#was so excited to finally get across that bridge as adult link

[imagineaspen]

The original reason Ganondorf became one of my favourite loz characters actually has very little to do with him; it was because as a kid playing Ocarina of Time I thought the Gerudo were The Coolest and that made Ganondorf cool by association.

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 2: Birthday Boy

…in which Harry gets the birthday surprise he didn’t ask for.

Word count: 4.7k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Thank you for all the love for Harry and Ezi after chapter 1. Please let me know what you think about each chapter so I can be motivated to write faster 😆

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“Humans are so funny. You make up false stories about us and refuse to believe anything that isn’t the same as your imagination,” the siren said.

Harry tossed his head back and laughed. He held out a finger at her. “No, mermaids aren’t supposed to exist. You’re not supposed to exist.”

The siren narrowed her sharp gaze, and Harry quickly moved back a bit in fear of her grabbing his leg and pulling him into the water. To his surprise, she said, “And who are you to decide that? A useless human with a useless tail–”

“Okay, enough with the tail joke.”

“–can’t even survive the drowning deep. You don’t want to believe we exist, so you won’t have to carry the guilt of trashing our homes and murdering our kind.”

Baffled, Harry worked his jaw while silently cursing himself for never taking part in those debate classes back in school. Well, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that one day he would have to debate with a deadly siren in a cave on his goddamn birthday!

He shut his eyes and sucked in a breath. “Look, lady. I’m only one small human, with a bigger than average human tail, FYI.” The siren eyed at his crotch in disbelief, so he quickly crossed his legs. “But that’s beside the point! What I was trying to say was that, if you’re seeking revenge, I can’t satisfy you because I’m not responsible for trashing the ocean or shit like that. I’m a singer, alright? And I don’t even live here. I’m from London. A land far away. If you wanna murder a human, I suggest looking for Elon Musk.”

The siren stared at him like he was the mythical creature. “I’m not familiar with all the names you mentioned,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, which had been a big distraction for him. Good to know that he could still get horny while facing death.

“Don’t you guys have fish Wikipedia?” he asked, and she tilted her head, looking rather confused. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that you should know all the facts about humans. That sounded like discrimination against sirens.”

For the first time since Harry met this siren, she actually smiled at him. “You have a lot of funny words, you strange creature,” she said, her eyebrows knitted in fascination.

“You know what?” Harry exhaled sharply. “Since you’re my kidnapper, I’m gonna stop arguing with you in case you still wanna kill me. But today is my birthday, so I can’t be kidnapped. I haven’t posted a thank you message on Twitter yet, and I might get cancelled for that. Celebrities get cancelled for literally anything nowadays. It’s annoying.” The siren blinked at him, her pink lips slightly parted. “Right,” he breathed. “You don’t have a Twitter account.”

“You said you were a singer.”

“That’s all you got from my long speech?”

“What is it? Singer.”

Harry bit his dry lip and frustratedly combed his fingers through his damp hair. “I sing. Use my voice to entertain other people.”

“Oh, like sirens.”

“I guess.”

“Except that we use our voice to kill people.”

“What?”

“Sing for me,” said the siren despite Harry’s horrified look. She seemed excited as she rested her folded arms on a boulder and gazed up at him with a twinkle in her crystal clear blue eyes. “Let’s hear it. I didn’t know humans could sing. Let’s see if it’s good.”

“Fine.” Harry blew out his cheeks and cleared his throat.

He began to sing.

“Walk in your rainbow paradise–”

“What’s a rainbow paradise?” the siren asked, but he didn’t stop singing to answer her.

“–brown skin and lemon over ice.”

“Why are you singing nonsense words?”

Once again, he ignored her, this time, closing his eyes. “I get so lost inside your eyes. Don’t you believe it? You don’t have to say you love me.”

“Love,” the siren repeated the word as if she had never heard of it in her whole life.

Harry opened his eyes and found that she was looking at him as if she could see right through him. He went on, “You don’t have to say you’re mine. Oh honey, I-i-i-i walk through fire for you. Just let me adore you.”

“Why would you walk through fire for someone?” the siren wondered out loud as she stared off into the distance, her strong brows knitted. “That's stupid. Fire is hot. I saw the humans on the boats use it one night. I almost burned my fingers trying to touch it.”

“Yeah, don’t play with fire.”

“Then why would you walk through it?”

The siren pouted, and Harry caught himself smiling at her naivety. “It’s supposed to mean that you’d do anything for the person you love. Even risking your life.”

“That’s stupid,” the siren repeated her earlier remark. For a second, Harry saw a curious little girl and not a dangerous sea creature from earlier.

“Well, it’s just a song,” Harry told her. “I personally wouldn’t do that for anyone, either, but some people do love with all they have, and would sacrifice everything for the one they love.”

An angry frown had replaced the siren’s previous perplexed expression. “Some humans murder the ones they claim to love,” she said in a cold voice. Harry felt a chill running down his spine, but then the siren went on with a softened expression. “Sirens are not supposed to love. Love is a weakness for my kind.”

Harry nodded. “Bet you don’t even have a heart.”

The siren cocked her head; a corner of her mouth raised subtly. “Every living and breathing thing has a heart. Sometimes it’s valuable. Sometimes it's not.”

“Only valuable if it’s the heart that you want,” replied Harry.

For a long moment, the siren looked into his eyes as if she was trying to read his thoughts. Could she do that? Read his thoughts?

Beads of sweat were trickling down his back as his heart began to race; he could hear it in his ears. Suddenly, the siren was pulled beneath the water. Harry stiffened at once. The ocean was still for a moment, then two sparkling tails burst through the surface. Harry’s jaw fell slack with a soundless scream when he saw another siren sinking her fangs into the first one's neck.

The other siren had bright red hair and a silver tail. There were visible scars all across her pale, lanky arms, and he couldn’t see her face. Legs too stiff to run and hide, he stood on the edge and watched in absolute terror. The scene in front of him was madness as the sirens screeched, their tails flapping, creating violent waves as they sank their claws and teeth into each other’s flesh. Harry could see blood. The first siren was not as strong as the one that was attacking her. He must save her. Maybe a part of him knew that she wasn’t entirely evil. Maybe because she was the only hope for him to get home. Either way, he couldn’t just stand by and watch her die.

Before Harry could even think of a way, a bony hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him into the sea.

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Harry’s dreams were thick with blood and haunted by the siren’s face. He’d been in the dark water, drowning, and the last thing he’d seen was her sapphire eyes glowing with the sunlight above as she’d stretched out her arm to grab him before he sank deeper. He woke up gasping, still feeling the saltiness of the ocean on his tongue and the pressure of water on his lungs.

He found himself lying on his bed, fully naked under the covers. Had he been dreaming?

Kneading his temple to chase away the headache, Harry scanned his sore eyes around the room and screamed when he saw her sitting in the corner. Naked. He looked away as soon as he caught her ocean blue eyes staring back.

The siren was in his room. And she had legs!

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed.

He heard her standing up but couldn’t bring himself to look. She sat down on the edge of his bed, smelling like the ocean. Not the fishy kind of smell; one that was unique, and Harry liked it even though he shouldn’t.

“This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream,” he mumbled to himself while clutching the duvet to his chest.

The siren, now a human girl, let out a sigh. “It’s not. This is real. I’m real.”

“You’re not.”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re...naked.”

Even though Harry wasn’t looking, he could feel her questioning gaze pinning on him. He grabbed the covers and shoved them at her. “Cover yourself.”

“Oh...okay.” The siren did as she was told as Harry quickly placed a pillow on his private part. He finally looked at her, and she smiled while covering her upper body and the area between her legs with the duvet.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Better. Okay, why are you here?”

The siren’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember?”

Harry shook his head.

“We were talking when my sister attacked me, then dragged you into the water. You were lucky I saved you twice and brought you back to where I’d found you. This is the only palace on this beach, so I assumed it was yours.”

Harry sat and stared her face, trying to detect a lie but failed.

The siren rolled her eyes. She seemed disappointed as she swept her long black hair over her shoulder, exposing the huge bite mark on her long pale neck. The skin had healed, and the blood had dried, but the area was still bruised. Harry fought the urge to touch it. There was no way this was really happening.

The siren shot a glance at his ankle. And that was when Harry noticed the red claw mark around it. He shivered at the flashbacks of a siren with red hair and a silver tail charging straight at him with her mouth wide open, her sharp teeth ready to tear off his flesh.

“Sorry about my sister. She could be very...deadly,” the siren in front of him said, looking remorseful.

Harry eyed her up and down once again. Finally, he broke his silence, “What happened to your tail?”

The siren refused to look him in the eye as she said, “My mother found out that I saved you, a human, so she cursed me.”

“Cursed you?”

The siren said nothing; the corners of her mouth lowered as she stared down sadly at her legs.

What kind of The Little Mermaid plot is this? Harry thought to himself, yet didn’t say it because it shouldn’t be a joke. She’d lost her tail, which meant she couldn’t go back to the ocean. Ariel from The Little Mermaid had wished to become a human. This girl had been cursed with the life she never wanted just to save him twice.

Harry buried his face into his palms. “Shit. Fuck. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“It is your fault.”

His head whipped up at her honest response. “You always say what you think, don’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Harry sighed and ran his palm over his face. “Never mind. How...how do I get you back to your mermaid form?”

“Siren.”

“Sorry, siren. How do I help turn you back?”

“I don’t know,” she said sadly, clutching the duvet to her chest. “But I need a place to stay until I figure it out.”

Harry thought for a moment and nodded. “I’ll pay for your hotel room.”

“What’s a hotel?” the siren asked, her eyes round. “And why can’t I stay here in your palace? It’s big and you live alone.”

“This is a house, not a palace,” Harry said. “But I’m going back to London tomorrow, and I can’t take you with me.”

“Where is London? I want to see London.”

Seeing her so excited made Harry laugh. “No, you don’t; trust me. It’s not sunny there. Always dark and gloomy and raining.”

“It’s not sunny underwater, either.”

Harry held up a finger and kept his mouth open for a moment as he pondered over what she’d said. “Good point. But I’m still not taking you to London. That’s not a good idea.”

The siren’s eyebrows drew together. “It was your fault I’m in this situation.”

Harry gasped. “You’re so manipulative!”

“I don’t know what it means.”

“It means you say things like that to get me to feel sorry for you, and so I have to help you.”

“Oh, then, yeah, I’m manipulative,” the siren said. “Take me to London with you, or I’ll find you in London and make your life hell.”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. As if he hadn’t been traumatised enough by all the events that had happened today, now he had to take responsibility for the life of a mythical creature. If he had been a bad guy, he would have just let the government have her and keep her in a lab like that Oscar-winning movie about the dead girl and her fish lover. But Harry wasn’t a villain. Sure, he could be an asshole, but he couldn’t betray someone who’d risked her life to save his. Twice.

Maybe if he’d just say yes and then leave quickly in the morning, he wouldn’t have to deal with her. He’d ask someone to take care of her, pay for a place for her to stay and her food. Her mother would have to take her back eventually. He didn’t know about sirens, but even in the animal kingdom, mothers never abandoned their children.

“Fine, I’ll take you to London,” he said. Seeing the smile on her face, he was lowkey thankful that he was so good at lying. “First, you have to put some clothes on. Wait here.”

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, holding a pillow in front of his crotch and one behind him to cover his butt, then padded awkwardly to his closet to change and get her something to wear. When he returned, she was still sitting on his bed, humming a familiar song and kicking her feet as if testing out her new body parts. He found it endearing, but of course, he wouldn’t tell her.

He handed her a bathrobe. “Put this on. I’ll find some real clothes for you later.”

The siren accepted the bathrobe and stared at it as if she’d been told to put it in her mouth and chew. She glanced up at him. “I don’t understand the purpose of this.”

“To cover up your private parts.”

Suddenly, she seemed sad. “I think I’m broken.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

She looked at him again, pouting. “I don’t have a tail.”

“I can see that.”

“No, I mean, a tail like yours.”

When Harry realised what she meant, his face burned, and he cleared his throat into his fist. “You’re not supposed to,” he said awkwardly. “You’re...a female. I bet male sirens don’t look the same as you, right?”

“There’s no male sirens,” she told him.

Harry cocked his head to the side, squinting his eyes. “Huh? Then how do you guys...you know?”

She blinked innocently at him. She didn’t know.

“Mate.” The word made Harry cringe. “How do you mate?”

“Sirens mate with mermen. We only need them for children.”

“Okay, that’s...new…”

Harry would be glad to find out more, but this was definitely not the right time. He waved his hand, urging her to hurry up. Clumsily, the siren got to her feet. Harry didn’t intend to stay here while she changed, but since she could barely keep her balance, she had to hold onto his arms. He stood there, staring at the ceiling as the duvet dropped. She was completely naked in front of him now and so dangerously close. The voice inside his head was telling him not to peek. Fuck. Why did she have to be sexy?

“Do you...um...do you need help?” he asked as she seemed to be struggling with the bathrobe.

“No, thanks. I got it!” she said between ragged breaths, then, “Hey your tail is growing!”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the front of his boxers, his face heating at the sight of his erection. He gently pushed her back onto the bed and rushed to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” she shouted after him. “I need to see it in its full form!”

“This is its full form!”

“It’s still small.”

“Shut up! It’s not!”

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Ezili felt bad for lying to this human.

Well, lying was the whole point of her mission, but he had been so nice to her when he found out she couldn’t return to the ocean. She blamed her new human heart for these emotions. Siren Ezili would never feel sorry for this ugly creature. No, wait, this one wasn’t ugly. The mermen were ugly. As much as she despised humans, she must admit that most of them were beautiful.

When this human wasn’t looking, Ezili would regard him with as much curiosity as he had regarded her in secret. The way his brown curls swept back messily. His defined jawlines. The deep dimples in his cheeks. The look of wonder in his eyes. He looked about her age, but his eyes were innocent, greener than seaweed.

She looked away as he caught her gawking. They were sitting at a small table on the floor. The room was darkly lit by the light in the corner. On the table was a mushy pile with little fire sticks on top.

“What is this?” Ezili asked, inspecting the object.

The human smiled at her, the firelight dancing in his leaf-green eyes as he said, “It’s a cake. We’re celebrating my birthday.”

“You told me not to play with fire.”

“We’re gonna put it out anyway.” He winked at her. “A little fire won’t hurt.” Ezili watched the human take out a little black thing and flick his thumb. Fire flared out, making Ezili flinch. “Relax,” he chuckled and the fire vanished. “This is called a lighter. It makes fire. This is a cake. These are candles.”

“What do we do with the cake?”

“We eat it.”

“You eat fire?”

The human laughed at Ezili’s distressed look. “No, silly. We blow out the candles, then eat the cake.”

“Oh,” she said, making him laugh harder. She found it disrespectful and annoying. Was this creature making fun of her? “What’s so funny?” she asked through gritted teeth.

The human stopped laughing, yet his dimples were still visible. “I can’t believe I’m celebrating my twenty-fourth with a siren,” he said.

“Who do you usually celebrate with?” Ezili asked.

“My friends or family,” the human said. “My friends were supposed to be here but their flight got cancelled due to bad weather.” The sadness in his eyes disappeared as he gave a dismissive wave and laughed. “Oh well, it’s not bad being alone. In fact, I’ve been alone my whole life.”

“That’s sad,” Ezili murmured, mesmerized by the candles.

“It’s not,” replied the human. “Some people live their whole life surrounded by others, and yet, they’re still lonely.”

As he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, smiled, and blew out the candles, Ezili sat there and pondered over his last words.

They didn’t eat the cake right away, because the humans said they ought to eat it after dinner. Apparently, humans ate three main meals a day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sirens ate when they were hungry, so this was very new to Ezili. She picked up the small shiny thing that shaped like her mother’s trident and pushed around the foods on her plate. “What is this?”

“Fish,” the human said with a smile.

“Dead?”

“You expect me to eat alive fish?”

Ezili scowled at him. “That’s what we eat.”

“You’re human now. Try cooked fish.”

When she didn’t do anything but stare at the plate, the human nudged her hand with his knuckles. “Come on. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you the raw fish in the fridge.”

Ezili doubted that this imbecile creature would poison her with these colourful foods to get away with his responsibility, but at the same time, nothing was impossible.

However, she would probably faint if she didn’t eat. This dinner actually smelled good, and her stomach was rumbling because she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. And so she stabbed the fish’s burned flesh with her little trident, closed her eyes and put it into her mouth. It was soft, salty and a bit spicy, and...surprisingly delicious. She quickly took another bite, and another, and another.

“Wow, you’re really hungry, huh?” The human chuckled. “You like it?”

Ezili nodded fast, unable to answer because her mouth was full.

The human seemed satisfied. “Good. Means I’m a great cook.”

Ezili chewed fast and swallowed as the human began to eat. She tried to copy the way he held the little trident and the knife, and felt like she’d changed. Her mother would hate her so much for enjoying this. And Koa would make sure everyone in their kingdom knew and turn her into a laughing stock.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she said, breaking the silence, mostly to distract herself from thinking about the mission and her family.

The human thought for a second. “Hmmm, I have a bunch so I don’t know where to start.” Then, after a pause, “Why did your mum do this to you? Doesn’t she love you?”

Ezili wished she could stab him for bringing up the topic she’d been trying to avoid. Instead, she sucked in a breath. “She does. It’s just...the way sirens show love is different from humans. We teach our children to be strong from the moment they are born. Sirens live dependent on one another to survive, and so we always have to look out for one another. I guess that’s love for us. My mother is the Sea Queen. She’s very powerful, and so she has high hopes for my sister and I. My sister is better than me, though. I’ve always envied her.”

“Your sister is scary as hell,” the human remarked. “But if your mum is the Queen, you must be a princess.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, so does that make me Prince Eric?”

“Your name is Eric?”

“No,” the human chuckled. “It’s a reference from The Little Mermaid. You should watch that film. You’d probably hate it though. Anyway, it’s so weird that we don’t know each other’s name. I’m Harry.” The human, well, Harry, put his hand across the table. Ezili didn’t know what to do with it so she just stared.

“I’m Ezili.”

Harry smiled, picked up her right hand and shook it. His hand was bigger than her and warm. She liked it.

“Cool name. Can I call you Ezi?”

Ezili instantly pulled her hand back. “No, you filthy creature. That’s not my name!”

“Ezi is short for Ezili.”

“What?”

Harry ignored the look of confusion she was giving him. “Or I could call you Bubbles. That’s a cute nickname.”

“Why Bubbles?”

“Because…” He tossed his head back and groaned. “Damn, woman, you gotta read the story, too. I can’t make these jokes if you don’t get the references.”

Ezili had so many questions. Just as she was about to ask, the black thing on the table lit up and started playing a song that startled Ezili.

“Sorry. My mum’s calling,” Harry said as he picked up the thing and swiped his fingers across it. “Right on time.”

“Is your mother trapped in that thing?” Ezili asked, clutching the hem of the shirt Harry had told her to wear. It was too big on her but she loved that it was comfortable and kept her warm.

“No, this is a phone,” Harry said, shaking the magical device with light coming out of it. “So my mum’s in London, and when she calls me on the phone, her voice gets transferred through it, and I can hear what she says.” He pushed himself up and told Ezili, “I’ll be right back.”

Once Harry was gone, Ezili sat there and tried her best to process all the new information. It was only her first night on land and she was already going through it. This mission was harder than she thought. Still, she had no choice but to continue. She must have that heart, and her mother would be so proud.

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When Harry woke up this time, he was on his private jet.

“Hey.”

He screamed, causing Ezi to fall back into her seat in front of him. He whipped his head around and saw that they were the only two people in this cabin. Before he could even come up with a question, Ezi got up, her hand resting on either side of his seat as she leaned forward, until her face was so close to his that he could smell the vanilla scent of the cake in her breath.

Her eyes sharpened at once. “I know you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No...I didn’t.”

“You did, Harry. You were going to leave me at your beach house. I heard you talking on the phone last night with someone else after talking to your mum. You mentioned a hotel room.”

Harry had booked a room for her on the phone last night. He should have done it on the website.

“But guess what?” A corner of her mouth lifted. “I might not have the ability to control tides anymore, but I still have my voice. And so I can control humans with it. I sang you to sleep last night. Then when your servants came to take you to this metal bird, I made him carry you to the magic black carriage and I came here with you. You think you’re one step ahead, you’re wrong. Try that again. I dare you.”

Harry swallowed hard. He could feel his palms sweating as he rubbed them against his thighs. “Okay, I’m sorry for that,” he said.  “But you can’t control people like that. If someone found out what you’re capable of...what you are...you’d be in big trouble.”

Ezi arched an eyebrow as she slowly backed away and stood straight with her arms across her chest. Thank God, Harry’s mother called just in time. He immediately got up and excused himself to answer the phone. He left a pouty Ezili in the cabin and went to the exit to talk to his mother.

“My precious boy, are you on the plane right now?”

“Yes, Mum,” Harry sighed.

“Good. I just need the name of your date for the seat arrangement.”

Harry stiffened for a second then quickly glanced over his shoulder to check if Ezi was eavesdropping. Fortunately, she was distracted by a magazine.

“Like now?” he asked his mum.

“Yes. Last night you told me you found one.”

Yes, Harry remembered that part, but he’d only said that so his mum would stop pestering him.

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I did.”

“Her name?”

He hesitated before saying, “Ezili Hans.”

Hans as in Hans Christian Andersen. The writer of The Little Mermaid. If he had the energy to be happy, he’d give himself a pat on the back for the creativity.

“Great,” his mother said, sounding as if he’d just told her he was getting married. “I’m so excited to meet this girl.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, dear?”

“I-I said ‘Well, of course’,” Harry said and covered it up with a nervous laugh.

When he got off the phone with his mum, he felt a light tap on the shoulder and turned around to see Ezi. Shit, had she listened to–

“I promise I won’t use my singing voice to control you again,” she said, to his surprise. "Please. I cannot survive on my own." She twisted the hem of his band-tee uneasily. Even though she looked super cute in his t-shirt and joggers, she was still too underdressed for someone that was travelling on a private jet.

“Fine. You can stay,” he heard himself say while trying to imagine her with actual clothes that fit her.

Ezi’s blue eyes lit up, and the smile that rarely showed up on her face caught Harry off guard. He almost forgot what was happening.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But we need to set up some rules.”

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Finding Us Chapter 21

Alright! Here I am at last with another Tim chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it. 

AO3 Link

~

Tim couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up in his chest at the idea of progress in the stalker case. It fueled his desire to keep moving in other directions, while he waited on Damian to finish his sketch he dove back into work on the Alkali case.

Currently, he was trying once again not to backseat hack as Barbara was finally digging through the Alkali’s files. After their trip to the physical location, Babs had used the access gained through Stephanie to create her own back door and they’d sat on that for a little while to make sure no one found it.

It was early the morning after Damian’s encounter with the creepy man and Tim was in the belfry standing over Barbara’s shoulder because there was nothing to currently do on the stalker case. Tim hadn’t recognized Damian’s sketch of the guy he’d seen, and so they were waiting on facial recognition to grab his identity. The kid’s sketch was definitely good enough for the system to pick something up, they just had to wait.

“Have you found anything interesting yet?” he asked, trying not to bounce on his toes.

“Lots. Nothing we’re looking for. Though, there is a guy here who’s last name is Bandersnatch, which is pretty cool.”

She was teasing, but Tim could also hear the note of warning in her voice. When she found what they were looking for she’d tell him, and he shouldn’t keep pushing. He sighed, and turned to step across the room, over to a mini fridge installed for snacks.

“Want a soda?” he called.

She shook her head, “It’s too early for that, toss me a tea.” she answered.

He grabbed a bottle of tea out for Babs and a can of orange soda for himself and moved back over to the computer.

“Thanks for helping on this.” he said, handing her the tea, then cracking open his soda.

“Of course, the sooner we get these guys the better.”

Tim agreed, and sipped at his soda while he played a matching game on his phone in an attempt to both distract and stop himself from tossing advice Barbara’s way. He got stuck on a particularly difficult level and found himself totally lost in it for a while, trying again and again to win. It made the waiting a lot easier, even if he also kind of wanted to toss his phone out the window and watch it crash at the bottom of the building.  

“Got something.” Babs said at last.

Tim looked up bleary eyed, blinking away red diamonds and orange squares. It took his brain a moment to register what she’d said before he stood up, the chair shaking.

“Great!” he hurried over to look at the screen again, “What’d you find?”

“Well, under the private files I found some that were locked with a password, after cracking that I found these.”

The file she’d opened was filled with unreadable text.

“It’s encrypted?” Tim asked.

“I think it’s some kind of cypher. See it follows a sort of pattern. Nothing too overt or easy like a caesar cipher. It’s got to have a key.”

Tim hummed, she was right, the text was filled with letters and numbers and broken up in a way that looked like lines of real text, if they’d been in any kind of legible order.

“Well then we’d better get to cracking it.”

They worked for a couple hours trying to figure out what cypher had been used, and testing various codes to no avail. Eventually they decided to give it some time to breathe, and their brains time to think of new ideas. Babs forwarded him the files so he could keep looking over them later and Tim left her to work on other projects.

As he was leaving, he found Cassandra waiting for him down at the base of the Belfry. She was eating a cinnamon roll like it was a doughnut.

“Hey.” she said, handing him a cup of coffee, and shaking her wrist and the plastic bag hanging off it.

Tim took the offered cup, then tugged the bag off her free hand checking inside. A second cinnamon roll sat tucked into a nest of napkins. He fished it out, careful not to spill his drink then copied Cass, taking a huge bite out of the side.

It was still warm, and the taste of cinnamon and sugar danced across his tongue in a way that made him think of home. Of early Saturday mornings with Alfred, stirring together a bowl of butter, sugar, and cinnamon so the man could carefully spread it across dough. Or of Bruce dropping off a few in his room, ruffling his hair, and telling him he should probably finish his homework before working on another case.

“Ready to head back?” she asked.

He washed down the bite of bread with some coffee and nodded, “Yeah, I think Babs and I have done all we can. How’re things back at the manor?”

Cass shrugged, “Everyone is still waiting on the results of the search, so they all split up to work on other things.”

They moved to the car Cass had brought to pick him up in, it was one of Bruce's many cars, black and not too fancy. Tim held a hand out for the keys and after an eye roll Cass dropped them in his palm.

“I drove here.” she argued.

“You drive too fast for me and my coffee.” he replied.

“Fair.” she shrugged.

As Tim pulled away from the clocktower, still munching on his cinnamon roll Cass pipped back up.

“Can we stop at the craft store?”

He glanced at her, “Sure, but why?”

“Damian wanted some more colored pencils. He sent a list and asked me to stop if I had time.” She tugged a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and opened it to show him.

A detailed list of colors, brands, and what not to buy’s filled the page in Damian’s neat, tight, handwriting. Tim was surprised to find a little picture of a dog at the bottom of the page, it wasn’t as detailed as Damian usually did, and smiling for some reason.

“He drew it as a thank you, and promised to make me a better one with the pencils.” Cass said, catching where Tim’s eye had fallen, then she added, “Eyes on the road.”

Tim flicked the turn signal on the car to indicate he needed to go left, towards the craft store Damian frequented, “Why didn’t he come if he wanted to restock?”

Cass shrugged again, and folded the paper instead of crumpling it back up. She set it in her lap, fingers tapping on the paper with gentle tip taps.

Damian rarely missed a chance to get his own art supplies. He was as picky about them as Tim was over film or lenses for his cameras. Sure it was just a few replacement pencils, but even those Tim knew Damian would linger over for an hour if he was left to it. He wondered briefly if his mild concussion had anything to do with staying home. Maybe Alfred had told him he couldn’t leave? But no, it had been days at this point, he was probably cleared at last for most activities.

Maybe it was because he knew Cass was headed to pick up Tim.

He tried not to think too hard on that thought. They hadn’t really talked much lately. Both had been busy with their own things, and besides that, they didn’t really talk a lot to begin with. He’d thought they were doing better, but at the same time Tim knew they weren’t.

Tim reached out to snatch his coffee and take a sip from it. Now that he thought about it, maybe they were doing better after all. Damian had called him by his first name the night before. And he’d gone looking for clues as to Tim’s stalker. A queasy feeling bubbled up in Tim’s stomach. He’d been quick to dismiss Damian’s attempted apology back when they’d been at the mall, and now he was starting to wonder if he'd been really trying to mend that bridge. T im loved the idea of having a little brother, and way back when he'd first met Damian he'd been happy to have one, for all of two seconds. Still, sometimes he thought they had found that perfect spot of being siblings, and other times it felt like there was a gaping hole between them. Especially lately.

He pulled into the store’s parking lot not even realizing they’d made it there, his body on autopilot. Cass cheered as she climbed out of the car, and Tim stayed quiet.

When he looked up at the storefront he figured it out.

He might be jealous. Of the squirt.

Maybe it wasn't their past that was bothering him so much lately, but their present. Tim thought he'd shaken off those feelings in regards to Jason and Damian, but maybe he hadn't. Even in the wake of the family’s eyes turning on him Tim still couldn’t stop thinking about how Damian seemed to draw everyone in all the time. Dick, then Jason, Bruce with his fretting after they’d gotten hurt. It was--it was like he fit in a way Tim couldn’t quite imagine himself fitting again.  Like they were both the same piece, and there was only one spot left on the puzzle, and Damian had swooped in just in time to fill it. Even now, he felt odd about the attention. Like the moment everything was done his family would stop looking at him again. Stop seeing Tim, because he’d messed up. He’d failed to be the one to fix everything and he no longer deserved to be seen.

“Tim?”

“Coming!” he said, locking the car door.

Inside he was hit with the smell of paint and paper. The whole place was a kaleidoscope of colors and supplies crammed together in a space that should have felt cluttered, but instead actually seemed homely. He followed Cass to the pencils and held each as she selected them, reading Damian’s list carefully, then making Tim double check “ just in case” .

He thought they’d be in and out, but once they’d found Damian’s stuff Cass insisted on browsing. Tim followed her, feeling a bit like Titus pattering after Damian as he instructed the dog on something very un-dog-like and soon his arms were full.

Cass had added extra packs of less high quality colored pencils, crayons, thin markers --not thick, because apparently those didn’t trace well-- and made him pick out a coloring book. She selected one full of animals, and Tim picked one that was more abstract. Like black and white stained glass. He and Cass locked eyes on an adult swear word coloring book and both grinned.

“For Jason?” Tim asked.

“And one for Dick.” Cass grinned.

Soon they’d selected adult coloring books for the whole family. Some simply because they knew they’d get a laugh out of them, and others from the knowledge of the recipient getting genuine delight from it.

By the time they left, Tim was feeling better. His day brightened even more when Cass hooked an arm through his at home, and dragged him into the living room.

“We are going to color and watch She-Ra.” she declared.

He could have argued and said he had work to do. But he knew Cass would tell him a break was good. And wasn’t that what he’d just told Babs? He could have fallen into other cases or dug out his 3Ds to play some Animal Crossing. But the best idea in the whole world right then was sitting on the floor and coloring with his sister, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

He filled in two whole pages, first lined with marker --Cass had been right about the thin ones-- then colored in as dark as he could with his own box of colored pencils. At some point the sounds of She-Ra had been turned down as he and Cass chatted about everything.

She told stories of an adventure with Steph. He talked about Mindbender and how weird it was to have Jason in the house again. Then about how cool it was to have Jason in the house. Cass told him about a ballet she’d seen. All of it, whether it was little nothings or big changes, ebbed and flowed to the scritch scritch of pencil on paper, and legs folded up or kicked into the air.

At some point, Alfred brought in cocoa and water. Then sandwiches. Dick breezed through and gasped over his book, stopping to color in all of an F before getting bored and breezing back out. Jason cackled over his book, and then genuinely thanked them for thinking of him. Damian collected his pencils, didn’t complain about a single one, and stared at his own book of animals to color like it was made of gold before tucking it under an arm and scurrying away.

Bruce stayed the longest, lounging on a couch to add his own commentary between theirs, infrequent, but enough to say “I’m here, I’m listening, I love you.” before he too was called away. He planted a kiss on each of their heads before leaving.

It was Stephanie who broke up the peace. Showing up like a tornado, and stirring them from settled spaces into laughter. They traded pencils for controllers and fired up Smash Brothers for a wholly different, but still perfect, adventure.

There, surrounded in waves by his family Tim wondered if he’d been wrong earlier. If maybe the puzzle had room for all of them. And every time someone new came in, it just expanded and made room for them. He certainly felt like he fit in, and it was really nice.

[noirshadow]

New Beginnings - Ch. 1

I couldn't get this idea out my head and just had to write it. Let me know what you think!

Summary: It was supposed to be a fresh start for Mal and Alina. A chance to try to mend their relationship and new beginnings in a new town. And then she meets him.

A Darklina Neighbors Alternate AU. 🌘

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The new house was supposed to make things better. Alina looked out the window as she washed the dishes, giving a big sigh. It was nice that the new house was bigger, but it almost felt like it had forced the distance between her and Mal even wider. There were more places to hide, easier opportunities to avoid each other.

This was only their second year of marriage but it was doomed from the start. Yes, they were childhood friends but when Mal had finally asked Alina out in their third year of college, the old Mal she knew was already barely there. There were still glimpses of his old self, but they were few and far between. She cherished those in her mind, clinging onto those moments so that she couldn’t forget. With those memories on a pedestal in her mind, Alina had deluded and convinced herself into thinking this could work long term. Mal had been obsessed with his career and status and proving a point to his parents, who didn’t think they could ever do better for themselves and who in turn, ingrained this self-deprecation into their son.

After several years of hardly speaking to each other, Alina had approached Mal with an ultimatum - something had to change. His initial reaction was of shock. A total blindside, from his point of view. He was barely home, always at work or some leadership seminar or other, but when he was home, Alina always played dutiful wife. It was probably partially her fault that he didn’t think anything was wrong. She was also always radiant and charming when she needed to be, like at every work function as she was led around the room meeting all his bosses and senior management of the firm. Unsurprisingly, as was standard of their relationship, he misunderstood the root cause of the issues and decided that a new home and a new environment would be the solve.

—-

The neighbourhood was very nice but it was so manicured. It had nothing of the chaos and untidy charm of Os Alta. All the houses looked relatively similar and it was far from the action of the city centre where they lived before. This was a cozy street where everyone knew each other, especially where their new home was, where the street ended in a cul de sac. Coming from the city, Alina was having a small culture shock. There, you were just a tiny part of the faceless masses and no one gave anyone else a second glance.

On the second day after moving in, the doorbell rang. “Are we expecting anyone?” Mal said to her as he looked up from the box of books he was sorting through. Alina shook her head and went to the door.

“HI!! I am your new neighbor and number 1118 across the street. I’m Genya! I live there with my husband, David and two boys. Sorry, I would have stopped by yesterday but the day flew by. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighbourhood.” Genya smiled eagerly. A few years older than Alina, she had stunning vermillion hair and amber eyes. She was still more pretty than Alina ever thought she herself could look, but it was slightly faded on the edges as if the years and the kids had blurred her beauty a bit. Nevertheless, Alina instantly took a liking to her and found her charm, radiating and her positivity completely contagious. “Hi, I’m Alina and I just moved here from Os Alta with my husband Mal. He’s just inside - sorry, we are still unpacking”, she says.

“Don’t be silly! You must be exhausted. Here is my famous lasagna casserole I made as I’m sure you have had no time to cook yet. When you get settled, we must have a glass of wine! Oh, it’s also perfect timing that you moved in this weekend because there is a block party this Saturday in the court and you must come meet all the neighbours. Everyone is great and we are all so excited for you all to move in!” Genya’s enthusiasm spread to Alina like a soothing spoonful of honey on a sore throat. Despite Alina being much quieter and less vivacious, she immediately liked the other woman and felt at ease with her. With Genya’s exuberance rubbing off on her, she said “That sounds great, see you then!” in a tone much more cheerful than she felt.

——

On Saturday morning, Alina woke up early to make her own famous recipe- peanut butter blondies - that was passed down by her foster mom, Ana Kuya. She didn’t feel particularly nervous about meeting her neighbours but there was still a little gnawing feeling pulling at her insides. Perhaps it was the thought of having to put on a face that everything was fine or more realistically, a quiet voice from deep down pointed out, that it was having to show up with Mal and be associated as his wife and be paired with him.

At around 11, she could hear a commotion outside as tables were being set up and kids were already laughing and running around. Mal came out from his study in his classic weekend uniform of a crisp linen shirt with chino shorts. Alina had on a floral strappy sundress with her hair pulled into a low messy knot at the back of her head. “Ready to go, hun?”, Mal asked. Alina nodded blankly, “can you please grab that other tray to bring it out”.

Although it was already near the close of summer, the air was still warm with a slight breeze. The sun was bright and set a golden filter on the entire street. The cul-de-sac was transformed with three large tables in the centre in an almost wide u-shape. The left two were loaded with all sorts of nice food and the far right table had the drinks and a large speaker with some lively music playing. All the kids were already playing in front of it, zooming around on bikes and throwing balls around. Alina spotted a couple ginger boys run past with water guns and knew those must be Genya’s. She looked toward the table and saw the bright redheaded matron arranging some sandwiches and Alina walked over, with Mal trailing behind.

“Hi Genya. This is Mal, my husband.” The cheerful neighbor turned around and immediately broke into a wide grin. “Ah, so great to meet you. Let me introduce you to my husband.” She shouted loudly to a gentle looking man who was taking apart and trying to fix a remote control car for a little boy just on the edge of the driveway.

“DAVID, come say hi to Alina and Mal!” David looked up sheepishly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He waved and shouted, “hello, - I’m just about to access the capacitor mechanism here so I’ll come over shortly!” Genya turned back toward the couple and rolled her eyes. “Sorry, he is an engineer and will jump at any chance to tinker with any mechanical devices. Even if it’s a kid’s toy. I’ll bring him over in a second but go ahead and help yourself to some food.” She said this with a tinge of annoyance to her voice but you could hear the love seeping out from the corner of it. Detecting it, Alina was almost jealous.

The next couple hours passed quickly and pleasantly. They chatted with all the neighbours in the immediate cul-de-sac and met most of the ones further along the street. Although it was so different to Os Alta, there was a cozy and inviting atmosphere of the suburbs. It put one at ease that there was kindness from strangers and that people cared. Maybe Alina could learn to love it here and maybe things could be different.

Mal, for one, seemed to have found himself a little group of like-minded husbands and had already gone off to have beer with two of them. Genya was very busy as one of the main organisers but still somehow managed to always be the radiant center of things. She would come check on Alina here and there but after Mal went off, Alina found herself standing alone on the edge of the court, watching the action within.

After several minutes of surveying the scene from the sidelines, she was about to go back inside for a second when she saw him. He was at the far end of the court looking straight at her. It was as if the sea had parted and it was a tunnel connecting only her and him. The din of the other neighbors and the rowdy kids completely melted away. Alina had thought she felt eyes on her earlier in the afternoon but had not pinpointed it until this moment of calm.

The dark and mysterious man across the way from her was one of the most handsome men Alina had ever seen and when she returned his look, the hair on her arms stood straight up. Not in a traditional way, per se, but there was something about his face and how he carried himself that almost left her breathless. Although it was a relatively warm day, he had on a black t-shirt and black jeans. His dark hair was on the long side and fell slightly over his face. Just then, he lifted one hand and flipped his hair back without his eyes once leaving her face. Alina felt a zap of high voltage in her body that she had never felt before. She felt a long lost feeling awake within her - one that was so familiar but had been dormant for years - where she was like a giddy schoolgirl. Chemicals reacting within her, core going molten, and stomach doing butterfly flips as if the popular boy had noticed her.

Without looking away and before Alina knew what she was doing, she started walking past the tables toward him. She quickly scanned the area for Mal and spied him chatting around some planter boxes of 1114 with his new friends. He was joking and genuinely laughing, which she hadn’t personally experienced in months. Turning back, she focused on her task at hand she passed through the slew of tables, where it suddenly was much quieter. All the kids were running in the foreground where all the snacks and toys were. Here, there were only a few scattered adults talking quietly. As she walked by them, she broke eye contact to smile lightly at the man in 1109 who said hello to her. They had met earlier but she had already forgotten his name. Finally. After what felt like ages, Alina arrived in front of him. This breathtaking figure was standing on the edge of the curb, hands in pockets, and with her standing on the street, she seemed even more diminutive as he towered over her like a great black shadow.

“Hey,” he said, voice dulcet but with a coolness that sent a shiver right down her spine. His voice was low and deliciously rich. “You just moved into 1115, right? I’m Aleksander - I live in 1121, just here-” he gestured behind him to a much more modern and austere looking build then the rest of the neighborhood and without any of the kid accoutrement that littered the front yard of many of their neighbors.

“I’m Alina,” she said softly practically falling completely into the dark pools of black ink that were his eyes. “We just moved here from Os Alta.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood," Aleksander said, sweeping his arm to the court out like a game show assistant showcasing the prize. "As you can see, we are a friendly, tight-knit bunch. Do let me know if there is anything I can do to help welcome you in. I surmise Genya will have already taken care of everything, but just in case…” He trailed off. As if he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Aleksander's voice was slow and deliberate as if every word was calculated and there was no wastage. He looked at her and for a second, Alina almost saw a slight spark of hunger in his eyes but surely she must have imagined it. She had never seen or met him before. She shook it off and she smiled brightly and said “Thank you. Everyone seems lovely and I look forward to getting to know everyone.” She stared up into his eyes, searching for a response. Alina was never usually direct when meeting a stranger, but something inside her had awoken when she first saw him. And in this short and seemingly mundane conversation, it was as if a different conversation happened just between their gaze. In this moment, somehow emboldened, she blurted, “I would love to get a drink sometime and get to know you whenever you’re free.” She blushed and looked away, cheeks burning. She was nearly 30, how could she still feel like a young girl approaching her crush?

“I would like that very much.” Aleksander had not once taken his eyes off of her. Even now, it looked like he was straining, jaw firmly set - compelling every muscle in his body to behave. “For the moment, I have to attend to some matters that I could not reschedule. Enjoy the rest of the party. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Aleksander gave one last long look into her eyes, before quickly turning up the driveway back to his house. As she stared at the smooth wooden door, Alina stood there for a few seconds completely shaken at what had just passed and at the unfamiliar feelings coursing through her. She hadn’t felt this kind of electricity in years. It took Genya tapping her on the arm to bring her out of her daze. “I see you met Aleksander. He mostly keeps to himself but he’s nice enough. Shame he lives in that big house all alone. Come on back, we are about to cut the cake.” Genya turned and started walking back to the tables yelling for the kids to assemble by the tables.

Alina took one last look at the house and thought she saw a curtain move and a dark shadow. What was she even doing? She was married. This will never do. Shaking herself, she turned and walked back the group.

~~~~~~~~~~~

So sorry about the shit spacing. Tumblr is not being my friend today!

[thefantasygirl3]

Negaverse stories: Megavolt's backstory

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Slice of life, Action, Drama.

Word count: 3 725

Summary: After the events of Darkwing Duck coming to the Negaverse and helping the now called “Darkwing Ducks” save st. Canard, the four heroes decided to adopt the adorable little Gosalyn, buy a house and start a life together. But the little duckling is curious over how all her dads became heroes to start with, so she asks them to tell her that story.

Notes: This is the first of four chapters, for each of the Negaverse’s Friendly four, starting off with Megavolt’s backstory. Link to other parts of the story: 2 - Quackerjack. 3 - Bushroot. 4 - Liquidator.

A hero's backstory is really something else. It is the reason for who they become. For being a crime fighting symbol of justice. And that backstory can be exciting and inspiring, it can be tragic and heart-wrenching or it could just be downright underwhelming. But whatever the tone of the story, it is the most interesting thing a hero got to tell about themselves

In the city of st. Carnard, in the negaverse, night was approaching and covering the city in the pale moonlight. It was about time for all the kids to get themselves ready for bedtime and for the parents to tuck their kids into bed so they can drift off into dreamland. This was the same for the Darkwing ducks' household. After the help of The original Darkwing Duck, the group formerly known as The Friendly Four were able to restore peace to the city, adopt Negaduck's kid and get themselves a house to live in, like any regular family of four dads and a daughter. It was in this house that the very tired looking rat was trying to be like every other parent and settle his duck daughter into bed so she can finally doze off.

Gosalyn was bouncing around in her bed, struggling against Megavolt's attempts to get her into her proper place in bed. Head against pillow, body under the blanket, still and calm. But boy was she making that really difficult. "I don't want to sleep! Not if you're gonna make me go to camp tomorrow!" she whined and clutched tightly onto the bed's bottom railing as her dad was trying to pull her back into place on the bed. "But hun! It is obligatory! You. Have. To. G-go!" he groaned as he tried his best to pry her off of the foot of her bed, but lost his grip and flew back into the wall. While she was free, the duck girl quickly got off of the bed and hid herself underneath the bed, trying to do whatever she could to not have to go to bed. 

As the electrified rodent regained his composure, he spotted his daughter hiding in the shadows of the underside of her bed. He sighed and crouched down beside her hiding spot, looking at her exhaustedly as he was too worn out from her struggling to try and get her back into bed again "Come on, Gosalyn. You can't skip out on the field trip by staying up all night" he tried to reason with her as he sat himself down beside her, showing he was no longer going to wrangle with her. The pair of eyes peering back at him responded with a grumpy "You're just saying that so I'll go to sleep and then you can force me into the forest with all the bugs and bears and snakes and moose!" and then huffed sharply. The rat sighed at her resistance, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he tried to think up something to say. 

"Please, hun. You're only punishing yourself by doing this. Whether you sleep or not, you're going on the field trip" he groaned and sank down further onto the floor. "Papa said I didn't need to go!" Gosalyn pointed out as she crawled out from under the bed to pout at her dad on the floor. "You know very well that Bushroot can't say no to you when you make that face at him! His decision is invalid!" he scowled at her as he sat back up and moved to sit cross-legged in front of her. All she did was puff up her cheeks at him and cross her arms with a mad grunt. Letting out a sigh, Megavolt tilted his head back and stared up at the roof, until an idea suddenly hit him and he lit up like a light bulb. 

"... How about we make a deal then?" he asked and looked over at his daughter, a small grin growing on his face. She just gave him a suspicious look, not sure if she would like this "deal". The adult stood up from the floor, saying "If you promise you will go to bed and go on the field tomorrow, I will give you the best gift I can". Crawling out from under the bed, the little duck looks up at him curiously. "A doll?" she asked. "Much better" he responded to her. "A doll house?!" she then inquired while scuttling up onto the bed. "Even better!" he then told her and sat down beside her on the bed. "A HORSE?!?" she then shouted in excitement, throwing her hands up in the air. "O-Ok. Not THAT good! We're not made of money" he chuckled as he then put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. 

"I'm going to tell you the story of how I became a hero, if you promise me right now that you'll go to bed and go on the field trip tomorrow" Megavolt suggested to her while trying to hide his smug, delighted grin from her. Gosalyn's face lit up and she jumped up on him, gripping onto his arm like a koala. "Really?! You'll tell me your backstory?!" she asked as she stared at him with big, sparkling eyes, full of hope. "Maybe… if i hear those two magic words" her dad said as he looked down at her expectantly. Immediately, faster than a lightning bolt, she let go of him and shot over towards her spot in bed, getting comfy under her blankets. "I promise, dad!" she said and looked at him with her cute, innocent eyes. He chuckled at her and reached out his hand, patting her head before clearing his throat, getting ready to start his story.

So it all started pretty much in high school. I was a very talented and smart teen, my grades very high, just like my ego. I thought so highly of myself, as if no one could be smarter or more successful than me. I was practically the biggest bully in the entire school. Or at the very least… the second biggest bully in the school… no one beat Drake when it came to malice.

"What?! You were a bully?! No way!" Little Gosalyn said in surprise as she was listening to him starting to tell the story. "Yes. I know. I am very ashamed of how I used to act. But let's continue the story, alright?" the rat told her before trying to recall the next part of the story.

I was the smartest kid I knew, with straight A's across the board. I used to hold my intellect above everyone else, especially the sport kids and the kids with average grades. I used to bully them relentlessly, taunt them about being losers, doomed to working in retail and fast food service jobs for the rest of their lives. I'd even make the more timid kids partake in some of my experiments, constantly telling them that that was all they would be good for.

Particularly this one kid. Hamilton Ham String.

He was… the typical stars-in-his-eyes sports fanatic that dreamed of becoming a football player some day. He would partake in every sport the school could offer and would constantly talk about the sports on TV. Now I was never that… involved with him, though it may sound like I knew him well. It's only that after that fateful day… he's been a big influence to me. 

It was the day before prom. I had been working on this machine and I had finally managed to finalize a prototype. All that I needed was for someone to test it out. And obviously that wouldn't be me. So I headed out of the school workshop and took a look around for who would be my… lab rat. And there, down the hallway, I saw him. My favorite victim, Hamilton. He was throwing the pigskin around with a friend of his yelling stuff like "Radical catch right there, Daddy-o!" and "My shots are the most tubular around!"

"DAAAAAD!" Gosalyn whined as she pushed her dad, getting him to stop the story for the moment. "What?" he asked, completely clueless. "No one says stuff like that anymore!" she muttered annoyed and looked at him with an unsatisfied pout. "Really? It was the hottest lingo around when I was just a teen. Everyone said stuff like "Cool beans" and "Funky" at that time!" he said with a confused look on his face while scratching his head. "DAAAD!!" the little girl groaned as she physically cringed at his outdated slang. "Ok ok! Fine. I'll change it to be more modern, for you" he then chuckled at her, continuing on with his story short after.

Hamilton was laughing about his throwing skills, winking at a girl that was walking past. I saw her blush at him as he did, giggling and covering her face with her bag. I remember rolling my eyes so hard at them, finding their flirting so stupid and meaningless. Then again, I thought love was a ridiculous concept anyways.

But as he was giving his girlfriend those flirty glances, I just marched up to him and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. He seemed rather surprised by it and he looked at me, only able to say "Huh?!" as I pulled him down towards me. I could see his face turn into that usual nervousness as he realized just who it was that grabbed his attention, literally. "O-oh! Hey there, Mr. Sputterspark! E-everything alright today?" he asked me with this awkward grin on his face, as if trying to get on my good side. I didn't care, I just dragged him along towards the workshop while ignoring his protests and excuses. I could see his girlfriend across the way, I remember it very clearly, she looked terrified.

As we got inside the room, he kept telling me he didn't do anything and that he's sorry about whatever he did. I completely ignored him and pushed him forward onto the floor. "Shut up, pig" I growled at him as I observed him shuffle back to his feet, now quiet at my request. "I don't care about your low IQ attempts to excuse yourself! Just do as I say!" I growled and walked on over towards my machine. It was a simple treadmill, with a carpet fastened to the running belt and restraints added on to the handles. He just stared at it, confused and worried. Understandable. I didn't have the most promising track record. 

"Um… wh-what is that, Elmo?" Hamilton asked me while trying to sneak over toward the door. I stopped him by grabbing his ear, saying "This, as simply explained as possible, is a machine meant to power this here light bulb. Through the power of static electricity, the friction against the carpet will generate powers high enough to give power to at least this entire room! Just imagine how much electricity could be generated with a full warehouse of these soft, metallic beauties!". I then turned around to him and started pulling him in close, so close our noses were squishing together. "And I just so happen to need someone to test it out for me" I told him very bluntly before forcing him over towards the machine.

Just as I started doing so, the boy began to struggle against my grip and begged for me to stop. "H-Hey! Let me go! Stop!" he pleaded with me, which I of course ignored, as if it was just hot wind blowing by my ears. But something very unexpected happened. I heard him let out a growl and yell "N-NO! I'M NOT GOING TO BE A GUINEA PIG AGAIN! STEP OFF!!!" before he ripped his arm loose and raised it up out of my reach. I was stunned into silence as all I could do was stare at him. I couldn't believe he told me off! It actually caused me to step back and feel a slight tad of fear stir up in my chest. Only a few seconds thereafter his hand came flying towards me and smacked me back. I was flung back towards my machine, landing on the carpeted belt and grunting in pain. As I tried to pull myself up from the belt, I grabbed onto the handles and the restraints I had built in immediately snapped shut over my arms. "Wh-What the-!" Was all I could manage to say before the treadmill started up and the belt began slowly building up speed. I did my best to pry my arms loose but I had done a little too well when building this thing.

It got faster and faster as my legs were forced to start running. I felt how, for the first time since starting High school, fear was taking over and I was panicking like crazy. I looked up at Hamilton and begged for him "Please! Help me! Hamilton, please save me!". But he just stared at me with this abject horror over his face. I'll never forget the look he had as he then turned away from me and ran out the door, leaving me to try and save myself and my poor poor legs.

"WHAT?!? He just LEFT you to run your legs off?! What a meanie!" Gosalyn said angrily as she stood up in bed, throwing her hands up in frustration. Megavolt lifted her up, laying her back down in bed before tucking her in once more. "You got to understand, sweetie, I was about to force him into the same situation I got myself into. He was probably scared over what I'd do after he just pushed me into my own torture machine" he sighed as he reached out and rubbed her head, smiling sadly as he was thinking about those times. "I kinda think I deserved worse than that. But either way, I'm thankful it happened…" he said softly, transitioning back into the story.

I remember running on that treadmill for almost an hour, my legs being at the brink of death. They felt like if I were to stop, the movement of the belt would pull them right along with it. I was sweating like a melting ice cube and panting so hard I could move a sailboat on my own. I think I even blacked out at a few points, only to be brought back to reality by my knees burning from the friction on them.

But after that painfully long hour, the lamp that was connected to the machine had begun to flicker violently from an overflow of electricity. After it had been unstably wavering for a long while, it finally broke. So did the rest of the lights in the room. I could even tell later that the hallway lights had lost power. Luckily, that power outage put a complete stop to the treadmill and released my arms at the same time, causing me to be flung forward and crash into the wall, covered in loose papers that were stuck to me, thanks to the overabundance of static electricity.

When I came to, I was laying on the floor, homeworks and instructions stuck to my face and making it harder to see. I removed them and saw even less than before, being surrounded by complete darkness. "... Hamilton? Hey… anyone there?" I called out weakly as I pushed myself up and wandered over towards the door. As I grabbed the handle, a sudden shock of energy shot through my body and I was paralyzed as it coursed through my limbs, until I was flung back into the wall once more. I stared at the door in shock as I was trying to come up with an explanation to myself. 

After a few moments of dumbfounded silence, my eyes drifted down to my hands and I noticed slight sparks traveling between my fingertips. I started to panic and shook my hand around, yelling "GET IF OFF! GET IT OFF!" as I stumbled around the room. As I did so, a bolt of energy shot out of my fingers and hit my machine, causing it to fry for a moment, then explode. I just stopped right in my tracks and stared at it, surprisingly calm at that point. All I could think of was what in the world just happened to me. But then feelings of exhaustion suddenly hit me and all I could think to do was go home and crash in bed.

And so I did. I went home and went to bed, ignoring the weird things that happened until the next morning. I did some tests with my newfound electricity powers, after having blown up my toaster accidentally. I discovered that I had the power to store electricity in my body and discharge it at choice. It was an amazing discovery. A breakthrough in science! I had given myself superpowers! It was a revolutionary event! I had to tell someone! I had to go tell Hamilton! He was the one who had caused me to make such a discovery after all. I had been so busy testing my powers that I realized I was going to be late for prom. And prom would have been the perfect place to make this announcement. So I got dressed in the fanciest clothes I got and headed out towards school. 

As I reached the big double doors leading into the gym, I didn't hesitate a second. I busted right through them and yelled "Can I please have everyone's attention!". The band on stage stopped the music and everyone in the room turned their heads to look over at me in shock and fear. They probably thought I was finally going to blow up the school or something. I reached up towards the singer on scene and snatched the microphone from him. "I have a very important announcement to make, everyone! I was involved in a scientific accident yesterday!" I began explaining as I scanned the room. I found Hamilton as I did so and could see the expression of absolute horror on his face, as if he was writing his will in his head already. "But listen! After this failed experiment caused a blackout in school, I discovered that I have gained superpowers! I can produce electricity from my body!" I then continued as I started approaching him and his girlfriend, smiling in excitement about the amazing news. 

Everyone was quiet, just glaring at me as if I had gone mad. Then I heard Drake start to laugh like a hyena, falling over onto the floor from how funny he apparently found it. Quite a few other people joined in too in laughing at me. I started to panic and I could see Hamilton and his girlfriend start to back away from me, like I was a mad man. "N-no wait! It's true! I have superpowers! Look!" I told everyone as I then fired off a bolt of lightning, which bounced off of the punch bowl and fried Drake's back feathers. He looked extremely mad about it. Hamilton shivered while gripping his girlfriend, telling me in a shaking voice "A-alright! I believe you! P-please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to push you into that thing!". "H-huh?! No! Dude! I'm not going to hurt you! I wanted to thank you, actually! If you hadn't defended yourself against me, we might have never made this breakthrough! Do you realize how big this is?! How these powers could be used to help further technology?!" I rambled at him as I was getting myself worked up about all of the possibilities that had opened up to me. 

"Yeah! Just think about all the security systems you could disable. All the cops you could electrocuted! All the electronic stores you could take over!" Drake suddenly spoke up as he stomped over to me and gripped me by my shirt. "W-what?!" was all I could respond with before he continued talking. "Your powers would be very useful. If I had those abilities, I'd be able to rob all the banks in st. Carnard! No…  I could take over st. Carnard!" he started laughing in this diabolical voice, still having a tight grip on my shirt. 

I gasped at his proposition and pulled his hand loose, yelling at him "No! I would never do something like that!". "Bah! What a waste of superpowers. Going to a nerd like you! Maybe it should have gone to the pig!" Drake growled as he poked at my chest, clearly trying to provoke me. But I just slapped his hand away, backing away towards the door. "You… I'll show all of you that my powers will be put to good use! I will use my powers for GOOD! I'll put an end to villains like you!" I yelled and pointed at him. Drake just walked right up to me and grabbed me by my throat, tossing me out the big double doors. "Sure thing, nerd. I'll show you that I'll take over st. Carnard, even if some super freaks try to stop me" he told me as the doors slowly closed behind me.

It was after that day that I decided to change my ways, to drop my bad attitude. I needed to become more like Hamilton. Someone who hoped for a better future, then would do what they could to make that dream a reality. I would become a hero.

"Wow… dad. That was amazing. You were so mean before, but now you're so sweet to my other dads!" Gosalyn muttered tiredly as she gave away a big yawn. Megavolt sighed with a big smile on his face as he tucked in his daughter, who snuggled up in bed. "Yes. I am proud of myself for making that change. And I bet Quackerjack is very thankful for it" he chuckled softly and pat the duckling's head. "Wait. What do you mean by that?" she asked confused as she looked up at him curiously. "Heh heh… guess you'll have to ask for his backstory to figure that out" Megavolt said with a smug voice as he stood up and headed over towards the door. "Now go to sleep. Remember, you promised" he chuckled softly and turned off the lights, closing the door behind him.

[andtheyweredeskmates]

Of Lattes and Lingerie- Adrienette Coffee Shop AU Chapter 3

A few quick notes about this, if you’re interested in being added to the taglist please let me know via replies or dm me. Its really encouraging when people tell you they actually want to keep up with your stories. 

If you haven’t already, you should read the first two parts

1. and 2.

Also, if you’re on desktop, you should check out blog’s home page because I updated the theme (not my code but there’s a link that gives credit to the creator) and it looks dope as shit. I added links to all my original work (art and fics alike) so if you’re interested in that kind of thing, check it out.

I am gonna add a few end notes to this as well regarding the actual content so I’m not giving spoilers at the beginning. Please forgive me because it took a lot of effort to write this. I hate setting up plots (part oft he reason I’ve never really attempted to publish a fic) but I’m really excited to get into the nitty gritty which should start in the next chapter.

TAGLIST

@catsssmeow

 Marinette thought she was going to fall over and die. Her face was blazing, her eyes were wide and when she opened her mouth, all she could manage was a squeak.

“WHAT?!”

She was back at the office again with Audrey and she had never been more thankful to be sitting down in a chair.

“Marinette, the fact of the matter is we don’t have enough models booked for the event and you’re the perfect size. We just need one and quite frankly I’m tired of the agency we’ve been using. So the obvious solution is to use you.”

“But I’m not a model! Audrey you know how clumsy I am! And I can’t wear lingerie! In Public! I’ll die!” Audrey rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be a prude Marinette. You designed them; you can wear them. Besides. I’m not asking. You owe me for the fiasco that was yesterday. Don’t think I didn’t notice that your assistant is still here. Even you can handle walking down a catwalk for 2 minutes without falling over. We’ll practice.”

Marinette was now positive she would fall over and die.

…

The ringing of Adrien’s phone never surprised him. It was common for his phone to ring regularly throughout the day, whether it be work, or Chloe or Nino, there always seemed to be someone that urgently needed to talk to him about something that was never really urgent. No, the ringing was unsurprising. What was surprising however was the Caller ID when Adrien picked up the phone. Adrien nearly dropped it when he looked.

GABRIEL AGRESTE

Adrien paced anxiously around his bedroom, thumb hovering over the red button. He didn’t know if he was ready to confront his father. About anything. He had almost been relieved lately that his father had decided to just ignore him. It had let his anxiety just kind of creep around in the background where Adrien could pretend it wasn’t there. But Adrien knew that he had to speak to his father eventually and it had already been weeks. So with a sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut and hit the answer button.

“Hello? Father?” Adrien winced at the frantic sound of his voice.

“Adrien. It’s Natalie. Your father would like for you to come home to discuss a few matters with you.” Adrien rolled his eyes.

“I don’t suppose he could’ve called me himself to tell me that.”

“Your father is very busy. He has a very important show coming up.”

“Yeah, yeah, when does he want me to come?”

“Tonight. 5:30. He’d like to have dinner with you.”

“I guess there’s a first for everything. Tell him I’ll be there.” The phone clicked. She had hung up. Natalie never had been one for pleasantries. Adrien groaned as he flopped backward onto his bed. Just like that, his anxiety had leapt to the foreground and bitch slapped Adrien, as if to say Don’t forget about me fucker.

While realistically, Adrien knew there was nothing his father could hold over his head, he still felt like his freedom was about to be yanked from his fingers as quickly as he’d grasped it.

…

“Alya, what the hell am I gonna do?” It had been four hours since Marinette had gotten the news and she was still frantic. Alya on the other hand was thoroughly amused.

“Think of this as an opportunity. You can show the world that you can do it all.” It took everything Alya had not to laugh into the phone.

“But I can’t do it all! I can’t just walk across a stage in underwear! I can’t even walk across a stage with clothes on!” Marinette was speaking in hushed tones. She had walked into Dunn’s and she was sure she didn’t want anyone to overhear her predicament. She knew all too well how easy (and fun) it was to eavesdrop in a small coffee shop.

“With a little practice, I’m sure you can pull it off. You just have to be in the right mindset! You’re the most stubborn person I know Marinette, if you tell yourself you’re gonna do it, then you’ll figure out a way to do it.” Marinette put her free hand over her face and groaned as she walked to the coffee line.

“This is a disaster.”

“I guess it’s a triple shot of espresso kind of day huh?”  Marinette’s head immediately snapped up to see Tim staring at her expectantly from behind the counter. Marinette flushed as she approached, pulling her wallet out of her purse.

“I’m gonna let you go Alya, talk to you later.”

“Bye girl!” Marinette hung up the phone and looked back at Tim.

“It’s a little embarrassing how well you know me,” she grumbled, throwing a wad of cash onto the counter.

“You learn a lot about a person from their coffee habits,” Tim teased. He counted her cash and handed her the change.

“I’ll bring it out when its ready.”

“Thanks,” Marinette said unenthusiastically. As she walked back to her usual spot, she glanced around. She was disappointed to see that there was no cute blond boy in sight. Nothing to distract her from her thoughts. Not even a project. God, she’d give anything for a project right now. She was spiraling. Contemplating if she really needed a job. Maybe she could just be homeless. Live under a bridge. Beg people for money and then impulsively spend it on coffee. Maybe she could move back home and work in the bakery, forever a failure. That sounded nice.

When Tim handed her the coffee, she took it in her hands and leaned back in her seat with a long deep sigh. She had no idea what the hell she was gonna do.

…

Adrien subconsciously chewed on his lip as he stared at the gate in front of his father’s house. He was definitely not ready for this. He prayed to every god he could think of that at the very least, the night wouldn’t end with death. On second thought, maybe that was too much to ask for.

“Come in Adrien.” Natalie’s robotic voice emanating from the comm system brought Adrien out of his thoughts. He approached hesitantly as the gates opened. He paused at the front door, thinking for just a moment about running away. Locking himself in his apartment with Plagg and never leaving again. Living off Camembert and tap water. Becoming the reclusive cat lady of floor three. That sounded nice.

The front door opened, and Adrien sighed as he walked in.

“Hello Adrien.”

“Hi Natalie. Is my father here?” Natalie gave a curt nod.

“He should be downstairs shortly. He’s finishing up a conference call. He asks that you wait for him at the dinner table.” Adrien nodded and walked back to the dining room. He suddenly felt massively uncomfortable. He took a seat in his old spot at the table and glanced around with uncertainty. This wasn’t his house anymore. So sitting alone in a room, of a house he didn’t live in (or feel welcome in for that matter), made Adrien feel out of place.

“I apologize, I was taking care of some business.” Adrien looked up to see his father entering the room. He sat at the opposite end of the table.

“Oh, uh its alright father,” Adrien stuttered. This was so awkward. He had no idea what to say.

“Um, what did you want to talk to me about?” He finally said.

“I have a proposal.” Adrien stiffened a little. He did not like where this was going at all.

“Okay,” he said cautiously. Gabriel cleared his throat.

“I understand why you want to move out. You were right when you said you were an adult and you are able to make your own decisions.” Adrien was holding his breath. He had no idea where this was going but he was grateful at the very least that there was no yelling. That seemed like it should be a good sign.

“However, you still have a responsibility to your family.”

“What the hell does that even mean,” Adrien thought to himself.

“What exactly are you suggesting father?”

“I want you to publicly support the Gabriel Brand.  You would appear at my events and conduct yourself in a way that upholds our public image. Understand that this means you’d still have to behave in any public setting, not just professional events. I will not hear of my son acting like a rebellious teenager. In return, I will respect the professional decisions and leave you to do as you please, within reason, without complaint. Put simply, respect my career and I’ll respect yours.”

“How do my actions affect your public image?” Adrien asked sourly. He crossed his arms.

“Because you are my son and whether you like it or not, everything you do reflects on me. And in my industry every reflection of me matters, whether it be my work or the actions of my son.”

Adrien sat in silence for a long time, contemplating. On the one hand, his father wasn’t really in a position to make demands. The only thing Gabriel really had to offer Adrien at all was his approval. On the other hand, Gabriel was still his father and as much as Adrien hated it, his fathers’ approval was still very important to him. It occurred to Adrien that if he wanted any kind of positive relationship with his father, this was really the best-case scenario.

As dinner was being served, Adrien began to weigh the pros and cons of “supporting” the Gabriel brand. For instance, since he was no longer modeling, he’d actually be able to enjoy the food at his father’s events, which meant that he might be able to actually enjoy the even itself. He wouldn’t really be working as much as socializing and honestly, Adrien could really use socialization. But Adrien didn’t like the way his father threw in the part about “public image.” He hated saving face for the sake of the media and one of the best parts about quitting the whole modeling thing was that he didn’t have to think constantly about every public decision he made and how the media would portray it. There was a little less pressure in this new scenario but not by much.

Gabriel ate quietly, glancing at Adrien every so often, trying to decipher his thoughts. Adrien had always worn his heart on his sleeve but the conflict in his face made it clear to Gabriel that Adrien was wrestling with his decision. After nearly ten minutes of silence, Gabriel spoke up.

“You don’t have to answer me today.” Adrien glanced up from his meal.

“Okay father.”

“But I’d like an answer soon,” Gabriel said. Adrien winced.

“How soon?”

“I have a very important show next month and I’d like to know whether to reserve you a seat by next week.” Adrien nodded.

“I understand.”

Next Chapter

I fuckin suck at ending chapters I’m sorry, I’m working on it.

Can you see where I’m going with the fashion show? Foreshadowing brings me great joy. Even if its not subtle. 

I’m not sure if you guys picked up on it but I’ve decided to write Adrien as very anxious because I feel like thats what comes with having a dad thats super over protective in the way that Gabriel is. If anyone feels like I’ve written Adrien in such a way where I need to put trigger warnings please let me know. I don’t know if I’m going to go in a direction thats so dark that its necessary, but I also like characters with actual dimension so I guess we’ll see how it goes. 

Anywhoo thanks for reading!

[writingsofmyimagination]

Conjecture |10|

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to all other parts in my Masterlist :)

Words:4311

Rating:18+

Warnings: SMUT!! (BDSM themes, restraints, toys, oral f recieving, masturbation, Slightly Dom Yoongi, Ice Play, Wax Play) Swearing.

if you want to be tagged let me know :)

Reblog, Like, Comment pwwwweeasse :)

//

- I hate I’m not going to see you properly until tonight -7:58am

- That’s if you can drag yourself from your studio when your home – 8:00am

- Hey I’m trying to get a hold of this whole work girlfriend balance thing okay. Stop being mean! :P – 8:04am

- I thought you liked it when I’m mean? -8:10am

Teasing Yoongi had been the main source of your amusement while he’d been away.

- Okay when I’m a begging panting mess underneath you then yes but not when you’re teasing me about actually being an adult. – 8:15am

Teasing you had been Yoongi’s main source of amusement while he’d been away

- Fuck off with that imagery! That wasn’t fair. I’ve not seen you for ages and first we have to do a bloody rehearsal. Hornyness aside I did really miss you, and can’t wait to curl up beside you (if you come to bed :P) – 8:16am

- Hey!

This was emphasised by the grumpy emoji

- I missed you too beautiful – 8:18am

You’d never get tired of him calling you that.

//

 The single had topped the charts for the few weeks since it had been released, the video was almost doing just as well; the greedy industry was already screaming for more collaborations from the two of you especially since the announcement.

Safe to say both fandoms lost their shit for a while; neither had fully found it yet gauging by social media. The reactions from your fans were mostly positive which you kind of expected, there was already fan-fiction online about your relationship which was…interesting to say the least. The reaction from army was of course, momentous. You’d expected nothing less, the meme’s that had already been going viral were brilliant. Within hours of the announcement #KpopPowerCouple, #MoveoverBey-Z and #y/nXyoongi were just a few of the hashtags that trended with ferocious power.

As with the support there was obviously a lot of not so nice things circulating that you had to really absorb all the will power to not get upset or completely rage over; especially since the pair of you had been told to go silent online until the chaos had subsided. There were videos of fans in tears, devastated as ‘Yoongi was theirs’, even threats had been filtering through. The strain of the media blow up pushed you both into writing and work. It certainly didn’t help that the second the single was done; which was a few days after the announcement the boys had a couple of weeks’ worth of touring around Japan before they came back and prepped for the awards shows. You’re management had had you planning the next comeback stripping you of your two month hiatus that was planned. The MAMA’s were tomorrow, the boys only got back yesterday and they’d been chucked straight into their rehearsals for the awards. Yours and Yoongi’s dress rehearsal was the last of the day

*Knock Knock*

Your hand flew to hinder the cry that threatened to escape your throat as your body convulsed with sweet bursts, your leg hitched over Yoongi’s shoulder who was on his knees. Your nails clenching the make-up table you were leaning on having already knocked over half your make up.

“10 minute warning guys then you’re up” a soft muffled voice announced behind the door.

Your half-length leather jacket had nudged its way of your shoulders, the studded bra had thankfully been bypassed by Yoongi in his hunger to be in between your legs and remained intact, the leather high waisted shorts were launched somewhere on the floor. Yoongi’s licks at your clit became less forceful than before

You yanked the top of his head when your thoughts became clear

“You’ve made your point, you missed me I get it” you panted staring down into his blown out pupils consumed with desire, the glistening reward of your arousal on his chin tugged at the coil he’d just released.

“Uhuh, I think you can give me one more baby” his head leaned back in with a long kitten lick the whole length of your slit eliciting a breathy moan followed by curses in Yoongi’s name

“I can’t… we can’t” you managed

“Now look who’s the one who’s afraid of getting caught” he blew air onto your sensitive clit, the devilish smirk that you’d learnt spelt nothing but pleasurable trouble grew defiant across his face

“Were not at our companies, it’s a national award sh…FUCK!” Too enamoured by his smirk you’d neglected to realise the fingers that was digging into your thigh were no longer there. Your gaze slipped from his with your head dropping back onto your shoulders, your nails gripping onto the stability of the table again. The reach of his fingers in this position stroking at your velvet wall concussed you to everything else around you.

“There we go” he managed in between still light long flicks of his tongue, he knew your body like the keys of a piano, the second your quietened moans lowered and your hips angled into him as the sensitivity dwindled and the pleasure seeped back in, centring at your bud the speed and force of his tongue escalated. The coil in your stomach winding steadily back up, his lips wrapped and sucked at your clit, the pace of his fingers slowed just as your thighs began to tense. You felt a smirk grow against your soaked folds.

“Christ Yoon..” you slapped him on the head

“No time for teasing” you scolded in between pants. Out of nowhere his pace revved up to full, fingers tightly curling in his hair. Muscles tensing for the upcoming rush.

“Yoo…ngi Fu” You threw your head forward, your upper body freezing with your back arched forward. Both hands now grappling in his hair keeping his head where you needed his tongue to suffer all the aftershocks permeating out from your core.

*Knock Knock*

“Guys you’re up” spoke the same muffled voice

“Fuck” you whispered, dragging your hair out and back from your face.

“Grab my shorts” you hurried. He did as he was told albeit with a triumphant smirk and glistening eyes. He leaned into you holding your shorts just out of your reach

Asshole

The rolling of your eyes showed your half amused state.

“I’ve missed how good you taste, now I just need to feel you wrapped around me” he pressed into you aiming for a kiss, which you dodged with expert precision.

“You are not ruining my lipstick with my own cum Min Yoongi” Shoving him away with a light push, rushing to dress your bottom half with unstable, jelly legs. His eyes had grown with a slight bloom of defeat.

Such a pouter

“Well we’ll see, if you can pull yourself away from your studio I’m sure I can make sure your needs are met” you teased with dangerous intent in your eyes. Nonchalant in pretending that his dick wasn’t in the forefront of your own mind right now.

“Come on lets go” your legs managed full functionality by the time your reached the door.

“Shit Yoongi”

“What?”

“The doors been unlocked this whole time, I thought you locked it?” breathe hitching at the thought of the palaver being caught would land the pair of you in.

“No I thought you did?”

“We’ve gotta be more careful baby” voice softening to a low whisper as you approached the stage chaperones with coy smiles.

 Finally you’d both arrived back at Yoongi’s apartment, the bounding bundles of Ted and Holly peppered the pair of you with licks and highly excited whines. You walked straight into Yoongi’s room and unburdened your bag. His bedroom and studio where the only rooms in the apartment that look inhabited, the others were barely used and could still double as a show room. His room was always presentable…ish, the shelves of anime and manga models were always dusted, the dark bed covers were never made, the huge walk in wardrobe was organised pedantically by colour apart from a few straggling hoodies which were always just launched on some part of the floor. Your behind sunk into the mattress as your stripped your top half and replaced the clothes with a light, red cami top, your trackies couldn’t slip off you fast enough in favour of some loose pink shorts painted with marshmallows.

“Cute” Yoongi voiced from the door before entering pulling his shirt over his head

“Have you been working out?” face scrunched up eyes scanning the definition appearing on his abs

“And what if I have?”

“You literally hate working out” he rummaged around in the closet for a loose v neck black shirt.

“Yoongi have you been trying to impress me? You teased, making your way over to him before he escaped into his studio

“You know I think you’re perfect the way you are right?” You made sure you gently scraped your nails at the new muscles. His arms locked behind your neck eyes content staring into yours.

“Hey nothing wrong with a guy wanted to look good for his girl” You leaned back into his arms

“Oh I’m your girl now am I?, I mean I appreciate the visual but please don’t feel like you have to” teasing at the first use of the nickname

“And last time I checked I was noona and older than you?” you added teasing glimmer radiating from your eyes, he pulled away from you in a fake huff

“You’re only noona in the bedroom” he added

“We’re in your bedroom” you teased

“You know what I mean, stop being purposely annoying” his half smile failing his seriousness.

“I’ll see you in a bit baby I just really wanna get this bridge down” he bid you farewell with a gentle kiss and left you and Holly in the bedroom. Yes Holly! Ted, the traitor followed Yoongi everywhere when he had the choice. You opened your laptop and began typing down an organised mess of lyrics.

Sam had you distracted fairly quickly , she’d just got a new job and was glowing with excitement as she told you everything about it over the phone

“Shit it’s like 2am has Yoongi not come to bed yet?”

“If he had would I be talking to you still?” you quipped back

“Rude!”

“I’m sure you can tempt him into bed” she added

“I think those talents would be lost on him if he’s working. And I wouldn’t want to anyway, I know how it is, I wouldn’t want to take him away from his work”

“I do it to you all the time and drag you out to save you from becoming a work hermit. Do you hate me or love me for that?”

“Both normally” you chuckled

“You end up thanking me before the nights out! And there’s no way he doesn’t want it. He’s a guy after all. You just gotta remind him what he’s missing out on. Now go do what ya gotta do, and if he doesn’t cave I’ll do your laundry for a month” Sam hated nothing more than laundry.

“Fine, see you in a bit”

You clicked off and stared at the buzzing white of your screen gleaming in the darkness of the room.

How can I pry Yoongi from his cave?

If you was at home the decision wouldn’t be an extensive as your toy box would certainly inspire a few ideas. Firstly you needed to gauge if he was near his phone. You started simple, removing your top and seeing if that would grab his attention.

-IMG.jpg – 2:10am-

No answer.

Needing to level up you switched your cute marshmallow shorts in favour of  flower patterned lace crotchless underwear. You opened the studio door with a slow cautious move, peering your head inside. As expected headphones were snug to his head as it bopped loosely along to the beat hitting his ears; every few bars he paused the playback and scribbled something down in front him. His phone was on arm of the sofa well out of Yoongi’s range as you suspected it might be. You shuffled closer keeping your body behind his chair picking up his phone on the way, a constant smirk was locked onto your face. You primed your hand just above his head.

“Hey!” he exclaimed as you nabbed the pads from his head. Eyes blooming wide as they acknowledged your attire… or lack of

“Well…damn!” eyes greedy not stopping roaming up and down, within the blessed smirk he bit his bottom lip.

“Oh so me coming in here, nicking your headphones with no clothes on gets your attention” you jibbed dramatically, hand solid on your hip as the other offered him his phone. As he gripped the phone you leaned in kissed him sweetly batting away his hands that were trying to entrap you in a desperate ploy.

“Nope. You only get this out of the studio” For a few beats your eyes glimmered at each other, he knew exactly what you were doing. You turned and left him to stew.

Your phone vibrated before you’d even made it back to the bedroom

-  I’ll be twenty minutes max, please don’t start without me- 2:20am

Ten minutes had passed and you were itching with impatience, even the cinnamon candle you’d ignited at your bedside did nothing to soothe your state.

-  Couldn’t wait any longer, if I cum before you get here you won’t be using your tongue for a month. -2:35am

This text you cruelly decided needed a video, the video you sent consisted of nothing more or less than the view of your hand clutching your portable wand massager holding it in between your legs, your moans providing the tempting background music.

All you got as a response was line of skulls.

You kept the settings on low, you would rather avoid having to do what you threatened. The clicking of doors shutting finally signalling your victory.

You didn’t stop the wand when he finally walked in, but carried on pretending to ignore him. He couldn’t formulate a response as he slipped off his top, the bed around you depressed as he joined you on the bed. One of his hands wrapping around yours, taking control of the wand from you holding it where you had. A hand supporting him planted beside your head as he lent with a steady move to engulf your moans, the taste of coffee etched strongly on his lips. Your hand snaked free and allowed Yoongi sole control of the massager. Even in their new found freedom your hands became victim to the pleasure streaming through your body ending up anchoring harshly into his shoulder blades when he turned the power up, eliciting his name amongst a string of expletives from your throat. His head snuggled into the crevice of your neck, hot pants fanning across your skin.

“You going to cum for me baby?” whispering, tempting at your ears. You was already unravelling against your will, body falling apart under the power of the vibrations. The massager did not move as every nerve at your bud became washed with sensitivity, the muscle aftershocks soon caused whines to seep from your throat. Yoongi finally relented, turning the wand off and lightly launched it to the floor. Your grip on him grew weak and loose.

“Now, no more toys, just you and me” he announced, grappling your hands above your head and stifled your pants with a heated kiss.

“I think I like this more in control Yoongi” you smirked bottom lip between your teeth

“I just missed you so fucking much” he confessed nipping roughly at your neck and collar bone pressing his knee in between your legs to which you gratefully ground your hips against

I’ll let him have his fun for now

Trusting you to keep your hands where he put them his hands traced down your arms, your skin igniting in its path. He sat back on his legs before leaning over to one of the bedside drawers.

“Can I?” his face so innocent and meek despite asking what he was.

“Mmm please” you permissed holding out your wrists, eyebrows raised but evidently pleased as he secured the handcuffs with a click.

“I thought I’d have to work a lot harder to get you in handcuffs” he admitted as you sat up underneath him as a silk blindfold deprived you of your vision.

“I mean you worked pretty hard in the dressing room” you toyed

“You know what I mean! Now are you going to be quiet and let me take care of you or not?” he bit back shoving you back down on the bed.

“I thought you said no toys” you dropped your secured hands above your head with a light huff.

“I did” your head tilted to the sight slightly. He shifted his weight slightly, knee pressing harder between your legs

“Why am I tied and blin…” the freezing cold droplets landing onto your now hardening buds at the peak of your breast and running down your skin answered your question.

“Oh this shuts you up then” he teased, spikes of cold now pressed at your neck and followed the path of your collar bone to in between your chest. Inhaling sharply and allowing the ice against your skin to ignite a rush of goose bumps wherever it moved.

“God, I love how your body reacts” you tilted your hips grappling for the contact of his leg against your clit.

“Asshole” you breathed as he moved his leg back just out of reach. You pictured the smug smirk smacked on his face triumphant in irritating the hell out of you

“Oh insults now? We can’t have that” he preceded, dragging the ice in a strong line down your chest to your stomach and then to your throbbing bundle of nerves. You hissed through teeth and your back arched off the bed searching for any relief. What made is worse is the melting water that was flowing from the cube and running cold blissful daggers down your slit.

“Cold?” he asked

“Obviously” you breathed a tiny bit agitated.

“But your body’s not complaining” his fingers collecting a cocktail of the melted ice and your arousal before pushing them inside.

“Yoongi…” you whined.

“God, I missed you moaning my name as well” he got an extra dose of you swearing his name as he curled his fingers inside of you. Lips pressing tightly around your breast biting at your nipple.

You flung your arms down, entangled your fingers in his hair; the handcuffs clinking lightly at your wrist.

“Seriously?” Your brows knitting together.

“You’re really going to edge me after being apart for so long” you complained. His fingers had left you along with his lips leaving nothing but a sulky pout on your lips.

“Jesus what the fuck” you cried as his knee pressed into all your arousal and something burned at your chest for a moment before there was a small pinch at your skin. You cried out more in shock in than anything the first.

“Have you just tipped wax on me Min Yoongi?” you asked in a pause of contact, which you guessed he was waiting for a reaction.

“Well I said no toys so I improvised” You hissed through your teeth as the stung hit again, this time around your belly button.

“Do you want me to stop?” he questioned more sincerely. You ground your hips into his leg, your arousal spreading on hi skin as you groaned at the contact.

“Does it feel like I want you too?” your hips refused to stop, desperate in chasing any sort of release.

“Fuck you know that drives me insane”

//

-I’m so bored, why aren’t you here entertaining me!-

-I have better things than to make sure you’re occupied :p what  would you have me do if I was there?

-I want you sat on my thighs grinding, I want to feel how wet you get, I want to feel it all on my skin as you get yourself off on me.

-is someone horny by any chance?

You sat amused in a conference room, trying to shade your expression as much as possible and act like filthy thoughts were ravaging your mind.

-Yes and I think you should help me

- So demanding! How much do you like it when I ride your thighs?

-so fucking much I can’t even tell you

-I mean your thighs aren’t here but does this help?  MOV.mp4

The video was one you’d filmed for him to surprise him but you couldn’t have your man go without your help. You’d filmed yourself having some “alone” time with a new toy you’d wanted for when he was away. You made sure you was extra loud when you whimpered his name as you came.

-Fucking hell babe! I don’t deserve you! And yes it helped a lot! Do I get one every time I’m away? :P -

You’d received this response a good forty minutes later.

//

 “On all fours” he demanded, his tone was crisp and saturated with a dominance and desperation that spoke and goaded to your already blazing fire at your core.

You fumbled as you obeyed him, a wide smirk concrete on your face, elbows sinking into the bed. Your arms cushioning your forehead, ass high in the air for him to relish the view. You felt his cock throb between your legs

“Stop making me wait and just fuck me pleaaase!” you pleaded desperation hanging on every syllable and he damn well knew it.

“Don’t move” he responded lining up at your entrance with just the tip making contact. All you wanted, no needed to do was just push back, but you wanted to see where he was going with this

You waited and waited. His weight shifted slightly, waiting had caused your skin to heat up, as well and your arousal only to heighten, the anticipation was ridiculous!. You did your best not to shuffle even a tiny bit further onto him.

“Beg!” he asked of you with a dangerous tone

“What?” you checked

“You said you wasn’t above begging, I wanna hear it properly”

Turning your head to the side so he could hear you

“Fuck Yoongi! You’ve gotta be kidding me I just need you to fuck me not tease me” He remained still.

“Please baby! I’ve missed how good you feel when your inside me, I need to cum around you, I want…”

Funnelling your breath out through your teeth almost hissing

“Ahh” you both exclaimed breathlessly, you’d pushed onto him, a muscle reaction to the surprise strip of wax he’d draped down your spine. God you’d missed how he felt, how perfectly you fitted together, how hungry you both were to please each other; craving each other’s satisfaction. His thrusts were hard and heavy against you; the grip of his hands at your hip grew tighter.

“God you’re so beautiful like this” he mewled one hand softly creeping up your spine and tangling and twisting in your hair before yanking you back. The pang of pain pulling a cry from you, sending a signal of ecstasy straight through to your core your walls clenching around him

“Fuck, if you keep doing that I’m really not going to last much longer” he warned. His and your hips quickly finding a peaceful rhythm, your moans were becoming strangled with your breathing muffled as your arms caved and he relinquished his grip on your hair. Your face covered by the sheets stifling your cries. You clenched tight around him again

“Tell me your close, please… cum with me” he choked, he’d slowed his thrusts nearly leaving you before slamming back into you each time causing a more drawn out whine passed your lips

“Mmm right there don’t…” the coil finally releasing four weeks of frustration ricocheting through your body. You stilled, the shock-waves dragged on blissfully with his hips still jerking into you a state of over-stimulation. His grunts slowly drowning out your labouring breathes.

“Fuck… I love you!” he panted collapsing beside you unlocking the metal from your wrist. You stared at him, pupils no doubt blown out. Your brows slowly knitting together before contorting into a smile and launching a pillow to his face.

Did he just?

No way!

“What?” the strands of his jet black hair slicked to his skin.

“You do not get to say that for the first time after you’ve just fucked me like that” your hand resting supporting your head as you laid on your side facing him.

“Why not?”

“Because!”

Am I even ready to say it to say it back? I mean I was near enough in love with him back then. The feelings that were once dormant have flourished exponentially over the past month.

I do.

Shit. But saying it out loud makes those feelings acknowledged and real. Opening me up to potential pain.

“Your bodies flowing with all those sweet chemicals right now” the ‘you fucking serious look’ he responded with made you chuckle

“I’m not accepting it. I will when you say it in a serious non sexual situation”

“Fine, fine” he conceded a flicker of light snuffed out behind his eyes.

Have I upset him?

“Good now please go and bring me coffee” you ordered amused

He saluted militantly

“No breakfast?” he asked before leaving the room.

“Not on an event day”. His eyes rolled before they bloomed a garden of concern

“Promise me you’ll at least have a little something before this evening?”

“Promise”

The first promise you’ll be breaking to Yoongi.

“I still can’t believe you’ve not showed me your dress”

“That would ruin the surprise now wouldn’t it” you once again attacked him with a pillow flying across the room.

“Now Coffee! Go!”  

[jadekitty777]

Pier

Sorry I’m late y’all! Day 3 was not technically finished and I originally planned to just split the entry into two chapters and maybe finish this one off later but... instead my dumb ass was like: No! Finish it!

So I did and now it is past midnight. I am very tired and things may not be edited properly.

I also gave up the secret on this one to a few readers... this entry is actually a continuation to Umbrella, which I had written a few weeks back. I do recommend reading that one first.

Day 3: Family

Dedicated to: @chiherah/@chiherahcreations

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover, Raven/Tai/Summer

Word Count: 5k

Ao3 Link: Pier

Summary: Every year, it was a tradition for Qrow to head up to Lake Bowen and spend the holidays with his sister's family. It was not, generally, tradition to bring a boyfriend along for the ride. [Modern AU]

~

Qrow flicked on his turn signal, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm over the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn. Usually, he was relieved once he’d hit this stoplight, as it acted as a beacon marking the last leg of the grueling four-and-a-half hour drive it took to get from his little apartment in Wilmington to his sister’s grand cottage in Lake Bowen. It was a chance to finally stretch out his legs and get tackled down by his little gremlin nieces who would spend the majority of the next three days begging to know what he got them for Christmas. He’d get a glass of iced tea and a hug from Tai and a kiss on the cheek and a cookie from Summer before they both banished him from the kitchen. Spent the better part of the waning afternoon munching on finger food while catching up with Raven and entertaining Yang and Ruby as they tried to tug him into half a dozen different games.

At least, that’s how it was supposed to go.

But typically he didn’t have someone else with him.

“Everything alright?” That same someone else who had also easily picked up on his growing anxiety.

“Yeah, fine.” He said gruffly, turning left as the light finally changed.

“That was convincing.” There was a rustling as Clover set aside the newspaper he’d been reading (the dork had to be one of the last of the dozen living humans left to have a subscription), turning his full attention on him. “Come on babe, what’s on your mind?”

He glanced at him and it was a mistake, because there was no way he could argue when looking into those earnest teal eyes – especially when looking through those cute, wire-rim reading glasses. He sighed, fingers starting up their drum solo once more. “I just want this week to go well.”

“Why do you think it won’t?”

“Because,” He faltered, chewing on the edge of his lip. “My sister’s side of the family isn’t exactly what you’d call normal.”

“So you’ve said, about a thousand times.” Clover replied, “And as I’ve said a thousand and one times, it’s fine. I’m not gonna start judging the people you love just because they aren’t a traditional nuclear family.”

Qrow gave a noncommittal hum. Kept drumming.

He wasn’t really worried about that – though, he didn’t quite forget the nightmare when one of his partners tried to exposit some ‘helpful advice’ about the Rose-Xiao Long-Branwen family’s living situation. Raven had near about shoved the carving knife in Kimi’s chest when she tried to enlighten to Summer how three people sleeping in the same bed will give the children questionable ideas. After getting thoroughly screamed at by three furious adults, his girlfriend had run out of the house in tears – and stole his car to get away from his ‘crazy fucking family’. It had taken him a good two months to get it back, and he certainly didn’t get her back with it. Not that it was a great loss.

Come to think of it, that disaster was the last time he’d braved bringing anyone by at all. Ruby hadn’t even been talking yet.

“Alright,” Clover’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “Let’s try something different. What’s the biggest thing you’re afraid of?”

“Snakes.”

A snort. “Qrow.”

“I mean, it is.” He guaranteed. “They’re scaly and slithery and gross and Raven put one in my bed when I was ten and I never forgave her for it.”

Clover gave his arm a light smack. “About the meeting, birdbrain.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Oh, bird insults, how original.”

“I’m a classics kind of guy.”

“You are not Mr. I-haven’t-seen-anything-made-before-the-80s.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. Frowned at the street they were driving over. “It’s just, what if they don’t like you?”

His boyfriend tilted his head. “All of them?”

His fingers clenched over the wheel. “What if you don’t like them?”

“All of them?” He echoed with a touch more amusement.

He grunted, slouching low. “Okay I get it, I’m being dumb.”

“No, you’re not. It’s normal to be stressed out about this. I was just trying to point out your fears are probably getting the better of you. Do you really believe all of us are going to just hate each other?” Clover refuted gently. Qrow liked that about him, how he could so easily retrack his mind out of the harmful places they tended to journey to.

“Maybe not all of you. But Raven? Definitely.” He grunted. “She hasn’t liked a single person I’ve dated, ever.”

“Um.”

He shot him a look. “What?”

Clover grinned guiltily in return. “We’ve talked about some of the people you’ve dated and your track record isn’t the best.”

Mildly offended, he snipped back, “Oz was a good one!”

“The guy with four kids?”

“It wasn’t that he had four kids, it was that he lied about having four kids.” When all he got was an arched a brow as if to say ‘that’s better?’, Qrow scowled. “Shut up.”

Clover laughed. It wasn’t long before he was laughing with him. He liked this about him too, how an air of comfort always seemed to surround his boyfriend. He was always ready to lighten the mood with a joke, a smile or his laugh, which even after the seven months they’d been dating, Qrow was still utterly captivated by. More than that, he was slowly coming to the realization he didn’t want to go a day without it – or without Clover.

He knew things were getting serious, which was why he so desperately needed this week to go well. He needed his family to support his new relationship and he needed Clover to accept his strange little family. Because if he got those two simple things, then he would see there was a possibility for a future in which Clover was part of his family.

He knew that fateful meeting was coming closer as he spotted the last landmark they had to cross before they would find themselves at the house. “There’s the bridge.”

As they started over the lake, it was comically cartoonish how he could practically see the sparkle effect in Clover’s eyes as he plastered his face against the window. With no traffic behind them, Qrow slowed the car down to give him a chance to really take it in.

Once, when he’d been invited on yet another date to the beach, he’d joked that Clover was just like his namesake because, as a weed, it was only natural he’d want to suck up as much of the surrounding water as possible. It wasn’t just the sea he was completely enamored by, but also lakes, ponds, rivers, marshes, and anything and everything in between. Heck, even their first true meeting was thanks to his obsession – Clover eventually admitted the only reason he’d left early that day was because he wanted to go out and enjoy the rain.

“As luck would have it, I got to enjoy some great company along with it.” He had said with a wink.

Qrow wouldn’t say he necessarily understood it, but it was impossible not to enjoy the excited way Clover would go on about subglacial lakes or tell stories about how he used to catch newts whenever spring came around and tried to keep them as pets. Topics that he probably would otherwise have found boring was different seeing it through the lens of someone so passionate – and Qrow knew he was just the same whenever he talked about fencing or birds. He still recalled the night their interests made a rare alignment, when they ended up having a long talk about Kingfishers.

He knew if he told anyone about that night, they’d probably just laugh and tell him how dull it sounded. And yet, for him, it remained as one of his favorite dates.

“Man, how incredible it must be just to live out here.” Clover said after they’d made their way across, the lake giving way to land once more and opening into a very small business district. “How does your sister’s family afford it?”

“It’s inherited. Tai’s uncle willed it to him when he passed.” He took a left, heading up towards the lakeside neighborhood. The street itself narrowed considerably, and spindly, white-trunked ash trees flanked them from either side.

“His uncle did?” He echoed, not hiding his confusion.

“Yeah. I don’t know all the details but he basically raised him. So, I guess he was more like his surrogate dad than anything.” Qrow explained, feeling his anxiety spike as the two-story dwelling peeked between dense vegetation. “Heh, actually I’m pretty sure that’s why Tai’s so insistent I come visit so much. He probably invites me over more than my own sister does.” Scratch that, he definitely did.

He pulled down the driveway to the garage situated in the back. As the house was on the waterside, the front was facing towards the lake and the driveway and garage were in the rear. It was a bit strange, but he’d gotten used to it over the years, just like he’d gotten used to the fact the dwelling was one of the most unique in the neighborhood. Made to appear like a log cabin, it seemed more suited for a place in the middle of the woods or up in the mountaintops. Tai’s little sunflower garden framed either side of the doorway, and bushes of roses and birds of paradise were interspaced down the west and eastern sides of the house. From memory, he remembered the front had a large porch with an overhang and a path made of stones that led from the door down to the small, privately owned pier.

The engine was cut, and he heard the passenger door opening - but Qrow stared blankly at the dash, hoping the next ten seconds would be enough to mentally prepare him for the next seven days.

“Hey. Look at me.” Clover’s larger, tanner hander covered his own, thumb brushing over his knuckles that had whitened from their too-tight grip on the wheel. It took him a moment to tear his gaze from the touch to actually do as asked, and was consoled by the tender, reassuring smile his boyfriend gave him. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “How are you so calm about this?”

“’Cause I’ve got you at my side. Just knowing you’re with me gives me courage.”

The words made his heart stutter. It stuttered again when Clover lent forward to kiss him. His eyes slipped closed, giving back as much as he was given. The strength he’d been looking for filled him so that when they finally pulled away and exited the car, the knot that had been in the pit of his stomach had loosened its hold considerably. Just in time, as faint barking from inside definitely announced their arrival, drawing his attention to the back door.

A second later, the screen door came flying open as his youngest niece came barreling out of it, screaming at the top of her lungs, “UNCLE QROW’S HERE!!”

It was hard to tell if the snickers on the other side of the car were from the seven-year old’s antics or perhaps from her odd sense of fashion, as she was sporting a long, red bathroom robe that he swore was Raven’s, what appeared to be an old Flash costume from Halloween, and a pirate’s hat. As she came racing towards him, he realized she also had on light-up shoes.

He lent down, scooping Ruby up and lifting her effortlessly. “Hey there pipsqueak.”

She snuggled into his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He kissed the top of her head. “So, what’s with this little getup?”

She pulled at the loose belt meant to hold the robe closed. “Mama said you might need saving, so I dressed the part.”

“Did she now?” He carefully kept the annoyance off his face but oh, was he so getting his sister back for that.

“Uh-huh! I’m Rapid Ruby, at your service!” She tipped her hat.

Before Qrow could think up an appropriate response, a coo of ‘Ooh who’s this little guy?’ drew his attention towards his boyfriend. The man was kneeling on the ground, accepting little licks from what was certainly not a little guy. In fact, it had to be the fattest corgi he’d ever seen in his life. The poor thing was shaped exactly like a swiss roll cake and colored like one too.

“That’s Zwei! Mommy brought him from her office.” His niece chirped brightly, but when Clover looked up at her, she shrunk against Qrow’s neck, trying to hide. His hero.

He rubbed her back soothingly. “Ruby, this is Clover. You remember me talking to you about him over the phone right?” She only gave a little whine. “He’s left-handed, like you.”

That got her to lift her face, looking at the man with a wary curiosity. “Do you have to use special scissors too?”

“I do.” Clover smiled at her, still kneeling on the ground so he appeared less threatening. Or maybe he just wanted to get more kisses from the dog, it was hard to tell.

“And can openers are dumb, right?”

“The dumbest.”

“And, and!” She tapped her chin, thinking hard. “Have you ever taken your mommy’s tea by accident during lunch and had to spit it out cause it’s gross?”

He chuckled. “Not tea, but I did take a swig of my dad’s whiskey once.”

Ruby spat out her tongue. “Yucky!”

“Yeah, it really was.”

“Well,” An orotund voice cut in. “It’s nice to see everyone getting along out here.”

Mostly content to just watch the two’s adorable exchange, Qrow hadn’t notice the newcomer who had stepped outside, a welcoming grin spread on Tai’s face as he approached.

Newcomers, he amended, as he spotted Raven watching them from the threshold.

He juggled Ruby carefully, holding out an arm to accept the side hug his brother-in-law gave him. “Good to see you brother.”

“You too. Glad you could make it.” Tai ruffled his hair before he pulled away to shake Clover’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you! Qrow’s told us a lot.”

“Likewise.”

Before things could potentially get awkward, Qrow cleared his throat. “So Tai, what’s with the cake roll?”

The blond glanced back at him, then down at the dog who plopped down at his feet. “Zwei? Someone dropped him off a few weeks ago. No tags or chip. And you know Summer, she just couldn’t leave him to starve in a cage.”

“Think starving’s the least of his problems.” He grumbled under his breath.

“She’s a vet, right?” Clover spoke up.

“Yeah, we run a little place together. But you’d swear, with how many animals get abandoned there that we’re actually the town shelter.” Tai joked. “We usually end up fostering the ones in need of special care.”

Ruby tugged at his shirt collar, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Daddy says we’re gonna keep him.”

“No. Daddy said we will discuss keeping it.” Raven chided across the yard, still barring the door like a sphinx waiting for the right answer.

“But maaaa!” Ruby started to wiggle enough that Qrow let her down so she could run over and plead her case.

Now out of earshot, Tai lent over and whispered, “We’re putting a collar and leash in Yang’s stocking and some dog toys in Ruby’s.”

“Bet that thrills Raven.” He murmured back. She’d never been much of an animal person.

“It was her idea.” His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but before he could comment, his brother was slapping him on the shoulder, continuing on in a louder tone, “Alright, how ‘bout we get your guys’ stuff inside so y’all can settle in?”

While Raven brought Ruby and Zwei inside to keep them out of the way, the trunk was popped and the luggage pulled out. Between the three of them, they were able to juggle their bags and the box of gifts inside, the latter being dropped off next to the heavily decorated Christmas tree the moment they entered the great room. As Tai led them towards the stairs, Qrow took a peek at the archway that lead to the kitchen, and though he only caught the back of Summer’s head, he could smell the delectable scents of whatever she was preparing wafting in from here.

“We only have one guest room, so I apologize the accommodations aren’t the best.” Tai was saying after they’d set the bags inside the guest room. The words were entirely for Clover’s sake, as he never said them when Qrow came here alone. Perhaps because the room only housed one bed.

Clover was too preoccupied swooning over the window nook that overlooked the lake to notice such a trivial detail. “I think it’s perfect.”

What a dork. Qrow rolled his eyes, having to fight the smile from his face.

“So, Qrow tells me you like to fish.”

Oh god, now they were never going to shut up. While they chatted, Qrow ducked out of the room to use the bathroom. By the time he was passing by his room again, Tai and Clover were chatting about lure types, so he decided to make his way back to the ground floor, passing Zwei laying in his doggy bed by the couch, and entered into the kitchen where all the girls had collected in.

Raven was at one side, frosting sugar cookies before handing them over to Ruby who was sitting on the counter. Her job was to decorate each cookie with little chocolate chips, peppermint crunch, or cinnamon bites before setting them on the plate (and both were stealing candy pieces to munch on). Opposite them, Yang was standing on a stool to be tall enough to reach the counter, vigorously peeling through carrots before handing them off to Sumer, who chopped them into smaller pieces with the vegetable knife before adding them into a pot. The oven was on, the faint outline of a cooking dish the likely culprit of what he’d gotten a whiff of coming inside.

“Mmmm, I don’t even know where to start.” Qrow said more to announce his presence than anything.

“There you are, you scoundrel! Was beginning to think you weren’t gonna come say hello.” Summer chastised as she walked over to him, Irish accent thick as ever.

He knelt down to accept his cheek kisses. “Thought you woulda appreciated me not immediately invading your kitchen for once.” Tiny, strong arms found their way around his waist. He dropped his hand into golden curls, smiling down at his other niece. “Hey there firecracker.”

She pressed her chin into his ribs, giving him a stern stare that made her look so much like his sister. “I’m making dinner tonight, so you better like it!”

“I’m sure with you behind the helm, it’ll be wonderful.” He snorted. A threat as a greeting hadn’t been his expectation.

She was grinning now, giving one more, “You better!” before hurrying back to her station.

“She’s really excited.” Summer explained, following her. As he poured himself a glass of sweet tea from the pitcher sitting on the island, she asked, “So where’s yer lad? I was hoping to get a good gander at him.”

He leant back against the counter next to his sis as he replied, “Tai got him talking about fishing, so he’s never coming down.”

They were probably sharing different casting methods right now. Not that he could complain – he figured Clover would hit it off with Tai immediately. Similar hobbies aside, they both had easy-going, friendly personalities which tended to blend well with small talk. Knowing he’d also managed to get his shy niece to talk to him so freely was also a bit of a blessing.

But the real problem was the woman currently bumping her shoulder against his. “Fair warning, Tai’s been filling his pocketbook with every fish pun he can think of.”

“And you let him?” He squawked, utterly scandalized.

She replied, completely straight-faced, “They’re reel good.”

Qrow blinked. Blinked again. Deadpanned, “I’m not related to you anymore.”

“Good, get out.”

They glared at one another, the seconds ticking by.

Raven broke first, turning away to hide her smile.

“Hah, I win!” He took a cookie as his trophy.

“Mommy, they’re being dumb again.” He heard Yang murmur.

“Yeah, they’re a buncha dopes.” Though it was meant to be an insult, Summer’s tone was nothing but endearing.

Before Qrow could think of an appropriate comeback, the sound of heavy steps on the stairs and chatter drew attention towards the entryway.

“Then it just smacked me right in the face! I was so shocked it just fell right out of my hands and back in the water.” Tai was saying.

“Well that’s one way to lose a fish.” Clover laughed heartily.

As they entered the room, it was hard to miss the blond’s smirk as he replied, “It’s alright, I’m quite good at catching other types.”

“And dear, what other types are those?” Raven spoke up.

He winked her way. “Types like you babe.”

She looked unimpressed, but Summer started to giggle. “I mean, if you like swordfish.”

“Ut-! Excuse you! I’m a shark.”

Qrow snorted. “A goblin shark, maybe.”

“Careful, you’re in stabbing distance.”

He shifted away, just in case.

Tai was chuckling, nodding to her. “Clover, the shark is my lovely wife Raven and our daughter Ruby.” He waved to the other side of the room. “And this is my other lovely wife, Summer and our daughter Yang.”

“I’m the cook today!” Yang said proudly, brandishing a tiny knife at him. “You better like dinner!”

“Honey, don’t point with the knife. That’s rude.” Summer chastised.

“Oh, sorry.” She set it down to point with a carrot instead. “Now you better like dinner.”

To his credit, Clover managed not to laugh, only saluting her. “Yes ma’am. Thank you for your hard work.”

“Good. If you don’t lie about it, then I like you.” Yang decided before turning back to her work.

Her father pat her on the head as he walked by. “Clover would you like anything? Water? Sweet tea?”

“Water would be wonderful, thank you.” He replied, taking the opportunity to slip over to Qrow’s side.

“So, you’re an Irish lad?” Summer asked.

Qrow winced. He was afraid that would be the first thing she’d dig at. The other woman had been born and raised in Ireland, and had initially only come to the states to study Veterinarian work on an apprenticeship at Cornell Uni. She had had plans to return to her homeland – until she met Raven and Tai, both of whom were also studying at Cornell under a scholarship.

The rest of that incredible and confusing love story Qrow was told through long distance telephone calls while take his own, more modest level courses at UNC Wilmington. He remembered how certain he had been that the two were just pulling his leg the entire time until he actually had Summer standing right in front of him, rather than the ghost of a person his sibling and best friend were feeding him.

He’d liked her immediately. She was funny, quick-witted and extremely compassionate, especially towards animals (“Ravens especially,” she always joked). She was easy to get along with, even if she herself could be a bit meek – but touch anything about her culture with even a hint of pretentious air and a bit of her own brashness would come out as she happily kicked someone down a few pegs.

While trepidation settled in his gut, as inconspicuously as possible, he slid his hand into Clover’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

His boyfriend didn’t seem to share his worry, lips only quirking upwards, squeezing his hand back as he answered, “Yeah, on my mom’s side.”

“Did she name you for the shamrock or for the four-leaf clover?”

“The four-leaf.” He took the glass of water as Tai handed it to him, continuing, “I was uh, apparently not expected to make it to term, so my parents always considered me a ‘lucky’ birth. My mother thought naming me Clover was perfect because of that and her heritage. She didn’t know there was a difference. My pa actually told me it started this whole big feud between her and her grandparents because it had offended them so much.”

As they continued to converse, Qrow exhaled softly.

Any air left whooshed out of him as fifty pounds of child thumped against his back. “Uncle Qrooow, this is boring. Can we go play video games?”

“Uh,” He hesitated. He’d never really been one to deny his youngest niece, but he couldn’t just leave his boyfriend to the wolves, so to speak.

A thumb brushed along his knuckles. Clover was still preoccupied by whatever Summer was saying, but he gave him a side-eye and a small smile, before letting his hand go.

Taking that sign, Qrow conceded. “Alright kiddo, jump on.”

“Yes!” She clung to him as he hitched her onto his back and carried her out to the living room, where he let her pick the game.

They jumped around as bubble-blowing dragons until dinner.

~

Qrow liked to think of his vacation mornings as perfectly lazy.

He would roll out of bed maybe at 8 or 9, spend the next twenty minutes milling about sleepily as he took care of his bathroom routine and shuffled through what clothes he wanted to wear. He had it down to an art, wherein he was usually the last to make it downstairs and sometimes no one would see him until after 10. He’d probably benefit from setting at least one alarm so he could enjoy an extra few hours with his family every day – but why fix what wasn’t broken?

Problem was, when his bedmate was 90% of the reason he was staying warm at night and said bedmate was a ridiculously early riser, it was hard to stay asleep longer than twenty minutes past when he’d vacate the space.

So, Qrow found himself shuffling into the kitchen a little after 7, the smell of brewing coffee guiding him to the pot. Everyone else was bound to be awake soon, but for now the only other person in the room was his sister.

“Morning.” She greeted.

“G’mornin’.” He returned, fetching down a mug. “Where’s Clover?”

Raven inclined her head towards the window. “On the dock, somehow not freezing to death.”

He glanced out, seeing the dark outline of his boyfriend sitting right at the edge of the pier, waiting patiently for the sun to rise. He hadn’t even bothered to put on any additional layers, still in the tank top and shorts he’d gone to bed in.

Qrow had a feeling this would be the running theme for the week. With anyone else, he probably would have found it annoying; instead, all he felt was fondness.

The microwave beeping had his eyes pulling away, watching as his sister took out a mug of steaming water. As she steeped her tea, she said, “He’s a real interesting one.”

“Is that a lead in to how you’re about to tell me everything wrong with him?”

“Hmm, well,” She stretched out the word like a car engine getting ready to gun it down the street. “He’s got really stupid hair.”

Here we go. Qrow sighed. Turned away to pour his coffee as he waited.

And waited.

And…

…

He looked up from the cutlery drawer to her, seeing her watching him with unadulterated amusement. “Wait, that’s it?”

She shrugged. “That’s it.”

“You actually like him?”

“No.” She clipped easily. “He’s a bit too much of a model boy scout type and I think that’s annoying. But, I like the you that you are when you’re with him.”

He went back to his silverware search. “Uh, meaning?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “You’re happier with him, stupid.”

“Hold up.” Qrow waved a spoon in the air, “I’m calling bullshit on that one. I was happy with my other partners before this.”

“You also weren’t any less happy without them. It’s, just different, okay?” She ran a hand through her hair, “Tch, you know I’m not any good at this.”

For as little as his sister was saying though, he could hear the paragraphs hidden in between. She’d been with him his whole life; had seen every stupid decision he’d ever made. Like how he was convinced that Sienna was the love of his life when they were only seventeen and when she ultimately dumped him, he acted like his entire life was over. Or at twenty-one, when he had been so convinced that Roman was The One, he asked him to marry him only six months into their relationship – only to find out the guy had a criminal record. Then there were disasters, like Kimi.  Broken trusts, like Oz. Incompatibilities, like Winter, Robyn, Tukson.

There were joys in all of them – but looking back, he didn’t regret the breaks either.

“Nah, I get it.” Qrow stirred in the sugar. “Guess I’ve had pretty shit luck when it comes to relationships, huh?”

“It all went to the better twin.” She joked back, holding up her tea to cheer herself before taking a sip.

“Oh, mom and dad found a long-lost triplet?”

He only laughed when she smacked his arm, ducking away before she could potentially continue her assault, taking his coffee with him. Her call of “Jerk!” followed him as he slipped out the back door. They may have found it unbearable at times to live with each other, but it was comforting to know she still looked out for him. He would thank her later.

For now though, he walked the length of the porch, following the stone path that gave way to wood and finally ended at Clover.

“Didn’t expect to see you up so early.” He greeted as Qrow sat down beside him.

He took a sip of the coffee before setting the mug down on the post next to him. “Well, my space heater left, so I came looking for it.”

“Sorry about that.” Clover wound an arm across his shoulders, drawing him in. “Better?”

He looked out across the lake, where the water was reflecting the colors of the lightening sky. Took in the horizon breathing in a new day, welcoming them to experience it together.

Qrow melted against the other, sincerely vowing, “It’s perfect.”

[theolddarkmachine]

Imaginary- Chapter Ten

Midoriya Izuku’s life was turned upside by fate.

Eri’s life was turned upside down by circumstance.

And Bakugou Katsuki is about to learn that even imaginary friends need to grow up.

Also on AO3

A/N: Sorry I missed last week, y’all. I ended up stuck here at my parents’ house longer than expected, and then this chapter gave me hell >.< I really like it now but boy lemme tell you, it was touch and go for a second there lol

******************************

Katsuki chews on his bottom lip as he follows behind the father daughter duo, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he watches the way their linked ones swing as they walked.

So far, so good, he thought, tracing their steps through the dimly lit room of the aquarium. When they’d pulled up at the parking lot after an hour of finesse and careful instruction on his part, he’d watched both Midoriyas as their eyes had lit up in equal measure at the sight of the attraction. That same excitement had still clung to them almost two hours in, and something about it made the pit of Katsuki’s stomach warm as he’d watched them walk together, lost in their own little world as they’d explored the different types of sea creatures.

“Daddy Izuku!” Eri says loudly, pulling Midoriya over toward the glass wall to their left. Katsuki swallows down a bite of laughter as he watches Midoriya stumble slightly as the small girl pulls him.

“What are these?” She asks excitedly, pointing at the school of brightly colored fish swirling behind the glass. Whirling around the water with their kaleidoscopic coloring, Katsuki watched as she looked up at them, eyes wide and mesmerized.

“Let’s see,” Midoriya says, making a show of leaning towards the lighted plaque beside the tank before making a loud aha! sound. “Mandarinfish!”

His voice is a quiet, gentle hum as he reads off the information to Eri, oblivious to the the watchful gaze on them.

Something shifted uncomfortably in Katsuki’s chest as he watched over them, coloring his emotions a strange, shimmering shade that rivaled that of the fish in the tank before he turned toward the wall opposite of the father daughter pair.

A fast, flickering flash of green caught his eye as he moves closer, watching as the small creature danced around a cluster of small, pearl-like eggs that dotted a large rock on the aquarium’s floor. Swaying before it was a bright yellow fish, doing its best to avoid the quick, jerking movements of the green fish as it continued to move back and forth between the yellow one and the eggs.

Flicking his gaze to the guide on the wall beside him, he quickly found the photo of the green fish, an apparent variation of a damselfish.

While a friendly fish, the Blue/Green Chromis is known for its protective nature over its eggs, he reads.

So that’s what this is about, Katsuki thinks to himself, turning back to watch the chromis as it continued its protective dance around its eggs as it kept its attention fixed on what was apparently a Yellow Tang.

The green fish pauses for a moment in its movements before rushing forward and butting the Tang and sending it sideways. Snorting loudly at the moment of obvious confusion as it rights itself, Katsuki shakes his head slightly.

Poor bastard, he thinks as he turns his sharply carve smile over his shoulder.

“Hey, Deku,” Katsuki calls out, feeling the rush of warmth through his veins as Midoriya immediately turns to look at him. In the short span of the week, he’d grown all too comfortable with how quick the green haired man would acknowledge him. It was altogether different from being seen by a charge, or his friends.

Pinned beneath Midoriya’s forest stare, it always felt as if he was truly being seen.

Light zings along his bones as he watches the duo move toward him, only turning after he hears Midoriya’s quiet hum at his back.

“Look at this little shit, fighting the hell out of this other little shit for it’s kids,” he points out as Midoriya settles in at his side, tucking Eri between the two of them. A small sound of awe escapes her as she leans into the bar that separates them from the tank’s glass.

“Remind you of anyone?” Katsuki laughs, cocking his head just enough to look at Midoriya. The blue light filtering through the water dances across Midoriya’s freckled face, painting him an ethereal color as his mouth cracks wide around a smile. It’s wide and all encompassing, pinching the corner of his eyes and causing Katsuki’s heart to stutter as he finds it aimed his way.

“How many times do I have to tell you sorry about that?” Midoriya asks, voice lilting with his mirth. The joyous tilt of his voice feels like a calculated attack that catches him sharply in the sternum as he rolls his eyes, using the opportunity to tear his stare away from Midoriya’s stupidly bright smile.

“As many as it takes to make me actually believe you, nerd,” he grinds out with a quick shrug. Midoriya’s laugh is barely a breath as it dances down his spine. Fixing his gaze on the fish before them, Katsuki watches as the two fish bob gently with the tank’s currents, attention fixated on each other before the yellow tang finally swims off.

Warmth wraps around his fingers as a small hand grabs his own, causing him to jump at the sudden contact. Looking down, he’s met by Eri’s ever bright smile.

“Can we see the penguins?” She asks up at him. The question is accompanied by an excited sound that urges Katsuki to flick his gaze upwards. Midoriya’s eyes sparkle in the same way as his daughter’s, and for once, the dark circles that seemed to plague his eyes and aged him didn’t seem to cling to his skin. A sharp pang ripples through him as he’s reminded that Midoriya was still just a young man.

“Well why are you looking at me for,” he growls without an real fire as he tilts his chin toward the exit of the room, “lead the way stupid Deku.”

“Kacchan, be nice,” Eri says in warning, giving his hand a small squeeze. Katsuki returns the gentle pressure as Midoriya starts to move, pulling their linked hands as he walks toward the hall marked with a small penguin silhouette.  

“Yeah, Kacchan,” Midoriya laughs, voice filled with teasing and danger as he turns his head just enough to fix his gaze over his shoulder, “be nice.”

Heat seeps and burns along the bridge of Katsuki’s cheekbones as his stare lingers for just a moment too long before Midoriya looks back to the hall before them.

Letting out a shaky breath, Katsuki grumbles under his breath as he lets Eri tug him along in their small human chain, eyes set on the broad expanse of Midoriya’s shoulders.

***

The bleeding watercolor of the sunset sky painted the backdrop for the park as Katsuki shoved the last corner of his sandwich in his mouth, eyes on Eri as she explains away something nonsensical to the large stuffed penguin at her side. Her excited hum had been a constant since they’d left the aquarium’s gift shop, both hands occupied by Katsuki’s and Midoriya’s while the latter had been regulated to stuffed penguin duty, not that he had seemed to mind.

Hell, Katsuki thinks that maybe if he hadn’t been there, he’d have walked out with a stuffed animal of his own if the way he’d lingered over over a stuffed yellow fish had been any indication.

“You sure you don’t want to go back and get that fish? I’m sure they would understand if you told them you were a 5-year-old stuck in a 26-year-old’s body,” Katsuki bites, raising a brow at Midoriya during a pause in Eri’s excited musings as she sips some of her melon soda.

“Shut up,” he replies, bumping his shoulder into Katsuki’s as his eyes roll upward towards the sky. His fist closes around the convenience store wrappers of their picnic meals, their sharp crackle loud in the calm quiet of the park.

“You’re just mad you aren’t any fun,” Midoriya continues, gaze flickering with the same look of challenge that Katsuki had become all too familiar with over the last couple of weeks. He had the air of a goody two shoe, but Midoriya Izuku had a bit of a mouth on him. One that always managed to say things in just the right way to get under his skin.

“Fuck you, fun is my job,” Katsuki growls, slamming his fist down on the table to emphasize his point. It makes his own drink wobble slightly with its force. Bringing a finger up to his chin, Midoriya’s look goes thoughtful for a moment as he taps it.

Katsuki counts one, two, three taps before he finds himself the object of his attention again.

“They must not pay you a lot then,” Midoriya says matter-of-fact, lips spread wide and grin far too toothy as if his quip is the best thing to ever be said. A bitter roll of annoyance and something else a bit warmer runs through Katsuki.

“Die,” he huffs, throwing a weak punch that Midoriya dodges with a bright laugh. Eyes slanting as Katsuki glares, he opens his mouth to say something else that will bite when Eri speaks up.

“What’s fuck?” She asks, curiosity making her gaze large and encompassing as she looks to her dad, who freezes with his eyes widened by shock. He doesn’t move for several breaths, and Katsuki swears he can see the gears as they churn furiously in his mind before he turns away from the small girl to fix him with a sharpened, accusatory stare.

A brusque crackling cackle lights the space between them as Katsuki shrugs.

“It’s a very bad word—” Midoriya starts, voice sounding choked as he tries to explain, only to be cut off.

“It’s an adult word, when you’re old enough, you can say it,” Katsuki says, authoritative yet gentle, as he slings the same quick shrug in Eri’s direction.

“Oh,” Eri replies simply, letting it go almost as soon as she’s brought it up. Turning back to her her penguin, she smiles as she brushes something off the top of its head. The heat of a stare warms his skin as he turns to see Midoriya’s bewildered look on him. Leaning his forearms into the table, he presses forward as he raises an eyebrow.

“You ever tell a kid something is bad?” Katsuki asks flatly. Confusion twists across Midoriya’s face before he shakes his head slowly, as if unsure where the question would lead.

“Amateur,” Katsuki admonishes. “You say something is bad, they automatically want to do it. Tell them they’ll be able to when they’re an adult, they’re fine.”

As he talks, he stabs at the table with a finger as emphasizing everything he says with the brutal assault on the plastic tabletop. The confusion slowly bleeds from Midoriya’s face, giving way to gentle amusement as he watches the assured way Katsuki talks.

“Is that so?” Midoriya says, tone bursting with unsaid humor as he props his elbow on the table and rests his cheek on his open palm. The pose sets Katsuki as the point of his focus, something he doesn’t miss as he tears his stare away, instead fixing it on the treeline that separates the park from the city streets.

“Damn well has to be if I say so,” he boasts, sitting up and puffing his chest out. Something molten drags down his spine as he hears the soft laugh that it earns him.

“Guess I can’t argue with that,” Midoriya hums. From the corner of his eye, Katsuki sees that he’s also turned his focus toward the trees, a small secretive smile curling the edges of his lips. A gentle ebb of something warm washes out from the center of his chest, before rolling down through his limbs and lighting the tips of his fingers and toes.

“Daddy Izuku,” Eri speaks up, stopping whatever comeback he might have come up, “can we get ice cream?”

“I think we can make that happen,” Midoriya nods after a brief pause, pushing to stand up from the picnic table. Eri mirrors the movement with a bit more bounce before reaching her small hand out for his.

“Want any?” He asks, throwing the question over his shoulder to Katsuki. He doesn’t really. Ice cream has never been something he much liked, or went out of his way to partake in. But there’s something about the soft curl of the question and the tempered stare on him, and he finds his mouth moving around words he doesn’t even think to say.

“Sure, surprise me.”

The upturned edge of his smile pushes higher, pressing a dimple into Midoriya’s cheek before he turned his face away.

“Watch Mr. Pingu!” Eri orders loudly with a point in his direction. Chuckling lowly, Katsuki gives her a sharp salute before the duo starts to walk toward the ice cream stand on the opposite end of the park from them.

With their backs to him, Katsuki can’t help but watch the way they walk together, hands still swinging back and forth as they’d done earlier in the day. The gentle golden light of the sun touches them both as he watches them, Eri gesturing wildly with her free hand as Midoriya’s head falls back with a booming laugh.

From here, they look like nothing less of a happy family, and for a brief shimmering moment, Katsuki wonders if that’s what everyone else sees when they see the three of them together.

A sudden aching bloom of something dark aches at the center of his chest as the fleeting thought disappears with the realization that no one else could see him. It’s a strange sensation, wholly new as Katsuki tries to remember how to breathe around the raw and jagged hole behind his sternum.

Longing, he would think, if he let himself imagine that there was something that Midoriyas had for him to long for.

Tsking loudly to himself, he pulls his focus from where the pair is grabbing the ice cream to look at the lifeless stare of the penguin across from him.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Katsuki growls, not expecting an answer and not getting one. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Quiet settles around the table in the same way as the fading sunlight, accompanying the purple shadows that begin to draw long across the plastic and his stuffed companion before the Midoriyas finally return.

A small paper bowl of pink ice cream lands in front of him with a soft sound, wobbling slightly as he looks up to to Midoriya’s smile. Nodding in silent thanks, Katsuki picks up the brightly colored spoon that’s stuffed in the dessert as Mirdoriya returns to his seat with his own cup of what looks like mint chocolate chip.

Taking a large scoop from the ice cream, Katsuki shoves it all in his mouth, letting the freezing burn as he swallows beat back the lingering ache that clings stubbornly to the space just to the right of his heart.

It tastes better than the bitter longing and his last memory of strawberry ice cream.

As they eat, the quiet still hangs over them, comfortable and companionable as they both watch Eri inspect the flowers just a few feet from the table, all the while licking her own ice cream cone.

“Thank you.”

It’s said lowly, so low that Katsuki might have missed it if it weren’t for the steady soundtrack of silence around them.

“For what?” He asks around the last gob of ice cream as he turns to look at the green haired man beside him. An open look of honesty meets his gaze as Midoriya gestures around them with his spoon.

“For all this,” he replies easily. “Eri loved it.”

Midoriya pauses then, holding Katsuki’s stare almost as if sizing him up before letting loose a breathy laugh. It trickles across Katsuki’s skin like a cooling rain.

“I loved it,” he finishes quickly, looking up through his lashes at him. “So, thank you.”

The words land so close to the hole in his chest, filling it until Katsuki is sure he might explode with it. It’s longing, but now it’s also something else as he keeps his gaze trained on Midoriya. It’s then that he sees the very last rays of the day as they catch the gemstone coloring of his eyes, making them glow as they etch the weight of their stare into him.

He feels it in his bones, that stare, and he swears it razes something in him, leaving behind a space that’s no longer his but the man’s before him.

Fighting against the sudden magnetism of Midoriya’s attention, Katsuki looks down at the melted remains of his ice cream.

“Shut up, nerd,” he grumbles, pushing the pink goo around with his spoon. “You have nothing to thank me for. Eri came up with most of it anyway.”

Midoriya laughs, this time more full bodied, and it shakes the table. Katsuki watches as the sound of it makes Eri look up and over to them curiously, one tiny brow up in question before she sees that he’s looking her way. Lifting a small hand, she waves, then makes a bright happy sound when he waves back.

“Thank you anyway,” Midoriya says after watching the exchange. Katsuki can hear the finality in it, so he doesn’t say anything at all, instead just nodding in reply as he carefully commits the moment to memory.

***************************

[otterknowbynow]

Altean Home Economics (7/?)

Goo is great, but Hunk sure would feel better if they had kitchen access. all chapters in this tag | ao3 link in reblogs

“It will add seven or eight vargas, but I don’t think we really have any other choice if we don’t want to fly directly through a Galra fleet.” Coran sounds exhausted, and Allura can’t blame him. 

“If it’s based on probabilities, couldn’t we just take the risk?” Shiro asks from where he’s sitting on the steps with his legs stretched out in front of him. “What’s the likelihood that we run into them?” 

“According to number five’s algorithm --” Coran consults his screen before turning around to face the others, his voice pitching up about an octave as he continues “-- ninety-seven point two percent?” 

“Ah.” Shiro’s mouth quirks in a halfhearted attempt at rueful amusement. 

“That’s much too high to just take the chance, I’m afraid,” Allura says with a sigh. She leans back against her right-hand control pillar, thinking. There’s no reason they should risk running into imperial forces on the way to the headquarters of the Blade of Marmora. They’re taking enough of a risk interacting with the Blades in the first place, as far as she’s concerned. They’re still galra -- and the nature by which they got in contact makes her extra wary. Who knows how else Ulaz may have interfered with Shiro’s arm? She knows she can’t voice that concern again, not without running through the same argument as before, but it’s a question that stays at the forefront of her mind regardless. 

“So what are our options?” Shiro leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Go around somehow?” 

“We’ll have to give the area a wide berth -- hence my earlier time estimate. Time is of the essence, of course, but staying alive is of even more of the essence. All of the essence, perhaps.”

“Couldn’t we take the risk and just wormhole out if things are bad?”

“Negative, Shiro. Allura’s been taxed enough as it is, and I only replaced the teludav lenses this morning. They haven’t had time to settle in. We need to give her and them some time.” 

Allura had been about to object to Coran acting as if she were some fragile maiden who didn’t know her own limits, but he is right about the lenses at least. She slumps further against the control pillar. It’s also inarguably true that she is tired. 

“Well, then I guess we’re taking a detour,” Shiro says, levering himself up from the steps and stretching. He stops suddenly and lowers his arms to cross them. "Hang on, where are we taking a detour to? We can't just...tell navigation to take us around the potential Galra zone, can we?" 

"Ah, not exactly," says Coran, perking up, although Allura doesn't see what there is to be happy about. He turns back to the helm and brings up a starmap on the viewscreen. "We can't tell it to avoid that area just using the coordinates we have for the headquarters, but --" he taps a few keys to bring an area of the map into greater focus "-- luckily, there's an old Altean outpost that should serve us well as a waypoint. If we set the coordinates to Entuk first, then from there use the coordinates Ulaz gave us, we should be able to get to the home of these 'Blades' relatively easily without going anywhere near an imperial fleet!" 

“Coran -- did you say an Altean outpost?” Allura is suddenly far more awake, and she stands up quickly. An Altean outpost on the edge of a space that isn’t directly controlled by the Galra? 

“Don’t get too excited, princess,” Coran says gently, seeing the light in her eyes. “It’s likely been inactive for millennia by now.” Allura presses her lips together so she doesn’t give voice to the tiny flame of hope she can feel starting to grow in her chest as the silence stretches on. 

“Alright, I’ll go tell the others,” Shiro says finally, and both of them turn just as the entrance to the bridge slides open. 

“Tell us what?” Lance asks from the doorway. He’s standing there having clearly stopped midstep, a small fuzzy creature Allura is pretty sure she recognizes from Pidge’s quarters hovering over his shoulder. 

“We’re going to have a slight delay,” she tells him.

“We need to take a detour to avoid an imperial fleet,” Shiro says at the same time. Lance looks back and forth between the two of them. 

“Can one of you run that by me again?” 

“We need to go around an area of potentially very high Galra activity,” Coran says. “So we’ll be adding approximately eight vargas to our trip to the headquarters of the Blade of Marmora.” 

“Oh, okay, and a varga is…an animal?” Lance says hesitantly, squinting slightly. Shiro gives a bark of laughter before he can stop himself. 

“An hour, basically,” he corrects. 

“Got it,” says Lance. “Staying out of the Galra hot zone. Cool. Though if it were Zarkon’s fleet --”

“--We’re not flying directly into Zarkon’s fleet, either,” Allura says firmly.

“Why are you here, Number Four?” Coran asks from the console. 

“I keep telling you, I’m taller than Keith!” Lance says irritably. “Shiro and Hunk being ahead of me, sure, fine. I’m reasonable. I can accept that, but I have -- easily! -- two inches on Keith, and if he’s been telling you differently --” 

“Lance,” Shiro interrupts, moving forward to put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you need?” 

“Oh, uh,” Lance pauses mid-tirade. “I…” He hesitates, and the fuzzy creature bumps into the back of his shoulder encouragingly. “Oh! I need Allura.” 

“Need me for what?” Allura asks. 

“Pancakes.” 

“Pan...cakes?” Allura continues more diplomatically. “Could you expand on that, perhaps?” 

“Yeah, we’re going to make pancakes, so Hunk was looking at the stove, and then it just went --” he makes an exploding gesture widely with both hands, and the fuzzy creature trills as it dodges out of the way “-- and suddenly had all these faucet-looking things, and we need it to not make any sudden movements or attack anyone else, because I don’t think Hunk’s heart could take it.” He finishes and lowers his hands, looking around at them all. Allura frowns. 

“I think you’ll want Coran for that. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the kitchens, apart from the food goo.” 

“Oh, but Coran, he’s --” Lance stops as the fuzzy creature bumps against his hand, and he scratches it absently on the top of what Allura presumes is its head. “Alright,” he says instead. 

“This will be an adventure, young man!” Coran says, crossing the room in a few long strides and turning Lance around by the shoulder. “Now, when you say stove, to which of the querlays are you referring?” Shiro turns to Allura as the door swishes back shut and their voices fade down the hall.

“I guess we have some pancakes to look forward to, at least.” 

“Yes, what are pancakes, exactly?” Allura tries to piece out the word in her head, though the translator doesn’t seem to want to make it make that much sense in Altean. “I would have asked Lance, but, well.” She’s not sure how to finish that sentence, but luckily Shiro laughs understandingly and grabs the back of his neck with one hand.

“Yeah, he’s a little intense with you, huh.” He glances over at her, and she drops her eyes to the floor. She doesn’t want to imply she doesn’t care about Lance; it’s just -- well. 

“I fear it’s entirely misplaced,” she says with a sigh. “I can’t -- I mean, I don’t...” She trails off, looking over at Shiro now, but she can’t seem to find any more words. She doesn’t have words for what she means, that she’s not -- and has never really been -- in line with Altean norms in this particular area. She can’t help but see it as a flaw, her failure to relate properly to different sorts of people. 

“To be fair, I think it’s a bit misplaced from his end, too,” Shiro says, thankfully breaking what’s become a rather long silence. “Seems to me like that level of confidence is usually reserved for people who have no idea what they’re actually feeling.” Allura’s not sure what to say to that, but it feels true. After all, for her it’s never been a question of what she’s feeling, just what she’s supposed to feel. 

“I -- that makes sense, I suppose,” she manages aloud. 

“They’re a type of food, by the way,” he says in a lighter tone. “Pretty common across Earth in different forms, depending on the culture. I’m guessing he means American-style ones, though, so sort of fluffy, flour- and milk-based, usually served with something sweet.” 

“Milk-based?” she asks. She supposes it makes sense that humans also nurse their young. Now that she thinks about it, she’s seen a few pictures of Hunk’s and Lance’s families, at least, and their anatomy wouldn’t make sense otherwise. It seems a strange coincidence, though, not to mention an interesting ingredient in something meant for adults to consume.

“Yeah,” says Shiro, nodding absently. “They’re good. Hey, Allura?” 

“Yes?” 

“What can we expect to find on Entuk exactly?” Allura feels the tiny flame in her chest flare again, and when she speaks she can hear her own intensity, though she tries to temper it as best she can. 

“Well, I’m not sure about ‘exactly,’ but Coran said it was an old Altean outpost. If it’s never been controlled by the Galra -- which, it appears, it hasn’t -- it seems to me like there could still be something there. Something, or -- well, someone.” She clears her throat a bit and sobers suddenly, realizing as she gives voice to her hope how infinitesimally small it should be. Even if it is somehow the case that there are people -- Alteans -- left alive, the isolation of thousands of years may have made a place and a people nearly unrecognizable to her. But if there are Alteans alive -- any Alteans, whatever their situation now -- those are her people, and her place is leading them. She realizes as she thinks this that Shiro has been talking for a few moments now, and turns her attention back to him, trying to swallow the bit of guilt at having missed his first few words. 

“-- not sure what state they would be in, and our priority should really lie with getting to the Blade of Marmora headquarters as quickly as possible.” 

“Of course,” she says, trying to put together what it is he’s implying. 

“I’m sorry, Allura, but I don’t see how we can justify anything beyond using it as another set of coordinates to get around the danger zone.” His tone is heavy, and she feels a wave of grief cover her hope until it’s just a tiny flicker. 

“No, I --” she clears her throat, blinks once against the pricking of tears “-- I understand completely.” 

[noafterparties]

Hey it’s 1am who wants taz angst(?)

Taz Balance Spoilers!

It’s that feeling again. The bone aching tiredness mixed with treacherous loneliness. —————-

Barry Bluejeans has had a long night. The IPRE is buzzing with life, even as Barry trecks back to his apartment on the shitter side of town. Since the announcement of The Mission, every department has been working around the clock, trying to show it’s prowess and dedication, all in the name of being represented on this mission. 

Barry himself has been spearheading the scientific department’s efforts, revamping and revising every calculation, specification, and project under the suns. Gods he wants to be chosen. To see what’s out there, explore what has never been seen. To travel. 

So long days were the norm, falling and fading into a pattern of stress, work, and fitful sleep. Considering the sky above him, a deep amethyst, pinpricked with light, he’d wager it was about three in the morning. A smile drapes across his face as he considered the universe stretched around him, and then-

“Watch it!” A pair of elves brush past him, sparking him from his daze. He continues on his way home, alone.

———————

Taako and Lup have just left their apartment, barely taking notice of the human that stopped dead in their path. It’s been a busy few months for them too, and they finally, finally, have a corresponding night off from the IPRE. Naturally, they head downtown, dressed out in coordinating outfits.

Taako is sporting an off-the-shoulder tank that is a stark blue, with white pants, knee-high black boots, and wicked eyeliner, applied by Lup’s steady hand. He’s got a ludicrously tall hat on, one that Lup mocked right up until Taako actually put it on, then conceded to it actually completing the outfit, rather than just throwing the whole thing off. Lup is in tall stilettoes, fishnet leggings, a white overcoat, barely covering her favorite clubbing dress: a similarly-stark blue dress with a dipping neckline, and a collar to accentuate her cheekbones. Her hair is intricately done into a braided bun, courtesy of Taako’s deft hands.

They were going Out. They had already agreed that this night was about the two of them, and nothing would stop the two of them from seeing the first sunrise from their favorite rooftop bar. They’d figure out what to do after that. With the sheer amount of alcohol they were planning on drinking, it wouldn’t be too hard.

As they chatted about which of their favorite haunts to hit- they still had at least a few hours ‘til the first sunrise- they passed a dimly lit shop with only one patron inside. They aren’t lonely, but maybe they rejoice a little deeper that night because they know this life won’t always hold.

————————

Lucretia hadn’t meant to come out this late. She barely ever left the house after the suns set normally, but she simply couldn’t wait ‘til morning. 

She had woken up in a cold sweat, new thoughts and ideas running through her head like a song. Immediately awake, knowing she shouldn’t (and indeed wouldn’t) waste a creative jolt like this, Lucretia reached for her bedside journal. She’d planned to just jot something promising down, and then let her mind rest after such a busy day at the IRPE, but she knocked into her ink well before she reached her journal.

Grumpy, partially sleep-deprived, and definitely underdressed compared to the elves she’d seen on the street, Lucretia found herself in one of the only all-night writing stores within a sketchy ten-minute walk to her apartment. It was small, dimly lit, and smelt of parchment, and even as grumpy as Lucretia was, she appreciated the place. Without it, she’d be out of luck, ink, and the creative spark that had oh-so-wonderfully awoken her at three in the morning.

She bought three wells- they’d empty so fast- and then watched as the storekeeper carefully packaged them. Taking her parcel, she turned towards home...and then shook her head. No, clearly she wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight. She turned towards the IPRE instead, and began her walk.

When she reached her department of the IPRE, she wasn’t surprised to see several people still working. There were the usual: Ingran, the elf from accounting, Cyas, the library keeper, and Johnston, the compiler. She nodded hellos to them, walking past them in favor of the sanctum that was her office.

Lucretia was clinging desperately to the creativity that had woken her up, determined to get it down on paper. She knows her muse is fleeting and will leave her bare the minute ink touches paper. She barely noticed the small form of a gnome, chatting with Cyas.

————————

Davenport knew he was an outlier at the IRPE. His clan had mostly been nocturnal, and growing up, so had he. Even moving to Brillow, the city where the IRPE was based, didn’t really change this. He got up a little earlier, usually an hour or so before the first sunset, to overlap with regular day staff, and then stayed a little later in order to coordinate with the day staff again in their ‘morning’.

He had been a little surprised when the day staff started to stretch that system, staying longer and longer, showing up at less reasonable times of their ‘night’, but he supposed that he should have expected it. When The Mission was announced, he wasn’t particularly concerned with showing off for the bosses. As lead astrologer at the IRPE, a trained head captain of interplanar ships, and already possessing an advanced knowledge of physics and mechanics, the IPRE Board would have to be deaf or blind not to pick him for the mission.

This was simply a state of fact: Davenport was qualified for the position. But that didn’t stop him from working a little harder when everyone else did too. A human woman passed by him, reinforcing how important The Mission was, if she was up at this hour. He was currently working with Cyas, the bookkeeper for the IPRE library, to expand the literary material regarding manipulations of electron fields. They’d been petitioning for weeks to coordinate with their co-facility the Materials Research Society and it looked like they were getting somewhere. The head of the IPRE had okayed them to link frequencies and discuss sharing equipment between the organizations.

Making their way back towards the library communications hub, they pass through the windowed hall facing the IPRE courtyard. The windowed hall distorts his short reflection, and even as he walks he is towered and overshadowed by his coworker. Outside of the window, which is much easier to focus on, the courtyard only has one silhouette on it: a tall figure with broad shoulders and bushy sideburns.

————————-

Magnus doesn’t even know what he’s doing here. Insomnia had struck him earlier that night (morning?) and he had just...wandered.

He’d always been skilled at pushing off feelings he didn’t want to contemplate during the day. During the day there were things to do, people to talk to, boxes to fill and move, data to check, activities to get to, obligations, life. At night everything felt...still. Magnus knew that was an illusion, sure there were parties and clubs and people, but it wasn’t his. He felt disconnected from it all.

When he got that way, the only workable solution was to walk. Feet to pavement, night air moving, living, around him. His feet would take him across town, up random alleys, across bridges, through crowds just to feel that life, that purpose. And then they would bring him back. Whether the walk had been an hour or all night, Magnus always felt ready to go to bed or disconnect in the way of his own choice.

So he was at a loss as to why his feet brought him to the IRPE and then left him there. He felt rooted to the courtyard, deeply connected to what was happening around him. Except. Nothing was happening. Shadows were passing through the windows of the IRPE, but they did that at all hours. Magnus was intimately familiar with the life here because this is where he lived his.

Securing the discoveries and safeguarding the employees at the IRPE, Magnus spent hours watching the patterns and life at the IRPE. After The Mission was announced, maybe those patterns had sped up, gotten a little more frantic and dizzying, but that only made his work all the more crucial.

Magnus turned to head home, uncertain of whether he would be able to sleep or not. Insomnia really was a bitch.

———————

Merle hadn’t seen anyone in hours. He was currently sitting in a dark greenhouse, waiting. Yawning more like. He wanted to be in bed. He hadn’t been home in a day or two, too excited over the potential to see Portulaca grandiflora bloom for the first time this century.

The plant’s blossom structure had been perplexing him for days, refusing to open early, despite his many efforts. The only thing that remained was to wait. Merle wasn’t great with that, and offered up a silent prayer to Pan to hurry up. P. grandiflora belonged to genius that had developed the unique trait of neoteny, making it extremely difficult to tell juveniles from adults. As head botanist at the IPRE, Merle was hoping to be the first to witness a true first bloom of the plant. Generally speaking, it would be very cool and very pretty. Scientifically speaking, this plant could reveal how to prolong a life cycle by proxy of prolonging true sexual development, as well as a host of other uses in medicinal practices thanks to the pollen.

Merle isn’t a loner by nature, no dwarves are really. Merle comes from a huge clan of Highchurch hill dwarves, and born into a family so large leads to a support system unmatched by most. Striking out on his own to join the sciences, learning botany and scientific cataloging distanced him from his family in a way he isn’t particularly proud of.

He’s used to the crutch of a support system that is his greenhouse.

———————

We’ve met our crew. But they’ve yet to meet each other.

Authors Note: Hey! Its taz (I know, everyone’s shocked) but I had this idea spinning in my head for an hour or two about how weird it would be if none of the birds knew each other pre-mission announcement. Then that spiraled into, well, this? So idk if it’s angst in the traditional sense, but I did kinda like writing it since I’m in a similar mood. Hope you enjoyed

[hidding-in-shadows]

weak endeavors  chapter one: 2 A.M.

@soulxmakaweek

Summary: For SoMa Week 2019. Soul's an underground boxer who's just trying to make some extra money to start his own life, it's not his fault that his trainer's daughter seems to catch his eye, and he can't seem to stop her from wiggling her way into his life. Mature for adult language and situations.

FFN Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13266914/1/weak-endeavors

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549988/chapters/43967119

Black was the only color that hid the blood.

At first he had tried red, but when the blood dried (his or his opponents, sometimes he couldn't tell), it had turned a rusty color. Then he had tried brown, but he could still see the sliver of an outline from the splatters. Finally, Blake had given him some black wraps with a mumbled try these, and from that day on, Souls hands were wrapped in black and unforgiving.

He didn't like the fights. He never got a fighters high, but it brought in the most cash. His other two jobs were made through friendships, the first at Blake's shitty hole-in-the-wall bar where being drunk seemed like a requirement when entering the place. The second he enjoyed more, but was less entertaining, at Blake's girlfriends book shop. It was small, hipster heaven. He had caught people coming in simply to take an aesthetically pleasing photo for their Instagram more than once. But, both were minimum wage, and part-time, and that wasn't enough for him to make it on his own.

"Soul," Blake's voice echoed in the empty room, off the metal doors of rusty lockers. Soul glanced up from underneath his shaggy hair. The man was his age, but shorter and bulkier. His neon blue hair, which he insisted was a trend, appeared washed out and faded in the blinking light of the shitty locker room. "They're waiting."

"Of course," Soul stood up, flexing his hands in the wraps, testing to make sure they were tight enough to protect his knuckles as best as they could, but loose enough not to turn his fingers a shade of purple.

(Sometimes he wrapped them just a little too tight to watch the tan skin of his fingers turn a slight shade cooler. Just to make sure.)

"He's good," Blake said as the two men walked out of the locker room and into a loud, crowded basement. He raised his already booming voice. "He focuses mostly on offense, but that doesn't mean his defense is weak. I know he's been out of the game for a while, but he's a legend, so I doubt he's going into this blind. I suggest waiting it out a bit, make sure you study his moves a little before doing anything big. He's taller than you, but about the same weight, light on his feet. He did break his knee a few years back, though, which was why he had to pull out. His left one, so maybe hone in on that."

"I'm not breaking an old man's knee," Soul scoffed, nodding to a few people as he walked through the crowd towards the center of the basement where the ring was.

"I'm just saying, if worse come to worse."

"I'll be fine."

Blake gave Soul a hard look before nodding and clasping a hand roughing on the other man's shoulder. He wished him good luck, told him not to die, and then disappeared into the crowd. He may be Soul's best friend, but Blake had a bar to look after, which was located above the underground ring.

Soul made his way through the crowd once more,stopping at the edge of the makeshift fighting ring. It was sad, something they had found on Craigslist. It was being sold after a close-by after-school program was closing up, and the ring was used for their boxing program. It was made for kids, not full grown men and women, so it was smaller, a tighter area, which meant more intense fights. And the people loved that.

The bands which fenced the ring in were dirty, some were snapped in half, laying limply on the ground. Soul lifted one and entered the ring, ears pounding to the sound of the small audience roaring with excitement. His opponent had yet to enter, but Soul knew he wouldn't back down, not after the way Soul challenged him.

"Hey kid," a voice snapped Soul back to reality.

Soul's opponent stood across the ring, ginger hair pulled into a ponytail, blue eyes piercing, and his fists wrapped in red. There was a cut on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes had bags, but there was no denying that there was a fierceness in the man's eyes that only came from years of experience in the ring.

"Three rounds," a voice rang out, but Soul was trained on his opponent. "First one down for ten is out. At the end of three rounds, it's a tie. Are the fighters ready?"

"Aye," Soul said, clenching his fists. The other man spat.

"Begin!"

Soul stepped forward, bouncing on his heels as he watched the older man move, the two circling each other. The sounds of the crowd died out and all Soul heard was a pounding in his ears. The opponent had a straight face, eyes tracking Soul's every move, and then there was a flash of movement.

His fist connected with Soul's shoulder, but that was better than his face. It hurt like hell, and packed power, but Soul took the chance and grabbed the man's arm, tugging him forwards and rammed his shoulder into the man's chest. He heard a gasp and then felt a punch on his back followed by a knee to the stomach. Soul clenched his teeth at the impact, but moved his hands to the man's neck, pulling him over his back and slamming the man into the pad of the mat.

"God dammit," he heard the older man grumble, and Soul turned around swiftly, taking a few steps back so his opponent could stand up. "What? Too scared to kick someone who's down?"

"I like my fights fair," Soul countered, "something that you wouldn't understand from what I've heard, Spirit."

"Rumors are rumors, kid," the man spat, blood covering the front of his teeth, "back in my day, fights were done with bare knuckles in backyards."

"Back in your day you had to fight dirty to win because you something to fight for," Soul smirked at the way Spirit's eye twitched, "from what I heard, you're an empty nester now. No wife. No kid. Sounds like you've got fighters rush to block that shit out."

"You white-haired, mother-,"

Spirit launched himself at Soul and the younger man dodged it, landing a good punch on Spirits ribs, but he ended up standing in a corner. Spirit turned around quickly and smirked, seeing the opportunity to trap the other fighter. Soul tighten his fists, taking a deep breath and trying hard not to wince at the pain that blossomed in his stomach.

As Spirit moved, Soul dodged, his face close to the edge of the ring. He tried to focus on Spirit, his fists and his moves, tried to study the way he fought, but a flash of green caught the corner of his eye and he looked away for a moment.

Green eyes.

That's all he remembered seeing before blacking out.

---

He woke up to a coolness on his eyes, someone touching his torso, and the sound of an angry girl.

When he cracked his eyes open, Soul saw green eyes framed by long, blonde lashes, and white teeth pinching an ace bandage. The girl blinked and he realized it was her hand that was on him because she moved it to push the fringe of bangs on her forehead back, and he missed the warmth.

"You've got a black eye, a split brow and lip, and some nasty bruises on your lower ribs, but you'll be fine," She said after removing the bandage from her mouth and pressing a bit of it to his brow, "I'm Maka by the way."

"Why are you even helping this punk, sweetheart," Soul heard the voice of Spirit as he closed his eyes, head pounding and stomach churning, "I'm sure Blake can fix him up just fine."

"Maybe because you're the asshole who knocked him out and I always have to clean up after you," the girl, Maka, spat back with venom, "God, is like you're trying to fuck everything up to get me back into your life, Papa. For once can't you just figure your own shit out? No wonder Mama left."

"E-excuse me?"

"Wait, did you just say Papa?" Soul grimace, voice raspy.

"Yeah, sadly," Maka huffed, peeling the bandage away as Soul opened his eyes again, "that's my dick of a dad who beat you up. But, you held your ground for a good bit until …," she trailed off and Soul watched her cheeks go pink.

"Until what?" He smirked, finally getting to look her up and down.

"Hey, watch where you're looking," she hissed, slapping him in the ribs with the back of hand, making him hiss in pain, "I'm not sorry about that."

She stood up, tossing the ace bandage into a small messenger bag by her feet. She glanced over to her dad before leaning down to gather the bag and hoist it onto her shoulder. Her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, a few tendrils framing her face and a fringe of bangs. Her eyes were green, but they looked dark from the distance even though Soul has seen flecks of blue around her iris when she was closer to him. He noted she had long, fit legs and her arms seemed to be tight with muscle, but he snapped his eyes back to her face after her words repeated in his head.

"I'm getting a drink," she huffed, rolling her eyes and she spun on a heel, "try not to beat each other up again, I'm a history student, not med."

She disappeared from the locker room, the door slamming behind her.

Soul touched the ice pack he assumed she had place on his head, and sat up on the bench, his muscles pulling and begging him to lay back down. Spirit was across the room, leaning on the rusty, old lockers. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt now, but Soul could tell he had left some bruises on the man by the way Spirit pushed off the lockers and winced.

"You, ah, put up a pretty good fight out there," Soul offered, trying to ease the tension in the room, "I know I said some shit out there in the ring, and I want to apologize. It was unprofessional and -,"

"This is fighting," Spirit cut him off, "not an office job. There's no such thing as unprofessional."

"Right, got it," Soul swallowed hard, fingers dancing atop the ice pack in his hand.

"Listen kid," Spirit walked over toward Soul and took a seat next to him on the bench, "I may have been out of the ring for a while, but I still know what I'm doing. You've got some good fight in you, some good moves. Reminds me a bit of myself when I first got into the scene."

"Really?"

Spirit hummed and fished into his pocket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, took a big puff, and blew the smoke from his nose. He was quiet for a moment.

"It was true what you said in the ring though," he said, eyes going distant, "my wife and daughter hate me because of what I do, where I go at night. My wife left me and Maka … I can tell she's getting there. I'm only telling you this because you're a lot like me when I was younger. I've seen you fight, I've been watching you for a while. When word got out that were was a new guy, someone following in my footsteps, I needed to met him and put him in place."

Soul was quiet, the ice pack now beginning to numb his palm.

"Not to be rude," Soul said, "but you don't know me. We're different, you and I. I didn't start fighting because I had a family to support. I started for myself and I fight for myself. I don't have, and won't have, what you did."

"That's what you think," Spirit huffed, putting his cigarette out on the bench before he stood, "If you're going down this path, do it right. If you're gonna be following after me, than I want a good-ass trainee."

Soul's eyes widened as he looked up to Spirit who stood there, hands in pockets, eyes hard.

"You're pulling out after just coming back?"

"I'm too old for this shit, and my daughter was right. I bring her my bullshit all the time. She always comes to my fights, cleans me up after, swears me out, and then ignores me until the next time I need help. I can't keep doing that to her, not when she's about to start her own life."

Spirit made his way towards the door of the locker room. He stopped before leaving.

"I'm leaving my number with Blake. I expect to hear from you by the end of the week if you want to train. But, my first advice for you, don't apologize for anything that happened in the ring. That will just piss off your opponent more, and beef's outside of the ring can get bad."

---

The bar was usually filled at two in the morning, but on a Tuesday night, Soul should have expected it to be empty. There were a few people, an older man passed out at one of the tables, a couple in the back making out, and Maka sitting at the bar, beer in hand, head thrown back as she laughed at something Blake had said.

Soul made his way over, Maka catching his eye, her own eyes narrowing suspiciously as he sat on the stool next to her. Blake had already filled a glass with beer and had it on the bar ready for him. Soul took a sip, the alcohol burning the cut on his lip.

"It was really stupid of you to say that stuff to my dad in the ring," Maka said suddenly, making Soul cock an eyebrow, "that shit really riles him up."

"That was the plan."

"For you to get your ass kicked?"

"If I remember, I was doing the ass kicking before you got involved."

"Oh, and how did I get involved, per say?"

Soul turned his body towards her a bit, taking her in again and he watched as her cheeks turned pink. Blake had left by this point, mumbled something about getting the last customer's out so he could close.

"Listen here, blondie," Soul said, leaning forward a little, "I appreciate you fixing me up, and I understand that you think your dad is a good fighter, whether you like him or not, and that I need to watch my mouth, but if you don't stop looking at me with those eyes, and getting pink in the face every time I so much as glance at you, something is gonna be done about it."

"I prefer it if my suitor's take me on at least two dates before they talk about ravishing me," Maka scoffed, rolling her eyes as she took another sip of her beer, "and if I recall correctly, it was you who froze up like a statue when you saw me."

"And you were the one who fixed me up up-close-and-personal. I believe I recall some wandering hands on my chest and stomach."

"To feel for broken bones," she hissed, her face blossoming in color again, "perv."

"Tiny-tits."

"Asshole!"

Soul smirked as Maka crossed her arms, her neck and chest now flush with either anger or embarrassment. Soul couldn't tell which, but he liked to color on her.

"Sorry," he chuckled, leaning back and holding his hands up in surrender, "it's too easy to tease you with your reaction. Let's go back to introductions because I think we started on the wrong foot. I'm Soul, twenty-four year old male. I love open-mics and long walks on the beach. My favorite kind of movies are rom-coms and I love puppies."

That got a snicker out of Maka and Soul wondered if he could make her laugh like he had seen her do with Blake.

"Maka. Twenty-one year old female. I love the night time and silent movies, but only if they are black-and-white. My favorite kind of books are cheesy romance and I love cats."

"Ouch," Soul said, putting his hand over his chest, "I thought you'd be more of a dog person."

"Don't think too much about me, Soul, I'm not what I seem."

"Mmm," Soul hummed, taking another sip of his beer, "and what if I want to think more about you?"

"Dear god," Maka rolled her eyes as she finished the last of her beer, "is this how you pick up girls?"

"Only one's named Maka."

"That's my cue to leave," she laughed, grabbing her bag from the other stool, "listen, I'm sorry my dad is an asshat and gave you a black eye. Even though you push my buttons, you seem like a cool guy."

"I am the epitome of cool, blondie."

"Alright, cool guy, than an acquaintanceship it is."

"Not even friends?" he smirked.

"I actually like my friends," she smirked back, "see you around Soul. Try not to get killed in those idiotic fights."

"Whatever you say," he watched as she left and wondered if this, two A.M. in a shitty bar after getting beat up by her dad, was the last time he would see Maka Albarn.

[rufousnmacska]

Goodbye and Hello - 5

Manon and Dorian said goodbye in Orynth. But for them, saying hello again is only a matter of time.

fanfic master list (includes the link to my fics on AO3)

Previous chapters:

Part One: I Wish…

Part Two: Another Day

Part Three: Those Two Words

Part Four: Breakfast in Bed

Part Five: Waiting

Squeezed up against the wall, Dorian tried to get out of the way as the rukhin poured from the dining hall. Breakfast was the one meal he and Manon did not join them for, and it was the one meal for which they filled the hall, eating as a single, enormous group.

Some of the larger wyverns were going to attempt the crossing today and the air was thick with excitement. The chosen riders came out last, beaming with pride as they strode by him. Each one gave him a solemn nod in greeting.

After the hall emptied, Dorian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying not to think about how little time they had left here. He would be leaving the day after tomorrow. Manon as well, depending on how things went today.

After her first inspection of the young wyverns and meetings with the squad leaders selected by Orghana, Manon planned the week out in detail: training runs through the mountains, flight formations, lessons in hand-to-hand aerial combat. Until today, those flights had been easy, incremental steps to strengthen not just the mounts, but their new riders. No one expected that a handful of wyverns would be advanced enough to go up against the deadly currents of the Ferian Gap.

Privately, Manon had confessed her doubts to him. She’d known the rukhin were disciplined and excellent flyers. What she didn’t know was just how quickly wyverns could develop. Abraxos came to her as a full grown adult. In some regards, she was as inexperienced with this as the rukhin.

Though she shared the aerie’s excitement, he felt the tang of nerves emanating from her while they ate this morning. The crossing was dangerous, even with the precautions they were putting in place. Sentinels on ruks and the smaller wyverns would be positioned at intervals along the descent and near the valley floor, ready to assist if anyone needed help. Prudent planning, but no guarantee it would prevent tragedy.

He was just about to go back and check on Manon when she came around the corner.

“You take forever getting ready,” he teased as she stopped to fasten a few straps on her flight leathers.

She smirked. “If I’d taken a bath with you in the room, we’d both still be there.”

He took her fur-lined cloak, draping it over his arm while she adjusted her sword. “That’s probably true,” he admitted with a grin. “You know me so well.”

“I assume you will be joining us then?”

During the days, while she worked with Orghana and the riders, Dorian spent his time meeting with various small groups. Not everyone who moved here from the Tavan Mountains wanted to be part of the aerial legion. Along with the riders came their spouses and families, including, to everyone’s enjoyment, a clan storyteller who’d accompanied her daughter.

There were caretakers to look after the ruks and wyverns, as well as the people. Yisu, an engineer who'd relocated with her young family, was working to improve the water system inside the Omega while her wife Naran tended some of the livestock. Several teachers had made the trip, ensuring the children would continue their studies.

Then there was Qara, the head cook. After proclaiming “The witch needs more meat on her bones,” the tiny, old woman helped Dorian prepare breakfast each morning. The hot, spiced chocolate drink she made for them was currently Manon’s most favorite thing in the world. When she had told Qara that - not necessarily in those words - the woman grinned from ear to ear, shoved a few pastries into their hands, and turned back to her giant stove.

Dorian met one family of weavers who ventured north in search of new sources of wool for their rugs, as well as new buyers. “No middleman this way,” they’d reasoned. With other craftspeople making their homes here - a blacksmith, tanner, potter - the place was practically self-sufficient.

But he never got the impression that they wanted to be closed off in any way. When he’d brought up the possibility of opening the ranks up to Adarlanians, the rukhin were welcoming.

Despite his daily activities, he was surprised by Manon’s question. Everyone would be out for at least part of the event. It was odd that she didn’t expect it of him.

“I am. In fact, I thought I’d help out. You can use another full grown wyvern in the air, in case anything goes wrong.”

Manon looked up at him. Fear lined her eyes and she opened her mouth to say something, but a deep voice echoed down the hallway.

“Wing leader. May I have a moment?”

Dorian turned to see one of the older riders jogging towards them. Erden wasn’t old exactly. No gray salted his hair, but he had a ruggedly handsome face that only came with age. When he reached them, he stared with open admiration at Manon, completely oblivious to Dorian’s presence.

“Is there something you need?” Dorian asked, not masking his annoyance at the interruption.

Erden looked over, his dark eyebrows raised in what could only be surprise. The man truly hadn’t seen him. Dorian almost laughed.

Addressing Manon, Erden said, “Yes, well, I have some questions about the crossing.”

With a clear expression of dismissal, Manon said, “I’ll be right there.”

Erden didn’t need to be told twice. He gave her a sharp bow, ignored Dorian, and returned the way he had come.

Dorian watched him go, not noticing when Manon took her cloak back and swung it over her shoulders.

“Jealous, princeling?”

Turning back, he found her smirking again, all the tension of a moment ago gone. “How can I not be? Half of them are in love with you. And the other half are in love with you.”

The riders all seemed to worship her, looking at Manon as if she was a warrior goddess sent from above. Which, she was, he happily admitted. Beautiful, clever, lethal, immortal. He really couldn’t blame them.

Manon shook her head and started down the hall. When he caught up to her, she said, “You should stay above, on the platform. Orghana will be below with me, so we’ll have plenty of help along the descent.”

Dorian wanted to protest, but he didn’t, telling himself this was her area of expertise. Even though it was a bullshit excuse. And she wouldn’t look at him. Neither said anything more as they made their way outside.

On the platform, Manon stopped to speak to the riders who’d be undertaking the crossing, giving last minute warnings and answering questions. While everyone else would fly across the valley, they would go on foot, taking the narrow bridge that linked the Omega and the Northern Fang. Someone had suggested it to make things more ceremonial, as if the crossing needed more drama.

When everyone dispersed, Manon hopped onto Abraxos and twisted around, an expectant look on her face. For some reason he couldn’t explain, part of him thought she’d just leave him here. But instead, she waited to fly him over to the Northern Fang.

Settling in behind her, Dorian pulled her to his chest. Where his hands rested against her waist, she laced her fingers into them with a vise-like grip. The fear was back. But, he couldn’t see it this time. He felt it. As if his magic was constantly reaching towards her, reading her emotions.

Her reticence to let him take part had nothing to do with his lack of knowledge or flying experience. It had everything to do with the fact that people could die today. It wouldn’t matter that the riders were pulled from a group of volunteers. If things went badly today, she would hold herself responsible. Just as she did with her coven.

“I’ll stay above. Safe and out of the way,” he said.

Her body relaxed at his words. “Thank you.”

And with that, Abraxos leapt into the air.

***

Cheers echoed between the peaks of the gap as the final wyvern swooped up sharply and flew high into the sky. Every crossing had been a success. As the sentinels took off to join their fellow riders for the celebration awaiting them, Manon stayed behind, guiding Abraxos to land on a rocky slope nearby. Her celebration was letting herself breathe normally for the first time all day.

With her eyes closed, she sat and listened to the wind coursing through the pass, concentrating on the rise and fall of Abraxos’s chest.  

As nervous as she had been today, he’d been distant, lifeless. Her wyvern had his own memories of this place to overcome, something she’d considered before leaving the Wastes. Their arrival had been so happy and he’d been so well taken care of, she thought he was fine.

But today was different. Abraxos had conquered the crossing to the sound of her Thirteen and others cheering him on, to the beating wings of his fellow chained wyverns. None of them were here anymore. Narene wasn’t here.

Before her mind could replay memories she didn’t want to see, and before anyone came looking for her, she tugged on the reins. Two flaps of his spider silk wings had them rising into the chilly air.

As he flew up to the Omega, Manon leaned forward and ran her hand over his neck. The wounds he’d received in Orynth had healed to silvery stripes, brighter than the old scars that criss-crossed his body. Now, they shined red in the sunset, rippling with the movement of his muscles, a sickening reminder of how close she’d come to losing him.

Abraxos landed on the edge of the platform, jolting her back to the present. The raucous laughter and smiling faces pierced through her dark mood like a beacon. As she dismounted, she was pulled into the mass of people, and to her surprise, she didn’t flinch away from the contact.

Manon thought back to when she and Abraxos had survived that first flight across the gap. Despite the cheers that sent them over the ledge, despite her undiluted joy at his victory, their post-crossing celebration had been... nothing. Brief applause, most of it mocking, then another dinner of bland mush in the dining hall. Another emotionless performance in the hopes of not attracting her grandmother’s attention.

This, though. The excitement and camaraderie of these humans was infectious. It became clear to her in that moment just how lacking the lives of the Ironteeth were. How lacking her life had been.

Witches were not and never would be human. But as she watched the rukhin laugh and tease each other, embrace and kiss, she thought it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if witches adopted a few human traits.

A sudden wish to have her Thirteen by her side and watch their reactions to this happy chaos hit her like a crushing weight. She staggered backwards, away from the crowd as they began to move into the entrance hall.

A warm presence steadied her with a hand on her back. “Are you okay?” Dorian dipped his head to look into her eyes.

Manon didn’t know what he saw there, but she could see the worry in his. With a quick shake of her head, she said, “It’s been a stressful day.” Not a lie but not the whole truth. He knew it, she could tell, but he didn’t prod for more.

Dorian waited for her to say something and she looked backwards to Abraxos. Her wyvern was waiting too, staring off into the distance.

Another memory came to her, unbidden, but more welcome than most.

Abraxos’s first day outside. Unchained, free to walk wherever he chose, free to roll around in a field of wildflowers. He’d never seen the sky before that day. Never felt the wind against his wings. And while she’d railed against his decidedly unbeastly behavior, cursing and looking around to make sure no one witnessed it, inside, her heart had been breaking for the pain he’d endured. For the pleasure he found in peacefully smelling flowers that he’d never known existed.

Facing Dorian again, she said, “I need to see to Abraxos.”

As she turned away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “You didn’t answer me. Are you okay?” He spoke low so no one else overheard, but there was a hard edge to his voice, a quickening of his pulse. “I care about you, Manon. I...” He trailed off and shook his head. “I’m worried about you.”

“Today has been difficult for him,” she said, still not answering his question. “I want to be the one to stable him tonight. I’ll be back soon.”

Dorian examined the wyvern, his eyes softening in recognition of whatever emotion he saw in Abraxos’s face. She waited for another round of questions, but none came. He kissed her forehead, lingering for a long moment before he released her hand and walked away.

Once he disappeared into the crowd, she returned to Abraxos and led him into a smaller cave entrance set apart from the main hall. The other wyverns were kept in the Northern Fang, their cages large, clean, and warm. The ruks, used to being exposed to all sorts of weather, preferred their nests perched high on the cliffs above the Omega’s platform.

This little cavern, while not made exclusively for Abraxos, was refitted to accommodate him. It seemed his reputation as an alpha warrior had preceded him here, so he was treated accordingly.

Torches lit the entry and lined the curving passage that led back to his quarters. Abraxos lumbered past a freshly butchered goat and curled up on the hay bedding piled high against the back wall of the cave.

Manon knew exactly how he felt, but she refused to leave without trying to get him to eat. Not bothering with her knife, she sliced through the goat with her nails, separating a leg.

“You can sleep as soon as you eat something,” she said, putting the meat right in front of his face. Big, black eyes shone in the torch light, staring back at her without emotion. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” she coaxed. Still no reply, no desire to eat. Sighing, she sat down and leaned against him.

Although she had her own rooms in the keep back home, she often spent part of her nights with him. His aerie was in a nearby tower that was half falling over. It was stable, but just barely. He’d refused to be put with the other wyverns, and the tower overlooked her windows. So even on the nights she didn’t visit him, they could still see each other.

Muffled footsteps sounded from the passage and Manon was surprised to see Orghana walk into the chamber.

“Everyone is asking for you at the aerie.”

The aerie. When she’d lived here, they just referred to it as the entrance hall. It still was the entrance hall in her mind, even after a week. She made a mental note to change that.

“Did the king send you?”

Orghana stroked Abraxos’s snout, eliciting a deep sigh, then sat down next to her. “No. But he did tell me where to find you.”

They sat for a while in comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft popping of the flames and Abraxos’s steady breathing. His eyes were closed, but Manon knew by the pattern of his breaths that he was only dozing.

“Why did you come here?” Manon asked. It was something she’d been wondering but never had the nerve to ask. With her impending departure, she let her curiosity got the better of her.

“The riders wanted me to bring you back.” With a hint of exasperation, she added, “I think Erden has it in his head to ask you to dance.”

Manon choked back a laugh.

Orghana sighed. “He is a very good flyer, but sometimes his eyesight is... lacking."

“I think it’s worse than lacking. He might be blind,” Manon said. They both burst out laughing.

Abraxos jerked awake and twisted his head around to glare at them.

“Sorry,” Orghana said. Seeing the uneaten meat, the captain pulled out her knife and sliced a piece from the bone. When she offered it to Abraxos, he took it without hesitation.

It was Manon’s turn to glare at him. “Spoiled worm,” she muttered, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto her face. Orghana fed him the meat, chunk by chunk, until it was gone. When he settled back down, Manon said, “Actually, I meant why did you come to Adarlan?”

The woman stiffened and Manon thought she might not answer. But Orghana said, “I came because Prince Sartaq asked me to.” After a long pause, she added, “And because my husband died two years ago and I wanted to start over somewhere new.

“He was a healer. Not like those at the Torre. He had no magic, just the usual gifts. Compassion. Intelligence. Because of his skill, he was often called to other aeries when they were in need. So when sickness spread through the Berlad aerie, he went immediately that morning.” Orghana smiled faintly. “He told me he’d be home by dinner, but we both knew it wouldn’t be that simple. It was a rare illness and the sick were already being isolated.”

Damn her nosiness. Manon wished she could go back in time and not ask the question. Glancing sideways at Orghana, she thought about offering her condolences and then changing the subject. It would be rude as hell, and she’d hate herself for it, but she didn’t think she had it in her to listen to more. Clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking, Manon willed Orghana not to continue.

But continue she did. “I received messages from him each day, full of reassurances. He was always so positive. It made him a good healer. The problem was that to a cynic like me, it could sometimes be annoying.” A small laugh escaped the woman’s lips. “He always said... “ She cleared her throat. With a deeper voice to imitate her husband, she went on speaking in Halha. For Manon, she translated: “You are the cloud to my sun. We are lucky the world needs both in order to have balance.”

As quickly as it had come, the levity in Orghana’s face faded. “When two days went by without a message, I knew.”  

Silence returned and Manon didn’t know what to say.

“There were stories that came back to our mountains from the war. I heard of the sacrifice made by your hearth-sisters,” Orghana said quietly, then shook her head in frustration. “No, that’s not the right word. Your coven?”

The world dropped out from under her and Manon felt like she was floating and falling at the same time. Squeezing her eyes shut tight in the hopes of steadying herself, all she saw was white. That white light of their yielding.

Whenever the scene played in her mind, there was always a kernel of awe in her heart. There had never been a witch who yielded anything other than darkness. For that was the source of the power, the Darkness. 

Somehow though, the Darkness, or perhaps their Three-Faced Goddess, had gifted her coven with light. Not only a power used to kill, but to save. The light from their twelve souls had saved the city, their armies, the world.

What had Orghana called them? Hearth-sisters?

In some ways, that was a better word than coven. Witches often referred to each other as sister or cousin, regardless of any actual familial connection. But the words were meant to declare their clan allegiance, their common origins and otherness from humans and fae.

The bond she shared with the Thirteen was that of true sisters. A bond woven into their very souls. From now until the Darkness claims us.

Orghana reached over and grasped Manon’s hand. “My heart cries for your loss.”

With those words and that touch, Manon felt a release in her chest and heard herself begin to speak. “I’m always looking for them, waiting for them. As if they will return at any moment, coming back from scouting or training. Every day I wait. And they never come.” A tear slid down her cheek but she didn’t bother to wipe it away. “All of my life, I had them with me. Even when we were sent off on different missions, it was never long before we’d be together.” Looking at Orghana, Manon said, “I have no one left who shared my life. No one who shares my memories.”

The woman squeezed her hand but said nothing. Manon blinked, then brushed her face on her cloak. “I must sound mad,” she offered in apology.

With a sad smile, Orghana said, “You are not mad. It took months for me to stop looking for Oktai to walk through our door. You lost an entire family, Manon. I cannot imagine your pain.”

“Does it ever change?”

Everyone kept telling her it would get better, that time would heal her broken heart. She’d seen it happen to some of the witches who lost loved ones in the war. They mourned, but eventually, moved on.

Objectively, she understood it was possible. Even she’d had moments when the grief no longer felt all consuming. More often than not, she felt stuck, mired in this heavy sorrow that she could only break free of for short bursts of time.

This week, with Dorian and Orghana and all the rukhin, with the wyverns and the routine… It had felt like she could see more clearly, breathe more deeply, move more freely. But today had flooded her with reminders of the things she’d been able to temporarily forget, and she was being dragged back under.

“It has changed for me,” Orghana said. “Things that started as distractions became more real, more meaningful. They became things that I looked forward to. New people entered my life. Not to replace, but to… expand.” She waved a hand. “I’m not sure of the words. I should teach you Halha. We have better words.”

Manon sniffed, the edge of her mouth turning up into a hint of a smile. “Your words are fine. But you’re right. I should learn your language.”

In full captain mode, Orghana nodded in approval, looking like she was already planning the lessons in her head. After a pause, she asked, “Do witches have an afterlife?”

"Yes.”

“And do you believe you will see them there one day?”

“Yes.”

“Even after two years, I still have hard days. They are fewer now. But on those hard days, I remind myself that Oktai is waiting for me.” Orghana smiled and let go of Manon’s hand with a soft, reassuring pat. “He loved listening to peoples’ stories. So I made a vow to bring as many with me as I could. I suppose that is the real reason I came here. Not to run from the past. But to make a future that I can one day share with him.”

Manon heard Asterin’s last words to her. Live, Manon.

She hadn’t done it, not really. She’d survived. So many days were devoted to just that one thing - survival. And most of the time she’d only barely managed it. Shame welled up inside as she admitted to herself just how badly she’d failed at that final request. Failed not just Asterin and the rest of the Thirteen, but her people. And herself.

“One of my sisters” - Manon tried the word with its new meaning - “liked collecting stories. Her room was always filled with books.” She smiled, thinking of how testy Ghislaine got when anyone interrupted her reading.

Orghana spoke a word in Halha, then said, “Your first lesson. That means story keeper. They preserve our histories and tales and are respected across all the clans.” With a nod in the direction of the aerie, she added, “I’m sure Jullian will be performing tonight. Do witches have such a thing?”

Manon was embarrassed to say no. Ghislaine was truly unique among the Ironteeth. Crochans, however, did have elders who were renowned for their storytelling, though they weren’t given official titles.

As with Orghana’s empathetic touch, her question triggered something in Manon. She began telling this women she’d only known for a few days some of her stories. Terrible stories of battle, mundane stories of everyday life as a witch, even a couple that were humorous. Her early, messy attempts to hunt goats for Abraxos received quite the laugh.

Most weren’t her stories so much as they were the Thirteen’s.

Vesta’s ability to make anyone feel at ease. Sorrel’s quiet, steady wisdom that was always offered at just the right time. The demon twins’ trouble-making that first earned them their nickname. Lin and Imogen’s protectiveness of everyone in the coven. Ghislaine’s lectures on everything from history to wyvern care.

She spoke about how she’d never learned the secret of the shadows’ ability to sneak up on her undetected. And how she’d always watched Thea and Kaya, curious to know what made them look at each other the way they did.

In speaking it, she thought of Dorian, and realized that was no longer something she wondered about.

Manon saved Asterin for last. She didn’t tell Orghana all of her second’s story, just enough to convey what Asterin meant to her. How much she loved and missed her. And how Asterin had changed her life. For the better.

When Manon was done talking, Orghana said, “Thank you for telling me about them. For the rukhin, sharing stories like that is a way to honor your loved ones. It keeps them alive and with you.”

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Manon said. “I’d like to hear more about him sometime.”

Stretching her arms high over her head, Orghana groaned as her back cracked. “I would like that too. But I am hungry. And the others will be looking for us.” She stood and offered a hand. Manon took it and was pulled up.

Abraxos slept soundly, but Manon still went over to say goodnight to him, rubbing the spot between his eyes. There would be plenty of difficult days waiting for them. Borrowing Orghana’s outlook, if she stayed on her current path, she would end up face to face with a pissed off Asterin in the afterlife. Manon truly didn’t want to let that happen.

Leaning down to Abraxos, she whispered a promise to him, to her sisters, and to herself. “From now until the Darkness claims us, we are going to live.”

They started out of the cave. With perfect innocence, Orghana said, “Perhaps it would be nice to also tell your stories to the king. Then you will have more people who share your memories.”

Manon stopped and shook her head. “You’re not as subtle as you think, Captain.”

The woman shrugged. “I’m not familiar with that word. Sut-tell?” Continuing on her way, she called back, “Let’s go, Your Majesty. I’ll distract Erden so you can find your king.”

***

Altai slapped Dorian on the back as the small group surrounding him laughed. Although he’d had lessons in Halha and spoke it rather well, he wasn’t fluent. And he certainly wasn’t fluent in the more colloquial aspects of the language.

He’d learned that the hard way, when Altai had taught him an expression he unwittingly repeated to Qara. To his relief, she immediately turned to Altai, her grandson, and cuffed him on the side of the head instead of Dorian. The young man was now regaling his friends with the tale.

He was smiling and laughing with the rest, but Dorian wasn’t really paying attention. Manon still hadn’t returned.

Where this anxiety was coming from, he didn’t know. He just wanted to see her, to know she was alright. When Orghana had asked after her and then left, something in the woman’s eyes had calmed him enough to keep him from following.

As it became clear that Altai wasn’t going to give them the real ending, Dorian took the opportunity to go into great detail about the phrases Qara unleashed upon her grandson for fooling the king. With the group now focused on teasing Altai, Dorian stepped back and found a quiet spot away from the crowd.

From his seat along the cavern wall, he watched the flames of the bonfire rise high above the edge of the pit.

Until this morning, he thought he’d been making progress in helping Manon. It took some time, but he’d gotten her to talk about her life in the Wastes - Glennis and the other witches, their struggles this past winter, their plans for the coming year.

One topic never came up.

More like twelve, he thought with a sharp punch of his own grief. The twelve witches he’d considered friends were part of his daily thoughts, and not always in relation to Manon.

They hadn’t been mentioned this week and he never asked, choosing to wait and let her decide when she was ready to talk.

Her expression from that first morning sprang into his mind. After finding her afraid and shaken, Dorian had made sure to wake her each morning before he left to get their breakfast. It hadn’t happened again, and he’d convinced himself it was nothing more than a nightmare. Waking from a bad dream in a new place would cause anyone to react that way. Deep down, he knew there was more to it. But beyond mourning the Thirteen, he had no idea what it even was.

Music began to play and several women stepped down into the pit, drawing everyone’s attention as they started to sing. People gathered closer to the fire, some sitting on the floor and benches, others beginning to dance. Dorian stayed where he was, staring at the dark, cloudless sky outside the aerie. Waiting.

Looking back on this week, back to their goodbye in Orynth, and even further back to that last night together in their tent, he began to see something taking shape. Each puzzle piece was a mistake made. Some were obvious, things he should have noticed at the time. Others were harder to make out, only visible with hindsight, after the puzzle was half done.

Dropping his head into his hands, Dorian scrubbed his fingers through his hair. When he sat back up, Manon was standing in front of him.

“Hello princeling.”

He jumped up, standing so close he had to bend a little to see into her eyes. “Hello witchling.”

The red lining her eyes told him she’d been crying. Seconds ago, he convinced himself that they could no longer ignore whatever walls were standing between them. Her tear-streaked cheeks were the push he needed to say something.

But she was smiling at him. And it was so easy to ignore the walls and the puzzles. What with the music sounding through the aerie, and the light of the fire dancing across her hair, and her smile…

Manon reached up and ran her fingers lightly through his hair, rearranging what he’d just messed up. “I believe our official duties here are done. So, I propose that we spend tomorrow together. Just us. And Abraxos. There’s a meadow on the other side of the gap that I think he’d enjoy seeing again.”  

Before he could reply, and, as if she’d just been reading his mind, Manon added, “I think I’m ready to talk. About them. If you’re willing to listen,”

“Of course,” he said, trying to hide his relief. “Anything you want.”

“In that case…” She bit her lip and glanced behind them. In a shy voice he’d never heard from her, she asked, “Would you dance with me?”

It was the absolute last thing he expected her to say, and he had no way to stop the grin that spread across his face. A grin she mirrored, if to a lesser degree.

“I was just about to ask you that,” he said.

Turning back to the gathering once more, Manon confessed, “I don’t know how. I’ve never danced before.”

The tempo of the music had quickened and the women who’d been singing were now part of small circles of dancers. Everyone joined in, belting out lyrics here and there.

“I’m not familiar with this style of dancing actually,” Dorian said, leaning down to speak into her ear over the loud chorus and clapping. She arched an eyebrow in teasing disbelief. Once, he’d mentioned the dance lessons he suffered through as a boy, overly harsh punishments for very minor rule-breaking. “Sadly, my instructor never strayed from traditional Erilean dances.”

They were already apart from the crowd, but Dorian took her hand and gently led her back into the shadows. Positioning her arm around his waist, he pulled her in close against his chest and cradled her hand between them. They began to move, swaying back and forth.

“How about this, witchling? We’ll start off slow and work our way up to the more advanced steps over time.”

Her reply was the soft, faint smile he loved most. The one she never realized she was making.

As Manon melted against him, Dorian rested his chin on her shoulder and began to turn them in a slow circle. They were hopelessly out of sync with the music, but they ignored it, keeping time with their heartbeats instead.

  To be continued...

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[gothamincarnate]

“This sounds like a dirge.” Lex stared at the shimmering cowboy boot disco ball above and sighed. Clark was next to him, smirking like a cat in the cream. A dozen pairs of various styles and ages of cowboy boots, broken up by Clark's treaded work boots and Lex's too-shiny patent leathers.

The music might have well have been a dirge for Lex's last shred of self-respect. Line dancing-- if only Lionel could see him now.

Clark just shook his head in response, laughing. The music became much more classically country, some stringed thing that Lex couldn't place. “We just stand here?” Lex asked, feeling a little awkward at the anticipation everyone else in line was feeling. Clark nodded, thumbs in his belt buckle like everyone else. Lex, lacking a dinner-plate of his own, decided to just keep his hands at his sides and preserve a little of his dignity.

“Alright, now.” All at once, a loud snap of boots on wood as everyone started the dance. Lex got hold of the clapping first, then stared at Clark in bewilderment. “Here, like this.” Clark heeled his boots a few times, then crossed one heel over the other ankle and back. Another loud snap as everyone rocked on their feet and turned clockwise.

Across the way, a grey-haired old cowboy-grandpa type was teaching his granddaughter to two-step while a teenaged redneck was trying to teach a very patient date how to enjoy such a strange little ritual as a group dance. A young man walked up to an adult who was struggling but trying his best, and broke down the steps for him. There wasn't some hierarchy here, everyone was learning from everyone regardless of age or status.

It brought to mind that scene on the Titanic: the rich swirling away in fancy dress and couple dances. Isolated and restrained, stiff and memorized. The poor below deck were hooting and hollering and dancing as a whole unit. But despite the division, Lex still didn't feel as if he didn't fit in here. Sure, there were odd looks and some laughing at his expense, but just the same there were faceless strangers in the smoky bar cheering him on by name. No doubt some factory workers excited to see their boss try to dance.

The singing started, barely audible from the worn speakers. Lex commented, and Clark smirked, started singing it for him in a gravely, dramatic fashion. (Clark was many things: a country singer was not one of them)

“Ya hardly ever saw granddaddy down here. They only come to town 'bout twice a year. Buy a hundred pounds of yeast and some copper line. Everybody knew that he made moonshine.”

Of course the song was about moonshine.

“Headed up the holler with everything he had. Fore my time, well I've been told: Ya never come back from Copperhead Road!” The last verse was drowned out by everyone else in the room shouting out the bridge in various drunken slurs and cheers.

That classically Southern twang that Clark would get when he was excited about something. It certainty didn't improve his singing, but it made it more  fun to listen to, to hear Clark let loose. Clark's body relaxed into the rhythm as well. Lean and long, leaned back as he danced.  He was practically flinging his whole body into the stomps and clicks of his boots. This, more than the city or some remnants of Krypton, was his community and home.

The second verse began-- a whole group stomping and clapping. It was nothing like learning to dance in formal classes with barres and self-critical reflections everywhere. There were no old women with tired faces and papery hands lecturing him to straighten his spine. Here, things were taught free of charge and mistakes were part of the fun. (It helped that pretty much everyone was drunk) The form wasn't nearly as important as the flow, moving in sync and letting go.

Then mid verse the song cut out for a moment leaving only a loud chorus of boots and: “FUCK THE ARMY! FUCK THE ARMY!” They draft the white trash first 'round here anyway. The song started up again. The whole bar had just erupted in a small anarchist rally for a few seconds and Lex blinked in shock as Clark joined in too. He laughed, not breaking the dance as he explained. “Moonshiners were told to join the army or else go to jail.”

The dance continued.

Less a ritual, more a celebration. Clark whooped as Lex finally got the rhythm down and a few others in line clapped for him-- embarrassing as it was strangely encouraging, to get encouragement from strangers. He felt himself loosen up a bit more. Fall into Clark's world some more.

The song picked up speed, the whole unit stomping their feet. Lex was out of breath, not from exhaustion but from wearing himself out laughing and whooping with the rest. Clark was watching him, smile bright in the dim dive bar. Lex followed suit, smiling and clapping in time. Here he wasn't Lex Luthor. He was just some newcomer learning to line dance. (and doing a damn good job of it, by his own limited account)

The music was a little trancelike, the steady rhythm and the sync of boots stomping. It was this strange sense of unity and isolation all at once. Lost in the sway with everyone else, but contributing to the general mood. As the song picked up, a few who were lingering on the edges of the dance floor finally made their way onto the floor and the line spread a bit to make room for them.

A very drunk man attempted to freestyle during an instrumental and tripped. A few others ran to help him, just as the song ended. There was laughter and some boots tapping even as the strange dirge-like sound died down.

And then it was over, the crowd dispersing and chatting as a non-line dancing song played, something about watermelon that Clark was half moving his feet to as he spoke with Lex. They leaned against the banister at the edge of the dance floor, taking a break as the song played.

“Not so bad, was it?”

“I heard a few familiar voices cheering me on. No doubt my reputation as a CEO is in the tank.”

“It's not every day you get to see your boss boot-scoot.” Clark laughed and shouldered Lex. Lex shoved back gently.

“Boot scoot?” Lex asked, and Clark scuffed his boots on the floor to illustrate.

An elderly man dropped to his knees and started crawling on the floor and Lex looked on in horror while Clark sighed in a mix of humor and embarrassment. “That's Dan, he gets really into it. Song's called Watermelon Crawl-- that's, well, the watermelon crawl.” Lex looked more horrified and Clark held up his hands. “We don't expect you to do anything like that. Hell, I don't. It's just something Dan does. He goes to contests in other parts of Kansas and stuff. Taught me when I was a kid. He gets real into it.”

“Hard to believe the Kents letting you out of their sight as a kid. Much less dancing.”

Clark sipped his drink, watching Dan apparently do his damndest to get stepped on. “Learning how to dance was a great way to control my strength, and if I stepped through the floor a few times it was just 'cause it was old rotten boards.”

“Did you?” Lex raised a brow.

“Step through the floor? Yeah.” He pointed to a patch of old but still visibly newer wood. “Good thing about small towns, I guess. No one asks too many questions unless you’re an outsider.” Lex raised his glass in a small salute to that.

“Unless you're an outsider, then they never trust you.”

Clark bit his cheek. “Small town folk, especially in the country, have always gotten the shit end of the stick from anyone from the big city. It's a little community, then the army or some man trying to mine the land for oil or manure.” He pressed his lips together. “I know you're different, but we've been hurt so many times. It's just hard for everyone.”

“Like your father.”

“Yeah, like Pa.” The song must have been coming to a close, because Clark set his empty glass back down on the table on the other side of the banister. He held out his hand for Lex, inviting him to join in the next song. “Dunno what the next song is, but you up for another round if it’s not too tricky?”

“It was hardly that complicated.” He regretted it just as he spoke, because a twanging guitar and too-nasally voice started up and, ah, this song he did know even without the lyrics audible. “Cotton Eyed Joe, really?”

“It's a valid country song, Lex.” Clark laughed and pulled Lex into the middle of the dance floor where others were forming a series of three clusters. Clark took his hands. “Ok, there’s actually a few different versions but I’ll teach you the one that’s easier.”

“If a bunch of country bumpkins can learn it, I'm sure it can't be that hard.” Lex laughed, then frowned as Clark sighed. Too far with the jokes, okay. “I'm sorry.” He squeezed Clark's shoulder.

“These people are just trying their best, Lex. You know that, you employ a lot of them. The schools round here might suck, but that ain't their fault. Going back to that whole thing with big cities screwing us over. Who do you think draws up the lines and funds the schools in richer areas?” That twang got a bit heavier. “We aren't that stupid, Lex.” The we was deliberate, a reminder that for as Metropolis as Clark was, his roots and his family were still heartland small town.

“Yeah, I get it.” Lex frowed a bit at the reminder, of how much of an outsider he was and how much of small town life he still didn’t understand. The history he just didn’t get and probably wouldn’t.

There were three very different variations of dance going on-- apparently Cotton Eyed Joe had a lot of variations to it. “This looks complicated.” He shrugged and admitted his earlier mistake.

“Cotton Eyed Joe's really popular, there's a lot of variations.” Clarks' smile was back and he linked arms with Lex, showing him how to do the version he'd learned as a kid: three people in a line, dancing back and forth with a series of small hops. The stranger next to Clark passed off his cowboy hat, and Clark smirked and plopped it on Lex's head. A few cheers from some dark corner of the bar where no doubt those same employees were enjoying the sight of the infamously bald Luthor in a white straw Stetson.

[stanananathon]

reddie proposal

Let’s make one thing clear: Eddie knew exactly what was going on. He knew Richie was planning on proposing from the second the idea popped into the lanky boy’s head—literally.

Richie was a terrible liar—especially to Eddie—so when they were having a quiet night in Eddie’s childhood bedroom and Richie suddenly gasped (and tried to hide it as a cough) Eddie knew exactly what was going on.

They were on one of their annual visits to Derry to keep Mrs. Kaspbrak at bay. It was the end of the night and the two adult men were cuddled up in Eddie’s old twin bed. They had been reminiscing on the “good ol’ days” and Eddie had brought up their first date.

They were fifteen and had no idea what they were doing, so the best thing they could think of was to watch a movie at the Aladdin. Richie had reached across the armrest to link his fingers with Eddie’s, who had glanced over to see Richie watching the movie as if nothing had happened, but Eddie could see the blush coating his cheeks. He had just smiled and squeezed Richie’s hand as he drew his attention back to the movie.

Richie and Eddie talked about how long ago that was how long they’d been together. Ten years, Eds. Who knew you’d stick with me this long? Then Richie had gasped, started coughing, and Eddie could already see the cogs working in his head.

So the cogs started going in Eddie’s too.

He was not going to let Richie have this. He’d get way too emotional and start crying a sentence into his speech, which would make Eddie start crying, and then they’d just be one big mess.

Besides, Eddie knew that everyone would assume that Richie was the one to propose and Eddie doesn’t know who he is if he doesn’t try to challenge people’s assumptions of him.

So, he started planning his marriage proposal to Richie. He knew exactly how he was going to do it, too. After Richie and Eddie had moved to New York they decided to go on a date to celebrate. They went to a small ice cream shop they had no idea how they found, and then walked around the city until they stumbled upon a small park with a little bridge.

Eddie would take Richie to the ice cream shop and then propose on the bridge. Richie would cry and Eddie would pretend not to tear up and it’d be beautiful.

Except that is wasn’t. Well, that’s not true. It was beautiful, Eddie will admit, but it definitely did not go as planned. 

It was a Tuesday night when Eddie finally got the ring. He knew he couldn’t hide anything from Richie so that meant the proposal had to be that night. As he waited for Richie to get home from work, he admired the ring in his hands. It was a simple gold band with Eds engraved on the inside. He knew how special the nickname to Richie was, and it was long ago that Eddie admitted that he didn’t actually hate it. But he put it on the inner band so that it could be between them. Not everyone needed to know he secretly liked it. 

Eddie quickly pocketed it when he heard the key turn and looked up to see his gorgeous boyfriend tumble through the door.

“Baby, you will not believe what happened at work today. This old ass lady came into the shop asking about a specific classical record, so I told her where the classical section was, right?” Eddie nodded as Richie rambled through his story while he took off his shoes and jacket and made his way around the apartment until he ended up next to Eddie at their dining table. “And then, after spitting on my shoe, she just left.” Eddie chuckled at the story and took Richie’s hand in his. 

“Well, I think I know of something that might make you feel better.”

“Oh, yeah?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows and leaned toward Eddie.

“Not that!” Eddie giggled and pushed him away.

“How about we go get some Sylas and Maddie’s? I hear they’ve got some new flavors to try.” Richie perked up at that. 

“Yeah. Yeah!” Richie jumped up. “Let me just go change out of this shirt. It’s all, um, gross from--from work. Yeah. Be right back!” Eddie pursed his lips as Richie ran to their bedroom. Absolutely not. Richie was going to steal his idea! Well, then Eddie would just have to make sure to propose first. 

As they ate their ice cream Eddie tried not to let the wonderfulness of the evening get in the way of staying ahead of Richie. But it was just so nice. He felt eighteen again, going on their first date in a new city. Richie was just as excited as the first time they came to this shop, gazing at the ice cream flavors like a little kid, and eating like one too. Eddie had to hide his smile with a fake scowl when he saw the dollop of ice cream just chilling on Richie’s nose, to which Richie seemed to completely oblivious.

When they finished, Eddie suggested they go to the park. Richie clearly perked up at this, which only spurred Eddie’s determination. If he thought this was going to be his night, he was sorely mistaken.

Maybe Eddie was taking this competition a little too far.

Oh, well. He’s in too deep not to keep trying to win.

They decided to walk to the park as the weather was actually quite pleasant. The majority of the walk was spent in a comfortable silence, walking with their hands entwined. Every now and then Richie would point something out to Eddie and find a way to make a ridiculous enough comment to get a giggle out of him.

On the walk, Eddie went through his speech and his chest felt like it was filling up with a balloon. God, he loved Richie so much. They made it to the small bridge, and Eddie, lost in the feeling, gave them a moment to relish in it.

Well, that was a mistake. He didn’t factor in Richie’s impatience, and after a heartbeat, Richie cleared his throat and turned toward Eddie.

“Um, Eds. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something for a while.”

Eddie stiffened at once. How could he have slipped up?

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, Eds. In these past years—“

“Oh, no! You are not doing this!” Eddie cut Richie off. Richie stared at Eddie with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“Eds—“

“No! You asked me out, and you asked me to move in with you. I get this! This is mine!” Still baffled, Richie tried to stutter his way through a sentence, but Eddie, already on a roll, aggressively dropped to one knee. He wrestled the ring box out of his pocket and thrust it at Richie.

“Richard Tozier, marry me.” He blurted out. But then he stopped.

“Wait wait, no that’s not how I wanted this to go, dammit.” Eddie looked down for a second, trying to remember his speech but his mind was blanking in his flurry.

“Eddie.” Eddie’s head shot up to see a grinning Richie with watery eyes. “Are you telling me to marry me?” He joked. Eddie laughed at that. The tension settled.

“No, damn.” He smiled. “I’m asking. I am. Richie, we’ve been together for the past ten years. When we were thirteen, I never thought I’d end up making out with you in your bedroom, but two years later, I did. Then I couldn’t imagine myself with anyone else. I act like you annoy me, but we both know I don’t mean it. I love you so much. You make me a better person, and I never want to be apart from you. So, because I knew you were trying to do this and I wanted to be the one to do it, and also because I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything ever, will you marry me?”

Tears were officially streaming down Richie’s cheeks as he laughed and lifted Eddie off of his feet, twirling him in the air. 

“Yes, of course, you competitive dumbass.” Richie set Eddie on his feet and kissed him so hard his head spun. When Richie pulled back he grinned at Eddie. “Now it’s my turn.” Then he dropped to one knee and whipped out a ring box with the perfect ring inside. A simple silver band that gleamed in the moonlight.

“Eds. Eddie Spaghetti. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Easily. I can pinpoint the exact moment I knew I was gonna marry you back when we were fifteen. Bowers was beating me up and you immediately ran in, tiny fists flying.” Eddie lightly punched Richie at that but giggled all the same. Richie grinned and continued. “You didn’t even think twice. You got beat up pretty bad, but when I asked you why you jumped in, you didn’t even hesitate. You told me, ‘Because you’re my friend. Why wouldn’t I?’ and I knew in that moment I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you. I hadn’t even asked you out yet, but I just knew. I know you’ve already asked me and I already said yes but even though you asked first, technically I had the idea first, so Edward Kaspbrak, will you do me the honor of being my husband?” 

Eddie wiped at his face as he nodded and giggled and cried and pulled Richie up to his face to seal their lips together. He thought he knew the moment Richie wanted to propose, but turns out he was actually ten years late.

He and Richie pulled back to grin and laugh at each other. Eddie was so damn happy. He was certain that this was the best moment of his life so far. He and Richie finally broke their gaze and they looked down to slip the rings on each other’s fingers. 

“Oh, oh wait!” Eddie took Richie’s off again and held it up to him. “Look on the inside.” He smiled bashfully and waited for Richie’s response. Richie read the nickname on the inside and a grin crept across his face. He slid the ring back on and kissed Eddie.

“God, I love you so much. You’re the best thing.” Eddie just smiled and pulled Richie closer as he deepened the kiss. 

So, Eddie got to propose first. It did not go how he had planned but as far as he was concerned it was the perfect proposal.

[peerless-soshi]

Hearts in reflection (Ch. 1)

Title: Hearts in reflection Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia Relationship: Momo Yaoyorozu/Shouto Todoroki Setting: Snow Queen AU Genre: Romance/fairy tale retelling Rating: T (elements of domestic abuse, death themes)  All chapters: Prologue Word count: 3682 Links: AO3, FFN Summary:  “…And so the castle turned into a mirror; if a good heart looked at the lustrous surface of frozen walls, then they would see the Snow Queen and nobody else, forever and ever…”

Being raised among books, Momo remembers these words by heart. Every year, along with the arrival of first frosts, the girl was forbidden to look in the mirror for fear of the Snow Queen. But her childhood days have finally come to an end. Momo goes to celebrate the Winter Solstice, but instead of the queen in the white sleighs, she meets a boy with ice powers who turns the town into ashes. The line between tales and reality becomes less clear as Momo delves deeper into the books and notices inaccuracies in popular interpretations.

Does the Snow Queen kidnap children? And does the boy really have a shard of mirror in his heart? To find answers, Momo is walking on very thin ice.

The tale of Momo

"A few snow-flakes were falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the edge of a flower-pot.The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it was like a young lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes like stars. She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling, sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes gazed fixedly, like two stars; but there was neither quiet nor repose in them. She nodded towards the window, and beckoned with her hand. "

*

The day Momo wore the poppy red lipstick was the first day of winter.

The sky was dripping with wet and puffy gray, like an umbrella unfolded over the town to announce the coming snowstorm. Sitting on the windowsill in the spacious living room, with her head resting on the glass, Momo wondered if the snow would last until morning. If it was cold at night, tomorrow she would find her fluffy muff and check whether the river froze at the edges. The beginning of December was fickle, and meteorological maps have taught her that low temperatures would melt before January, but today everything would ice over.

The river and the bridge, the one with the red railing, always froze on the Winter Solstice.

Her warm breath left hazy freckles on the window. What can you do with them? A quick creativity test: soft bunnies, snowflakes, roses similar to those blooming under her window in spring. Momo sighed and thought about painting a fictitious picture on the glass, but she stopped herself – instead, she let her fingers skim across the mirror lying beside her. The dim light reflected there together with the copy of her red lips, not so different from the roses, shining on the porcelain skin, and ebony hair tied in a ponytail. She looked so dignified this morning – so much like anadult – that she wanted to ask her mother where she kept her old skates, and if the ice would come tonight, and if Jirou would bring her sled…

But Jirou was an adult, right?

Momo really wanted to sledge, but it wasn't something a lady would do; it looked funny, but it could destroy the winter dress that her mother just ordered.

Jirou would like to tie the rope of her sled to the largest carriage, too – Momo knew it and smiled at her reflection. And she wouldn’t do it, too. Jirou would look at Momo in disbelief, that sarcastic Jirou, shrug and snort, and add that she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. Only children and boys go sledging! –she could say, Momo thought – not fifteen-year-old girls. And later she would watch Kaminari and Kirishima from the side, with a frosty blush covering a shame blush, and laugh out loudly only at their falls in the snow...

"Knock knock! Don't sleep, Yaomomo, or the Snow Queen will come and take you through the mirror!"

Jirou was standing in her door.

"You didn't hear me?"

"Not many people can take pride in such a sensitive hearing, Jirou. Recognizing a person after the sound of their steps is a gift, not a universal skill," Momo said, putting down the mirror and smoothing her dress.

"I... A gift?! Oh please… Sometimes you say absurd things, girl."

Jirou sat on the sofa facing the window and hugged her knees. Momo laughed but didn't add a word because Jirou sheltered her flush with a strand of hair.

A grown-up—or someone who believed herself to be grown-up.

"When will we start the lesson?" Momo asked, changing the subject.

Jirou let her head fall back, not even concealing relief.       

"Mom is downstairs, your mother caught her. I don't know... I guess we have about half an hour? I wonder why adult women talk so much?"

"I assume they are discussing the financial issues; since it's the beginning of the new month, it's only logical to think that they would settle the payment for my piano lessons. Mother will most likely use this opportunity to find out whether I have showed any progress. It is also possible that based on my skills, they are trying to choose songs that would be the biggest challenge... or, assuming the worst possible scenario, they agreed on the fact that there is no music future for me, therefore there is no reason to worry about piano..."

Jirou was looking at her with her eyes wide open.

Momo cleared her throat, sat up straight. "It was strange, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." Jirou nodded. "Very strange. Nobody can go into this… lecture mode… only you.” She laughed. “That's why I come here: once you get used to it, your explanations become interesting."        

"Some consider it to be a lack of propriety, so..."

 "Forget about them," Jirou said and blew out some hair from her forehead.         

She had a habit of doing this: checking her hair, making blunt comments. Momo was perfect – her hair was long and combed, her tongue was impeccable, her lips were red and dresses were snow white or gray. Jirou was irregular – her hair was short and uneven, her tongue was spiked with sharp thoughts, her black pants were everything but feminine. Nobody understood why two girls became friends, and it didn't matter. Momo couldn't explain that the daughter of her music teacher was the only child visiting the cold house filled with sumptuous fireplaces, that they had slid down the banister even when Momo had been afraid and drunk hot tea with cake that Jirou couldn't afford in her own home. Nobody knew it because in their eyes Momo was too bright and Jirou was too dark; nobody noticed how artistic their souls were – though Momo lived on words, Jirou on music. It didn't matter as long as Jirou was playing the piano and Momo was writing lyrics for her.

Momo loved the wise twinkle in her friend's eye, the one telling the world that music taught her all she needed to know. The one she gave her now.

"Are you going to the Winter Solstice, Yaomomo?" Jirou asked, nodding in the direction of the window, where the frost was glazing like stained glass, and then on the mirror, exposed on the windowsill. Momo felt the urge to hide it.

"Today at six, in the main square, where they decorate the Christmas tree and stop sleighs," Jirou announced instead of asking.

"You perfectly know that it's not simple..." Momo began. "I can't get out whenever I feel like it. Especially on a day like the Winter Solstice..."

"You're crazy about this holiday, Yaomomo," Jirou interrupted good-naturedly, "Don’t worry so much. It's about time to take part in the festival and see the Snow Queen in person... At least I hope so, even if she hasn't come here past few years."

"Since winter constantly starts at the same time, the Snow Queen must travel nearby and bring snow with her," Momo pointed out. "It looks like she just stopped participating in the official celebrations."

Jirou glanced at the clouds, dark and round, filled with snow. They weren’t there yesterday; the Snow Queen brought them from the North. "I'm not surprised. The musicians at the festival play like a cat crashing a piano keyboard. I live nearby, so I know. My ears bleed. Maybe if they don't get drunk, we'll see her today."

Momo had seen the Snow Queen.

But even Jirou couldn't know.          

"I'd like to see her myself. It would be cool." Jirou sighed. ”We’re fifteen, so this year we can go out and have fun legally. You're gonna miss this opportunity?"      

"Of course I’m…"

Momo blinked. She felt stupid. Adulthood, a dream she had been chasing for so long that she passed it. Adulthood - like snow, falling tonight to disappear before Momo can enjoy it.

Jirou was right – only children were in danger of vanishing into thin air on the Winter Solstice. She and Jirou were safe. The Snow Queen couldn't curse their reflections; she couldn't wrap the ermine fur around them; she couldn't imprison them in the ice palace. At the age of fifteen, they came of age and their eyes learned to distinguish good from evil, and even the enchanted mirror wouldn't change it. That's what the books said, and Momo tended to trust them more than humans.

"Yaomomo." Jirou smiled gently. "I didn't tell you yet, but... Tonight I'm gonna sing in the main square."

"That's wonderful!" Momo exclaimed.

Jirou silenced her with a wave of her hand. 

"I guess. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy. But this is scary. The whole town will watch me - listen to me. And I will think about them... about this crowd... about these numbers...” She faltered. “You know. About everything.”

“I understand, yet it’s a wonderful chance. You deserve to show off your talent… Who knows, maybe a patron of the arts will pay attention to you? The first impression is especially important. Did you choose the song?"

“Yes, The rose and the wind. And... I want you to come,” Jirou admitted on one exhale, and explained, “I'd feel better if I could focus on one person."

Jirou sounded as if she had been looking in the mirror and practicing these words.

"Will you come?"

Excitement. Pride. And dry mouth.

"I'll try," said Momo.

A coffin thought Momo.

“Thank you.”

I live in a glass coffin.

"You are welcomed, my dear.”

I'll try... I always try. Everyone around me is doing what I'm trying to do. I can try... to ask for permission. To go out. To break the glass. Observing from behind this glass, reaching out, pounding in the lid. Nobody opens. They look at me. And fine, I don't need help. In the end, I can do this on my own. I have books - fairy tale worlds seen through the colorless walls.

Jirou's voice rang in her head, in her ears.

"Maybe I can talk with your mom? Otherwise, it's on you."

"There's no need to help me, really. It’s your day. We must prepare!" Momo smiled. Honest, beautiful, wide – the smile of a porcelain doll. "I'll ask her myself. As usual, I agree with you. We are fifteen. I know what I want."

Jirou thought about it. And then she said something surprising. "Yaomomo, tonight you should use your red lipstick. It looks good with snow. Besides, you look good in red."

The bells were ringing.

In a way, everything started with Jirou and the red lips. Later, Momo often wondered what would have happened if her friend hadn't said those words, that magic spell. Maybe nothing? Maybe Momo would have lived in her glass coffin, a beautiful and cold coffin. Maybe she would have died in a fire that came later. Perhaps on a certain December morning she would have been buried under the frozen ground.           

She'd have never thought about the redness, her cheeks would have never turned pink. And she’d have never reached for the mirror... but the mirror fell on the floor and broke into a thousand pieces, shining like the rays of sunshine peeking through the ice.     

Momo wouldn't have cut her finger.

But she did.

"Ouch!" She jumped to her feet.

"Are you all right, Yaomomo? Show me!" Jirou demanded, her voice full of panic.

Momo didn't hear her. Stay calm, she told herself. Her hands were shaking. No. Not this mirror... No. Calm down. It should be cleaned, disinfected and then bandaged. The cut was small, but droplets of blood were dripping and blossoming on the windowsill where she was sitting a moment ago. They left red stains.     

Momo raised her head, looked at the window...

And there was a boy.

Crouching on the frozen ground in a gray, traveling coat and with a white scarf wrapped around his neck, he looked like one of the sculptures her mother brought to decorate the garden. Momo tried to knock on the window but he didn't react - she only left petals of blood on the glass.

The bells were still playing in high tones.

"What are you doing, Yaomomo? Give me your hand." Jirou approached her.

"Someone is downstairs, in the garden," Momo explained.

"In your private garden?! What the..." Jirou glanced over her shoulder. "You’re right. Do you know him?”

Momo tried to take a closer look at his face. Unsuccessfully.

“I have no idea who he is.”

Jirou winced.

“So? Are we going to call someone?"

Momo shook her head. "Tonight takes place the Winter Solstice festival, right? Many people arrive from the periphery. Maybe he got lost and needs our help?”

“He’s in your garden, not at the front door. Remember?”

“Don't you think that if he was a thief, he would hide in a less visible place? That person definitely does not care if he is noticed. I think it is a good idea to check the situation before we decide to bother others."

Jirou crossed her arms over her chest, but said "Well, if you think so."

Momo grabbed the handle and pushed. The window was heavy, it froze to the frame. But winter was yet to come! Momo pushed up harder against the stubborn window, the icy wall, the pellucid lid of the glass coffin that imprisoned her in this beautiful house. She shouldn't think that way... The end of her nail broke, it fell like a flake. Finally, the window gave up and Momo felt coldness.

"Watch out or you’ll fall!" Jirou cried, putting her arm around her friend’s shoulders.

The sounds of scuffle caught the boy's attention. As Momo leaned out of the window and looked at him, the breeze that smelled like white flogging her face and tugging her hair, the boy looked back. He was probably at her age, or maybe a little older, judging by his pale face – the gray face of the garden figures – marked by seriousness. As if he has seen too much. His eyes were stone-cold; one was gray and faded like snow covering those endless winter deserts Momo had seen in geographic books, the other was turquoise, bright as corridors of ice caves. His hair was in two different colors too – pure white and intense red, very inconsiderate in the winter landscape, giving him a flame of life. He looked like someone who came from far away. Far, far away.

Jirou pushed Momo gently to look at him.

"Hey! Who are you?! Are you lost?"

The boy was still looking at Momo.

She shuddered; she had the odd sensation that she should protect this scene. Of course it was nonsense. She never made hasty decisions. But the boy in the garden suddenly reminded her of illustrations from children's books: old, dusty, worn-out by time and turning the pages.           

"Have we met before?" Momo asked.

Her voice was so quiet that the boy probably didn't hear her.

Jirou gave her a quizzical look, so Momo gazed away and spoke louder, so loud that the boy who ignored Jirou's question seemed to stare at the sound of her voice, "This garden is my family's property, ergo my property. If you got lost, I will be more than willing to show you the way. However, good manners require you to introduce yourself and explain your presence."

"It's better now," Jirou whispered in her ear, "You were a little pale. Are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied.

She didn't feel good. No. The boy stared at her with his eyes frozen like this garden. Like winter. And she felt uncomfortable.

Her broken nail tapped on the windowsill.

"Todoroki."

"What?" Momo asked, taken aback.

"You asked me for my name. It’s Todoroki," the boy repeated louder. As if they were having a normal conversation. But she indeed asked him; maybe they had. 

And then he got up and turned away. Just like that. Without a word, without a single look. He ignored them. The cold wall seemed to grow behind his back... Why was it so cold? The boy – Todoroki – was sliding on the frosty ground, mingling with the ubiquitous white air and walking away from Momo, from the window, from the garden, from the glass prison. Looking at his back, a knot in Momo's chest untied a bit. It melted. Because now she noticed why he was crouching there.

"Hey you! Stop!" Jirou exclaimed. Her voice was like a bell rising above the sound of the wind. Not like sleigh bells. "Didn't you hear our question? Who are you, by the way?"

Momo put her hand on Jirou's shoulder.

"What if he didn't get lost. Give me a moment, please."

"For what?" Jirou asked, blinking.

And Momo leaned out again.

"Do you like Christmas roses?"        

As expected, the boy stopped, although he didn't turn his face to her. Momo leaned her elbows on the windowsill. It was so cold that it almost caused her pain. Her breath turned into small clouds. Surely by now the river was freezing over.

"I saw you watching my flowers. They are commonly known as Christmas roses," Momo recited, "A plant from the glaucoma family, characterized by a very unusual period of flowering, as it's one of the few species blooming in December. I think that it gives them a unique... a creative charm. Or a fairy-tale charm, if you prefer."

Outside, there were no colors. The roses that bloomed in her garden were white. Growing in the even row, they looked like small crystals, as if Momo had planted seeds of ice. The frost shone on their petals like crushed silver.

Only his hair was red. And the blood on her hand.

Like spring roses.

"In my homeland, they are called hellebores," Todoroki said, finally turning to them. The frost shimmered in the white part of his hair, like between those white roses - Momo didn't know if it was possible - but white was clinging to silver, silver to white.

His eyes stopped on the flowers.

"Where are you from?" Momo asked, following his gaze.  

He disregarded the question; maybe he decided there was no need to answer.

"Do... do you like roses?" she repeated.

Todoroki was silent for a moment. "Not really," he admitted. "I don't like flowers. It's a waste of time. And they wither too fast. I don't like watching how they die after a while."    

Indeed, Momo thought that he was looking at the flowers like at living beings, bending under the breath of the wind, shaking with cold; whose life was short, beautiful and chained to the winter garden.

What would the flowers have told her if they had spoken?

And what did Todoroki find in those ordinary frosted petals that he clenched his hand and hid it in his coat pocket? 

"Well, then..." Momo started, her voice sounding much more timid than before. "Despite this, you were looking at my roses, weren't you? I love them. In summer, I also plant camellias… I wanted to say that I plant them earlier…” She took a deep breath. “Christmas roses… They are my favorite. They usually bloom on the first day of winter."

"I know."

"So you know?" Momo raised her eyebrows.

Todoroki only muttered something in response. He didn't give the impression of a talkative person. In fact, he clearly wanted to leave; he was blinking, hopping from one foot to another. And he didn't go. He was standing under her window as if something was holding him there, some invisible and unimaginable bond.

"Do you want to take one of them?" Momo asked with a smile.

He looked puzzled.

"I don't need this," he only said.

This was one of many moments Momo couldn’t explain later on—not to herself or to Jirou. But the answer disappointed her. As if she offered him something important, something valuable. And maybe Todoroki wasn't that bad at reading emotions, maybe he noticed, maybe felt that sparkle and sudden death of her smile as he added:

"I don't like flowers, but someone important to me likes them very much. Those specific flowers you’ve planted here."

"Ah, I see..."

Momo's arms were covered with goose bumps. Cold. So cold. She wanted to go for a shawl.

"Why don't you take one of them for that person?"

"That's impossible," he replied surprisingly indifferent.

She was waiting for explanation - any kind of explanation - but Todoroki was silent. So she started to look for a subject, one of those necessary to rescue a conversation in danger of drying up before it even starts. The one that would let her know why the strange boy in the traveling coat, with eyes from another world, knelt under her window, looked at the flowers, talked to her now. It was strange, it was unrealistic. It wasn't something that happened in the glass coffin.

Strange people knocked on your window only in books.

"I have to go now," he said quickly. "I've spent too much time here. I shouldn't enter your garden without permission. Sorry."

"Are you traveling? If that’s true… then the sleigh with bells that I’d heard earlier belongs to you?"

"What bells?" Jirou interjected. "I didn't hear anything."

Momo almost forgot that Jirou was here. The girl watched Todoroki, waited, analyzed. When the sun came out from behind the clouds, for the first time today, and the puddles in the garden reflected the light like yet another mirror, Momo had to squint. Everything became brighter, almost dangerously exposing and real. The frost glimmering on the trees. Jirou standing next to her. The boy who shouldn't be there.

"Goodbye," Todoroki said.

She still had so many questions. She had to ask them now, before the stranger turned into the anonymous memory of a certain day of winter and melted like snow in the spring. She had to ask them now because Momo was curious, and the more you know about the world, the better you can experience your life. And she was especially curious about people from different fairy tales.

"My name is Momo! Momo Yaoyorozu!" she screamed.

He was almost gone, almost somewhere else. Back on his way and his own life. But he looked at her. "Goodbye, Yaoyorozu. And thank you."

"What for?" she asked.

"For flowers. They are nice. You have a green thumb."

He hid his head under the warm hood, became the white air. Todoroki was almost at the fence when he stated:

“You look like nice people.”

She barely heard him. Momo didn’t answer – it wasn’t something she was used to comment on.

"Take care of yourself on the Winter Solstice. And don’t go to the festival."

And he left. Momo stood there.

Everything has changed.

Suddenly, it stopped being so cold.

Thinking back, I feel that Momo inviting her friends to study in her mansion was one of the first moments when I thought that I love her. It was a comedic moment, but it made me rather sad. Her reaction suggested that she had no friends, no company. Nobody, just books. Since her early life was never further explained - and stayed deep in my heart - I decided to grab this thread and weave Momo as lonely, despite her positive nature. I hope it didn't feel out of character.

If you like it, don’t forget to leave a word :)