designer throw his dragon-hybrid friend a small smile before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

After a few moments, the Pearl Keeper reached out for the soup bowl and started eating the soup.

"I guess I should be more careful next time, don't I?"

[comfreyhollywings]

honey in black tea.

you’ve sometimes put honey in your black tea before. you weren't sure about it. 

your molars hurt, of course. as with anything too sweet, cavities have formed in the back of your teeth that makes your teeth ache faintly. it doesn't hurt that much, but it's enough for you to notice and wonder if you need to go to the dentist. you don't have that kind of money though. maybe if you got a job with dental insurance, it would cover it. 

but. money. money money money. oh, that currency. the thing that "makes the world go round" except the world is not actually round. no. it's more like an ellipse, imperfect and rotted from current stage capitalism adding this brown tint into what was once a clear blue marble. oh, you know this will pass (at least you hope), but it won't be in your lifetime. realistically. a part of you wants to think if you were more ambitious, if you had the capacity of being slightly cold to run over some people, distant people, just to reach your goal.. then maybe you could start a change. a part of you argues that it's optimistic.

but you don't think so. you think it's possible. there's potential here. 

you've learned about thurgood martial. he was a lawyer that fought against segregation and saw the very seeds of union come together. he had been the first black associate justice the country had ever seen. despite the odds, he hadn't succumbed. you know he had sold a lot of himself to achieve this goal, but he did it. you've never really envied his position as you remember another lawyer— charles houston. he made it to fifty before he died of a heart attack—the first mixed race person who had sowed the seeds of desegregation as well. you also wonder what he had sold to vigorously till the soil until the world could no longer ignore what was going on. 

those two have never asked for permission for change. they were like the natural fleeting course of nature, they had just went with it. like a natural disaster—the first strike of lightning. the first whirl of a tornado until everyone followed suit.

it was small and it had to start from somewhere. it was never really that sweet to begin with, to catalyze transitions. 

naturally, it meant something had to die. death is death. it's not as bitter as some would like to believe. it's sour. pungent. it stinks.

see the thing about adulthood is that anything too sweet can rot. you know this well. you wonder if the quote "sweetheart" was capable of having their hearts rot in their chest while their bellies bloated full. not because they have eaten too much, but because they've eaten too little. sweetheart sounded like candies from valentines, sickeningly sweet but chalky in texture. you've never minded the title too much. you've never really minded being labelled as it more reflected them; not you. you'd lie if you said it didn't slightly amuse you. maybe a long time ago, it irked you to no end. but you can accept it now. 

if you were honest with yourself, you'd call yourself someone who nurtures. 

when you look at it, right. when you really look at it. imagine a toy. one is shaped like a square, the other is a circle. there are little wooden shapes that perfectly fit the hollow spaces there. 

so then, look. there were some people who catalyzed, and then there were some who nurtured it. sometimes overwatering can lead to root rot and the leaves can droop, yes. but the nurturers are just as important. cold hard logic applies only if there was a vision and a heart to still achieve it. so then, maybe it's unfair to keep comparing if you were just.. simply different. there's nothing wrong with that. 

there is no base requirement to exist. 

look at the oak tree. was it only change that inspired this solid plant to grow? was it only the tough environments that allowed it to thrive?  it had moments of sunshine, rain, and bees pollinating for it to sprout. it needed help, so help it received. it was open to it, to be in the right place at the right time. later, it grew. 

the eternal complexities of life. you're learning to get things done. you're learning to still go through the motions even if you have to drag yourself up every morning to wash your face. you're learning to look at documents and papers even if a part of your brain is numb and you have to reread the whole entire thing all over again. you learn and learn and learn. going through the motions, repeatedly. every single day. 

here, have a cup of black tea. can i tell you something? you are capable of doing the hard things, and you are capable of being soft.

look at me. there's nothing wrong with putting honey in your tea. just like there's nothing wrong putting it without.

so then, when you put honey in your black tea, you can only feel the warmth of it now. you're sure of it now. your mollars still hurt, but it'll be covered soon. you can receive help without having to opt out of the thing.. in moderation.

[harmonizingsunsets]

I'd Rather Go Blind & Let My Body Go Numb Than To Lose You Or The Weight Of Your Love

Prompt: Jealousy and all its cousins. Fanart Credit here.

Read on Archive here.

Anthony never thought he'd be the kind of husband who needs to know where his wife is at every moment of every day.

(To be fair, he never thought about being a husband much at all until the season he'd pursued Edwina only to fall maddeningly in love with Kate).

But here he is, sitting on the couch with his feet drumming loudly against the floor, staring intensely at the door.

On the table beside the couch sits a cup of tea, cold and untouched. Anthony had someone from the kitchens prepare it for him, but his nerves made him unable to stomach anything.

Anthony looks a mess. He'd been raking his hands through his hair for the past two hours. He'd also slapped his cheeks once or twice to stay awake.

His jacket lay discarded and wrinkled on the ground near the door. He feels guilty, knowing one of the maids would have to press it. However, he can't gather the desire to move from the couch and retrieve it. 

Instead, he's glued to the couch as he considers where Kate is. A hundred different scenarios run through his mind—each scenario worse than the last.

For the past month, Kate has been disappearing at night. He hears her footsteps tiptoeing past his study when he stays up to work. He feels the weight from her side of the bed lessen as she stands and departs from their bedroom when she thinks he's fallen asleep.

At first, Anthony questioned her about it. Kate would always make up an excuse about needing fresh air or going to see Edwina. But he knows her well enough to know when she's lying.

However, Anthony hadn't ever called Kate out on her deceit. He feared the truth, especially how it might crush him to hear it.

But he couldn't take the not knowing anymore. So when he heard the door close after Kate told him five minutes prior that she was retiring to bed, he made his way towards the front of the house. Anthony watched at the window as a carriage rode away. A hole had formed in his stomach, making him feel hollow. He then sat down on the couch so he could catch her when she returned.

Finally, after what felt like ages passed, he hears footsteps approaching the door. He quickly jumps up from the couch and makes his way to the foyer. When Kate steps through the door, her eyes widen.

"Anthony!" she exclaims in surprise, putting a hand to her chest to steady her breath. "You're up late."

"So are you," Anthony says, crossing his arms and blocking her way.

"I was only walking around to get some fresh air."

Anthony raises a brow. "Really, for two hours?"

Her eyes shift anxiously from his stare. "Has it really been that long?"

"Yes," he answers through gritted teeth, anger rising within him.

"Oh well, it was such a lovely night the time got away from me." Kate stands on her toes, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Sorry for worrying you."

As she tries to retreat, Anthony's hand lurches out to grab her elbow, pulling her back to face him.

"I've had enough, Kate," he sighs tiredly. "Where were you?"

"I just told you, I was—."

"You've been going out for fresh air at odd hours of the day for the past month. You'd think you'd have your fill by now."

Kate fidgets. "Well, it hasn't just been out to get fresh air. I've been attending engagements. I have a life outside you and this household, you know."

"Oh, I know that, but your engagements don't usually take place after dark and don't require you sneaking out of the house to attend."

"Darling, everything is fine," Kate says, pulling her arm out of his reach and giving him a nervous smile. "You've probably been working too hard. Let's go to bed."

As she tries to walk away again, Anthony pulls her back. But this time, he holds onto both of her arms, forcing her to meet his eye.

"Kate, I know you—perhaps more than you know yourself, and I know when you're lying to me," he says, his voice turning softer—more fragile. It's as if he's a vase that could shatter at any moment. "What I don't know is why."

"I promise that what I have been going out and doing is not anything scandalous or dangerous." After letting out a long breath, a laugh bubbles from her throat in amusement. "Honestly, where I've been going to is nothing to fret over. You're acting as if I'm having an affair or something."

Anthony's heart sinks in his chest. No matter how ridiculous the prospect sounds, he can't help but whisper the question that's been plaguing his mind these past few weeks.

"Are you?"

Kate's mouth falls open, her face paling. "Anthony, how could you think that?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of," he says, stepping away from her and beginning to pace. "It explains why you've been coming back so late and being so evasive these past few weeks."

"Anthony—."

His legs go weak at the affection in her voice. Anthony falls to his knees in front of her and takes hold of her hands.

"Just tell me, Kate, I cannot bear it," Anthony says, hating the way his voice wavers. "I cannot bear the thought of you finding pleasure in someone else's arms. I cannot bear you leaving our bed because you'd rather be in another's. I cannot bear the idea of someone else touching you, loving you, or kissing you."

He brushes his lips against Kate's knuckles, causing her breath to hitch. Anthony pulls his lips away, but just so his fingertips can swirl circles on her palm. When his thumb skims over her pulse, he feels her heartbeat quicken.

"Most of all, I cannot bear the thought of you loving someone else." Anthony swallows thickly, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "I'd die right now if you told me all of this was true."

Anthony has always feared time. He used to compulsively reach into his pocket to grasp his father's watch. Each time a hand on the clock ticked forward, he felt as if an ounce of his soul got sucked away.

But since Kate came into his life, that fear has dissipated. Suddenly, he didn't spend each moment of his life calculating how much time he had left. Instead, Anthony began counting things other than seconds.

He counts the number of Kate's smiles. He counts the number of laughs they share next to one another at the table surrounded by his family. Anthony counts the number of kisses that were slow, stirring an aching feeling in his chest. He also counts each hungry and passionate kiss that sets every inch of his skin aflame.

Most of all, Anthony counts how many times he's lost count around her. He gets lost in the timeless and wonderful enigma that is Kate Sharma.

Anthony feels that fear of time creeping up on him again. But now, he's not afraid of time passing and leading to his demise. Instead, he's terrified that Kate's time of loving him has run out. Maybe, she's found a more deserving man to spend the minutes with than him.

When Anthony braves a glance up at Kate, he expects to see pity. But instead, he's surprised to see an entirely different emotion reflected in her eyes.

Love.

Pure, unconditional, steadfast love.

Kate gets down to her knees in front of him. But she doesn't let go of his hands, holding them tighter.

"None of that is true, Anthony," she says firmly. "I love you, have only loved you, and will only love you."

Her words release a breath of relief from him. But, he still can't help doubting this, not knowing how else to explain her odd disappearances.

Kate must sense his train of thoughts. She smiles gently, moving one of her hands up to graze his cheek.

"I love you so much that I've been waking up in the middle of the night so I can give you the perfect present."

Anthony blinks in confusion, feeling the room that had been spinning become still.

"What?"

Kate laughs, and she rests her forehead against his. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"

It hits Anthony like a whip. All the clues that he'd gathered up to form a horrible conclusion were, in fact, clues that lead to a more justifiable and pleasant one.

"Our anniversary," he answers dumbly.

"Yes," she nods, her face beaming with a giddy kind of delight. Anthony feels lucky that he gets to see it. Her expressions are free without restraint only when she's comfortable with someone. He's glad to be one of those treasured few. "We've made it a year, can you believe it? It seems like only yesterday, I was stepping on your toes at a ball, and you acted like a madman when I got stung by a bee."

Anthony frowns, his forehead creasing. "I did not act like a madman."

"You did, but it led us to where we are now," Kate says, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "Married and happy."

"I'd like to think it would've happened with the bee or not."

"I'm not sure. You were quite thick-headed about how in love with me you were."

"Oh, I'm the thick-headed one?" he scoffs. "After the night you fell in love with me, you gave your approval for me to marry your sister. How thick-headed is that?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd ever feel that way about me," Kate defends, rolling her eyes. "But I know very well now that you do. You show me with every kind word, every touch, every…" her words drift, cheeks reddening, "Well, you know."

Anthony smirks. "No, I do not know. Please elaborate on everything I do to you that gives you pleasure in vivid detail."

"You're insufferable," she grumbles and puts her hands on her hips. "I have a good mind not to tell you the true reason for my disappearing and keep you stewing in jealousy."

"I don't think you'd like the result of my increased jealousy."

"I don't know, your scowl was fierce, and the fire in your eyes was quite the sight," Kate teases, tracing her thumb over his furrowed brows. "Very becoming, actually."

Anthony stands and pulls her up with him, leading her to the couch. "Why have you been disappearing?"

"As I said, our anniversary is tomorrow, and I was getting your gift ready," she explains. "It's almost midnight. Perhaps I can give it to you a little bit early. I had one of the servants waiting outside for my return. They came in through the back entrance and have already snuck it into your study to reveal as a surprise for tomorrow."

"How sinister of you, plotting with our staff against me."

"Nothing sinister about it. I asked, and they agreed to help me. Unlike you, they think I'm perfectly agreeable."

"Obviously, they don't know you well enough to fear the wicked inner workings of your mind as I do."

Kate stands, gracefully sticking out her tongue and making him laugh. Anthony follows her down the hall into his study. She makes him close his eyes. He feels like a fool, stumbling into the room with Kate chuckling behind him. But, he feels guilty for thinking Kate could ever be unfaithful and indulges her wishes.

He waits for a few moments, hearing her moving something across the floor, before he asks, "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Alright, you bloody impatient man, open your eyes."

As Anthony takes his hands away from his eyes, his heart stops in his chest. He gawks at the painting on a canvas stand in front of him.

"Kate," he utters breathlessly.

Kate chews on her bottom lip, hesitantly watching him observe the painting—no, "painting" doesn't seem like the right word for what it is.

It's a masterpiece, an almost perfect depiction of Kate.

The artist captured the exact fraction that Kate's lips tilt up when she smiles in amusement. Anthony often sees that expression pointed towards him when they're engaged in one of their bantering matches. The color of her brown eyes is just as deep in the painting. They're full of so much that Anthony still wants to explore even after a year of marriage.

In the portrait, Kate's shoulders are bare, the sleeves resting low on her arm. The bottom of the picture shows the scarlet bodice of her dress. But the most alluring part is how the brown curls of her hair flow freely down her neck, cascading like a waterfall.

Anthony has a strong distaste for her bonnets and how society demands she wears her hair up in public. Anthony loves running his fingers through her hair, which probably is why she posed for the painting with it down. That minx knew it would stir a feeling within him that no one else but her has been able to elicit.

"I hired Sir Granville to paint it," Kate blurts out, nervous from how long he's remained silent. "I wanted him to paint it in a private setting because it's a bit…."

"Breathtaking," Anthony answers.

"I was going to say suggestive, but breathtaking is a good adjective," Kate grins bashfully. She steps towards him, her eyes glowing through the dim light of the room. "It's a portrait for your eyes only, no one else's."

Anthony ducks his head. "I'm sorry that I thought you were...I just—."

"Foolishly got jealous of a person who doesn't exist? Yes, yes, you did."

He runs his fingers against the frame of the painting. "I have a mind to hang this in the common area, so everyone can see how lucky I am."

Kate's eyebrows snap together. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he asks playfully.

"It might encourage some men to meet the woman behind the painting," Kate notes with a mischievous glint in her eyes, pretending to consider his proposal. "Who am I to oppose admirers?"

Anthony's smirk fades. "You wouldn't dare."

"Ah, there's that handsome scowl," Kate points at him in triumph.

He swoops forward, his arms going around her waist. "You're maddening."

Kate's smile widens as she looks up at him, looping her hands around his neck. "You love it."

"You're right. I do love you. And, I love this portrait," Anthony adds, bobbing his head towards the painting. "Perhaps I should hang it in here. It can serve as a reminder of what's waiting for me when I finish my work."

She leans up a bit on her toes, her hands traveling lower down his back. "You know, I could come down to your study to remind you."

Anthony begins moving his hands as well. As they skim up her body, brushing her breast, he relishes in the sound of her moan. Anthony leans closer, pressing kisses down her neck until he gets to just the right spot. Kate's fingers curl tighter onto his back as his lips apply pressure there, and her body gravitates further against him.

"You're far too distracting," Anthony murmurs against her skin. "Perhaps, the portrait is too dangerous to be in here. I'd get nothing done."

"Exactly." She leans her face back a margin, so Anthony can see that enchanting tilt of her lips the artist depicted. "Why do you think I commissioned the painting in the first place?"

"To torture me?"

"All is fair in love and war," Kate says, grinning at him. "And hasn't our relationship always been a bit of both?"

In response, Anthony kisses her deeply and thoroughly. The sound of his pocket watch ticking starts to fade away. It gets replaced with the sound of his heart, which beats for Kate more than himself these days.

[sadaakirah]

Swelter

"Mikasa."

He meant to warn, but it comes out more breathless than he intended.

"Lieutenant, I do not need to tell you how inappropriate this is,” he said with finality - his voice even, flat and devoid of any other slip-up.

This is Part 1 of 3 parts and there will be smutty-smutty-smut in Part 2.

Part 1 is rated T.

[Part 1 ]

Mikasa watches the remnants of the cadets ushering out, sweat glueing their black uniforms onto their tired, aching bodies. Lieutenant Ackerman, baptized as slave-driver/a beautiful but deadly force to be reckoned with, by these new recruits, is no exception.

Violent hues of blood orange rays make their last attempt to scorch the training grounds, as a watchful half-moon bides its time in the violet skies. Mikasa is tired, more so from this heat than the exhaustion.

Her white blouse moulds itself to the hard planes of her abdomen, back and the soft slopes of her chest. She wipes the sheen off from her forehead, and lets out a sigh when the cadets have had their eyes turned away from her.

She could only imagine the vexed face her Captain would make at her filthy sight, but she had an appointment that could not be delayed. The thought of his irritated face alone was enough motivation for her to keep time.

From the vantage point of his private office, a pair of gunmetal eyes wait for the grounds to finish emptying. Captain Levi has a diminutive twitch in the corner of his mouth, one which was a scaled down version of the smirk that now embraces Mikasa's own lips.

Levi watches as the half-Oriental woman makes a bee-line towards the castle, with calculated, purposeful strides.

Any moment now.

With eyes now back to the task at hand, he plucks a pen out of a well-worn book, and flourishes his signature onto the document addressed to Commander Arlert.

Levi Ackerman.

In a world unreservedly trying to right itself after the war, one where his kind would never be persecuted, he now proudly carries the clan-name his mother once did.

Standing with half his weight on an elaborately crafted chair, a muscular back faces the oak door, while a pen impatiently taps aginst his desk.

Knock-knock-

A pause follows the dull percussion. The pause is no longer than one exhale from a breath he did not realize he was holding back.

And another knock - as expected; as was her customary cue to enter.

Levi does not bother to ask who is at the door. His guest surfaces into his office from the hallway and clicks the door shut behind her with lithe, calloused fingers.

"Come in," he intones, voice seeping with sarcasm and the tiredness of the duties of that day.

"Done with training the new brats already, Lieutenant?"

When her nimble footsteps stop behind him, he schools his expression down to one that does not relay how he spent the better half of his tea-time watching Mikasa pummel new recruits into the Earth. Looking over one broad shoulder, Levi spares her a bored glance.

His mind half-cradles the curious desire that she had felt his eyes with all their less than innocent intentions, boring into the back of her black hair, down and up and down her drenched breasts and along the pale sliver of occasionally exposed hip, through the better part of her lessons.

"Mhm," Mikasa replies. "They seem promising," she admits, freely giving appreciation where it was due.

"Hn," Levi delivers the same curt acknowledgement as from when she had taken down the Jaws Titan.

They indeed seemed promising. New recruits- new flesh for a world anew, which harboured no need for child soldiers, trying to set itself upright, where man with his politics and ideologies was the worst enemy and not man-eating titans. And on second thought, a world promising enough to start a life anew if he dare; if he dare think about it.

"Did you finish up with that document?" Hot breath fans the side of his temple. "I need to submit it to Armin by tomorrow morning."

Awaiting his answer, Mikasa unsticks her white blouse from her heated skin, to and fro in waves, allowing the cool air of the room to fan away the sheen in the dip between her breasts and the precipice of her clavicles.

"Brat," he bites out at the sight before him.

"Go take a shower. You're stinking it up in here."

Levi shoots her a schooled glare when she doesn't stop. It was one full of underlying challenge, one he has worn many times on sparring grounds when his thighs had locked Mikasa's waist into their rightful place between them.

A look of irritation flashes pass her face momentarily with his words.

He flippantly returns to the well-worn book with a flick of the hand that had been wittled down to 3 fingers.

Levi's attention is not caught by the title of the book, nor the inscriptions staining its weathered pages.

He waits. And he bides his time.

Any moment now.

A pair of arms snake their way down his broad shoulders, along his rippling biceps, and finishes their descent when fingers brush across his scarred knuckles.

He could practically feel his Lieutenant seething down his back and into his core. With a nudge from her knees, she pushes her Captain's form closer to his ornate desk, as those arms box his frame in between them.

Her pert and moderately-endowed breasts mould themselves against the vast expanse of the solid and compact muscles of his back. Her jaw-length hair tickles his temples.

There’s a touch of surprise that crosses over him, and he does not know what to say.

He slowly looks back at her, his grey eyes peering out under sooty eyelashes.

The sight and sound, or lack thereof, of Humanity’s Strongest made speechless, was satisfying, and Mikasa did not hide her mirth from him.

They were standing so close; inappropriately close.

If he wanted to he could count the number of her overlapping black lashes, the drops of sweat on her forehead, and the almost imperceptible quiver of her cupid's bow. Eventually, she speaks first.

"I do not stink," she states matter of factly with a look of indignation splashed across her beautiful face.

She didn't, he knew that. A many a thing was dirty and unhygienic to Levi, but a beautiful Mikasa Ackerman bathed in dying sunlight, soaked shirt , dark eyes challenging him, was not one of them. But a prideful man like him would never say it out loud for her ears.

"And absolutely filthy."

Unlike her, he is patient. Levi makes some sort of smirk, finding no reason to answer her with complete sentences.

It was probably less than a second, but he catches it painted across her aquiver eyebrows- the moment of conception of an especially childish idea.

"What is it Captain Levi - Can't handle a bit of sweat?"

He meets her challenge with a halfhearted glare, as she runs her arms up and down his biceps making sure to leave half-mooned indentations in the exposed skin of his well-veined forearms. Her breasts push up and into his toned back.

Mikasa's lips ghost along his neck with promise of more to come. No doubt she feels elated at having irked some of his irrational compulsion for absolute cleanliness.

However, the very feelings shoot molten ichor down his spine and straight to his groin, kindling a different sort of compulsion.

The book is long-forgotten.

"Mikasa."

He meant to warn, but it comes out more breathless than he intended.

"Lieutenant, I do not need to tell you how inappropriate this is,” he said with finality - his voice even, flat and devoid of any other slip-up.

If it hadn’t been for the slow rise and dip of his Adam's apple, Mikasa would have faltered. The sight of an annoyed and dirty Levi coated with the sweat he hated the most, should have been enough petty vengeance for her for one day.

She studied the hard planes of her Captain's face. His brows pinched, and his once grey pupils blown out of arousal - two stones of heated charcoal.

An oh so familiar fire ignited low in her belly, one that had always reserved undying, crackling embers for this one man.

Levi heard her swallow.

Nonetheless, Mikasa did not falter; could not falter.

Thank you for reading!

His previous biting taunts and his beautifully traitorous face pressed her on and press on she did.

Part 2

My very first Rivamika fic, and I guess I decided to write smut (not in this chapter), with a bit of fluff and plot. 😷 Set after the war, slightly dom!Mikasa, and a slightly sub!Levi who really likes to egg her on.

[commanderserwin]

woe.

↦ pairing(s): levi ackerman x reader

↦ word count: 2.6k

↦ anon request: 

Hi Bee!!! I truly love your writing w all my heart 🥺♥️ I was wondering (if you have time!) maybe you could write an angsty/fluff one shot with Levi where the cadet!reader is slightly injured after an expedition and Levi comforts her in his office after she breaks down in his arms, feeling extremely guilty that she watched many of her comrades pass away (since he knows the feeling) Thank you!

↦ warning(s): mentions of blood and death

↦ author’s note(s): hello!! you are too sweet, thank for your kind words 🥺 i hope this is angsty/fluffy enough!! thank you for requesting! ♡

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Everybody stood in the middle of it all. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Only the heavy gusts of the autumn wind outside the walls were the only sounds after this expedition. Somebody’s cloak flew because of the heavy wind but nobody moved. Stunned, everybody carried their feet towards the direction of their fallen comrades as Captain Levi instructed to retrieve the bodies of the dead. Mellow footsteps crunched on the leaves, sighing as they delved deeper into the woods.

“Cadet,”

You were so close. Her fingertips already brushed yours when you reached out. It was so close, and you didn’t know what happened. Her screams echoed in your mind, never disappearing, as you reached out to her. Eden, your best-friend, dead. She ran out of gas, her cables quickly attaching to the branch as she called out you leaped from tree to tree as fast you could. All you could see was her.

Titans were big. Gigantic, yet you have no idea how you didn’t see it coming towards her. But how come you didn’t see it? How come you didn’t see its hand reaching for Eden, until...

Blood. You didn’t know whose blood it was that was splayed on your face. Yours? Eden’s? The titan’s? All you could was the titan’s mouth, her arm dangling from it, her screams echoing deep and deep until it stopped.

“Cadet,”

Somebody placed their hand on your shoulder, and you whipped your body to see who it was. Captain Levi eyed you up and down, finally meeting your eyes, wiping away the blood on his face. His voice faded out in your ears, only hearing Eden’s voice until he touched the wound that was on your shoulder. Eden’s cables got caught in your shoulder and arm, wrapping it tight, coiling around your skin as blood seeped through your jacket and blouse.

“Are you listening to me?”

Captain Levi grasped your chin, eyes intense and empty as he looked at you. “Cadet,”

“Yes?”

The Captain removed his hold on your chin, “Get your shoulder checked.”

You looked down on your wound, “It’s nothing.”

Captain Levi turned to dig his fingers again into your wound, making you wrap your hand around his wrist in attempt to get his hand off. You winced in pain, holding over his hand. He pulled away, destroying his shirt to get a portion of it to wrap around your shoulder. He tied it off quickly, holding you steady with his eyes, as you winced until it was over.

“Get your shoulder checked.”

“I want to help.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s not important,” you seethed, holding your shoulder. “I can help.”

“Don’t make me push on your wounds again.”

“Yes, it hurts!” You cried, not because of how it feels, but because everything feels so heavy. You cried because you watched your best-friend die in front of your eyes. Watch how that titan devoured her whole. You heart bubbled with anger, frustration, and guilt, and you yelled, “It hurts!”

Levi’s eyes widened for a second, and nodded. He looked away for a few seconds before coming in any closer. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it right away. He nodded again, brushing the blood off of his face then he walked away. He was too familiar with this feeling yet so hopeless with what to do with it. He turned back again, noticing how the blood seeped through your clothes, as you helped to carry a soldier, wrapping your injured shoulder around theirs to bring them back safely.

The stench of blood was aggressively heavy on your nose, the grass painted colored red, squelching every time you step on it. It took a few longer hours to get everybody on the carts, and all you could was look behind, bringing back nothing of Eden’s, not even her jacket, her shoes, her necklace, nothing.

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After a few days in the medical bay, the nurses deemed that you were ready to go but still to avoid any extraneous work that could damage the stitches all around your shoulder. The walk back to the base was the one you dreaded the most. Everybody, almost everyone that you knew was gone. It doesn’t feel the same way when you entered the barracks, not hearing somebody’s laughter by the door, or somebody wrestling on the ground for a bet that they had. It was hard to not notice who was gone.

Captain Levi occupied everybody with various chores and duties, making everybody occupied to keep their thoughts away from the tragic expedition. Grateful for the distraction, you tried to pace your tasks so that you’ll be busy and tired for the night.

But sleep never came.

You kept turning around in your bed, thoughts coming in and in, finding no exit to bring calm to your mind. You threw the blankets off of your body, automatically reaching for the door to step outside the room. Everybody’s candles have been out as the dim-lit halfway softly accompanied you, finally reaching the kitchen.

Your eyes immediately scanned the room, already moving back when you see somebody inside. You took a huge guess, the way they were slouched over the countertop, hands gripping it tight, waiting for the water to boil. The man sensed somebody else, slowly standing up straighter as he stared right back at you.

“Tea?”

“What?” You whispered in the night, your hands clasped behind your back. Levi didn’t wait for your answer, already grabbing another teacup as he prepared the tea leaves on instinct.

“Tea.”

“You don’t need to...”

“Don't drink it if you don't want to.”

Levi tilted his head, as you took the farthest chair away from him. Silence settled into an uneasy aura, heart pounding as you didn’t expect to see Levi, at this hour. When the water was finally done, you pushed back the chair, padding towards him as you grabbed your teacup to ask for some hot water. He subtly hesitated, expecting you to not drink the tea he’d prepared but here you are. Blowing off the steam of the tea, both of you leaning on the countertop in complete silence. You slowly swirled your teacup, fascinated with how the leaves swam as it faintly colored the water.

“Can’t sleep?”

Levi asked, blowing his tea, looking straight ahead as he slowly sipped his. The scalding tea didn’t even faze him, probably used to drink it hot. He turned his head when you didn’t answer, watching you as you swirled your cup again and again. He looked away, sipping again.

You breathed deeply, turning your head to him, “It’s hard to fall asleep nowadays.”

Levi hummed, carrying his feet towards the door. Sleep doesn’t easily come to him anymore, even tea could never make him shut his eyes so he always made sure to do anything useful from the hours sleep wouldn’t let him do so. He nodded towards your direction, as you watched him with lost eyes, thinking if he was going to leave you alone.

“Where are you going?” You quietly asked, hoping that it wouldn’t come off bothersome. “I mean, I should probably head in as well. Thank you for the-.”

“You can come with me to my office.”

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The office was gloomier. His desk was filled with numerous documents. Death reports of the soldiers that were gone during the expedition. Levi pointed to the chair across his desk, as he noticed that you were only standing by the door. He delicately placed his cup on the table, immediately dipping his pen into the ink, reading it and signing. He listened to your soft footsteps as you settled on the chair before him, placing your cup besides his.

He looked so busy that it made you think what you were doing inside his office aside from just sitting there. You cleared your throat which made him look up, his eyes waiting for you to speak. You mustered up a smile, leaning over his desk. “What... what are you doing?”

“Reading the reports.”

“Oh,” you said, leaning back again to your sit. He went back to his work, writing and sipping his tea once in a while, leaving you in a stump of doing absolutely nothing.

Levi sensed this, placing his pen back. “You can read it if you want.”

Thoughts rambled in your mind, asking if you wanted to see who has died. Your comrades, your friends, Eden. You idly scratched your nails on the wooden armrest, shaking your head, “No. It’s okay.”

Levi nodded, going back to his tea. “Drink your tea before it gets cold,” he remarked, pushing the teacup closer to you.

You leaned in, using your good shoulder and arm to pick it up. The other shoulder still hurt whenever you accidentally move it, feeling the wound open the slightest. You winced, successfully taking hold of your tea.

“How is your shoulder?”

You nodded, swirling your tea again. “It’s good. The nurses gave me stitches the other day. They told me that it’ll take a week or two for them to take it out.”

He only hummed in answer, watching you lean back into your chair, holding the tea with both hands as you clutched it close to your heart. You sipped it over the course of the quiet minutes, drinking in the silence, listening to Levi write and let out a sigh every now and then.

You couldn’t help but bore your eyes into what he was doing, reading his papers upside down the best that you could. Paper after paper, your heart ache for them all, glimpses of them appearing in your mind, also hoping that you would never see Eden’s death confirmation. Levi took his time when he noticed that you were reading the names of the soldiers, scanning his eyes numerous times on it before putting it into an another pile.

Not her, you thought. Not her, not her.

You craned your head closer, absolutely oblivious when Levi moved the paper slightly so that you wouldn’t sprain your neck, trying to look for something that you didn’t want to see.

Then there it was.

Eden Hue. Stamped: killed in action. No body retrieved.

Levi stopped. His eyes only moving to watch you. He didn’t fail to notice as how your eyes reddened with the sight of it, as your lips quivered.

You finally looked up, letting your tears fall, as you asked for it. You stood up directly in front of his desk, as Levi craned his neck at you. “May I?”

“Of course,” Levi whispered, handing the paper towards your shaky hands. He felt like he was intruding, listening to you sob.

What you were holding is the last thing that make you realize that she really is dead. You a made a mess out of yourself, crying loudly, as you turned away from him. He watched the way your shoulders shake, your cries echoing in his quiet office. He stood up, rounding around his table until he stood in front of you.

You opened your eyes, wiping away your tears and looking down. Her paper has crumpled and wet, the new ink on it transferring to your clothes. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean too...”

Suddenly, you were surrounded by his warmth and his arms around you as he guided your head towards his shoulder. He felt you shake underneath him, crying, mumbling your apologies to him and Eden, as he soothed your hair, resting his cheek on your head. Both of you stayed like that for a couple of minutes, as he waited for you to calm down. He was careful to not touch your injured shoulder, as he felt you tighten your hold on him.

Levi is so familiar with the feeling that he has become accustomed to it. He is still hurting, wanting for everybody he knew to come back, but there was nothing he could do to make it happen. All he could do now is to protect everybody that he could.

It was him who killed the titan that ate Eden Hue, he was the who carried you to safety, crying loudly on his shoulder, screaming right at his ear to ‘Go back!’ He was sure that it tired out your throat, as you croaked one last time to for her. You were too stunned to hear him as he leaped the both of you away from the middle of it all. He took note of how much your shoulder was bleeding, feeling it on his skin as he maneuvered quickly to the ground. He gave you space to recover, only for you to run through it again, killing titans until they had confirmed that the horde is dead.

You wrapped your arm around his shoulder, holding on to his collar, calming yourself down as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. You pulled away slightly, feeling his arms retract from you, as he scanned your face for anything. Levi brushed away the hair from your face gently as he walked back to his chair.

“I’m sorry-.”

“Don’t be,” Levi sighed, watching you face him again. He accepted the paper back from you, and placing it on his pile. He looked up again, watching you wipe away your tears. “Why don’t you finish your tea?”

“Okay,” you sniffled, settling down again on your chair, taking tiny sips of your drink. You hiccuped once in a while, sniffling as you tried to breathe in deeply. You closed your eyes to try not to think of it. To calm yourself down, calling on to the rest that your body desperately needs.

Just a break, you thought. A break from it all.

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Levi noticed that you were dozing off, your fingertips sparingly holding on to the handle of the cup. He leaned in quickly, prying your fingers off of it so that it wouldn’t fall to the ground. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally placed it on the table next to his, watching you sleep peacefully on the uncomfortable chair. He didn’t hesitate to open one of his drawers where he kept a small blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

He went back to his desk, admiring how you sleep as he rubbed his eyes. He worked for a few more hours, glancing numerous times over at your sleeping figure. Your arms were crossed over your chest, head tilted to the right, and back leaned on the chair.

Sleep never came for him, so the only thing that he could do was work, and write, again and again.

In the morning, you woke up to the same gloomy office, surprise stuck in your throat as you looked down at your blanketed form. The familiar scribbles of his pen echoed in the early morning, the same teacups back on the tray.

Levi glanced up, writing again. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Everything looked the same. 

From the second Levi lifted his head, you caught glimpse of his tired eyes, slumped figure, as he rolled his shoulders back. It was arguably one of the best sleep you have ever had ever since the expedition, the feeling of comfort and warmth, but can’t say the same for the person before you. You folded the blanket as best as you could, and placed it on your lap.

“Did you sleep, Levi?”

He didn’t answer, continuing to write, as the pile on his desk came close to a finish.  

“Did you sleep?”

Levi looked at you with the lightest of the greys, the tiredness evident on his face, as his lips pursed slightly.

“No.”

[jasperswhumpjourney]

Breakfast: Part One

Masterlist

Content warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Slavery, past abuse, past trauma, conditioning, beginnings of a panic attack.

It was morning, and the sun hadn’t been up for long. Jasper had been awake to watch it come up. That was still an amazing privilege his new Mistress allowed that he never would grow tired of.

Miss Bee liked to sleep in, and so she was still on her bed, sprawled out on her tummy. Both of her cats were lying on her in some way. Liver was curled up on her back, whereas Minstrel was lounging between her legs, head resting on her thigh.

In the time Jasper had been with her, Miss Bee had invited him into her bed many times. He couldn’t sleep there, however. Even when she asked him to. He obeyed her, of course he did, crawling in as soon as she patted the covers. But for actual sleeping, though he tried to the best of his ability, he was just never able to fall asleep no matter how tired he was. Something about sleeping in a bed was so unfamiliar and wrong, he just couldn’t do it.

She had remedied the situation with a plush pet bed, thick with padding and fully equipped with more blankets than Jasper knew what to do with. It was the softest pet bed Jasper had ever been granted, but its familiarity was enough to allow him to fall asleep on it.

Unlike past places, Jasper wasn’t caged in or ordered not to move from this bed. In fact, Miss Bee had made it quite clear he had free access to the house. He could leave the bed and go into any room he pleased, and he had free reign to do what he wanted.

Of course he had never taken advantage of that freedom, even though he regularly woke hours before Miss Bee. It felt wrong to leave without express permission or an order. But unless he needed to go relieve himself, he wasn’t ever really eager to leave the bed anyways. The large window in her room was typically uncovered, and he had a good view of it from his plush nest. Watching the sun rise in the morning, listening to the birds sing. Jasper was able to rest and enjoy these peaceful moments.

He also used these moments to watch Miss Bee sleep. Despite how they treated him, he’d been conditioned to love all of his previous owners, and he always would. Traitorously, however, Jasper knew he loved Miss Bee the most. She had been exceedingly kind to him, she was everything he had ever wanted. His heart felt like it would burst whenever he thought about her kindness for him.

Something needed to be done, Jasper decided. He needed to show her how grateful he was for her. The free reign of her home, the fancy bed, the pillows scattered around her home for him to kneel on. She fed him far more than any of his previous owners had, and he was allowed to wash in warm water every day. The list of privileges she bestowed upon him was endless!

An idea popped into his head, and he ducked down under his arms and shivered with fear at the thought. Jasper was grateful for the pet panties he wore, as he couldn’t help but dribble a little pee in fear. It was the perfect plan though and even after additional long moments of thinking, Jasper couldn’t come up with anything better.

With how the light filtered into the room, Jasper knew he would have plenty of time to complete his goal. He just had to be good, and prove to her that these privileges would be used as they should be: to her benefit. He wouldn’t want her to think he would ever take advantage of her kindness for selfish reasons!

Moving slowly and as quietly as he could, Jasper stepped down from the bed. He didn’t have just her to not disturb, but also her two cats. If he woke them, surely they would alert her to his movements. Jasper was still very unused to walking on two feet; he hadn’t been allowed the privilege often in years. That, too, felt wrong. Even if walking on two feet could be easier, the memory of how painful it had been to walk on hobbled feet, mixed with feeling too tall, and the ache of his body when he tried, were all enough to discourage him from it even now.

The long seafoam green tank top he wore to bed last night had shifted in his sleep, scrunching up over his chest and leaving his stomach bare. It didn’t hinder his movements, so he waited until he managed to make it into the next room to adjust it.

The doors in Miss Bee’s home never closed. Typically they were always at least cracked, as the cats would put up a fuss at any door they found closed. It was easy to crawl through the door and push it so that it was still open, but cracked to muffle the noises he would make. Here he was able to adjust the thin covering, smoothing out the over-large clothing so it better held to his body. He took a moment to lift the neck of the tank top to his nose to inhale the lingering scent of his Mistress.

The scent was faint, muddled through with his own after having slept in it last night. It was enough to calm Jasper and let him focus on his goal. The whole house smelled like Miss Bee, but the strong Alpha scent was best concentrated and on things she had worn or handled often.

Jasper didn’t allow himself to dally for long, even if he wanted to bask in the comfort her musk provided forever. He had a task he was determined to complete.

Carefully, Jasper made his way into the kitchen. He moved slowly so as to make sure he wouldn’t disturb her rest a few rooms over. It wouldn’t be his first time using her kitchen, just the first time without her express permission or supervision. She had a folding stool set aside just for his use in the kitchen, allowing him to reach the counter and work without tiring himself out too much. Miss Bee really was so very kind!

The first step was heating the water for her tea. Miss Bee typically started the morning with tea, and the water would take the longest to heat up even in the fancy kettle she owned. The kettle was near the sink, so he didn’t even have to move to fill it up and put it on it’s dock to heat up.

Miss Bee could never eat too much right after waking. The breakfasts she usually made were small things that she ate slowly, savoring with her drink. Any big breakfast was usually left unfinished.

It was an easy task to set half of a cinnamon raisin bagel to toast. While the bagel browned, Jasper went to the fridge to plate some fruit. He would have loved to cut up a peach or a mango for her — he knew how they were her favourites — but he couldn’t bring himself to pick up a knife without her express permission. Besides, holding a knife to cut with what remained of his docked fingers would’ve been very taxing. So, instead, he settled on strawberries and raspberries.

By the time the bagel was toasted there was a pleasing arrangement of rinsed berries on the plate. Instead of cream cheese, Jasper used a spoon to spread a nice layer of chunky peanut butter on the bagel to add protein to the meal.

When this all was completed, the kettle had boiled and shut off on its own. It had been a few minutes since then, enough for the water to cool off a bit. He flipped the kettle on again while he measured out the tea leaves and carefully placed the infuser in a decent sized mug.

Things had been going so well, of course something was bound to come along and ruin all his hard worked efforts.

The kettle, filled up with boiling water, was heavy and hard to grip in his stubbed hands. When the water had been cool, Jasper had been able to use both hands to hold the kettle, clasped tight between them. With the water boiling inside, it was only comfortable to grab the handle. It was something he felt confident he could pour and the first few moments went well, the water cascading over the tea leaves.

But, unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Jasper to lose his grip on the kettle. It was full and heavy; his stubs ached at the strain. His hands trembled, shook, and then he lost his grip entirely. The heavy plastic kettle smashed into the counter, the ceramic mug shattering under it, and the boiling water splashing up on him.

Jasper didn’t feel the boiling water burn his skin, instead ice-cold anxiety and panic flooded through him. This was him trying to be good for his Mistress and to pay her back for all her kindness. Instead, he’d broken her belongings and made a mess!

Knees cracked against the floor as Jasper scrambled from the stool. Panic made it hard to think. It made it hard to breathe too, which made it even harder to think. The floor had bits of the ceramic mug scattered across it, and Jasper had to clean it up! The only thought in his mind was how desperately he needed to clean up his mess. He reached forward with his hands, sweeping the bigger bits and the small pieces into a pile.

Jasper’s vision was blurred, increasingly so. The world was spinning too, like he couldn’t breathe but he was breathing too much. His fingers tingled and felt clumsy as he tried to pick up the tiny broken pieces of the cup.

....to be continued.

Masterlist

[marshmallowprotection]

Reverse AU

She didn’t know what it felt like to take a break. 

Well, perhaps there was one point in her life where she knew what they felt like but honestly, she wasn’t going to let herself stop. Her goal was the obliteration of everyone that had ever spurred her to rot in Hell. Her blood boiled every time that she thought of all of the ways that she’d been hurt. 

And? 

It made her want to destroy everything that hurt her to prove that she was stronger, no, that she was better than the rest of them.  She would survive and prove that she was always meant to be on top in the end. It was her promised destiny, the will of paradise, the very scorch of the earth that she’d been given a new chance on, and she wouldn’t lose this chance. 

Her head ached, but there could have been a few reasons for that. She figured off the top of her head that it was the need for another bottle of elixir, and her second guess was the fact that she hadn’t had any rest since her target had been chosen. He was meant to go to the apartment and trick those damn fools. 

He was meant to make them bend and break with his sincere smile and—

Her fingers paused against the keys, staring deeper at the CCTV camera of her target as he continued about his day. He had such a lovely face. He sought to find an identity outside of his twin brother, and his attention brought him to dress like such a prince. It made her heart flutter every time she thought of his handsome features. 

He was perfect. 

He was going to make everything work. 

And yet, she clicked her tongue distastefully. She didn’t want to share him. She didn’t want to send him into the lion’s den with those fools.  Whenever she envisioned him with any of them, it made her blood boil even hotter in a room that was meant to be chilled to keep her from falling asleep. He was better than those liars… than that bastard.

She didn’t want to share. 

She… 

She thought of her Savior, what he would think if he knew what she was thinking, and yet, at that moment, she felt drawn to do something that would get her into trouble. However, if she played her cards right, she could keep the cute prince and manipulate his brother to go into the apartment instead since he wouldn’t be the wiser. 

It might be enough to spurn them to give up in the future if they got close enough to his brother, and then she could manipulate them all one by one until they crumbled beneath the Savior’s feet once and for all. 

That way, paradise could be… united, in the future. 

“Yes, that’s it, that’s what I’ll do, it could work,” she cocked her head as she watched him check his phone, not knowing what was going to happen to him very soon. “I’ll destroy them… I won’t have to share you to do it… haha… haha… hahahahaha! I can get you to help me another way from my side… Savior will understand. He always does.” 

He had saved her when she was so scared and lost, and she now hoped to do the same for someone that she saw herself in. Paradise was welcoming to all, and even if it meant more work for her, she wouldn’t care. As long as she had him, as long as she had paradise, as long as she had her goals, then it would be alright. 

She had to act now when her prince was alone… and she had to do it without informing her Savior, but she was far too excited to stop now that the thought occurred to her. She was the strongest, she was the most trusted member of paradise. She wouldn’t face punishment for furthering their goals, she would be praised. 

Praised as she deserved… 

The thought of those mint eyes looking upon her with pride was all that she wanted. 

“Wait for me, my darling… our paradise awaits.” 

—

“Hey, what’s with that face? You don’t think I’m going to do something horrible to you, do you? I swear I’m not some creep,” the look in her eyes didn’t make that nervous smile on her lips. “I swear, I promise.”

It was almost unnatural how her eyes glimmered with a mint glow to them, but it drew Saeran in for some reason. She beckoned him forward with that friendly smile of hers and he felt compelled to listen. 

It wasn’t like him. 

Well, that is to say, it wasn’t like him to go out on a limb for someone he didn’t know well. Sure, he was kind, and many people would say that he was too selfless of a person but that was why he had answered this girl’s text message after he had found a lost phone. 

Her brown-locks were curly and a bit fringed in front of her eyes, it seemed a little messy but it was a windy day. She was foreign but she had a good grasp of the language. A jacket hung loosely from one shoulder, and a pink cropped tea covered most of her top with just her abdomen showing before it edged into her jeans. 

What stood out about her the most was the almost unnatural glow of her eyes. If he hadn’t had the confidence to meet her gaze, he would have missed the almost cat-like quality of the emerald green in her forest eyes. He wondered if it was because of contacts. He wore some sometimes to make his outfit more cohesive. 

She was starkly contrasted against him, with the pink vest he was wearing and the long bell sleeves of his top. She didn’t seem to think he was out of place nor did he think that of her. It would be brazen of him to call her style strange when they both pushed against society. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum.

Those that rebelled against the common culture with something that made them feel good. For some people that meant that they wore as much leather and shredded jeans as they could, and for others, it meant that they wore enough frills to counter the universe with a smile on their face. She was a punk and he was more princely. 

He wasn’t one to judge others. 

“No,” Saeran said, simply. “But, you know how it is with strangers these days. Everyone is always very wary of others.”

Though, he didn’t budge from his spot. It wasn’t like she posed a threat to him, she was barely five feet tall. He was nearly a head taller than her and even if she tried something, he doubted she’d get very far if she was a threat to him. She was too small, too lithe, and too sincere over the phone to seem like she may try something. 

She flashed her lashes at him and held out her hand to him with injured fingers. There were braces on her joints and carefully wrapped fingers as if she’d worked too hard. 

Something in her eyes lit up again as she giggled. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess it was pretty silly to get so worried about finding my friend’s phone like that. It was nice of you to offer to return it to me. Thank you so much for bringing it back to me, you’re such a prince. I appreciate it.” 

“It was no problem! I was on my way to meet someone anyway, so it wasn’t out of my way,” he said. Against that unease, though, he could feel his heart speed up at the way that she had complimented him. It wasn’t often that someone spoke to him in a way like this or looked at him with intrigue and interest. 

He pulled the phone from his pocket and looked down at it once more. It did strike him as odd that the device was… barren. There was not a thing on it except for a messenger app of all things. He wasn’t going to question what sorts of things people were doing these days but it did kind of bug him to think that it could have been something weird.

Instead of grasping the phone, her fingers pressed tightly against his own over the device. Her hands were ice cold, almost as she had been locked in a deep freeze for a few hours. She was impossibly close now, peering up at him like a very curious kitten.

A part of him wanted to shrug her hand away from his but her eyes had him haunted. 

“You know, you have much prettier eyes in person,” she cooed as his body went stiff. In-person? Did that mean she had seen him before? “I love them… they’re golden. They remind me of the honeysuckle that I’d grow around my home when I was a little girl. Or, wait, the deep glaze of honey from the bees fresh from the hive. It’s you... it’s you, you’re the perfect assistant.” 

Saeran was very concerned now because she was speaking about him as if she had seen him before. He wanted to wrench his hand away from her but she was a lot stronger than she looked, believe it or not. Or, maybe he was just a lot weaker than he thought. What was she talking about? What was she trying to imply? 

“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice light and unsure. “What are you saying?” 

The caramel sweet that had once been her laughter had now had the taste of a pan filled with burned sugar. It was so sweet that it seemed wrong. She cocked her head, “Oh, right. I forgot, prince-y is so too naïve for his own good but that’s my favorite thing about you. You see, I was going to make you play a little game for me but… I just decided I don’t want to share you with them… with him.” 

What? 

Saeran shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not—”

“Did you think you had a choice, prince? Oh, that’s so cute!” She countered, her eyes narrowing to a slit, and her hand simply pulling him harder.  “Don’t worry. I’ll be taking you to paradise. Doesn’t that sound sweet? It’s much better than what you’ve been subjected to out here… ignored… neglected, and treated like a doormat by everyone around you. I want to give you the world.”

Saeran shook his head, but there was no arguing with someone that was hiding a weapon stashed in their coat pocket. He could see it, and she knew that he’d seen it. She was armed and there was no way in Hell that he was going to fight that. “What makes you think that you’ll get away with that sort of thing? There are cameras all over the place.” 

It doesn’t matter if he’s bigger than she is. 

That took away the middle man. 

Her smiled widened. “Not much point in cameras if you can hack their feeds to loop the same five minutes over and over again, prince. So, what do you say, are you going to come with me to paradise? Or are you going to make this more difficult for the two of us? Trust me, I don’t mind being cruel with what’s mine but… I don’t want to have to hurt that porcelain face of yours. It’s too precious for my goals.”

Saeran looked around at the street as it was emptied. 

Nobody was around and nobody could do a thing about this. Those cameras… she’d… hacked them? There was no way she had been able to do that, but here she was. What was this even? Had this all been planned from the start? His mind wandered with thoughts that they shouldn’t as he knew that he was trapped like cornered prey.

“You know that I could just run right now, don’t you?” 

“Wouldn’t you have already tried if that was the case?” 

“...” 

“Poor little prince, don’t worry about it. I’m just trying to help you. I know all about you, I know all about how you feel miserably abandoned by your brother… desperately trying to gain attention from the world that ignores you. You’ve been lost for so long… haven’t you? Trying to get by with your smile and faith but it’s exhausting…” 

“You don’t— You don’t know anything about me.” 

How could she? 

Hackers could learn anything and everything about your life if they wanted, right? Was she trying to bluff to get inside of his head? He stiffened at the mention of his brother, not wanting to fixate on the thought. 

He was in the middle of a dangerous situation, this wasn’t the time to focus on Saeyoung or that problem! He could worry about that later when he had the time, this girl wanted something dangerous from him. 

She took his silence as a good sign. “I don’t? What a shame, then I suppose I’ll have to get to know you from this moment forward, won’t I? That’s right. You’re lost but I found you… so, just let go, give up, and let me take you to paradise. I’ll take good care of you.”

“...”

The dejected look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. That sickly sweet laugh of hers echoed in his mind as he gave up, and her backup arrived. 

[mortuarybees]

mr. Bees i sprained my ankle and am bedridden until further notice, please rec me ur fav fics under 8k (that adhd attention span is fun)

I’m so sorry to hear about your ankle!! I’d be happy to rec some fics. i’m only tagging authors if they have their urls listed with the fic! if you want me to add your url, just lmk :). also if my mutuals have posted fics feel free to put them in the replies bc yall have Taste:

salinity and other measurements of brackish water by drawlight / @drawlight - 3.5k - if you haven’t read salinity yet, drop absolutely everything and do it right now because it’s phenomenal and atmospheric and it absolutely aches!!! “It's an odd thing, getting on after the End of the World. Crowley takes to sea-watching.”

quiet light and ad astra (explicit) by drawlight @drawlight - the first clocks in at around 2k and the second at 8k. it’s the shortest and most effective slowburn i have ever read. quiet light is unconfessed love; ad astra is a love confession and first time and they’re beautiful

everything just stops by witching - 4.5k - idk how long you’ve been following me but when i first read it i FULLY had a meltdown and took all of you with me. it’s that “i love you deep, angel” shit “I love your silly aziraphale things” shit! they have the tenderest fucking conversation in literary history while crowley is drunk in a bath it’s wonderful

a culmination of miracles by prettydizzeed / @genderqueercrowley - 1.3k - an absolutely beautifully written fic about crowley having chronic pain and informing aziraphale about it six thousand years later

i keep a window for you (it’s always open) by prettydizzeed / @genderqueercrowley - 2.4k - a complete fkcing war crime of a fic of crowley getting emotional about romeo and juliet and continuing to be emotional about it for centuries and then, even worse, quoting r+j in a love confession.

such surpassing brightness by handful_of_silence - 7.7k - one of my favorite fics of all time! aziraphale is the patron of queer people and has been for thousands of years! fuck!

it’s the light (it’s the obstacle that casts it) by handful_of_silence - 5.7k - “The Patron Saint of London's LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho.” aziraphale and crowley speak polari. literally so up my alley i melted when i saw it

your hair was long when we first met by aziraphvle / @aziraphvle - 1.4k - crowley asks aziraphale to cut his hair and we are taken on a thousand-word journey about how aziraphale loves his hair and loves him and it’s. a whole lot. bringing samson by regina spektor into it was entirely uncalled for. again i am Weak for aziraphale loving and caring for crowley.

and then i will kneel down (explicit) - 5.4k - f. fleabag omens. it’s the confession scene but it’s aziraphale and crowley. it is More than you could ever possibly imagine

hard feelings/loveless by witching - 2.3k - "Aziraphale said it was like the opposite of the feeling you’re having when you say things like “this feels spooky.” Crowley didn’t know what to make of that, but he expected it was something like the opposite of the feeling you get when the only person who truly knows you makes a cryptic remark suggesting that you can’t understand love. Crowley understood love all too well.”

the saddest part of my day by witching - 3k - "crowley is preparing to leave on a demonic assignment, and he's very nervous about leaving aziraphale in charge in his absence.” they have a very open and honest and loving and very adult conversation about their feelings and tbh? That’s My Kink

summer and his pleasures by witching (explicit) - 7.2k - “absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.”

penance by blissymbolics / @blissymbolics (explicit) - 5.9k - praise kink/crowley finally gets off after six thousand years of trying

like a prayer for which no words exist by lipsstainedbloodred - 8.1k - “In which Crowley and Aziraphale do not dine at the Ritz after that nasty business with Heaven and Hell, and Crowley has an existential crisis instead.”

men have gone to heaven for smaller things than that by mercuryhatter - 713 words - Robbie Ross’ funeral. “Aziraphale finds an age slipping away from him.”

where you stay i will stay by mercuryhatter - 866 words - men at the Hundred Guineas Club went by women’s names. aziraphale chose naomi and paid to keep the name ruth available in case crowley woke up. aaaaa

the hour/the spot/the look/the words by planethunter - 2.5k - “Crowley watches Pride and Prejudice (2005) and it spurs a realisation.” you can imagine what a trial it is to read p+p 2005 being brought into good omens but life is nothing but suffering apparently, i’ve learned that this summer through this fandom

and the punchline to the joke is asking SOMEONE SAVE US by princex_N / @princex-n - 5.8k - “The fact of the matter is that Crowley was the first bitter cripple to limp across the face of this planet. It's been 6000 years and things don't seem to have gotten much better.”

birds of a feather by idiopathicsmile - 3.6k - idiopathicsmile of world ain’t ready fame. if your life can be divided into Before Les Mis and After Les Mis, you understand. “Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.”

covet by mirawonderfulstar / @mirawonderfulstar - 2.4k - “Aziraphale, little good though it did him, wanted desperately. He wanted with an urgency that scared him. He wanted wine, and cocoa, and the occasional tea. He wanted gravlax with dill sauce, and Pappardelle Bolognese, and those awful little iced biscuits they had at Tesco at Christmastime. He wanted dinners at the Ritz and long walks in the park and late nights in the back room of his shop. He wanted Crowley. Fervently, achingly, he wanted Crowley.”

indellible by greased_lightning_rod / @aziraphallist (explicit) - “It turns out glitter is miracle-proof and, also, that it itches. Crowley needs some help preening. He gets a bit more than he bargained for.” Wing kink. yall know i’m weak for aziraphale taking care of crowley sue me

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza - 4.2k - “So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing. It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.”

the nuances of “together” by mirawonderfulstar @mirawonderfulstar  2.8k - “Everybody in the whole world can tell Aziraphale and Crowley are a couple. Everyone except, apparently, Crowley.”

listen (he’s already told you five times) by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons - 1.8k - “Not everything Crowley says is said out loud. Aziraphale doesn't always hear him at first, but he's learning to stop being surprised.” Love!!! Languages!

sudden and surprising moments of overwhelming affection by darcylindbergh @forineffablereasons - 2.7k - “Aziraphale has not shut up in thirty-four minutes. Crowley’s been counting.” O More I Love Your Silly Aziraphale Things Shit. if you’re a neurotic talkative gay and insecure about it that particular genre of good omens fic is ruinous.

things truly terrible by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons - 1.2k - “Crowley has said some truly terrible things over the years, but this was the worst.” tooth-rotting-sweet love song-fueled confession.

tell me all the ways by tinsnip - 1.6k - “Crowley was out in the garden. Aziraphale was in his study, most definitely not looking out the window. Really. Really. One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask?” More! Love! Languages!

a name for earth by regencysnuffboxes - 1.1k - “Demons can’t say holy names, and Aziraphael accommodates his new friend accordingly.”

a home at the beginning of the world by stereobone / @stereobone - 5.8k - crowley just kind of. moves in with aziraphale. Meaningful Interior Decorating! Couch Metaphor! yall know what i’m weak for

[nightwhite13]

me, a humble poppy clown: “may I offer you some poppy content in this trying time?”

ok technically its not poppy/mc, its basically just a canon divergence from that part where poppy gave mc an apple tree, or i hope its an apple tree, lmao

tagging @simpforpoppy @poppy-sin-clair @somewillwin

p.s: let me know if you want me to tag u for this and mayhaps my other poppy/mc fic

You always love rain, but only in secret.

In the eyes of your followers, you had to put this persona, the one where you despise rain as if its very existence was a bother for you. Rain could ruin your leather shoes, your hair, your fur coat, everything, and anything you could name. Rain was a hassle and you cursed the rain in front of your loyal minions.

But behind them?

You yearned for rain to wash over your face, you would do anything to feel the droplet of rain on your burning skin, you longed to enjoy the rain while doing nothing and holding a nice and warm cup of tea. Just standing on your porch and looking over the yard and the trees enjoying the gift from God.

You wish you could so openly declare your love for rain, you wish you didn’t have to feel like you’re having an affair with it, sneaking out behind the other Zetas so that you could look up to the sky and let the rain caress your face with her gentle touch.

You remembered when you were visiting Auntie Na-Ra back in Seoul during your high school summer vacation. Auntie Na-Ra was talking about the lack of rain during that year while she taught you how to bonsai an apple tree. Back then, you don’t really care about bonsai or how to take care of a plant, you just wanted to spend your time with Auntie Na-Ra instead spending your time with your dad and his business associates, making small talks and polite conversation and basically everything boiled down to “My Poppy here is still single, we can join not only our company, but also our family!”

Auntie Na-Ra never bored you with that kind of talk, she always asked about what you want, your hobby, and she only talks about plants, you basically know everything someone needs to know about apples. Auntie Na-Ra taught you how to bake an apple pie, once. But of course it end in disaster, you were so afraid that Auntie Na-Ra would tell your dad, but she just smiled and wiped the flour off your face and told you that it’s going to be your little secret with her, you both ended up eating the burn apple pie and thankfully none of you had stomach ache that day.

The vibration of your phone in your hand pulled you back to the present time, you growled angrily because who the fuck had the nerve to bother your alone time?

Of course it’s Farmsville, that stupid bimbo.

 yo, what am I supposed to do with this apple tree???

Take care of it?

it aint that easy queen bee

 You rolled your eyes, did she didn’t understand the meaning behind all of this? You didn’t just buy an apple tree for random people. Because she’s an idiot and didn’t realize the real meaning behind the apple. Honestly, you thought Bea would make a move last night, and surprisingly, you didn’t initiate anything yourself. You really, genuinely, enjoyed Bea’s company even if it's just her being your rat lab for that new product. Even though sometimes your mind wondered every time you saw Bea flexing her muscles, you didn’t know whether she’s doing it on purpose or not.

You wondered how does she looks like when you rakes your nails on her back, would her back arch from the bed when you push your toy inside her, how she would scream your name when you bring her to the peak of her lust. Would her scream will sound so much sweeter than the one in your imagination? You’re no hypocrite, Bea was attractive, you’re not going to deny that. Not that you made a habit of sleeping with your enemy, but, well, no one has ever challenged you the way Bea did, so maybe you could make an exception for her.

Your phone vibrated again.

 wait….does this apple have another meaning???

 You sighed deeply; you began reconsidering of sleeping with Bea. Maybe it was for a greater good that the two of you didn’t have sex last night.

 Use that pea brain of yours, Farmsville. And no, I won’t elaborate on that

 You turned off your phone and put it away on your nightstand. You never turn your phone off before, not after you created this whole system. You need to make sure that everything is going as smoothly as possibly. You shook your head, imagining Farmsville’s confused face as she reread your text. If you didn’t know that Bea blackmailed Penelope, you would probably wonder how someone like her could get the TA’s position so easily.

You’re thinking of going to the roof to enjoy the rain, they had that cute patio, courtesy to your family, of course, and you only get to try it one time right after they finished building it. Everything still smelled new and fresh, not like the small patio Auntie Na-Ra had on her home, it smelled like home. Now that you thought about it, Auntie Na-Ra just sent you her favorite tea, and really that’s your favorite tea as well; she’s been berating you ever since she found out about that herbal tea you kept drinking.

It’s the same tea you drank when you came to Auntie Na-Ra’s home for the first time, when everyone around you at that time was someone you never met before and gawking at you like you’re some sort of display, the warmth from that tea and Auntie Na-Ra’s hand on your shoulder were the only two things that keeping you from crying that day, since your parents just leave right after they dropped you at Auntie Na-Ra’s home.

You looked over to your window, still raining hard. Hopefully you could have at least an hour to enjoy the rain while doing nothing, you didn’t have class tomorrow anyway, and your parents haven’t bother you to do something, thank god for rain otherwise they would probably ask you to join their lunch with their new business partner and you had to make small talk with yet another boring, pompous, self-important man.

So you brew Auntie Na-Ra’s tea and use your favorite mug, the one you bought from Kyoto on your last winter holiday, and you took your earphone and phone before going to the rooftop.

No one was here since it’s still class time, it’s so empty and calm and peaceful, it feels like you’re back at home, walking alone in empty corridors, humming to yourself. No annoying sound from behind the closed door, no random burst of cry because someone’s stupid boyfriend dump her again for the nth times, and there’s no Chloe or Veronica in sight.

You opened the rooftop with your hips since you can’t use both of your hands, and then you smiled when you could smell the petrichor. It’s no longer a thunderstorm, but still raining pretty hard. You sat on one of the dry chairs, you made a mental note to ask Father to fix the roof of the patio. You put down your phone and cradle your mug with both hands, you hummed in delight as you feel the warmth from the mug on your cold skin.

Slowly, you sipped your tea and you closed your eyes, it still tastes the same like all those years ago. For once you were glad that the owner of this tea factory didn’t change the recipe to attract more customers and focused on their loyal ones.

You saw some texts from Bea the moment you turn your phone on, and well, you should probably answer her, you could think of something to make Bea come crawling to your lap, but right now…

Right now you just want to spend your time with the rain.

And your favorite person.

“Poppy! Sweetie, it’s been a long time!”

You smiled when Auntie Na-Ra answered your video call. “Hello, Auntie.”

Because no matter what, Auntie Na-Ra could always find a way to make you warm and comfortable, no matter how cold you were.

[vsterolson]

Hi hello! I’m Bee! I never know what to say in the intros so here’s the basics: I use she/her pronouns, I’m 23, I live in the EST, I’m not currently working so I’m sure I’ll be around a lot if I’m not sucked into my rewatch of Grays anatomy too much. my discord is big miss steak#9778 if you prefer to chat and plot on there. Now onto Aster! 

tw: miscarriage mention, cancer mention, death mention

[ cis woman, she/her, benedetta gargari , twenty-three ] i can’t be sure, but i think i just saw ASTER OLSON drive onto the parkway. don’t they know we’re not supposed to be driving on that haunted road right now? maybe it has to do with the fact that they’re so +GREGARIOUS and -RASH that makes them feel SHAKEN about everything going on. i guess we could also chalk it up to the fact that they’re always reminding me of CRACKED LIPS COATED IN CRIMSON LIPSTICK, CRUSHED VELVET DRESSES PAIRED WITH BEAT UP DOCS, A COLLECTION OF HALF DRANK TEA COVERING THE COFFEE TABLE. either way, i hope they get back safely.

Aster is Reed born and breed. She came into the world the hospital just ten minutes from the house she would learn how to walk and talk and sing joyfully off tune. Where she’d learned that love wasn’t always spoken but shown in the tenderness of cleaning up a scraped knee and making sure your favorite snacks are always in the pantry and finding time to read your child bedtime stories even if it’s over the phone because your shift went long. 

Aster learned a lot about heart growing up, but not always what to do with it. She saw her parents love and fight with equal passion. Even when their marriage fell apart she couldn’t even be mad because she saw them fight so hard for it. 

Growing up she was one of those kids that made witches brew out of mud and sticks and acorns and any other odds and ends she found during recess and always invited the kids sitting alone to help. And she always brought her classmates a cupcake on their birthday even if she didn’t know them because everyone deserves to be celebrated on their birthday. And freshman she went through a phase of writing secret admirer notes to just leave in random lockers so for just one moment they would feel like they were worth admiring even if she was taking the risk of inflating someone’s ego.

Aster is an empath through and through and has made it a very bad habit to run herself dry to keep everyone afloat. Unlike her parents she never learned when to give up the fight and walk away.

Her fierce tenderness was tested junior year of high school when her mother got sick. The big C. But after all those nights of barely sleeping in hospitals, Aster knew there was a place for her and her big dumb always caring heart. She knew she had to go into medicine. Her mom didn’t make it, but maybe Aster could help other people’s moms make it.

She was a little harder after her mom passed, a little colder. Or at least she tried to be. She didn’t want to feel like this tragic person with eyes like broken faucets, but she didn’t know how to fix the plumbing so she tried just freezing the water. But then the empty aching of running from herself set in so eventually she just had to let the water run till a dry season came along. It took about six months, but eventually she could hold herself together and her and her big heart moved along.

Then college came and she was determined to have it all, the tv worthy college experience. Freshman year she joined everything she could till she was properly burnt out and realized that premed was going to take a lot more of her attention and she got much more studious.

Then came senior year and the first time she let herself be selfish. Somehow her TA position got a little blurry and despite being madly in love with her boyfriend at the time she kept finding herself tangled up in her professor’s sheets. The guilt was heavy but soon she got even heavier. Before she knew it she was late for her period and there were little pink lines on a stick and her life was quickly changing.

While flooded with panic and guilt she was also thrilled. She always wanted to be a mom, more than almost anything. But before she could even figure out whose it was, she lost it. 

The depression was almost as heavy as when her mom passed and she only had a few weeks with the new future she was creating for herself. Accept now she couldn’t even talk about it. Not until her ex best friend dragged it out of her. Finally some relief until her ex best friend turned on her for her own gain and blasted her business for a gossip column.

 This wrecked everything, Aster lost her scholarship and ended up dropping out with a semester left to go. She also lost the love of her life. The whole incident turned her quite bitter, the bright eyed tender hearted girl was taking time off and left way the cold girl she tried to play the part of in high school.

Now she works at dana’s dinner and lives in her childhood home that her mom left her. She’s learning how to be warm again, that it’s ok to trust people. That there is value in being vulnerable and tender and having a big stupid always caring heart is a gift and not just something people will take advantage of.

As she was figuring her life out she reflected back on her mom’s time in the hospital and realized she wouldn’t have made it through without the nurses. So now she’s starting nursing school to give that heart of hers a purpose.

As for how she’s holding up with the disappearances. It’s hard for her. Being such a big feeler she can barely stand to have the news on, but that doesn’t stop her from hearing the gruesome details. Towns like this thrive on gossip and the dinner is not the place to avoid it. Everything is feeling very heavy these days so if you see her eyes red as she’s serving you coffee don’t mention it.

She does feel a bit guilty for how emotional she’s gotten because of it, none of her loved ones have been harmed, but there are people hurting, this town is hurting and there’s no one to fix it. This sort of thing really troubles her. All she can do is bring baked goods to those in morning and offer a shoulder to cry on or ears to listen, but it doesn’t seem enough. 

Even worse, she can’t help but be consumed with the fear that it could be her father on the news next. She calls him everyday, sometimes twice. He’s very stubborn and she knows he does a lot of business out of town. 

random facts:

she has two rescued cats. An all black cat named zelda and a calico mix named luna

she has a vast tea collection because its good for the soul and its also rude to not offer guests a warm beverage so she has to be prepared for whatever they might like

she thrifts almost all of her clothes and is like a magnet for the good stuff. Her wardrobe consists of lots of crushed velvet and silky lacy things and of course an abundance of sweaters and flannels.

She’s very bad at finishing projects. She’s pretty bad at finishing almost anything actually. Her apartment is filled with half knit scarfs, books with only chapters to finish but will never be opened again, unfinished drinks growing mold.

She has a scar on her ribs from a bicycle ride gone wrong as a kid when she was caught by the sharp branches of a fallen tree

she hates to text, she will call just to answer a simple question. 

connection ideas:

childhood friends

her ex from college - if you like lots of angst this is the one for you

other exes

fwbs - even better if theres feelings they’re refusing to admit

ride or dies

coworkers

other nursing students or people that work at the hospital she might know from volunteering

after the incident in college she kind of went through a party phase so maybe people she partied with 

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

The Angel’s Share - Ch. 10

Chapter: 10 of ? (Series Masterlist here)

Summary: Thomas catches up to his runaway guest.

A/N: Co-written with the best writing partner ever, @yespolkadotkitty!

It was completely fine that Thomas hadn’t come after her.

It was totally fine that she was thinking about him using his proper name.

It was very much fine that her fingertip kept tracing over her lips, as if branding the memory of his kiss forever on her skin.

Except it wasn’t fine.

It wasn’t fine that the corners of her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed on principle alone. It wasn’t fine at all that her heart ached with each beat that echoed in her ears, tuning out every other sound. It was not fine that she had desperately hoped beyond all logic that Thomas would come after her.

Nobody had before, so why would he be any different?

Why would that vastly complicated man with a breathtaking smile and kind eyes come after someone so common, so unlike anyone he’s ever dated before, so weighed down with emotional baggage that they gathered beneath her eyes in dark purple circles?

It wasn’t a fairytale, and she would never be Cinderella.

Not that she wanted to be. She was perfectly capable of getting by on her own. She didn’t need a dashing prince to come into her life, rescuing her from an eternity toiling away behind a bar, sweeping her off to grand parties and expensive dinners and muesli for breakfast.

But what about quiet evenings spent in a study, sipping smokey whiskey and gifting the other bits of their souls in the soft lamplight? Laughter shared over the exuberance of a happy little boy, dragging them along by their fingers in an iron grip they wouldn’t dare break? Banter tossed back and forth in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant over cheap food and beer?

It didn’t matter.

Her feet bounced against the floorboard of the cab incessantly, and the passing scenery blurred as she stared out the window. Until traffic slowed to a crawl, before stopping altogether. Surrounded by cars, a common occurrence for the London native, she settled back against the seat and closed her eyes against the all too painful images of Thomas’ hopeful, but distraught, face.

“Are you alright there, miss?”

She cracked her eyes open, rubbing at them with a heavy sigh, not even caring if what little mascara she had put on that morning smudged. She hated chatty cab drivers. It was why Uber was invented. “Fine, thanks.”

Sweet silence filled the cab, and she slumped back into the seat, thinking that she’d be allowed to spend the rest of the drive - once they started moving again - in relative peace.

She was wrong.

“Erm, miss, you came from the Sharpe Estate, correct?”

She pushed her fingers against her temples, willing herself to just sink into the stained cloth seats beneath her to avoid wherever the conversation could possibly be headed. “Yes, why?”

“I believe that might be Sir Thomas Sharpe. On horseback. And he’s gaining on us.”

He wouldn’t.

She twisted in the seat, staring out the back of the cab to confirm the source of anxiety that suddenly swirled in her stomach like a swarm of bees. There he was, seated on Bandit like a lord of old, just as the cabbie had said, his dark hair poking above the tallest vehicles as his horse trotted down the street. He peered into every car, obviously looking for someone.

And the only person she could think that he could be searching for was her.

It was as if she lost control of her body. Without thinking, she stepped out of the cab with her knees knocking against each other, standing as tall as she could manage, feeling lots of eyes on her at once, and maybe not caring because he had come. He had followed her.

Was he for real? He looked something out of a movie, or a long-ago medieval ballad, hair windswept and clothes disheveled from the ride, calling her name from the back of his white stallion as it weaved in between the stationary cars without pause. Her name. And when he finally saw her, standing like someone gone mad in the midst of it all, the smile that tugged on his lips stopped her heart for a moment that stretched.

“Kate,” he called, galloping up to her, dismounting and closing the distance between them. He stopped just in front of her, so close she could smell the clean scent of his sweat and cologne and the faint aroma of leather polish mixed amongst the unpleasant exhaust of the idling cars about them. His azure eyes searched her face plaintively.

What did she do with her hands? They longed to reach out, push a stray lock of hair from his flushed forehead, curl in the collar of his shirt. Instead, she twisted them together in front of her, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. “You're going to get yourself killed, riding in this traffic."

The tenderness in his eyes was rivaled only by that of his whispered reply of, "Another obituary for Lucille."

"What?" She squinted up at him against the sun that glinted off of his raven hair, utterly confused at his response. That wasn't the direction she'd expected the conversation to take after he'd gallantly chased her down on horseback.

***

“Oh, I sometimes - that’s a conversation for later.” He smiled down at her, and took her hands in his, gently curling his fingers around hers.

“You came,” she said woodenly, and Thomas suddenly realised something.

“You didn’t think I would?”

She worried her lip, her eyes downcast, and she was so plaintive in that single moment that his heart ached, hard, for what she’d been through, and he wished he could wipe that slate clean for her. “Well, why would you. I chose to leave after all.”

“And I chose to follow you.” He lifted a hand from hers to cup her cheek. “And I always will. Until you tell me not to. Until you tell me no, Kate, I will follow you anywhere you permit me to. Although I might not be able to do it on horseback every time.” She gave a watery laugh, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Oh, Kate. Gideon made you a gingerbread ma- person.”

“He did?”

“He truly did. Come back to Allerdale with me? Please? And tell me what I did to make you leave, and I swear I shall never do such a thing again.”

She melted into him then, and Thomas thought it was the most magical thing, the strongest woman he’d ever met, showing her vulnerability to him amid the sea of traffic, in the capital of the country. If he could get a peek at this Kate, the Kate deep inside, then maybe, maybe, he had a shot with her. For real.

“You didn’t do anything,” she mumbled.

He started to ask her what the devil she meant, but then the traffic ahead started to move, and someone impatient arsehole behind Kate’s car beeped their horn. Thomas had a mind to teach him some manners in a less than polite fashion, but Kate straightened up. “Meet you back at Allerdale?” she asked. Her voice was all business again, but her eyes, her eyes were softer.

And Thomas smiled, knowing she probably needed this time to herself. “Of course. I’ll have some tea ready. For the gingerbread.”

“It’s a date.”

Thomas watched her slide back into the car - less shaky now, he noted, good - before he got back into Bandit’s saddle and made the trip back home at a more leisurely pace. Kate beat him there, of course, but he’d aimed to let her. No need for her to be poleaxed twice in one day. When he dismounted, digging in the pocket of his Barbour for a carrot to give to Bandit, Kate was crouching on the lawn, Gideon standing before her, a plate full of gingerbread people in his small hands.

“And this one is you!”

“It’s an amazing likeness!” Kate lifted the gingerbread version of herself. ”Can I?”

“Okay!” Gideon beamed, and Kate bit into the gingerbread with a grin.

“It’s delicious.”

“Of course,” the boy beamed. “I maded it.”

Kate stood up and held out her hand. “How about we go inside and share these with everyone? I bet they’d taste even better with tea.”

Gideon carefully shifted the plate to one hand with his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration before slipping his tiny hand into hers. “Why do grown-ups like tea? I want lemonade.”

“Let’s ask your mum about that, shall we?” Kate laughed, the most carefree sound he’d heard from her perhaps ever, and Thomas’ heart squeezed at the scene. Kate had so much to give. Her heart was as wide as the ocean, and if she were to open it to him, he’d never stop being grateful every day he lived.

He didn’t know when it had stopped being about the whiskey and started being about Kate. But now that he’d gotten to know her, he somehow needed her more than he’d ever needed anything. And he had to hope she felt the same way.

***

Series taglist: @rjohnson1280 @alexakeyloveloki @villainousshakespeare @wolfsmom1 @arch-venus25 @tamstrugglestowrite @trickstersteve @lucantis @exygon @kneel-before-queen-loki

HRS Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nonsensicalobsessions @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney​ @devilbat​ @vikkleinpaul​ @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses​ @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian​ @toozmanykids​ @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius​ @sabine-leo​ @lovesmesomehiddles​ @peterman-spideyparker​ @wegingerangelica​ @bluefrenchfries604​ @catsladen @snoopy3000​ @silverswordthekilljoy​

[amalthea9]

Puck x Leona: Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of the fic. Thank you to all who take time to read this! <3

-----------------------

Chapter  2

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A month had passed since Leona and Puck were reunited. In that time, King Oberon and Queen Titania had been told about Leona,and neither minded it, so long as Puck kept up with his duties to them. Which he did, and although there were nights Puck couldn't meet with Leona, she never minded it. 

Puck had invented a message system in which he would leave Leona a lilac under her favorite tree if he knew his errands would take all night.  She kept these lilacs for as long as they would last.

On one night, when Puck appeared before her, he had his hands behind his back.

Leona quirked her brow and a smile played on her lips.

"What have you got there?" She asked.

"Since you are unable to see the world," Puck grinned. "I shall bring the world to you!"

With that, Puck revealed to be holding a small wooden box and offered it to Leona to take. Leona stared at the little box, still trying to process that Puck had gotten her a gift in the first place. Leona took the box with great care.

It was filled with exotic spices for tea, and the wood carvings were intricate and amazing.

Puck began to worry that Leona didn't  like the gift. She wasn't smiling, and her eyes were beginning to glisten with tears.

"Do you...not like it?" He asked quietly, his eyes losing their shimmer.

Leona looked to Puck, realizing he didn't understand she was overwhelmed with wonder and gratitude at the gift.

"Oh Puck…" she whispered, a smile coming to her face. "I adore it."

The twinkle in Puck's eyes returned and he beamed in delight and pride. 

He came up to her as he spoke.

"You ask me to be an elephant so often in our game, I thought you might like something with elephants on it."

Leona nodded as she ran her fingers over the carvings.

"I love elephants...though I've never seen one other than pictures," she sniffled, still smiling. "You remembered that?"

"Of course I remembered!" Puck replied with a touch of indignation.

Leona chuckled at his offended tone and with the box in one hand, she quickly hugged him around the neck.

"Thank you, Puck," she whispered.

Puck had frozen for a second, surprised by the sudden physical contact.

This was the first time Leona had hugged him.

Puck hadn't realized how much he had wanted this until now. 

He gently wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight, tucking his head into her neck.

Leona's heart raced when she felt Puck return the hug. She hadn't been thinking when she hugged him. Her heart was so full of gratitude it was impulsive. But realizing that Puck not only did not mind it, he was returning the hug, made her heart soar. They held each other for a few moments more, both just enjoying it. Puck wanted the hug to last longer, and had he known, Leona felt the same. But they released each slowly, both smiling.

"What other gifts can I bring you, Leona?" Puck asked excitedly.

Leona chuckled.

"Dearest Puck," she replied. "You do not need to bring me anything more. You have already been too kind to even give me this treasure."

"But I want to give you more," Puck said softly. "I want to make you happy...the happiest woman in the world."

He smiled at her as he said this and Leona sadly wished that Puck had meant those words as a courting man would have.

But she returned his sweet smile as she replied.

"You already make me the happiest woman, dear Puck," she began. "Just by being youself and spending time with me."

It delighted Puck's heart to hear her words, yet he tilted his head with a puzzled expression.

"But how then will I receive more hugs?" He asked in concern.

Leona laughed at his inquiry.

"You can receive hugs whenever you wish!" She giggled.

Puck's face lit up at her reply.

"Then I wish for one at every meeting!" He declared happily.

Leona laughed and nodded.

The rest of the evening was spent playing games, and Leona happily gave Puck a parting embrace.

Puck continued to give Leona trinkets and Leona happily received each one. 

Often Leona wondered if Puck knew that he was acting as though he was courting her. Surely Puck had seen King Oberon gift his mortal lovers, most likely it being Puck who fetched those gifts.

She shared her thoughts with her uncle one morning while in the barn.

"It might not have occurred to him yet," William suggested. "Or that he cannot account for his actions because these desires are unknown to him."

"I very much doubt that he feels anything but friendship for me, Uncle," Leona muttered as she finished milking.

Uncle William gave her a sad smile.

"Why are you so convinced Puck cannot love you, my dear?" He asked quietly.

"Because I have nothing to offer," Leona replied bitterly. "I am a mortal woman who spins wool all day long and has never gone on an adventure or done anything exciting! Nothing I can give him that he has not already known!" 

"You have already given him the most cherished gift of all," Uncle William replied. 

"And what would that be?" Leona retorted, angry tears forming in her eyes.

"Your heart, my dear," William replied gently.

Leona scoffed as she set down the milk bucket to try her tears.

William brought Leona into his arms, his heart aching to see his niece in pain.

"And I will continue to hope that he discovers that and returns your love," he whispered as he held her.

Leona held her uncle tightly, allowing herself to cry a moment. 

"It's strange," Leona began as they released. "As much as I wish for his love...I will cause him such grief in my death."

William nodded with an expression of understanding. 

"But I would say that the time you gave him he would not regret," William commented softly.

Leona smiled a sad smile.

"Thank you, Uncle...for everything," she said softly.

"Of course, Leona," William replied kindly.

They returned to the cottage together, William's arm about Leona's shoulders.

Uncle William was more wise than he guessed.

For Puck was indeed struggling to understand his desire to give Leona gifts so often. Puck had never felt like this towards anyone, especially a mortal. But Leona had made his nights more enjoyable and enchanting, and he wished for nothing but to bring her happiness.

That afternoon, Puck was causing mischief in the village. His favorite trick to play was executed best at the inn. He would become a stool, and pull himself out from under someone. It always made for a good laugh for everyone, including Puck.

Once he became bored of that, he wandered through the village square in the form of a bee.

While in this form, Puck observed a pair of lovers stealing kisses behind a shop. Puck would normally make a face and move on from such a scene. But this time, Leona came into his thoughts. Puck found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss Leona. The sprite did not understand why such thoughts entered his mind, but the more he thought on it, the more he wished for it.

When he met Leona that night he did not ask right away about kissing. In truth, he was uncertain how to ask such a thing. But Leona noticed something was on his mind.

"Puck?" Leona inquired sweetly. "What troubles your thoughts?"

Puck met Leona's gaze, and he seemed to be fighting an inner turmoil. He dropped his gaze and began to pick at the grass in front of him.

"I was in the village today, causing mischief," he began quietly. "And I saw two lovers kissing...and I found myself wondering what it might be like to kiss."

Leona felt as though her heart had stopped for a second or two at his words. 

Why would Puck wonder at all about such a thing?

"More to the point…" Puck continued, eyes still down and picking at the grass. "I wondered what it would be like to kiss you."

Now the sprite's gaze was raised to see Leona's reaction. 

Leona was uncertain how to react and kept her eyes to the ground. Only in her wildest of imaginations did she kiss Puck, but the actual chance to make it a reality brought her dread.

What damage would it do to her heart?

Would it not surely make her heart ache more than ever before?

Puck saw the turmoil in Leona's face and in worry he moved closer to her.

"Leona?" The sprite's tone was soft and worried. "I am sorry if I have upset you."

Leona shook her head dismissively and took Puck's hand in hers.

"Twas not you, dear Puck," she assured him, mustering a smile. "I was simply...surprised by your desire."

"Well I do desire it!" Puck declared in indignation.

Leona couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips at his response. She knew she could not refuse him. Leona smiled at Puck as a defeated sigh escaped her lips.

"Very well, Puck," she whispered. "You may kiss me."

Puck's face lit up in delight and he brought himself close enough to kiss her. Leona's heart raced as she watched him do this.

Puck's expression changed into one of concentration, as if he must focus on the act he wished to achieve.

Leona tried not to tremble as Puck gingerly put his lips against hers. 

It was quick, as though Puck was hesitant and nervous.

When he broke away from Leona's lips, she could see his confusion.  

"No no," Puck whispered as he looked away. "That was not it at all."

Leona's heart continued to pound against her chest. Puck's eyes met hers as he whispered.

"Might I try again?" 

Leona could only nod, her mind and heart too full of wishing he would kiss her again.

Puck slowly leaned forward once more and pressed his lips to Leona's again. He began to press his lips harder against hers. The woman brought her hands to the sprite's face, caressing his cheeks. This made Puck deepen the kiss, bringing his hands to cup Leona's face in response to her action. Leona breathed in sharply through her nose at the sudden touch. That sound from her made Puck pull her closer to him. She was now almost in his lap and feared she would topple over. But Puck sensed her unsteady position and brought an arm around her. He brought her into a straddling position on his knees.

The woman's heart was pounding hard against her chest now, and she could feel the feelings of pleasure building. 

She had been kissed once before, long ago by a man who lost interest in her quickly after hearing her stories of faeries. 

But this of course was very different. This was her Faerie Prince, and she let the rush of pleasure and delight wash through her. 

But she wondered why Puck was not stopping the kiss. Hadn't he experienced enough by now?

Puck's mind was racing now. He was feeling things he did not understand or could place. He felt this sensation of elation when he heard Leona's sharp inhale. He felt something stirring within his core, like vibrations throughout his body, especially in his groin area. And he did not want any of it to stop. 

What was happening to him? Was this supposed to happen? Suddenly Puck felt panic forming in his mind. What was happening to him? 

Abruptly, Puck pulled away and became still. Many thoughts ran through Leona's mind at once as Puck pulled away and kept his eyes down. 

At first she thought she had done something wrong, but quickly shut that down. She couldn't have ruined the kiss because it was apparent he was enjoying himself. Could it be that he had felt things he did not understand and became frightened? The latter made more sense. Leona quickly removed herself from his lap and said nothing.

She knew Puck would speak when he was ready. Leona kept her eyes to the grass, not wishing for him to feel pressured.

"I...forgive me…" 

Puck's voice was almost inaudible, but Leona could hear the regret in his tone.

"There is nothing to forgive, Puck," she whispered gently.

Puck's eyes lifted to look at her, and he could see that Leona was not upset, but she was confused.

"I-I am…" Puck tried to begin. "I...am feeling things...I do not understand I…"

Leona lifted her eyes to see Puck's expression of fear and confusion and it tore at her heart. She wanted so badly to hold him, to tell him he was alright, that she wanted him to try and tell her what he was feeling.  But she knew he had no words for what he felt...not yet.

"Forgive me, Leona I…" Puck's face contorted in shame and confusion.

Then he was gone.

Leona sat very still for a time that she could not count the seconds of. She was not angry at Puck for disappearing, how could she be?

She was sad though, and a part of her feared that she would never see him again. 

But in her heart of hearts, she could not believe that.

With tears running down her cheeks she made her way to the river, and decided she would remain in the forest for a time still. She certainly could not return to the cottage and sleep right now.

And as she dipped her feet in the cool spring, Puck watched her from the trees, invisible. 

For the first time in the sprite's existence,he felt anguish. Anguish he had broken Leona's heart. Anguish that he did not know what to tell her...and fear he would never see her again once she left the forest this night.

But Puck returned to Oberon and Titania's court after watching Leona for a time. 

And it was immediately apparent to both the king and queen that Puck was not himself. 

As soon as Oberon saw him, he looked to Titania and they exchanged a knowing look.

"I believe Leona finally has the heart of my mischievous Puck," Oberon said, a smile pursing his lips.

"I believe you are right, my King," Titania replied, also smiling. "I had hoped for it."

"As did I," Oberon replied. "I will give him council."

Oberon approached the pacing sprite, and Puck immediately froze to see his king. Oberon had never been the one to come to Puck, it had always been the other way around. 

Puck saw the benevolent gaze in his master's eyes, and felt relief wash over him to realize Oberon was not angry with him.

"My gentle Puck," Oberon began. "What troubles you?"

Puck looked away despondently and continued to pace.

"My king," Puck began as he paced. "I asked dear Leona for a kiss this night."

Oberon raised an eyebrow in curiosity, a bemused expression on his face.

"I wanted to know what it was like to kiss!" Puck exasperated. "I do not know why I did, but that is another matter altogether…"

Oberon's amusement grew, knowing full well it was very much connected to the 'matter' at hand.

"But I felt...I felt many things at once when we kissed…"

Puck had stopped pacing, and stood before Oberon, but his eyes fell to the ground. He stood still before Oberon.

"What things, gentle Puck," Oberon replied, his tone gentle and fatherly. "Describe them as best as you can."

Puck looked to meet Oberon's gentle gaze and felt at ease to speak.

“I am...happy...so happy when I look upon her,” Puck began, his eyes twinkling. “And I want nothing more than to give her happiness. I would give her the moon and every star in the sky if she did ask it of me!”

Oberon smiled now, enjoying seeing Puck so full of joy.

Puck’s smile faded now, as he began again.

“But I also feel fear…” he said softly. “Fear to ever be the cause of her tears. If she was ever grieved by someone, I would do all I could to be her comfort and solace.”

Puck’s demeanor changed then, a soft smile on his face as he spoke.

“But the fear is not as great as the joy and excitement I feel when I lay my eyes upon her! When she embraces me... I feel as though I could desire nothing else in the world but her touch…"

Puck now appeared as though he was lost in a happy memory.

Oberon felt a certain happiness as Puck expressed his feelings. A type of happiness a father feels to see his son experience such strong emotion for the first time.

"And when her lips were upon yours," Oberon began, a spark in his eyes. "What did you feel then?"

Puck's eyes lifted to meet his king's gaze. A smile came to his lips as he answered.

"I felt so many things!" Puck began excitedly. "I felt such bliss! As if no other bliss could compare!"

Puck's expression changed, one of confusion came across his face.

"And then...this surge ran through me. One of excitement and...something more…"

Puck became quiet and looked away, as if he struggled to find the words.

"As if the sky would fall if you did not feel her lips against yours for eternity."

Oberon's gentle voice interrupted Puck's concentration, and he met the fairy king's gaze.

"You wished to do anything you could to continue feeling her soft lips against your own," Oberon began. "And memories of seeing lovers in the forest, naked upon the grass came into your thoughts. And you found yourself desiring such intimacy with this sweet nymph."

Puck's eyes grew wide as Oberon finished speaking, surprised by the king's insight into his own thoughts.

"Yes!" The sprite exclaimed. "Yes I did!"

Puck dropped to one knee before King Oberon, a look of pleading upon his features.

"Oh, my king!" he implored. "Why do these thoughts and desires plague me?!"

Oberon smiled softly as he took Puck's hand, bringing him to his feet.

"Because Cupid, that knavish lad, has finally struck thy faerie heart with an arrow. Thou art in love with fair Leona, my gentle Puck."

Puck's eyes grew wide as the realization struck him.

"I...I love Leona…" he muttered to himself, looking away from Oberon.

Oberon watched as Puck processed this, and the bright smile that came to his face made the ancient king's heart glad.

"I love Leona!" Puck declared, half giggling. 

He twirled and jumped for joy, causing Oberon to chuckle in reply.

"I love Leona!!! I love her!!! I shall confess it to all the world!" He cried out in joy as he ran about. "I shall shout it from the rooftops of the village! On the back of the sparrow as I ride! Oh fairest Leona!! I love thee!!"

By this time, the entire faerie court was watching Puck dance and skip and profess his love. The court cheered and clapped, and Queen Titania beamed as she and Oberon exchanged a loving glance. 

"Then tell her, Puck!" Oberon commanded, though his tone was gentle and loving.

Puck froze at his king's words, and gleefully smiled.

"I shall, my King!" He declared in delight. "I go!"

And in a blink of a mortal's eye, Puck was gone.

Titania approached Oberon now, and they exchanged a smile of both joy and sorrow.

"He has fallen for a mortal," Oberon commented, his voice quiet.

"A bittersweet love indeed," Titania replied, taking her king's hand. 

"Unless the plant be considered," Oberon remarked. "If they both are willing to take the risk…"

"Neither you nor I have ever been able to take such a risk for our mortal lovers," the queen responded.

"Tis true," Oberon began. "But I linger in the hope that perhaps they might take it. For I do love that mad sprite, and would see him happy with her for all time."

Titania nodded as Oberon brought her against him, kissing her forehead tenderly.

Puck dashed through the forest, both in bliss and in fear. 

Had Leona already left? Had he hurt her too much that she would not have lingered in the forest tonight?

But his racing thoughts were soon set at ease.

He saw her figure, seated at the river bed.

She was singing...soft and sad.

Puck felt his chest grow tight with anguish once more. Her obvious pain made him slightly afraid to approach her. 

But he must...no matter how angry or hurt she might be. He had to tell her his revelation of love for her.

Leona had occupied herself with weaving reeds as she dipped her feet in the cool brook. She sang low and sadly, keeping her tears at bay as best she could.

Puck made himself visible a few feet behind her, not wanting to startle her.

"Leona…" 

The woman heard his soft call to her, and immediately turned to see him standing before her. His brown eyes were a swirl of emotions. Remorse, sorrow, and something else she could not place. Her heart leapt into her throat to see him, and the tears she had fought now flowed freely. 

"Puck?" Leona choked, the relief at seeing him return to her clearly shown in her eyes.

Leona sprang to her feet and practically ran to the sprite. To Puck's immense relief, she opened her arms to him and he embraced her.

"Oh Puck," Leona whispered through her tears. "I feared…"

"Forgive me, fair Leona," Puck whispered in a desperate tone. "I was...frightened I...please forgive me…"

Leona shook her head as she broke away enough to look at Puck.

"There is nothing to forgive, dearest spirit," Leona responded with a sniffle. "I was so worried about you and knew not how to help you. But you came back, and now my heart is at ease!"

Puck felt Leona's relief and comfort through her embrace and words, and knew she was not angry with him. He smiled at her beaming face for a moment, then his smile faded.

"I should not have left you," he began, shame in his expression. "I was...frightened by what I was feeling when we…"

Puck's eyes darted to Leona's lips, then back to her eyes. 

"And I had nothing to fear!" He chuckled, as if chastising himself.

Leona let her thoughts race now, to what Puck was about to tell her. She tried to keep her thoughts and heart steady as they stood there in each other's arms.

"I went to the faerie court," Puck began. "I was in need of council and I knew King Oberon would have the wisdom I sought. And he did!" 

Puck's eyes were shimmering now, and a knot in Leona's stomach formed to see a glint in his eyes and she hoped against hope for what it meant.

"I was blind to it...when I desired nothing more than to give you gifts til the end of time. I did not understand why I wanted to hold you so tightly and so often. I did not understand what I felt when your lips were against mine...but now I see... now I know."

Puck smiled the brightest of smiles he ever had as he giggled out.

"It is because I love you, Leona!! I love you!"

The world stopped for Leona.

Everything stopped for the woman when those words she had coveted so long came from her Puck’s lips.

She froze in place, unable to move. 

Puck's smile faded as a gasp escaped Leona's lips, and her blank stare into his face.

"...Leona…?" He whispered, a hand coming to her cheek. As if such a gesture would wake her from her trance.

At his touch, Leona began to sob.

Inhaling air as if she was underwater, and in between the soft cries.

Puck watched with terrible fear. Fearing he had told her something she never wanted to hear. 

He whispered her name again, bringing both his hands to cup her face.

But through her soft sobs, a smile formed upon the woman's face. And when she brought her eyes back to his, Puck saw such joy as he had never seen in her eyes before.

"P-Puck…" Leona whimpered. "Oh, my beloved Puck...how long my heart has wished for this moment…”

Puck felt Leona’s hands cup his cheeks gently, and he beamed as he heard the blessed words escape her lips.

“I love you, Puck. With so much of my heart that there is none left to protest it!"

Both Puck and Leona burst into joyful laughter as they embraced tightly. 

Leona had no words for how she felt in this moment. She even feared it was a dream somehow.

Puck too felt a whirlwind inside him of joyful bliss.

His Leona returned his love! 

After a moment more, they broke away enough to press their foreheads together. Puck stared longingly at Leona's lips.

He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, as his brown eyes met hers as if making the silent request.

 The look in his love's eyes was all Puck needed, and he gently locked his lips to hers.

It was not long before the kiss became deep and passionate, moans of desire coming from them both. 

They broke away finally, Leona needing to catch her breath. As Puck pressed his forehead against Leona's he shook his head slightly and smiled softly.

"Not yet," he whispered against her lips, still caressing her cheek.

Leona knew exactly what he meant, and she agreed.

"I want our union to be blessed by the King and Queen, under the full moon." Puck smiled, his eyes shimmering with adoration.

Leona nodded enthusiastically as she cupped his face.

"I desire the same, my love," she beamed. 

Puck pulled her into himself, passion in his eyes as he said.

"And under the Moon Goddess’ blessing, I shall lay thee down in the softest of moss. Her beams caressing your beautiful naked form, as I make love to thee. Until Diana herself should blush to see such rivalry."

Leona couldn't help the flush in her cheeks at his words of passion, and Puck giggled at her sweet shyness. Leona joined him in the giggling at her sudden shyness.

"Tis but two days away, my Leona," he cooed. 

"It will be worth the delay," Leona whispered, brushing her lips against his.

Now it was Puck's turn to feel flustered, for he could see the glint of desire in Leona's eyesats she spoke. He cleared his throat quietly and loosened his grip on her waist, making Leona smile to herself to see him flustered.

"But I must leave you now," Leona said softly. "The moon is getting higher."

Puck sighed and nodded.

"Now each parting will feel heavier upon me," he said sadly. "For any time apart from you, I shall wish for you."

Leona smiled as she kissed Puck's cheek and squeezed his hands in hers.

"I know," she replied sweetly. "But know all my thoughts are of you when we are apart and may that be some solace."

Puck smiled as he kissed her hands.

"It is," he replied.

Hand in hand, they left the forest, kissed farewell, and Leona headed home. 

The woman tried as best she could to sleep, but her heart was too full of joy. 

But she eventually found rest and slept deeply, dreaming of her faerie prince.

[lokisgame]

A Generous Donation [12]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11]

The food looked and smelled as delicious as always, but when Charlie took his place at the table, looking around the faces gathered there, it all felt wrong, he didn't feel grateful at all. Dana and Will's absence gaped like a black hole, a fearful reminder sucking up all cheer. Even young Mathew kept his head down, bending under pressure of being the only child present. Him, Bill and Tara, lived their lives in California where Bill was stationed, making them rare guests at the table. That however didn't stop the eldest Scully son from taking place of honour and carving the turkey. After short and meaningless grace, he started handing out thick slices, leaving the best and most tender for himself. "Dana isn't coming?" He asked, finally sitting down. "She's at the hospital," Maggie said, "with Will." 

Charlie noticed disproval on his brother's face and glared, ready for the sermon, Bill Jr. was about to deliver. "I always knew that pride would be her fall." He said apropos of nothing, around a mouthful of turkey. "Like you said mom, back in the day, IVF was for people who can't have kids, not to satisfy her whims, and now God is making her see it." He stuffed his face while others looked at him in disbelief. "She should accept his will, letting the boy spend last days with his family and not keep poking and prodding him, if it was clearly never meant to be." Bill loaded his fork with stuffing and peas and Charlie snapped, pushing his chair back so hard it almost fell back. His fists were clenched, knuckles white, but he said nothing. Instead he rounded the table and took Bill's mostly full plate away from him. "What the hell!" "Shut up Bill," he said, "just shut up." "What do you think you're doing?" Bill yelled, while the rest of the family sat frozen in their places. "I'm taking this to Dana," Charlie said not bothering to stop, his voice thick with rage. "She needs this more than you do." "Charles, please." Maggie said, finally finding her voice among tears and shame. "No, mom, I'm not sharing table with him, not tonight." He said and went to the kitchen. Doors and drawers began slamming and Emily got up, taking her plate with her. "I'm going with him." "Emily, don't." Missy said with a hint of plea and warning. "Don't what? Tolerate this kind of talk?" Emily looked at her mother, cold fury burning behind her blue eyes, then around the table, at all the food and family, growing colder by the second. Charlie came back with boxes, handing one to her, and they began loading them up with turkey, mashed potatoes, salads and stuffing, while the rest watched in stunned silence for a few excruciatingly long minutes. "I'll get you the pie," Maggie said, finally getting up and wiping tears from her eyes. "Thanks mom." Charlie said, and started loading another box. "Now listen, Charles," Bill tried to get up, but Tara caught the sleeve go his jacket and pulled him down. By the time Maggie was back, they had all four boxes filled and packed, along with their own plates. Somewhere in the middle, Missy and Tara began to help, while Bill sat with his arms crossed, in stubborn silence. "I should go with you," Maggie said, walking Charlie and Emily to the door. "No point, they won't let all of us through the quarantine zone." "Right, right," she sighed, resigned, and Charlie let go of some of his rage, putting his arm around her. "I'll call you once I know how Will is doing, okay?" "Thank you, give them my best." "Will do," Charlie said and followed Emily out.

They did the best they could to blow out his spark, reducing him to a tiny blue flame, a tea-light with one last drop of paraffin keeping it alive. She held his hand, stroking its' back with her thumb, while life trickled down the line, back into his veins. She should have asked Mulder about that vampire joke. "Why does Mulder call you Scully?" Will spoke suddenly, his voice barely audible, head turning on the pillow with tremendous effort. "It's an FBI thing." She said and his brow furrowed. "He did some consulting for the bureau in the 90's and it turned into a habit. I don't mind really. Do you?" Will's head twitched sideways. "Rest honey," Scully said, pressing her lips to his hand, ignoring the sterile mask, "save your strength." Her phone chirped in its' ziplock bag and she glanced anxiously at the ID. It was her second favourite caller.   "Hi sis," said a cheerful voice, "come out for a minute, we brought you something." Scully looked up and through the glass to the corridor beyond, and saw Charlie and Emily waving at her just outside the airlock doors. "I'll be right with you." She said and hung up. "Who is it?" Will mumbled half awake. "Charlie and Em are here," she said, patting his hand and he opened his eyes, managing a faint smile. He lifted his head and waved at the couple outside. Emily grinned and made a face, crossing eyes and sticking out her tongue and Will smiled back, a little wider this time. "Tell them hi," he said and fell back down. "I'll be right back."

"Hi," Scully grinned, hugging her brother and niece, "did mom send you?""We sent ourselves," Emily said, handing her a paper bag, "but grandma cooked." "We figured you could use some real food." "Thanks," she said, opening the box, "how bad was the dinner?" "I hate Bill," Emily said, staying by the window, her eyes never leaving Will. "He's been a royal asshole." "Charlie." "Good thing you weren't there to hear it." "That bad?" She looked up from her cold turkey, fork half way up to her mouth. "I wanted to kill him," Charlie said, gritting his teeth, "self-righteous prick. You know, sometimes I think he's been switched in his crib and he's some kind of half-troll changeling." "His neck is short enough for it," Emily said, grin in her voice. "You're both so mean," Scully said, but smiled as well. Mocking Bill behind his back was a long-standing tradition of theirs. "How's Will doing?" Charlie asked. "He got the marrow around 3pm, so now we wait. He's stable, no sign of immediate rejection." "That's good, right?" "It's too soon to tell, but it's definitely not bad." "When will we be able to see him?" "Give it a couple of days, it will all depend on his progress." "I hate waiting." Emily said. "I know Em," Scully said and got up, standing by the window with her arm around her, "I'll make sure he calls you, once he's lucid enough." "Okay," Em nodded, locking her eyes with Will, and putting her hand to the glass. She never saw him this fragile, even when he was a child and she filled her with dread. "We'll let you go back to him," Charlie said, joining them, "unless you want to feed him turkey as well." "Can't, hospital food only." "Rain check then, you need anything else?" "No, I think I'm good now," she said, feeling a little more human. Few days ago she wouldn't be able to swallow home cooking without bursting into tears, but she ate it all and talked to her family and finally had a feeling, that life would go back to normal. "You know," she said remembering the calls she made earlier, "I tried to reach Mulder but he didn't answer, could you?" "Sure," Charlie said, "just give me the address." "Thanks."

Mulder slept through the day. His aching back chained him to the couch, making anything beyond a bathroom trip, not worth the pain or the nausea. He ate toast for breakfast and canned soup for lunch, and slept with the tv on low for background. It was easier to handle the stress that way. If the transplant wouldn't work and the kid forfeited his life, the pain Scully would feel was impossible for him to imagine. So when the doorbell rang somewhere around seven, his heart began to pound, filling his head with worst images possible. He forced himself to get up, bracing for tears, fists and knives in his heart, then turned the lock and his jaw dropped. "Good evening," said Charlie Scully, accompanied by willowy, short-haired girl, who looked like something between him and Scully. "It's too soon for carolling," Mulder said, trying to read the news from their faces. "We're the Thanksgiving committee." The girl grinned and relief washed over him, making his knees weak. "Easy man, Will's okay," Charlie said catching him and stepping through the threshold, guiding Mulder back to the couch. The girl closed the doors behind them from the inside. "They did it?" "Yeah, this afternoon, he's sleeping it off." Charlie eased Mulder to the seat, lifting his face up for a second, glancing at his eyes and checking pulse. "You feel dizzy? Faint?" "You a doctor too?" "No, but I had first aid training." "EMT?" "Cop," Charlie smiled, and moved back. "This is my niece, Emily." "Hi," Emily said, smiling. Mulder looked at the girl, who looked like a punk who raided Scully's closet for her business casual. She showed him the paper bag. "We brought dinner." Mulder laughed and leaned back. "Sure you did." "May I?" Emily asked and nodded towards the kitchen. "Go ahead." "We brought more, mind if we join you?" "Not at all." Mulder said and looked at Charlie again. "How's Scully," "We fed her too, don't worry, she asked us to come check up on you, said you didn't return her calls." "She called?" Mulder picked up his phone from the coffee table and found three unanswered calls and the switch on the side set on mute. "Frohike must have turned it off so no one would wake me. Excuse me." "Sure, I'll go help Emily."

Scully picked up on the fourth ring. "Hi." "Hi, it's me, sorry I didn't call back, a bee stung me, had to sleep it off." She laughed. "It's okay, how are you feeling?" "Weak and aching, but I'll live. Will's better?" "He's not worse." She said cautiously. "Afraid you'll jinx it?" "Something like that. Charlie’s there?" "Yeah, I guess feeding people runs in the family." "We're old fashioned, if we feed you, you're part of the family." "In that case, I'll have seconds." "Knowing my brother, you'll have enough for it and probably lunch tomorrow." "We'll see, smells good." Mulder paused, then added softly. "You're not bailing on me, are you?" "Wouldn't dream of it," she said and the warmth in her tone was all the assurance he needed. Someone tapped his shoulder and he looked up to see Emily. "Dinner's ready." "Thanks," he said to the girl, then to the phone. "Food's here, wanna know what I'm thankful for?" "You'll tell me when I see you." "Why?" "Because I want to tell you too, in person." "Then, I'll see you." "Take care of yourself." "Ha, I've got people for that now." "Right, go eat, we'll talk later." "Bye." Mulder hung up and dragged himself off the couch. “Who wants to say grace?” Asked Charlie, reaching hands across the table, palms up. “I’m half jewish,” Mulder said, but took Emily’s hand. “No problem,” Charlie grinned and closed the circle, pausing, before he began speaking in a low voice. “We’re thankful for this year, with all its’ graces and trials, ones we've overcome and the ones we’re still facing. We’re thankful for our family and friends, old and new, and all the kindness we received, hoping that we can be there for them too, in time of need.” Both hands tightened around Mulder’s fingers and when he looked up, he couldn’t speak. “Amen,” said Emily, smiling at him. “Amen,” Charlie echoed and Mulder nodded, touched to his core. “We should have brought some gravy,” Emily said, breaking the moment as she reached for potatoes. “I’m hungry.” “There’s wine,” Mulder said, clearing his throat, “I shouldn’t, but you’re welcome to it.” “Got beer?” Charlie asked. “Yeah,” he chuckled, “there’s beer too.” “Perfect.” “I’ll have one too.” Mulder stared to get up, but Charlie stopped him. “Fridge?” He nodded and Charlie retrieved two bottles and glasses from the cupboard. “Glass, classy,” Emily grinned. “It’s Thanksgiving, you can behave like a human for one evening.” “Do I have to?” She looked at Mulder and hit him with a pout that would befit a five year-old, if it wasn’t for all the piercing. He couldn’t stop the laugh. “You brought food, do what you want.” “Thank you!” She sang and took the bottle from Charlie, who too, gladly skipped the glass. “Less dishes,” he chuckled and sat back down. “Try the turkey,” Emily told Mulder, “it’s the only reason I dress up for grandmas’ dinners.” “I had your aunts’ lasagna, was that where Scully learned to cook?” “Mostly,” Charlie said, finally tasting the turkey. Even reheated, it was great. "Don’t get your hopes too high though, lasagna is her specialty, watch out for the meatloaf.” “Okay.” “I like Dana’s meatloaf," said Emily. “Because you’re still practically a student, if it’s free, you’ll eat anything.” “It’s not a money thing, I work too much,” she bristled, “I get distracted, and things just...” “Burn.” Charlie finished for her. “Is that a challenge?” “Yup, when you’re staying with me, you cook once a week.” “Sure,” she said, unfazed. “But if you burn it, it doesn’t count.” “Fine.” She mixed the potatoes with stuffing, her interest fading. “And it can’t be takeout,” Charlie insisted. “I said fine!” Emily mumbled around mouthful of turkey. “Mulder heard you, so you can’t back out” Charlie grinned, then turning to Mulder said in a stage whisper, “I’m joking, she only burned one pie.” “And I’ll never live it down.” Emily said, taking a swig from her bottle to wash down the food. “So what do you do Emily?” Mulder asked, changing subject politely. “I’m a programer," she replied, before taking another bite, "I spent some time in Silicon Valley, but I’m moving back here, to finish my thesis at MIT.” “I have friends there, what's the thesis about?” “Statistical analysis of data shared through social media and potential applications. But let's not talk about work, or at least not my work, Charlie catching bad guys is so much more interesting." "Yeah, like I can ever talk about it." He chuckled, deflecting, "Mulder, Will showed me your book." "He did?" "You wrote about this former FBI guy, who though he was abducted by aliens." "Duane Barry, yes." "Any truth to that? He was injured in the line of duty, wasn't that just the brain damage talking?" "He did have pieces of metal in various places inside his body." "So you believed him?" "Every story of alien abduction is different, touching different people, coming from different backgrounds. Some accept it, feeling chosen, and some break under the pressure of constantly looking over their shoulder. Ask yourself, why would you make up a story, that would make everyone think you've gone crazy?" "Attention?" Emily asked, sipping her beer. "It's usually negative, where's the pay off?" "You're the psychologist," Charlie said, "you tell me." "I can't, that's my point, some of these people are lying, that's just people, but some of them have gone through crazy things, and they didn't do it to themselves. Someone had to seek out and target these specific individuals, using them for their experiments without their consent, and since it's all so crazy and no one really takes it seriously, these people end up marginalised, ridiculed and never see justice, so the circle of exclusion closes. There are private groups and societies that provide support and connect people with similar experiences, but like I said, it's all very us against them." "I know what you mean," Emily sighed, chasing peas around her plate, "try being a math geek in a hippy home. Mom was supportive, but she never really understood me." "Good thing you're a Scully," Charlie said, "we're a stubborn lot." "And thank God for that." Mulder smiled and raised his glass of water, for lack of a better toast. "To stubborn Scully's, who never give up without a fight." Emily glanced up and met Mulder's eyes, his warm smile oddly familiar, and a thought dawned on her. "Never," she grinned and raised her beer, looking at Charlie. "We don't mind some help, though." He said, raising his bottle. Glass clinked. "And that's probably the core of your strength."

They left Mulder's place around nine, full and happy, the Bill incident all but forgotten. Emily looked out the windshield at the rain that started drizzling, waking up the wipers to squeak lazily. The streets were almost empty, carb coma took over the city. "Does Will know?" She said, moving her gaze to Charlie. "Know what?" "No Will," she let her breath wheeze, "I am your father." "What?" "Search your feelings," she kept up the poor Darth Vader impression, "you know it to be true." "Stop that." "C'mon Charlie," she grinned, sensing she was onto something, "the smile, the jaw, the matching DNA!" Charlie kept his eyes on the road. "You really are a Scully." "Holly shit!" "Language!" "So it is true." "Dana's going to kill me," he sighed, "yeah, Mulder is Will's dad." "How does that work?" "Listen kid," he said, emotions flaring, "it was a long time ago. You were just a toddler, rambling with your mother when it happened. What Bill said tonight, was just a shadow of how it was back then and none of us want to go back. If you have the guts, ask Dana about it. All I can say, is that it ended when Will was born and everybody loved him ever since, he's ours. And even if Dana's reasons might have been childish, she loved him the most and she's a great mom." "Easy there, uncle Charlie," she said, teasing but only slightly, "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you mean." "Don't tell Will," Charlie took a deep breath, reining in his temper, "or Mulder. Let Dana do it, when she's ready." "Okay, I promise." She said, smiling slightly. "But you have to admit, it's cute as hell." "Em, Will is going to live," he sighed, "that's all I care about." "What are the odds." She mused, laugh still in her voice. Charlie smiled and said, "Apparently, one in five billion."

[kittykat-creations]

Gelvin: Time Travel

Melvin sighed, rolling over again in bed as his eyes fell open. He gazed across the other side of the (temporary) bed, which was empty aside from the child pressed against his side. He reached an arm out, feeling the cold sheet beneath his fingers.

A strange sort of ache settled in his chest, and for a moment he thought it might have been phantom pains. But it didn't feel quite the same, and he was forced to conclude something that he had been trying to ignore for the past few days.

He missed George.

Well, of course he missed George. But Melvin was too smart to let those kinds of feelings distract him. Or keep him awake like they were doing right now. There wasn't anything he could logically do about them, so theoretically they should be easy to ignore.

He looked back over at the empty space beside him. He was extremely grateful Erica had approved this trip to the past- really, he was! But he did wish she had approved George coming along, too. But that would have revealed too much about the future, and that was against the rules. How would they have explained to their younger selves that they were in love?

Melvin scowled a little, sitting up and glancing around the dark room. He obviously wasn't getting any sleep tonight. Which was an issue, considering he had a lot to do tomorrow. His memories from these few years were fuzzy, thanks to the incident, but he didn't think it would be this hard to get his younger self into Elitinati. And there was the added bonus of having to pretend like he hated George and Harold, which couldn't be farther from the truth. He loved seeing them run around the school and have fun; they reminded him of his own George and Harold. They hadn't changed so much.

But that would reveal too much about the future. And that was against the rules.

-----

Melvin stared at the photo in his hand, slowly dragging a finger along the rim of his coffee cup, which sat otherwise untouched. (Ever since the bee plan gone awry, tea hadn't had much appeal.) He had never really realized how much he had grown accustomed to sleeping with the others in their bed. It felt weird to be sleeping alone.

And still, he was so distracted thinking about George that he didn't notice his younger self enter the office.

"Hellooo? Are you listening to me?" Little Melvin snapped his fingers, and Melvin jumped a little, looking at him.

"Oh. Sorry. Didn't hear you…"

"What's wrong with you?" Little Melvin asked as Melvin tucked the photo into his pocket. "You're all mopey."

"I just… didn't sleep well. I'm perfectly alright." Melvin looked at his coffee and tipped it back to quickly drink it, only to spit it back up into the cup. "Blegh. Cold."

Little Melvin shook his head. "I don't know emotions very well, but I know myself. Something's weird with you."

"It's fine. I can't talk about it."

"Is it more "can't talk about the future" stuff?"

"Exactly." Melvin picked Cordelia up from her spot on the floor and set her on her feet, tapping her back towards the office door. "Go bother Krupp, Papa's gotta work."

"Ok!" The girl chirped, bouncing out of the office. Little Melvin watched her, his arms folded.

"...you really can't tell me who her other dad is?"

"I told you, no. Space-time continuum and all that." Melvin rubbed at his human eye. His younger self was so persistent. "Now, if you'll let me tell you about the next plan-"

He pulled out a small animal box, which shook slightly as its inhabitant squeaked.