#writing 💙

[ariparri]

Flowers For Your Garden

The Hogwarts Mystery Cardverse is an AU that takes place in a fantasy land called Cinderhaven. There are five regions, four of them representing a suit of cards; Spades, Clubs, Hearts, Diamonds. The final region representing the Jokers.

HPHM Cardverse Masterlist

Warnings: Diego trying to impress Veruca

MCs Mentioned: Carewyn © @carewyncromwell , Sarahi © @dat-silvers-girl

Tag List: @catohphm @lifeofkaze @eternalchaoschocolaterain @oneirataxia-girl @akikocho

If you want to be updated on content for the AU, let me know and I'll put you on the tag list!

I had this in the drafts for a while! Wanted to get this done last month, but so many things were going on. Still currently dealing with the aftermath of Typhoon Mawar TmT Also, sorry if I portrayed the MCs poorly I tried qwq I kind of gave up in the end, and didn't bother proofreading =w=

Weeks after the civil war, the Country of Spades has continued the process of restoring its home to its former glory. Machinery that were used during the war have been refined back to their original intended uses, building and mining. The streets were easily cleared of debris and destroyed buildings were quick to have the wreckage removed.

Along with the people, Clubs have provided medical aide and man power to help remove debris and rebuild some infrastructures. Diamonds has offered funding for businesses and people who need help with damage repairs. What surprised the people of Spades the most was the Jokers offering to host the children and the elderly while Spades continued the restoration. They have even offered to hold Rakepick’s devoted followers as prisoners, or more so to have them forced to take part in a comedic act where they are the targets of humiliation.

With Hearts’ contribution, they have helped with clearing the railroad tracks between the mountain path connecting Spades to Hearts so the train can operate again. Upon the last meeting between both the officials, Spades' Ace, Bill Weasley, had mentioned that Queen Veruca was upset after seeing the damage done to the garden she frequented. Wanting to make up for his horrible first meeting with Veruca, King Diego had taken it upon himself and prepared a new shipment for the country after the tracks were cleared.

The royal gardener, Sarahi Silvers, was tasked with gathering bundles of flowers, seedlings, sprouts and potted trees for Spades' restoration. King Diego had hand picked the types of flowers to be planted in Spades' parks. With all the florals in the kingdom, he wanted the perfect ones to be sent to Spades. Sarahi went through each of the plants, making sure everything was accounted for on the list as they were placed on the carts. Seeing that everything was there, Sarahi gave the guards a thumbs up for them to finish loading up the carts.

Standing by the gates, she waves them off as they head to the stations with the shipment. If the stations aren't crowded, the shipment should be able to reach Spades within a day.

~ Next Day • Country of Spades ~

Back in the Country of Spades, the newly appointed Jack, Rowan Khanna, rushes through the corridors of the palace, nearly bumping into the staff and workers trying to restore and clean up the damage from the war. The palace was the last thing Veruca wanted repaired as she wanted the resources to be used more for the people.

Hastily passing by people trying not to knock more things over, Rowan makes her way to the main garden of the palace. Excited by the latest supply delivery Rowan hopes the letter will bring some comfort to her friend. Afterall, the Country's acting Queen, Veruca McQuaid, cared more about her home than most people realized.

On the other side of the palace, Veruca stands in the middle of what remains of the main garden. What was once a beautiful place to relax during the day has now been wrecked in the midst of the war. As depressing as the sight before her, a melancholic aura hangs heavy in the remains of the garden. Her priority right now is to make sure homes and businesses were attended to first before public spaces like the parks. 

Though Veruca cannot help the doleful look as she made her way towards the broken down gazebo. This very garden was her favorite place in the palace. When her brother, Coby, was still the King, they would have lunch in the gazebo on days Coby was free. That was quality time for the McQuaid siblings, that he would make sure everything was already prepared and would send away any servant or guard to prevent any interruptions.

Oh how she misses those simple days. Days where she didn't have to worry about getting stopped on the street by guards abusing their authority or constantly looking over her shoulder for someone following her. 

If Veruca closes her eyes, she can remember how lush the plot of grass was, contoured by connected flower bushes and shrubs. The gazebo standing near the back of the garden, surrounded by a plethora of more exotic species. The flower beds were slightly overgrown, but looked otherwise in great shape; they were a unique, miniature world. 

A couple of benches were carefully placed in specific locations of the garden, almost taking people by the hand in order to show them the best sights. Grass and plants had crawl their way over and around the garden, eager to claim all pieces of land.

The gazebo demanded all attention, but in doing so also drew the attention to everything near it. The flower beds often looked fantastic, and the flower bushes and shrubs certainly attracted attention too, but the spotlight was always on the gazebo. 

Veruca hoped to restore the garden to what it once was. But how and where were they even going to start? Some of the flowers were not native to Spades, and the gazebo was designed by an architect from Diamonds. The last thing Veruca wanted to do was ask the regions for more assistance when they have already offered more than enough support for the country. Veruca has already owed enough people a favor for their assistance in the rebellion, she would hate to add more to ongoing list.

The sound of dead grass and twigs being crushed break Veruca out of her train of thoughts. She turns her gaze over towards the entrance of the garden to see Rowan rushing over to her, an envelope in her hand.

"Veruca, there you are! We just got a delivery from Hearts." The Jack holds up the envelope, the Hearts official stamp in clear view. "They sent an entire abundle of floral sprouts and potted trees. King Diego says it should be enough to help restore the plant life here."

Taking the envelope from Rowan, Veruca reads over the letter contained inside of it. "I hope these flowers can help return the Country's true glow with all their beautiful colors." Unexpected, but pleasantly surprised by the gesture, Veruca cannot help but smile. "So the King of Hearts can be genuine."

Rowan nods, "Despite his showmanship, King Diego does show genuine compassion towards others. It was a surprise though when he greeted you with that ridiculous comment."

A tight frown appeared on Veruca's face, "Hm, yes. Bill wasn't joking about Hearts and their obsession with beauty." A tired sigh escapes from her lips, "well come on then, let's go see what they had to offer." She nudges Rowan by the arm before making her way to the entrance. A small laugh was heard as Rowan comes rushing over to her side. "You're going to be impressed by the array of florals Hearts has. I wasn't even aware some of them were native to the Kingdom!"

The two made their way to the palace gates discussing what was next on their line of business. Bill was helping with the construction work while Veruca's family was helping in any way they can to provide for those who lost their homes. Rowan's family was working harder to provide materials and products for the people. Everyone was doing everything they could to rebuild Spades. Even Peregrine Pierce, a Trades Tracker, has even offered products and services from his company. Mister Pierce was a huge help during the rebellion, he was able to provide most of the rebels with equipment and gear without any of Rakepick's soldiers suspecting it.

"Everything seems to be going in order. The roads are being reconstructed, and most of the homes and facilities are in repair." Rowan addresses, flipping through the papers on her clip board. "I say if things continue to go this smoothly, we'll be done with all the repairs in no time!"

Veruca simply nods, "That's good. I want nothing more than for the people to go back to their old lives, before I plan to do anything else."

"I know, the staff here are surprised you haven't started the building plan for the palace's repairs."

"The palace can wait, the people should be able to sleep comfortably first. They're my priority right now."

The two women stepped through the palace doors, walking down the steps leading towards the gates. Three carts fully decked with plants and other gardening supplies, ranging from sprouts and seedlings to potted trees and shrubs. The carts were full with a beautiful array of florals, each one with its own unique set of gorgeous colors. They felt so out of place in the ruined remains of the palace entrance, surrounded by grey from smoke and soot. But still, these plants can help bring back some color in the country and lift people's spirits.

"Wow," amazed by the rainbow assortment, Veruca admires the way they shine under the sunlight. Taking her time to examine each of the greenery the Queen was impressed with Hearts' flora and vegetation. "You weren't kidding Rowan. I don't think I've ever seen some of these plants before."

Rowan lets out a small chuckle, "I knew you'd be impressed. Here take a look at this set right here!" The Jack takes a hold of one of the potted plants, holding it up carefully for Veruca to see. "These are Alstroemerias, also known as lily of the Incas. They come in many different colors. Their outer petals are solid colors while the inner petals are flecked or striped with darker colors. Beautiful aren't they?"

"They indeed are," Leaning closer to the plant, "perhaps we can–" the strong scent of the plant causes Veruca's face scrunches up, "we can– ah– achoo!" The sudden gush of air caused the pollen to spread.

"Bless you!" Rowan chimed, offering her handkerchief to Veruca. "Thank you," Veruca takes the cloth, sniffling a bit before wiping her nose. Her face scrunches up once again as she breathes in the pollen. Sneezing again, Veruca holds the handkerchief to her face.

"Veruca, are you alright?" Rowan puts the lily down quickly coming to Veruca's side. "You're not looking too well."

True to her words, Veruca's face was flushed. Her eyes were red with tears forming on her waterlines, slight swelling was beginning to form. A dull, throbbing pain was pounding against her head. Bringing her hand up to her head, she massages her temple to try and ease the pain.

She takes deep breaths, finding it hard to breathe despite her runny nose and congestion. Her throat and mouth begin to itch, coughing, clearing her throat and running her tongue on the roof of her mouth to try and soothe the itch. Her attempts were futile though as it just made the itch worse.

"I think–" another sneeze cuts Veruca off, "I think I'm allergic to… the pollen…" Rowan lets out a huff, "I'll say! You're definitely having an allergic reaction!" Taking Veruca by the hand, Rowan leads her back towards the palace. As soon as they were inside, the Head Maid, Aishe Durrant, comes rushing towards them.

"Aishe make some herbal tea, and call for a doctor. Her majesty is having an allergic reaction." Aishe nods hastily, running to call a doctor. Rowan helps Veruca to her chambers, guiding her to the bed before heading towards the private bathroom. She searched through the cabinets, sifting through the contents hoping to find something to help alleviate Veruca's condition. Finding a small bottle, Rowan checks the label. Painkillers. While it might not help much with the itchy throat or watery eyes, it could help with the headache.

Taking the bottle, Rowan heads back into the main room to see Aishe placing the tray of tea on the nightstand. Madam Strout, one of Spades' best healers despite being somewhat inattentive and naive, stands beside Aishe as she examines Veruca's condition. "So this is your first time having an allergic reaction?"

"Yes, doctor." The queen confirmed with a curt nod. "I have been around many flowers before, being able to breathe in the pollen until today." She sniffs, before coughing into a tissue.

"Mhmm," Madam Strout quickly wrote down the information on her clipboard, "and it was a lily that had caused your sudden allergic reaction." She stated, "The alstroemerias to be exact."

Veruca could only give a slight nod before another coughing fit starts. She swallows hard, taking deep breaths to try and steady herself. Rowan frowns seeing her friend in this condition, though she cannot do much but stand by as Madam Strout continues her assessment. The doctor nods her head, tapping her pen against the clipboard before turning her gaze towards the queen. "Well your majesty, your allergies are not severe. We are able to provide you medication."

"Oh that's good," Veruca gives her a small, shaky smile, "what are they, and when will I be able to take them?"

"With the alstroemerias being planted here, we can give you allergy shots to help your body build a resistance to the pollen. Yet remember since it will be your first time taking the shot, the medication will take some time for it to take effect." Madam Strout sorts through her medical bag, "I can prepare the medication for later and have it sent once it's complete. For now, you can take these allergy pills to ease the other symptoms."

"Thank you for your help, Madam Strout." Rowan takes the pills from Strout, grateful that Veruca's condition wasn't as bad as she thought, "I was really worried there for a second."

A soft chuckle left Madam Strout's lips, "Of course my dear. Now remember, call me if her majesty's condition gets worse." Madam Strout waves at the two women as she follows Aishe out of the room.

"Well, having an allergic reaction was not how I planned to end the day." Veruca sighs, throwing herself down onto her pillow. Rowan can only hum in agreement, "If I had known you were allergic, I wouldn't have brought the flower so close to you."

"It wasn't your fault, Ro. It's not like I knew I was allergic to those flowers too." Shaking her head, Veruca once again lets out another sigh. Taking one of the pills from the bottle Madam Strout provided for her, Veruca swallows the tablet. "I have never seen those flowers until today!"

Rowan stays silent for a moment, analyzing her friend before a smile takes over her face. "Well, we can place blame on King Diego. After all, he was the one to send it!" Even though she was joking, Rowan is already thinking of what she was going to say to the King of Hearts when she sends them a letter. Seeing the mischievous glint in her friend's eyes, Veruca can't help but laugh. "Oh alright, but go easy on him. It's not like he knew about my allergies as well."

"Of course, of course your majesty!"

~ Kingdom of Hearts ~

Back at the Kingdom of Hearts, the Royal messenger wolf cub awaits the postman outside the castle walls. Taking a short break from the day’s hard work of going around the kingdom delivering letters from the royal court and townsfolk, Borf was resting under the shade provided by the tree near the gate. After all, Borf was a good hardworking boy, and he deserved a little nap.

His ears perked at the sound of an engine running, alerting him of another presence. Instantly awake, Borf gets up from his laying position and stands guard. Facing the entrance, his blue eyes searched for the new presence approaching the castle. Finding that it was just postman's vehicle pulling up to castle gates Borf's tail wags expectantly. The postman steps out of the vehicle, waving towards the excited wolf cub hopping in place before it trots towards the postman.

Letting out a content sound from being petted, Borf sits to enjoy the attention the man is giving him while the postman places the navy blue envelope in his messenger bag. Accepting the treat with a happy bark, Borf waits till the postman leaves the castle grounds before turning around and heading back inside the castle.

A happy bark catches Chiara's attention and she turns to see Borf skipping over to her. "Hey there, Borf." Chiara crouches down to Borf's level, a smile adorning her face, "Did you retrieve the letter from the postman?" Another bark from the cub tells Chiara that he has received it, before turning around to show off his bag. Chiara takes the envelope from Borf and pet him on the head, "Good job, boy." Standing up with the letter in hand, Chiara makes her way to the monarchs sitting under one of the big trees in the garden.

The messenger cub makes his way through the massive corridors or the castle. His grey coat along with his red and gold vest shine under the bright lights as he walks by. Borf has completed one part of his task, retrieve a letter from the postman, and now he has to deliver it to the Jack of Hearts. He makes his way to the private garden the monarchs occupy for their usual tea time. Upon reaching the doorway, Borf wags his tail once his eyes land on his owner, Chiara Lobosca, the Jack of Hearts. Her silver hair is the first thing he notices.

Diego's eyes light up at the news, "Ah, wonderful! I have been expecting their letter." He sets his teacup down and readjusts his position to lean back against his chair. "I wonder if her majesty is quite pleased by the array of florals she has received."

"Your majesties, we have received a letter from Spades." Chiara calls out, catching the King and Queen's attention. The silver, spades shaped wax seal catches their eyes as it shines under the sunlight. "It must be their response about yesterday's shipment."

Carewyn, the dutiful Queen of Hearts, squints her eyes at her fellow monarch as she sets her own cup down. "An array of florals?"

"Nothing but the best!" Nodded Diego, feeling proud of his noble deed. "I had heard from their Ace, Bill Weasley, that her majesty wishes to restore the gardens and parks. So I–"

"Tasked Sarahi to pick out every floral arrangement you had requested and shipped them off to Spades." Carewyn cuts in, waving her hand to signal Chiara to open the letter. "Well, she is better at handling floral than you are."

"Absolutely! She was our best person to handle it. All the assortments were gorgeous," Diego exclaims, happily snacking on the tea cakes. After dusting his hands clean of any crumbs, he clears his throat, "Chiara, what has the Queen of Spades said in her letter? I'm sure she and her people adored our gift."

"Actually, it's from the Jack, Rowan Khanna." Noticing the slight disappointment in the King's eyes, Carewyn raises her brow as Chiara lets out a small chuckle before reading the note.

"Dear King Diego, we appreciate the shipment you have provided and will happily plant every flower and tree around the country. Her Majesty was quite fond of the alstroemerias–"

"Ah I knew the lilies would be perfect for her majesty!" Diego raises his cup, making a small cheer before bringing it close to his lips.

"However," Chiara interjects, cutting Diego's celebration short, "despite her majesty's appreciation for the flowers, they have triggered an allergic reaction and her majesty is now on bed rest until it passes. Her majesty has ordered that the alstroemerias will still be planted, yet it will be on the far east side of the country by the tracks by the mountain path. The next time you send something over, please make sure it will not potentially kill our queen."

As Chiara finished reading the letter a loud thud resonated from the table. Both women looked to see Diego's head faced down on the table, his teacup knocked over on the side. Muttering can be heard, yet he dared not to make any movements. "Uh, Sire…?" Chiara called, Borf walking over to the King before nudging his foot. "Are you okay?"

More mumbling from the King, "That's twice… twice I messed up my impression to her… Stupid Diego, how could you be so stupid?!"

Slightly amused by Diego's moping, yet is in disbelief by his intentions, Carewyn lets out an exasperated sigh. "Diego, you didn't think to ask what flowers Veruca or her council would want for their parks?" A groan was her response followed by a mumbled 'I wanted to surprise her.' Carewyn pinches the bridge of her nose, "Oh you surprised her, alright."

Diego turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but the two women with a pout on his face. "I'm not trying to make a fool out of her."

"It's hard to root for you when you're fumbling terribly over a woman." Carewyn claims, resting her elbows against the table and her chin upon her hands. A sly smile graced her features. "You've never been so shaken up over a woman before. Are you perhaps fond of the Acting Queen of Spades?"

"Right, because the only one who is making a fool out of themself is you, my Lord!" Chiara chimes, earning a soft chuckle from Carewyn and a huff from Diego. "Hey, you're supposed to be on my side here!"

Before Diego can answer, Carewyn raises her hand to silence him. "Veruca is clearly not like the women here in Hearts. They did not lead a rebellion and lost their only brother to a tyrant. Veruca is dealing with more than what we manage. You understand that, right?" She sternly holds his gaze, the seriousness of her words getting to him. "I know you're not trying to hurt her, nor were you intentionally being ingenuine. But do you understand that simply giving Veruca flowers without knowing her wasn't going to turn out in your favor?"

Not being able to turn his gaze away, Diego nodded, "I do… I do, I just–" he lets out a deep breath, "The way she looked at me when we first met… It was almost similar to the glint in your eyes when we met but more… intense. I felt chills throughout my entire body, and I liked it." Chuckling as he recalled their first meeting with the acting queen. "And then I acted on impulse! Said the first thing on my mind, tried to fix it and I blew it!"

The two women laughed thinking back on the memory. Carewyn left Chiara to continue the lecture as she took Veruca around the castle. The silver haired Jack remembers her king pouting as he watched Veruca follow Carewyn. He probably wasn't aware of it at the time, but he was quite smitten by Veruca.

Another sigh is heard, "I was hoping that by giving Spades flowers and trees for their parks, I'd be able to make it up to Veruca for our first meeting. I don't want her to think I see nothing past her beauty."

A moment of silence passes, letting Diego's words sink in before Carewyn hums in acknowledgement, "Remember the music box you gave me for Christmas?" She asks, receiving a nod, "You went out of your way to give me something when I was feeling down." She gave him a pointed look, "You can give thoughtful gifts when you are being genuine and sincere."

Diego remains quiet. Carewyn and Chiara are right, Veruca doesn't need a thousand flowers. And her reaction to their first meeting proved that she was not the type to accept compliments so empty like that. He can remember the look of absolute disgust when he asked what else was there to beauty. And he still remembers the hard hit to the head and the lectures about his poor choice of words. He truly was making a fool out of himself.

Seeing the realization dawn on his face, a knowing smile graces Carewyn's face. "So you now understand, that you have this whole thing backwards." She stands up from her seat, "You're treating her like she's one of your fangirls. We ladies of Spades are more inclined to accept praises when we earn them." Carewyn pats Diego on his shoulder before heading towards the archway entrances, "I can help you, but first," turning around, she gives Diego one last earnest look, "stop trying to mindlessly impress her and get to know the woman. Veruca will be more appreciative of you and your gifts if you are genuine about it." Carewyn then exits the garden, leaving behind Diego and Chiara.

"She's right, Sire." Stated the Jack, breaking Diego out from his thoughts. "And her majesty won't be the only one to help you. There's also me to help," Borf lets out a bark reminding them of his presence, "and also Borf!" The wolf cub barks once again in agreement. "It's honestly getting quite sad to see you try so hard only to fail."

Diego laughs, shaking his head. "Of course. I appreciate the help from all of you." Chiara smiles before handing him the letter. "We aren't the only ones offering our aide, it seems even the Jack of Spades herself is willing to give you some advice."

Taking the letter, Diego reads past the lines. He lets out another small laugh as he reads the words written at the bottom of the paper under where Rowan had signed.

'PS If you really want to impress her majesty, her favorite flowers are carnations.'

[everysongineverykey]

ok alphys was a character ahead of her time and too good for this damn fandom honestly. she isn't some evil gaslighting lying cringey manipulator who only exists as comic relief for the love of god look at her with eyes less poisoned by cynicism and irony. she is a love letter to... well, a lot of things. a love letter to "cringey" people, to video game fans, to people who try to drown their sadness in fiction. she's so achingly relatable to so many of us that it really feels like toby knows his demographic like the back of his hand. we've all met someone like alphys. maybe we are that someone- awkward, nerdy, can't get over their past mistakes, terrible at phone calls, far more eloquent online than in person, only wants to make people like them to distract them from the fact that they don't like themself. normally, this character archetype is the butt of a great deal of jokes- just a gross nerd who needs to touch grass. but alphys is different. she is, as i said, a love letter. she is one of the best-developed and most complex characters in the game. her nerdiness isn't "fixed" or mocked, it's celebrated. her unabashed love for her interests and her 100% attitude is a big reason why undyne loves her. games, especially in 2015 and before, are not often so genuinely kind to characters like alphys! and in deltarune, too- alphys is still a nerd, despite not being nearly as traumatized as her undertale counterpart. her rambling about shows she loves is a constant across all universes, a fundamental and important and good part of who she is.

and i just think that's very kind, and very important.

[theanimeroom]

Hiii, one of isagi being such a cutie and respectful boyfriend BUT then in reader's birthday she wishes "world peace and being fucked by his cute bf" and then good boy isagi let her perv side out 🛐🛐🛐

yes 🫡

bf!isagi yoichi who was terrified of PDA when you two first got together. you assured him that it was fine, the two of you didn’t have to go farther than holding hands or occasional kisses whenever he felt comfortable. he still hesitated every time his fingers laced between yours though, his face turning bright red and his eyes always being unable to meet yours.

he always saw you as his little treasure, and he wanted all eyes away from you because you belong to him <3. he was used to being in the spotlight with his career, but he never wanted to drag you into it. there were probably several talks about making your relationship public, to which you didn’t mind, but isagi didn’t share the same sentiment.

he wanted you to himself, wanted to make sure that no one else even considered trying to make moves on you without having his fangirls trying to pick you apart. he’s a major homebody, believe it or not. whenever nagi or bachira would beg for him to come out he always opted to stay in the house with you, watching movies and eating candy so sweet you swore your teeth should have fallen out by now.

his love for you and natural reclusiveness only skyrocketed the day you opened your eyes to a platter being placed under your nose, the smell of fresh, crispy bacon and toast filling your sensing before you could even register what day it was.

“happy birthday!” his sweet voice was the first thing you got to hear, a sleepy smile stretching across your face. his eyes were big and filled with happiness as he watched you attempt to sit up, rubbing the rest of your fatigue away with your hands. when your breakfast was placed in front of you a small giggle broke through your yawn at the preparations. there were around 8 strips of bacon on the plate, along with scrambled eggs, a couple halves of toast and a blueberry muffin with a little candle wick placed on top. “i made your favorite.”

“did you?” you giggled, feeling your heart swell at the hopeful expression on isagi’s face. your boyfriend was always so sweet, almost sickeningly so sometimes. he was typically all forehead kisses and soft touches, like you were a porcelain doll. even in bed, he preferred making love to anything else, it made him feel like he was appreciating you for all that you were worth. you loved it of course, adored it even. it’s what made you fall in love with him in the first place, but sometimes you couldn’t help but feel like you wanted….more.

you’d seen isagi on the field. you knew the kind of stamina, passion, and drive he had when it came to crushing his opponents, you just wished that sometimes he’d come home and crush you instead.

so when your sweet, innocent, loving boyfriend told you to make a wish on the muffin candle, you didn’t even have to ponder on your wish. leaning in with shielded vision, you spoke your wish with a sly smile on your face. “i wish for world peace and to be fucked by the undeniably hot boyfriend.”

when you looked at your boyfriend, his eyes were as wide as saucers. you were his sweet girl, and he’d never even considered being even remotely rough with you because of it. but alas, there was only so much strength a man could have after hearing that slip from your lips.

and that’s exactly how you ended up here, with your ass angled in the air and your moans muffled by the fabric of your pillowcase. there was one hand pressed against the back of your head, pushing you further into the bed when his other hand held down your arm against your back. your plea’s and moans fell on deaf ears though, the only thing on isagi’s mind being the filth that he’s spewing your way.

“aww, is this what my sweet baby wished for? wanted to be treated like a little slut, huh?” he punctuated his question with a hard thrust, hips flesh against your ass.

you wailed in the pillow, but a broken response didn’t seem to be enough for the man above you. with a brash tug his fingers were in your hair, tugging until your neck was strained and your teary eyes were looking back at him. his thrusts never slowed down still hitting all the spots that’s make you twitch and see those pretty little stars in the corner of your vision. “good little whores are supposed to answer when they’re spoken to, aren’t they?”

“y-yes!!” your voice was strained, body weak from pleasure although you tried to follow his instructions. your body shuffled, trying to push back against him but only receiving a rough slap on the flesh of your ass in response. his fingers dug into the skin as he leaned down, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

the air sent a shiver down your spine, your mind only filled with thoughts of him. his voice was light, the power of his thrusts leaving you both breathless. “my baby seems to be getting a little greedy,” he chuckled, a soft grunt slipping through at the wet patch staining the pillow, a string of drool leaving his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “but since it’s your birthday, i’ll let you off the hook.”

your back arched as isagi bottomed out inside of you, hips flush against your ass, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. you moaned, trying your hardest to fuck yourself back onto him and chase the tingling feeling that permeated your toes and fingertips. you could barely breathe with the way he was fucking you, and if you weren’t in love with he man before this, you definitely were now.

“you know i love you right, baby?” isagi asked, grinning when you frantically nodded your head. he wasn’t even sure if you’d heard what he said to you, your eyes glazed over and breathing so labored that he laced his fingers in your hair and pulled your face out of the pillow. “you still with me sweet girl?”

“uh huh,” you groaned, pushing your hips back in hopes for him to fuck you more rather than talk. with a chuckle, isagi wrapped a hand around your waist.

“good, because you won’t be in a second,” were the last words he said before forcing his cock in as far as it could go. the sounds of skin against skin reverberated around the room, combined with the broken whimpers coming from you and the occasional moan and groan from isagi.

the knot in your stomach tightened as he prodded that one spot inside of you, causing the muscles in your body tense as your body started to succumb to the pleasure.

“gonna come for me baby?” the man above you asked, landing a harsh smack against the side of your ass. a guttural moan left you at the sensation, the sight of your cunt creaming his cock only causing his pace to quicken. with another smack you were wailing out a positive response, thighs trembling as they tried to keep your body upright. “wanna feel the birthday girl come all over me, you can do that pretty, right?”

isagi didn’t have to say another word, the simple request being all you needed to let the waves of pleasure take over your body with a strangled moan. isagi let out a moan of his own at the way you squeezed around him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he bottomed out, eyes rolling as ropes of come painted your inner walls.

isagi breathed heavily into your ear, the sensation tickling your skin just enough to make you shuffle underneath him.

“mmm baby,” you spoke lowly, turning your head so your face wasn’t plastered into the pillow. the male above you hummed, eyes closed in bliss as he came down from his high. it took you a second before you were able to respond, still trying your hardest to catch your breath. when you did respond though, the words slipped from you with a smile.

“can this be my birthday present every year?”

don’t plagiarize! it’s not nice <3

theanimeroom

[keferon]

Picking up from the end of The Blurr Chapter – Swerve has a bad case of survivor's guilt

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He's been to another planet.  How can he have been to another planet, when he didn't even know it existed? 

Swerve can't stop thinking about it as he wanders aimlessly out of the medibay.

He's been to another planet.  He has been to another planet.  To another planet.

He must have been.  Because he knows Jazz.  And Jazz is real.  And if Jazz is real….

Swerve's spiral of thoughts screech to a halt.  Because if Jazz is real….

The idea alone is enough to send him careening back through the hallways towards where he had abandoned Jazz and Prowl moments earlier.

"JAZZ!"  Swerve shouts as soon as he has eyes on the duo.

"Hey," Jazz says, smiling casually as Swerve skids to a halt in front of him.  "What's the rush?  Where'd you run off to?"

"Never mind that," Swerve says urgently. "Earth, you know where it is?  You're from there?  It's real?"

"Yes.  Earth's real.  My home planet.  I—"

"The Mecha program--" Swerve cuts across whatever Jazz was about to say.  "That was real too?"

"Yes.  I…are you sure I don't know you?"  Jazz asks.

"Blurr," Swerve blurts out, swallowing back the acrid fuel trying to rise up his intake.  "Was there a Blurr associated with the program? Did you know him?"

"Are you kidding me?  Blurr was the program.  Or at least that's what they wanted everyone to believe.  Face plastered on posters and billboards and merchandise.  Fastest man alive, all that.  Everyone on Earth knows of Blurr.  Doubt anyone really knew the man though, if you follow me, not really the friendly type.  Why're you wondering?  And how do you even—"

Swerve doesn't here the rest of Jazz's question.  Doesn't even really see Jazz and Prowl standing in front of him anymore.  Because….

"Oh," he groans.

Oh.

Blurr is real (was real, because he was dying, must be dead by now).

It was all real.

And Swerve left him there, dying.  Did nothing.  He had done nothing but stand there and talk at the man as he was dying.  And then left before Blurr could ask him the question he wanted to know the answer to.  A dying man's last request, not just any man's – Blurr's – last request, and Swerve had ignored him.  Swerve's last words to Blurr, the last words he'd likely ever heard had been that it wasn't real.

And maybe it hadn't been for Swerve, but for Blurr it had been very real.

The man had been dying.  How much must his words have hurt on top of all the injuries Blurr had already sustained?  Even if he hadn't known any better.  Even though Swerve wouldn't have been able to do anything even if he'd tried.  His hand had gone straight through Blurr's when he tried to reach out.

"You know that explains, but doesn't excuse you."

His own words to Blurr echo back across his mind.  He might be able to explain his action or lack thereof, but does it excuse it?  No.

Would he, could he, should he have done something different?  If he had called for a medic earlier?  If he could have stopped Blurr from running into the building that last time?  If he could have somehow pulled the man from the wreckage?  If he had installed more safety measures to Blurr's mech – measures he knew it was lacking in favor of looks and speed?

Or if he hadn't…if he hadn't left Blurr?  Would Blurr have made it back if Swerve had stayed with him?

Because Swerve remembers what Blurr had admitted just before his own words – that he had a hard time remembering.  And he'd seen Blurr's confidence as they worked together – Swerve marking the map and giving directions and Blurr pulling people out.  But without the map, and without Swerve to give directions….

Had Blurr stumbled, lost that confidence on his own?  Had he strayed, unable to remember Swerve's hasty set of directions that he'd so frantically been repeating?  Had that made him just a fraction too slow?

Would Blurr have been fast enough had they stayed together?  Swerve can almost believe he would have been.

But no, the man had to choose that moment to prove that Blurr was every bit the hero he was sold to be, and that Swerve had imagined when he stared at the posters.

Originally, he had hated Blurr for constantly having an entourage at his beck and call.  For constantly demanding people follow him around and help him and never even caring about something as basic as a name.  Had hated when Swindle bailed and Blurr had turned and enlisted him into going back into the building.

But now, now he hates more that Blurr hadn't asked for his help when he needed it.  Hates that the man had left Swerve behind.  Hates that his life had mattered more than Blurr's own – that Swerve's guaranteed survival might have cost Blurr any chance at his.  Hates that he knows now that his going would have cost nothing, that he would have survived regardless.

Fuck.

He was a coward.  He left Blurr.  First to run back into the building alone.  And then to die alone.

Fuck.

Swerve doesn't even know for sure that the man did die.  Has no idea what happened to him.  Because he left.

He needs to know.  Because he owes his memory of the man that much.  Because it turns out that for all he had thought Blurr an aft, he could never completely stop caring about the man.

Swerve squeezes his optics shut, ignoring the prick of coolant at the corners of his lids, and concentrates.  Concentrates harder than anything he's ever concentrated on before.  He's been to Earth.  Had manifested himself on a planet he didn't even know existed.  If he could do it by accident, he ought to be able to do it again intentionally.

Get back to Earth.  Find out what happened to Blurr.  That's all that matters. 

Swerve feels his hand shaking and clenches them into fists.

Get back to Earth.  Find Blurr.  Get back.

He sways slightly, pressure building across his helm.

"…erve…swerve.  Swerve.  SWERVE!"  Jazz's shout breaks through his concentration and Swerve watches as the faint, flickering projection of his human form right in front of him fades back to nothing.

Useless.  All that effort and concentration for something barely tangible that hadn't even managed to reach beyond himself, Jazz, Prowl, and this hallway.  He's never making it back to Earth.  He's never going to know.  He needs to know.  Needs to get back to Earth.

"You alright, Swerve?" Jazz is asking, looking worried.  Swerve wonders how long he's been standing there, silent in front of the others while they have no idea what's been going through his processor.

"You are Swerve, right?" Jazz asks as a follow-up.

"Yes," Swerve says, "Yes, I'm Swerve.  That's how you know me, how I know you.  And I need to get to Earth, now.  It's an emergency.  Please.  Please, Jazz."

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(Credits: The "You know that explains, but doesn't excuse you." line belongs to Keferon from their writing in the Blurr chapter.)

G O D D A M N ANON. WHO ARE YOU SHARE YOUR GEO LOCATION I JUST NEED TO TALK /J

[dustykneed]

bit nippy out, eh?

[jetii]

i loveeeeeee ur writing. its like a masterpiece. mwah. i was wondering if you could do an angsty fic with the prompt "I loved you!" with any clone boy you want (maybe crosshair 👀) I was listening to Cardigan by taylor swift and it lowkey set the mood.

sorry if the request is very vague cause i never watched bad batch yet im a huge simp 🥲 so do whatever you want.

I know you got like a tonnnn on your plate and i lowkey feel bad requesting but you write really good so take ur time to take care of yourself.

hiiiii anon. if you are who i think you are, then you'll have already been watching TBB by now, but if you're not, what are you doing!! /affectionate

after listening to the song (i have a sister who is a swiftie but alas i am not) and thinking harder about your prompt, i was inspired to write this for Echo, so i hope that's okay!

The Way Back

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 9,621

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, dramatic reunion, reader is a lawyer, Tech is a good brother, Echo needs a hug, allusion to panic attacks/alcoholism/depression

Summary: Echo always knew you were it for him, but the idea of seeing you again after so much has changed is more than he can take. Until one day he finds himself outside of your apartment, and the choice is made for him.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Echo doesn’t leave the ship when it docks on Coruscant.

His eyes are locked on the city-planet, lit up like a giant firefly, watching the endless stream of ships coming in and out. Their trails of light make the whole thing seem dreamlike, surreal. Even that feels like too much, reminds him too much of the view from your apartment, and he tries to close his eyes, but his eyelids are made of glass.

The first time he saw Coruscant, there had been a moment of... what, awe? Terror? Something. Something big, anyway. He didn't understand then that you can have a feeling be a lot of things. He'd looked down on the galaxy's center of power and felt something bigger than he could possibly contain. Now, sitting alone on the Marauder with only the whirr of the vents for company, he thinks maybe the feeling was dread.

The first time they came back here after Echo joined the Batch, the others didn’t notice his unease. Or at least they didn't mention it. It was an adjustment period for everyone, Echo most of all, and his brothers gave him space to do things on his own terms, even when it meant he did nothing at all.

This time, it's different. He can tell they've noticed how he's been acting, and they're not just leaving him alone anymore. He can tell, because they're giving him looks. The kind of looks that ask questions he doesn't have answers for. They make excuses to stick close by, like they're afraid he might take off or that he's going to break down and have another panic attack. It makes him want to hide even more.

He's not going to, though. It's not so bad. Coruscant has always been a source of good memories for Echo, despite what happened. The sights, the sounds, the tastes — they're all still the same. He'd spent a long time on Coruscant before the Citadel happened, and he'd gotten used to it, the way the air smells, the feel of the rain against his skin. He had a whole life here. He was happy.

It's not so bad. He just... doesn't feel like going out, is all.

He knows he’s being stupid. He knows that he should be out there, enjoying what little downtime they’re afforded. Instead, he's on the ship, trying not to stare out the windows, trying to pretend that he isn't bothered by the thought of leaving, of the possibility of running into you again, however small that may be.

The worst part is that he's not sure why.

It's not that he doesn't want to see you. On the contrary, he does. More than anything. He hasn't stopped thinking about you, wondering if you're okay, if you’re happy, if you've thought of him. He's kept his ears open, and has managed to overhear a few stories here and there about you. The most recent had been about you winning a case for a group of Houk refugees who had been seeking asylum in the city, a big deal for a young lawyer to handle.

It had made him smile, a real, genuine smile, the kind he rarely got to have.

But there's something about seeing you again, about you seeing him that makes him hesitate, makes his stomach turn over and his throat tighten. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to know for certain, doesn't want to see that you're happy, that you've moved on, that you're doing well without him.

Maybe it's because he doesn't trust himself. He's different now, he knows that. He's different, and so are you. He doesn't know if he can face you, doesn't know if he'll be able to handle whatever is waiting for him. 

When he woke up in Rex’s arms and realized the galaxy had kept moving without him, he hadn’t thought much of it, solely focused on survival, on the fact that he was alive at all. He hadn't cared about what he'd missed, who he'd left behind. He hadn't known how much time had passed, and the thought that he was a dead man hadn't even crossed his mind. He hadn't thought about you, hadn't given himself the time or space to consider the consequences. You'd been the furthest thing from his mind. He'd had to keep fighting, to keep living. But once he had the time to think about it, to regret, well, it was...

It's different.

There's no other word for it. Everything is different.

Echo has had time, too much time, to think about you, to regret losing you. It's kept him up late into the night cycle, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thoughts running a mile a minute.

You'd been a good person, a better one than he could ever hope to be, and he had loved you, and then he had died.

Or, he had thought he'd died. Turns out he hadn't. That had been the only mercy.

You'd been the first and only person in his entire life to see him as something other than a soldier, and he'd loved you for it. You'd seen him, really seen him, and you hadn't run. He had been terrified by that, but it had also been the best feeling in the world. And he had taken advantage of it. He had let you in, he had let himself fall in love, and then he had died.

It's different, now. He's different. The galaxy's moved on, and he's a ghost, and he's scared. He doesn't know how to face you, doesn't know if he can. So when they’d made it out of Skako Minor and Rex had asked if he wanted to comm you, he’d said no. And he's been saying no every time since.

A small voice inside his head, one that sounds a lot like Fives, tells him that's bullshit.

His brother would have called him out on his cowardice, and Echo thinks that's a fair assessment. But even though he misses you and wants nothing more than to hear your voice, it's better this way. It's better if you don't see him like this, if you never find out the truth. The thought of you seeing him, of you seeing what's left of the man you knew, is too much. He can't do that to you.

It's better if you never see him again. It's better if you have closure, if you've moved on and don't think about him anymore.

You deserve more. You deserve someone who hasn't lost as much as he has, someone who you won't have to worry about, someone who will be there for you.

Someone who can give you the life you want.

Echo knows he can't do that. And maybe if he says that enough times, he'll finally believe it.

“Why are you still here?”

The sound of Tech’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns and finds his brother watching him from the doorway, an expression of vague curiosity on his face, a soldering iron twirling absently in his hand.

Echo shrugs.

Tech gives a short, impatient huff.

"That is not an answer," he says, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at Echo.

"I was just..." He trails off. Just what? Just looking out the window and moping? He sighs. "Nevermind."

Tech steps into the cockpit, looking unconvinced. Echo can tell he has a question on the tip of his tongue, can see him considering his options. Tech is not the most tactful person in the galaxy, and Echo isn't really in the mood to hear his thoughts, not when they're bound to be blunt. But instead of asking, his brother simply takes his seat beside him and begins tinkering with the dashboard, checking the systems.

The two of them are quiet for a moment, the only sound the clinking of the tools. Then Tech pauses and looks at Echo. 

Echo fidgets under his brother's gaze. "What?"

Tech doesn't respond right away, taking a second to look Echo over. His eyes flicker around the cockpit, as if the gauges and switchboards will give him some kind of clue, before coming back to his brother.

"There is nothing wrong with the ship," he says.

"Okay," Echo says, confused. "So?"

"So," Tech continues, "there is no reason for you to be here. We are scheduled to remain docked until 600 hours, and you have the day off. You could be anywhere."

Echo rolls his eyes, a prickle of annoyance flaring in his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Tech agrees. There's a moment where he considers something, and then he speaks again, "If I may offer a suggestion?"

"Go for it," Echo grumbles, not bothering to look at him.

"Go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yes. Physical activity is proven to improve mood and mental health. And you could do with the fresh air."

Echo frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Tech says, not even pausing in his work, "that you've been spending an inordinate amount of time locked away in here."

"I'm not locked away," Echo protests.

"No, I suppose not. But you have not been yourself since we arrived."

Echo doesn't have an answer for that.

"Go for a walk," Tech repeats, and this time he does stop and turn to Echo. He leans back in his chair and removes his goggles, letting them rest on his forehead, and the intensity in his gaze makes Echo squirm a bit.

"Where?"

Tech gestures towards the open space in front of them, the sprawling metropolis. "There are a number of options available, I'm sure. There are parks, shopping districts, museums, restaurants..." He ticks the ideas off on his fingers one by one, and then points back to Echo. "Perhaps you should find out for yourself."

Echo snorts. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he says, the words coming out more defensively than he intended. "I'd rather just stay here."

"Yes, I can see that," Tech says dryly, and Echo gets the distinct impression that his brother is making fun of him.

He scowls.

Tech is undeterred. "But I don't think that is what you actually want to do."

Echo's mouth opens to argue, but then closes it just as quickly. He's not sure what to say, not sure if he wants to say anything. Tech isn't wrong. He doesn't really want to stay on the ship, not truly. The idea of getting out and going somewhere is tempting, and if he's being honest with himself, the last thing he wants to do is sit here, stewing in his thoughts alone. Or worse, with Tech.

And he does need to stretch his legs.

He looks out the window again, taking in the sight of the planet before him. He's not sure what's going to happen once they get the signal for the next job, if they'll ever be back. He might never have this opportunity again.

He takes a breath.

"Fine," he says, throwing his hands up in the air. "You win."

Tech's lips twitch, a barely contained smile. "As I usually do."

Echo shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. He starts to make his way towards the door, and stops beside his brother.

"Thanks," he says, placing a hand on Tech's shoulder.

"You are welcome," Tech nods. “Try to be back by 0600 hours. If you are late, we will leave without you.

Echo snorts. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He leaves Tech there and heads to the ramp. His steps slow as he reaches the bottom, but he forces himself forward, out into the bright sunlight and fresh air.

Echo spends the next few hours wandering around Coruscant, letting his feet guide him.

He goes wherever the crowds take him, stopping at whatever catches his interest. It's nice, being able to let his mind go blank and not have to worry about where he's going. He doesn't have to think about anything, doesn't have to consider the consequences, or the risks.

He just exists.

And it feels good.

When he eventually decides to turn back, he's a bit surprised at how far he's come. He hadn't intended to venture so deep into the city, had just wanted a walk to clear his head. But the area he's found himself in is one he recognizes.

Your apartment is nearby.

Echo can feel his pulse start to quicken, his palm begins to sweat, and he stops in the middle of the walkway.

The sun has begun to set, and the crowds are thinning. You’ll be on your way home from work soon, if you weren’t already. His brain helpfully supplies the route you would take, and his eyes flit up towards the skyline. He can't see your building, but he knows it's there, not far away.

The knowledge sits heavy in his chest.

No, he tells himself, shaking his head. I shouldn't.

He has no way of knowing if you're even home. For all he knows, you could be busy, out with friends or maybe on a date.

Don't, his mind warns him. She's moved on. You shouldn't.

He hasn't been to your apartment since the morning he left. The memory is a sharp one, a jagged knife cutting through the fog of his past. He remembers the way your bed had felt, the warmth of your body, the sound of your breathing as you slept tucked against him.

It had been so peaceful.

It had been so easy to leave.

His mind starts to replay those moments, the goodbye you had given him, and it's like a punch to the gut. He knows how much you care about him, knows that if you were to see him again, that wouldn't have changed. You wouldn't turn him away.

The night before, you talked for hours. Your conversation had been punctuated with kisses and caresses, laughter and confessions. You told him how much you wanted him to stay, how much you wished he didn't have to leave, how much you wished things could be different. You talked about what the future might hold for the two of you, and he remembers how that felt, how it made him believe, even for just a moment, that things would work out.

They didn't, of course.

But Echo is still here, and so are you, and he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the galaxy might be giving him a second chance.

He takes a deep breath.

There's no harm in taking a detour, he thinks.

He walks, following the familiar path, trying not to think too hard about what he's doing.

It doesn't take him long to reach the building. He hesitates in front of it, looking up at the facade. It looks just as it did the last time he was here. Same lobby, same doorman, same lift. They haven’t even fixed the panel that's been sticking, and it takes a good deal of force for him to press the button for your floor.

The doors close, and he stares at his reflection, at the dark circles under his eyes, the scruff that has accumulated on his cheeks and chin, the lines that have appeared at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. And then his gaze wanders to the ports and implants, the reminder of what was taken from him and what he was left with. He traces the outline of one with his thumb, remembering how he used to be.

He looks tired.

What are you doing? He asks himself.

He's not sure what he's expecting, doesn't have a plan for what will happen. All he knows is that he can't get the image of you out of his head. He imagines you coming home from work, and him being there, waiting. Would you be surprised? Happy? What would you say? What would he say?

Echo sighs.

He's an idiot.

The lift dings, and the doors slide open.

Your apartment is halfway down the hall, and Echo's stomach clenches with each step he takes. He reaches it and stands outside for a minute, running his fingers over the metal door, staring at the numbers painted on the surface.

It's just a door, he tells himself. Nothing special. Just a door.

His hand moves on its own, hovering over the bell. He waits, listens. There's no sound coming from inside, no music, no voices. Maybe you're not home yet.

Or maybe you're out. Maybe you're not alone.

He rings the bell and holds his breath, counting the seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Nothing.

Echo rings again, this time holding the button down for a few extra seconds, listening for any sign of movement.

There's nothing.

The knot in his stomach tightens, and he releases the button, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He runs a hand over his face, feeling the heat of his skin through his glove. He's sweating.

Well, that's it, then.

He'd thought he was prepared for this possibility, but hearing the silence behind the door and knowing that you aren't home has shaken him more than he anticipated.

Maybe this is for the best, he thinks. It's better this way. Safer.

But the disappointment is palpable.

He's not sure what to do. He considers waiting a little longer, just to make sure, but the more he thinks about it, the more stupid it seems. He doesn't belong here anymore. He shouldn't be here, standing outside your door, hoping for something that won't happen.

He needs to go.

As Echo turns away from the door, a voice calls out behind him.

"Can I help you?"

For half a second, he's sure he imagined it, sure that it's just his brain playing tricks on him, taunting him. But then the voice speaks again.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Echo spins around, heart leaping into his throat, and there you are.

Standing there, a few paces away, is the woman he's been dreaming about, the one he's thought about every day, the one he's missed so much that it hurts.

Your hair is different, longer than he's ever seen it, pulled away from your face. You're wearing a dress, something he's only seen a handful of times, and your makeup is impeccable, but he can still see the hint of tiredness behind your eyes. He wonders how many hours you've put in at work this week, how much you've had to fight for your clients.

But the most noticeable change is that you're looking at him. Your datapad is held loosely in your hands, a bag of groceries on your hip, and you’re staring at him, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He doesn’t blame you.

This is a strange situation, and you must be wondering who the hell is standing in front of you, why they rang your bell and then walked away.

"Um," Echo says, suddenly aware that he hasn't spoken. He clears his throat, trying to gather his wits. He didn't think this through. "Hi."

You blink, clearly not expecting that response.

"Hi," you reply, warily.

Echo tries to say something, but the words won't come.

He's frozen in place, staring at you, unable to do anything except take in your appearance, drinking in the sight of you. He didn't realize how much he needed to see you until now, and the relief he feels is overwhelming.

"Do I..." You trail off, studying him carefully. "Do I know you?"

He feels his heart break, just a little.

You don't recognize him. Of course, you wouldn't. It's been so long, and he's not the same man you knew. His face is one of thousands, identical and interchangeable. He doesn't even look like a clone anymore, not really. He's more machine than man, now, and he has no idea how he expected you to see him.

"Yeah," he manages to say, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, you do."

You raise your eyebrows, waiting. When he doesn't say anything else, you take a step towards him, squinting a little. He can feel the tension in his body, can sense your scrutiny. It's not comfortable, but it's not unpleasant, either.

"Sorry," you say, sounding frustrated, "I can't quite —"

You stop, your eyes widening, and Echo can see the exact moment it clicks.

"Oh," you gasp, covering your mouth with a shaking hand. The motion makes the paper bag of groceries on your arm start to slip, and Echo rushes forward to catch it, placing it on the floor by your feet. He stands up, and he can feel your eyes on him, can see the tears beginning to well up, can hear your breathing quicken.

He waits.

"Echo?" Your voice is soft, tentative, like you're not sure if he's real or not. Like he's some kind of ghost. He's not sure that's not what he is.

"Hey, cyar'ika," he says. His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again.

A small, incredulous laugh escapes you.

"Hi," you breathe. You cover your mouth again, trying to stifle the sob that rises from your chest. "I —" 

You let out a shaky breath, and then another, and then all of a sudden, you're crying, tears streaming down your face. Your hands come up to wipe them away, but more keep falling, and Echo is overwhelmed with the desire to hold you, to take away the pain and the sadness, to make everything right. But he doesn't know if he's allowed, doesn't know if it would be welcome. So instead, he just stands there, helpless.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "I can't believe it's you."

He smiles at that, his own eyes burning. "It's me," he confirms. "I'm here."

You're shaking your head, your eyes never leaving his face, as if you're afraid that he might disappear if you look away. He doesn't blame you, and he does his best to stay as still as possible. The last thing he wants is to scare you, or make you think he's going to leave. Not when he just got here.

"I thought..." You start, and then trail off.

"I know."

You swallow hard, taking a moment to compose yourself. "I thought you were dead."

Echo winces. He's heard those words from a lot of people, but coming from you, they hurt. "Yeah, I, uh... I thought so, too, for a while."

He sees the look of horror that crosses your face, the way your eyes grow wet again, and he wishes he hadn't said it.

"How... How long have you been back?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, strained, and Echo can hear the question underneath, the one you're afraid to ask. The one that makes his stomach twist into knots.

"Not long," he answers, trying to keep his tone even, light. "Only a couple months, really."

"Months?" you repeat, incredulous. "You've been back for months?"

Echo shifts uncomfortably and nods. "Yeah."

You stare at him, your mouth opening and closing as you search for words. "And... And you didn't comm me?"

"I, uh... No."

You let out a sharp exhale and turn away, bringing your hands to your face, and he can see that you're starting to shake again. You're silent for a moment, and he can feel his heart pounding, can feel the blood rushing in his ears. His stomach churns, and he feels like he's going to be sick.

"Why?" Your voice is tight, controlled. It's the same voice you use when you're working, the one you use to keep yourself calm, to keep yourself from getting angry.

"I just... I wasn't..." Echo trails off, not sure what to say. I wasn't sure if I was coming back? That's true, but not the whole truth. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me? Also true, but also not the full answer. I wasn't sure I was worth it? Yeah, that's the one.

But he can't say it.

He doesn't know if it's fear or guilt or shame, but whatever it is, it keeps the words stuck in his throat. You're waiting for an answer, and he's not sure he has one.

"Echo," you say, your voice a warning. You turn to face him again, and he can see the hurt and frustration in your eyes. He wants to hold you, wants to apologize, wants to take it all back. But he doesn't move. He can't.

"Why?" you repeat, more forcefully this time.

"I didn't want to bother you," he says. It's the best answer he can come up with, and the worst part is that it's also true. At least, that's what he tells himself.

But the moment the words leave his mouth, he knows it's the wrong thing to say. You stiffen, and then your jaw tightens. He can tell that you're barely holding it together, and he wants to say something, to explain, but he doesn't get the chance.

"You didn't want to bother me," you repeat, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can feel the sting of it. "I'm sorry, did I not make it clear how much I care about you?"

"No, you did," Echo says, backtracking, trying to placate you. "You did, I promise."

"Then please explain how you thought keeping me in the dark about the fact that the man I love was still alive and well was not a bother."

The word "love" hits him like a punch to the gut.

You love him. You still love him. You're still here, and you're still loving him, even after everything. He doesn't understand, doesn't know why. Doesn't know how. But he doesn't have time to think about it, not with the way you're looking at him, the hurt and confusion clear on your face.

"That's not what I meant," he says, his voice low, pleading. "It's not that. I promise."

You let out a shaky sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "What's the difference, then?"

Echo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, not knowing what to say.

"I mourned you," you say. Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it sounds loud in the silence between the two of you. "I loved you, and I mourned you, and I was doing okay, and then you just show up, and act like it's no big deal, like I didn't spend weeks, months waiting for you to come back, hoping you'd come back, and..."

Your voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears begins to roll down your cheeks. Echo reaches out to brush them away, and you flinch. The motion stings, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push it. He lets his hand drop to his side.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you did," you say, sniffling.

The words hit him harder than he expects, and he feels his throat tighten.

"I didn't know what to say," he admits, his voice breaking. "I didn't know what to do."

"Why not?" you ask, and your anger has softened, turning into something else. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Echo says quickly. "Of course not. You were perfect. You were... You were amazing."

You look at him, and there's a vulnerability in your eyes that makes him want to gather you in his arms and never let go. He thinks maybe he should. But before he can, you speak.

"So what happened?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, but Echo can hear the desperation, the need for an answer. "Where were you? Why didn't you come back?"

“I—“ Echo looks around, suddenly aware of the hallway and the closed doors surrounding him, closing in on him. The space is too small, the walls are too close, the air is too thick. He feels trapped, like the world is closing in around him, and he takes a step back.

"Can we... Can we not do this out here?" he asks, trying not to let his voice betray his panic.

You study him for a moment, considering. He doesn't blame you. After all, he'd shown up out of the blue, and you had every right to be suspicious. You're still crying, but there's a steeliness in your gaze, and he can tell you're weighing your options, deciding if he's worth it or not. His heart hammers against his ribs as he waits, praying that you'll give him a chance.

Finally, you let out a sigh and nod.

"Yeah," you say, "sure."

You bend down to pick up the groceries, and Echo rushes forward, scooping them up before you can. You look at him, surprised.

"Let me help," he says. "Please."

You hesitate, and Echo can see the worry on your face, but then you nod, fumbling for the keypad. The lock clicks open, and you push the door open, motioning for him to go ahead.

He steps inside, and the familiar scent of your apartment hits him hard. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it, how much he'd come to associate it with safety and comfort. It makes his chest ache, and he takes a moment to steady himself, willing the tears to stop.

Your apartment is the same, and yet so different.

It's still cozy, but there's a coldness to the air, a lack of warmth. The curtains are closed, and the room is dark, the only light coming from the dim bulb above the stove in the kitchen. There are dishes stacked in the sink, and a few pieces of dirty laundry have been discarded on the couch. The floor is littered with shoes and other miscellaneous items, as if someone came home and kicked everything off their feet, leaving it all in a pile. Echo’s brow furrows at the mess, and he wonders when you started to let the place get this way.

"I'm sorry," you say, sounding embarrassed. You take the bag of groceries from him, your cheeks flushed. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Don't worry about it," he assures you.

"Here, let me..." You trail off, disappearing down the hall, and a moment later, he hears a door slam shut.

Echo stands there, unsure of what to do. His gaze wanders around the room, taking everything in, trying to find something to occupy himself with. It feels like years since he's been here, and the sensation is both comforting and strange. He remembers the nights he spent curled up next to you on the couch, the quiet mornings in the kitchen, the lazy afternoons spent in bed.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on the present.

You're back now, and he needs to concentrate.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against the wood.

It's quiet, but Echo can hear you moving around, and he wonders if you're trying to clean up, trying to make the place a little more presentable. He doesn't care about any of that. He cares about you.

And he doesn't know what to say.

He runs his hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye, trying to think. He's rehearsed this moment in his head, has imagined all the different ways it could go.

And now that it's actually happening, he can't remember a single one.

He's such an idiot.

The minutes pass, and you finally return. He hears you enter the room, the soft sound of your footsteps, but he can't bring himself to look up. Not yet.

"Echo," you say, and he can hear the hesitation in your voice. "What happened?"

"I don't know where to start," he confesses, dropping his hand and glancing up at you.

You've changed into something more comfortable, a pair of sweatpants and your favorite sweater, and your face is scrubbed clean, makeup-free. It's nice to see you this way, a reminder of the times you shared together, and the sight makes him smile.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Nothing, it's just..." He pauses, his eyes wandering over you. "I forgot how you looked in sweatpants."

You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of amusement on your face. "Seriously? You're sitting here, after being missing for months, and you're making fun of my fashion choices?"

"I'm not making fun of you," he says, chuckling. The pressure in his chest eases slightly, and he takes a breath. "I just meant that I missed seeing you this way."

You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, and then shake your head.

"You're unbelievable," you mutter.

Echo smiles, and for a moment, he feels normal. As if the last year never happened, and this was just a day like any other. As if he'd just come home from a mission, and you'd greet him with a kiss, and everything would be fine.

But then you sigh, and the moment is over.

"Look, I get that this is... Well, I'm sure this isn't what you were expecting," you say. You move to sit across from him, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your hands. "But we can't keep pretending like nothing happened. You have to talk to me."

Echo stares at you, his eyes taking in the familiar lines of your face, the curve of your lips, the color of your eyes. They aren’t as bright as he remembered, not as full of life, and the realization breaks his heart. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Okay," he begins, clearing his throat. "So, uh, this is going to be a lot."

"That's okay," you say gently. You give him a reassuring nod, and Echo feels a swell of gratitude for you. "Just... Start at the beginning, and we'll go from there."

"Right, the beginning." Echo nods, trying to organize his thoughts, and then he starts to speak.

He tells you everything, from the moment the explosion happened, to the moment he woke up and found himself in Rex's arms, everything in between. He tells you about his injuries, the surgeries, the physical therapy. He tells you about his time with the Batch, his newfound abilities, the things he's been able to do, the things he's learned. He talks about the missions, the jobs, the danger they've faced, and the risks they've taken. He tells you about the planets, the people, the experiences. He tries to leave nothing out, even the hard parts. The loss, the pain, the fear. He doesn't want to spare you any of it.

You sit there and listen, asking questions when necessary, but mostly staying silent. And when he's done, he sits there, feeling a strange sense of relief. He hadn't realized how much he needed to talk about everything, how much he'd been holding in. And he hadn't realized how good it would feel to tell you. To have someone who cared, someone he trusted, who knew him better than anyone.

When the words run out, and the room is silent, you let out a long, slow exhale. You sit there, your hands folded together, your gaze fixed on the tabletop, and Echo waits, not sure what to expect. But the longer the silence drags on, the more worried he gets.

"Cyar'ika?" he asks, his voice hesitant.

You take a breath and look up at him, and Echo is startled to see that your eyes are glassy, and there are fresh tear tracks running down your cheeks.

"Sorry," you apologize, wiping at them with your sleeve. "I'm not — I just..."

You take another breath, and then let it out, composing yourself. "Thank you," you say. "For telling me. I know that can't have been easy."

"It wasn't," Echo admits, and his throat tightens a little. "But I'm glad I did."

You offer him a small smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You look like you’re far away, lost in your own thoughts, and Echo has a feeling you're not fully present, not in the moment. And he doesn't blame you. His words can't have been easy to hear.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" he asks, trying to break the silence.

You glance at him, your eyes focusing, and then look away, your jaw clenching. Echo can see the emotion on your face, can tell that you're struggling to stay calm, to hold it together. You've always been good at that, he thinks.

"I just..." You pause, taking a shaky breath, and Echo can see the tears forming in your eyes again. "I just don't understand."

He frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

You close your eyes, taking a moment to collect yourself. Then, you stand up and begin pacing around the kitchen, your hands clasped behind your back. You move slowly, deliberately, your gaze fixed on the floor, like you're trying to make sense of something, figure something out. 

Echo watches you, feeling uneasy. You're not giving anything away, and the silence is starting to get to him. He's never seen you in the courtroom, but he imagines this is the stance you take when you're interrogating a witness. 

It's effective.

"Can you say something, please?" he asks. He knows he sounds desperate, but he doesn't care.

"I'm thinking," you say, and Echo bites his lip.

He feels like he's going to crawl out of his skin. He wants to get up, to follow you around the room, try to coax a response out of you. He wants to make this better, to make this right. But he knows that pushing you won't help, so he stays seated, trying to keep his patience.

 You continue to pace, your expression blank, and the seconds tick by, the only sound the muffled noises of the city outside. It feels like an eternity has passed when you finally stop, standing in front of him, your arms crossed.

"I can't believe you thought I wouldn't want to see you," you say. Your voice is low, almost a whisper, and there's an edge to it that Echo doesn't recognize. It's not anger, not exactly. It's something else, something deeper.

"I know," he replies, his voice just as quiet.

"I thought you were dead," you say, the words coming out in a rush. "I grieved you. I mourned you. And then you show up, and you're... You're alive, and you're here, and you think the best thing to do is to leave me alone?"

"I didn't know what would happen," Echo explains, trying to keep his tone calm. "I wasn't sure if I was coming back, and I didn't want to —"

"No," you say sharply, cutting him off. "That's not an excuse. That's bullshit, and you know it."

Echo swallows, and nods, not sure what to say.

"We made promises," you continue, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can see the frustration on your face. "To each other. We talked about our future, we said things that... We made things that were real, and then you just decided it was too much, and you walked away. What the hell is that?"

"I'm sorry," Echo says around the lump forming in his throat. "I shouldn't have —"

"No," you interrupt, your eyes burning. "You shouldn't have."

Echo looks at you, and he feels like he's going to shatter. You’re staring at him with such intensity, and there's an anger in your gaze that he hasn't seen before. It's so different from the gentle look you usually give him, and it makes him ache.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he says. "I swear, I didn't."

"Then why did you?" you ask, and there's a note of pleading in your voice. “I spent so long wondering, worrying, and you just... You didn't care."

"Of course I did," he argues. "It wasn't about that."

"Then what was it about, Echo?" you demand. "What was so important that you thought you couldn't tell me? That you couldn't comm me, or send a message, or do anything that would have let me know you were alive? That would have told me you were okay?"

"I didn't think —"

"What, that I'd care? That I'd worry? That I'd miss you? That I'd wonder where you were, and if you were okay, and what the hell happened to you?" you say, your voice rising.

Echo can feel the frustration building inside him, and he knows he shouldn't respond, knows that getting angry won't help, but the words tumble out before he can stop them. "I'm sorry," he snaps. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"That's not an excuse," you snap back, and Echo blinks, shocked. You're the most level-headed person he's ever met, and he's never heard you yell before.

"Yeah, well, it's the best one I've got," he says.

"Echo, I loved you," you say, and the past tense stings. "When Fives told me what happened to you, I —" Your voice catches, and the fight goes out of him. He can see the pain on your face, the hurt in your eyes, and he can't help but feel responsible. "I can't even describe it. It felt like my whole world was ending. And I don’t blame you for doing your duty, but I do blame you for not coming back to me."

"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I really am."

You shake your head, turning away from him. "Why didn't you comm me?"

Echo hesitates. He doesn't want to admit his fears, his worries, the insecurities that have plagued him. He doesn't want to tell you how much he doubted, how much he doubted you. It feels too vulnerable, too raw. And it would only make you feel worse. But the longer the silence stretches, the more you deserve the truth. And he can't avoid it forever.

"I didn't think I was worth it," he says, his voice low. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, the sting of embarrassment. He can't look at you, doesn't want to see the pity, the disappointment, the anger. "I didn't think I was worth it."

You turn to face him, your expression softening.

"You were all I had left," he says. He feels exposed, and it's not a comfortable feeling, but he can't stop now. Not with the way you're looking at him. Not when he's so close to fixing this, to getting you back. "After everything that happened, I just... I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You really thought I'd just leave you?"

Echo can hear the hurt in your voice, and he's surprised at the sharpness of it. He expected to be met with some amount of anger, but he didn't expect it to cut so deep. He didn't think his insecurities would upset you so much. He's used to it, by now. After everything he's been through, the doubts and worries have become a constant, an almost comforting presence. But you were never supposed to know about them.

"It's not that," he says. "I know you wouldn't have left me. It's just... I didn't want to drag you down with me."

"That's stupid," you reply. There's no malice in your voice, but there's no sympathy, either. "What makes you think I couldn't handle it?"

"It's not about what you could handle," Echo says. "You didn't sign up for this. You didn't sign up for any of it."

"I signed up for you," you argue, and Echo is startled by the fierceness of your tone.

"And look at what that got you."

You fall silent, and Echo regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He's always known he wasn't good enough for you, but it's different to actually say it out loud. It makes it real. And he's not sure he's ready for that. But you're looking at him like you can't believe he said it, and the disappointment in your eyes makes him feel even worse. 

Your eyes rove over him, taking in the scarring, the metal implants, the ports and wires, the armor. You look like you’re seeing him for the first time, and the disgust and fear he’d thought might appear are nowhere to be found, just a profound sense of sadness and resignation.

"Oh, Echo," you breathe. The words are quiet, but they feel like a slap, and he has to look away, not wanting to meet your gaze.

"I'm not the man you knew," he says. He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. His eyes are burning, and he has to fight to keep the tears from falling. He hates how weak he feels, how small, how vulnerable. "I can't be. I'm... I'm not him anymore."

"Yes, you are," you insist. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently, and the sensation makes him jump. He'd almost forgotten how warm you are, how soft. How safe. He wants to hold on, to pull you close, to never let go. "You're still the same man, the same Echo, I just..."

"What?" he asks, when you trail off. "You just what?"

You sigh, dropping his hand and running your fingers through your hair, tugging lightly. The familiar gesture makes him ache. "I don't know, Echo," you admit. "I'm... I'm sad. And I'm angry. But I'm mostly just... Confused."

"Confused about what?"

"I'm confused as to why you didn't come back to me," you say. "I'm confused as to why you thought I'd want anything else."

"I thought you deserved better," he says, the words sounding hollow, even to his own ears. "I thought you deserved someone who was whole, who could give you a normal life, who didn't have a hundred years of baggage and trauma to deal with. And I was terrified that you already had that."

"Had what?"

"A normal life," he answers. "Without me. And the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was true."

"It's not," you say. Your voice is quiet, but firm, and Echo looks at you, searching for any trace of doubt, of hesitation, of insincerity. But all he finds is determination, and it makes his heart clench. The intensity in your gaze is too much, and he has to look away. His eyes trail over the walls, the ceiling, the floor, lingering on the groceries on the table, the dishes in the sink, the empty bottles of wine shoved into the trash, the pile of laundry on the couch. There’s a dent in the wall that wasn't there the last time he was here, and the carpet is worn. He wonders when that happened.

He feels a tug on his arm, and then you're reaching up to cup his face, your hands soft and warm. You turn his head to face you, your thumb stroking his cheek. The touch is gentle, comforting, and Echo can't stop the sigh that escapes him. It's been so long since someone touched him like this, and it's nice. It's more than nice. It's familiar. It's safe. It's home.

"I only wanted you," you whisper.

"Even after everything?" he asks. He doesn't mean to sound so incredulous, but he can't help it. He's spent so long convincing himself that you were better off without him, and now, hearing you say the opposite, hearing you say the words he'd only ever hoped for, the ones he'd tried to convince himself were true... It's a lot to take in.

"Even after everything," you affirm.

"You could have had anyone," he says. "Why me?"

"Because I love you," you answer, as if it's the simplest thing in the galaxy. As if it's the most obvious thing in the universe. "And I don't want anyone else."

"Cyar'ika..." His voice cracks, and the tears are falling freely now. You wipe them away, and the touch makes his chest ache.

"I've never stopped loving you, Echo," you say. Your voice is barely audible, but Echo hears it. And it's the best sound he's ever heard. "And I don't plan on stopping now."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry I left you, and I'm sorry I didn't comm you, and I'm sorry I was such a coward, and I'm —"

"Shh," you murmur, cutting him off. "I forgive you."

Echo can't speak. He's not sure he can move, can't even breathe. The relief is overwhelming, and it threatens to knock him off his feet. His chest tightens, and the tears won't stop falling, and he doesn't know what to do. He's missed you so much, has regretted leaving every single day, and now that you're here, now that he has you back, he can't find the words to express how grateful he is, how relieved, how happy.

"You really thought I was going to leave you?" you ask, and Echo can hear the note of humor in your voice, can see the ghost of a smile on your face. It's reassuring, and he lets himself smile, too.

"Honestly? Yes," he admits.

"Never," you reply.

Echo leans down and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. You move your hands down his face, brushing the tears away with your thumbs, before bringing them around his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He moves to do the same, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a quiet gasp of surprise, and Echo chuckles, holding you tighter.

"I missed you," he whispers, and it feels good to say the words out loud. "So much."

"I missed you, too," you say, your breath warm against his neck. You tilt your head and press a kiss against his throat, and Echo feels his heart stutter. "More than I can say."

Echo hums and pulls away, bringing his hand up to brush the hair away from your face. Your skin is warm, and soft, and he leans in and presses a kiss against your forehead, savoring the contact. You sigh, and he can't resist the urge to kiss you again, this time on the cheek.

"Echo," you murmur, letting out a shaky breath.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and your grip on his neck tightens, your fingers digging into the fabric of his blacks. He moves down your throat, trailing kisses along the column of your neck, and you gasp.

"I missed you, too," he murmurs, and you laugh.

"Yeah, I got that," you say. "Now, will you please kiss me?"

Echo smiles and obliges.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and it tastes like home. He cups the back of your neck, his scomp moving to rest on your hip, and you let out a pleased noise, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. The warmth of your mouth, the way your lips part, the little gasps and sighs you make, it all makes him want to get closer, to be nearer.

You break the kiss, and Echo lets out a quiet whimper. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder, and Echo brings his hand up to stroke your hair, his fingers combing through the strands. You sigh and lean into his touch, and he can't help the contented smile that spreads across his face.

"I'm glad you're here," you murmur. "I'm glad you came back."

"Me, too," he says. He tilts your head up and presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering. You close your eyes and nuzzle his neck, and Echo sighs, holding you close. It feels so good to have you in his arms again, to be able to hold you, and he wishes he could stay here forever. But the reality of the situation catches up with him, and he can't help the wave of guilt that washes over him.

"I'm sorry, Cyar'ika," he says.

You frown, and pull away slightly. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I didn't think this through," he admits. "I... I didn't know what was going to happen, and now..." He pauses, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I just... I'm sorry. I’m leaving soon, and I know it's going to be hard, and I know you're going to have to say goodbye again, and I'm —"

"Echo," you interrupt, and your voice is firm. You put your hand on his chest, and he can feel the heat of it, even through the layers of armor and clothing. "I know what I signed up for. I'm not expecting anything different."

"But —"

"No," you cut him off. "No buts. I knew what this was, Echo. And I still want it."

"But you shouldn't have to," Echo argues. "I don't want to put you through that."

"Well, it's a little late for that," you reply. Your tone is sharp, and Echo winces. "Look, Echo. I know the situation isn't ideal, but I'm not going to walk away because it's hard. And I'm not going to stop caring just because it hurts." You look at him, and the determination in your gaze makes his heart skip a beat. "You're worth it, okay? No matter what."

"Cyar'ika —"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "You're not changing my mind. You can try, but it's not going to work. So don't waste your time." You give him a stern look, and then your face softens. "Okay?"

"Okay," Echo agrees. He knows it's futile to argue. He's never been able to say no to you. Not when it matters. "I'm still sorry, though."

You roll your eyes, and then stand on your toes and give him a quick kiss. "You're lucky I love you," you say, and the words make him feel lighter.

"Yeah, I am," he agrees, grinning.

"So, what now?" you ask.

Echo shrugs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He's been so focused on finding you, on convincing you to forgive him, on making things right, that he hasn't thought about what comes next. The prospect of it is both exhilarating and terrifying, and he doesn't know where to start. There's so much to do, and so little time. And he doesn't want to waste another second.

"Do you want to stay?" you offer.

"Stay?"

"Here," you clarify. "For a while. I don't know how long you can, but..." You pause, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “I was going to make dinner. If you wanted to stay."

"Dinner?" Echo repeats, and he can't hide the excitement in his voice. The idea of a home-cooked meal is so far removed from his life now, so distant, that the thought of it almost makes him lightheaded. "Really?"

You laugh, and the sound fills him with warmth. "Yes, Echo. Really."

"What are you making?" he asks. The question sounds childish, and he can't believe how eager he is, how excited.

"Just a simple dish," you say. You move towards the counter and begin putting the groceries away, and Echo follows you, a smile spreading across his face. While you tell him about the recipe, he moves toward your sink, picking up a dish and turning the water on. You look over at him, and the fondness in your eyes makes him blush. "You don't have to do that, Echo."

"I know," he replies. "I want to."

"Well, alright then."

The two of you work together, talking and laughing as you wash the dishes and prepare the food. Echo feels lighter than he has in months, and it's a relief to be here with you, to have something normal and familiar to do. Something so domestic, so ordinary, and yet, so special.

He wants to remember this.

When the food is ready, you gesture to the table, and Echo takes a seat. You sit across from him, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other. He's missed you, missed this. Missed being here, missed having someone who knew him, someone he could trust. Someone he could love.

You're both quiet, and Echo can see the wheels turning in your head, can see the way your eyes dart over him, taking everything in. You're cataloging, committing him to memory too. The realization hits him, and his chest tightens. He'll be leaving soon, and you're doing what you can to make sure you won't forget him. It's a sobering thought, and he's not sure how to handle it.

"Hey," you say, and Echo looks up, meeting your gaze. "It's okay. We'll be fine."

"How did you know?" he asks, startled.

You shrug. "It's written all over your face."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I wish I could stay."

"It's okay," you repeat. “We have the night, and that’s more than enough. For now, let's just enjoy the time we have."

Echo nods.

You're right.

You always are.

You smile, and it's so beautiful, so genuine, that it takes his breath away. You reach across the table and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, and you lean forward, resting your elbows on the table and putting your chin in your hand. The way you're looking at him, the affection in your eyes, it makes him feel like he's the only thing that matters, like he’s home.

And, right now, he is.

He's missed this.

He's missed you.

And as the two of you sit there, enjoying each other's company, Echo knows he's made the right choice. He knows that coming back was worth it, that finding you, fixing things, making things right, it's all been worth it. And he knows that, no matter what, he'll be back.

He'll find his way back to you.

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[ariparri]

The suspense at the end! 😱

I totally understand where Orion is coming from honestly. Wanting something but the path to it isn't so easy to walk with all the obstacles.

A Search for Balance

CHAPTER 44: FIRE IN THE SKY

Find the masterlist with all chapters of this story here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

A/N: Katriona Cassiopeia still belongs to @kc-and-co Warning: canon-compliant mentions of violence against minors

The victory party was in full swing, but Orion didn’t feel like celebrating. The high of the match had faded, leaving him feeling strung up and drained from a night of little sleep. 

Ever since Murphy and Katriona had invited him to the World Cup, he had been looking forward to it, yet none of it had turned out like he had expected. In his eagerness to fill the emptiness inside him, he hadn’t questioned what had looked to be an act of generosity, and now he was back where he had begun, his heart filled with a longing for Lizzie that he didn’t know how to deal with. 

Not sharing the high spirits around him, Orion kept to the side of the party. He busied himself watching the fireworks flashing across the sky, nodding at familiar faces as they passed him. Luckily, most of them were too ecstatic to bother him in his gloom; it had been a while since he had seen any of his friends, too, but it was just as well - the party was noisy enough without any of them bothering him on top. 

More out of habit than anything, he scanned the crowd for Lizzie. He found her standing close to the World Cup trophy, talking to a witch covered head to toe in Irish colours. Lizzie seemed to know her because she put a hand on the woman’s arm before suddenly turning to walk away. When she paused abruptly, the Irish witch whispered into her ear before yelling something Orion didn’t understand. Then, she raised her shirt up to her shoulders, flashing the hollering bystanders and vanished into the crowd. 

Shaking his head in astonishment, Orion looked back to where Lizzie had been but found that she had disappeared. When he spotted her again, she was headed for the exit, Skye’s unmistakable blue head right behind her. Then, the two of them were gone. 

Without thinking, Orion made to follow them, but he didn’t make it very far. Katriona materialised by his side, her brows drawn together in an angry frown. 

“What is going on? Why is Lizzie leaving?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do?”

Orion sighed wearily. “I did nothing, my sweet but quick to judge sister-in-the-stars.”

At that, Katriona blinked. “You didn’t? Why?”

Hadn’t he been so tired and frustrated, Orion would have laughed at the absurdity of her question.

“How can I cause disturbance in waters that I do not go near? I’ve kept my distance from Lizzie since you so kindly abandoned us at the fire yesterday.” 

Katriona tilted her head. “I repeat my question - why?” 

“Because there is no use. Every word we share is another twist of the knife in both our hearts. When Lizzie and I parted, we did so hoping to heal, not cut ourselves even deeper.” 

Katriona snorted. “All I hear is yada yada yada. I thought we were over this - if you want something, you’ll need to go and get it. You want her. She wants you. Wherever is your bloody problem?”

“The problem,” Orion said, irritation rising in his chest,” is that she has left. Lizzie chose to go and stretch her wings, and as much as it pains me that she has flown beyond my reach, I know she deserves it. She earned it. I will not be who keeps her from her destiny.”

“Not that again.”

“Yes, that again. We played with fire, knowing what happens when you hold your hands into a flame. Who are we to complain now that it burns? We were never meant to be. It was a lie we told ourselves because we didn’t want to listen. We should never have put our careers on the line for this fever dream. What have we to show for breaking every single rule I can think of? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” 

“The rules, the rules, all I hear is the rules,” Katriona answered hotly. “Sod the rules, I say! If they don’t suit you, bend them. You always did. Where’s your creativity gone?” She grabbed Orion by the arm and pulled him toward the exit. “Come on, Lizzie’s hasn’t gone for long. You can still catch her if you hurry.”

Orion spun away from her, his anger at her, which had been simmering beneath the surface since he had seen Lizzie and Skye at their camp, finally spilling over.

“I don’t want to catch her! Don’t you get it? I want to forget her, and you should support me rather than make everything worse. She and I aren’t meant to be - never were and never will be. The sooner you, and I, and everybody else, accept it, the easier it will be to finally move on. Maybe - just maybe - Lizzie and I can both actually be happy for once.” 

Katriona blinked at his sudden outburst, her face illuminated by the green and gold explosives in the sky, but Orion wasn’t done. It was like a dam had broken inside him, all of his frustration spilling from him in a rush of words.

“Every time Lizzie and I try to be together, we part hurting. Every time we try to love each other, we break each other’s hearts. We made our choices - both of us - and all they ever do is lead us away from each other, every single bloody time.”

He took a deep breath, dipping his head back into his neck. His eyes searched the sky, but the stars were eclipsed by the fireworks rising from the tents beyond the party area. When Orion spoke next, he felt light and heavy at the same time.

“It’s time to let her go,” he said, more to himself than to Katriona. “Let her go and be free. Both of us.” 

Katriona’s face was a play of light and shadow as the fireworks flared again, but Orion could see the spark of sympathy in her eyes. She placed her hand on his arm again, lightly this time, but Orion shook her off. He wanted to tell her to, please, leave the matter alone but paused.

All of a sudden, the light seemed to have changed. The sky was still glowing in the distance, but it wasn’t fireworks anymore that were lighting the darkness. It was a flickering orange sheen, which was growing brighter by the minute. Orion thought he could hear the faint noise of thundering, but it didn’t sound like fireworks being set off. 

Slowly, the music began to die as more and more people noticed the change in the air. A murmur rose among the crowd. Suddenly, Murphy was there, reaching for Katriona’s hand with an alarmed look on his painted face. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” he asked, his voice strangely loud in the strained silence. 

Katriona opened her mouth to reply when a new sound cut through the atmosphere that made Orion’s blood run cold.

Screams. 

Sharing a look, the three of them followed the throng of people into the open, where they would be able to see better. They were met with sounds of confusion and panic as witches and wizards darted to and fro, some headed for the woods in the distance, some straight for the cause of the commotion. 

Now that they were outside, Orion could discern a row of cloaked and hooded people in the distance. They were marching in succession, setting tents on fire as they went. They kept their wands raised in front of their faces, hidden by what looked to be silvery masks and joined by a constant stream of equally dressed people coming in from both sides. 

Above them, four shapes were floating through the air. They were weirdly contorted, limbs twitching, and movements too unnatural to appear human. When Katriona realised how small two of the hovering shapes were, she drew a sharp breath. 

“Come on,” she said with a pressed voice. “We need to see if we can help.”

They fought their way through the people running in the opposite direction from them - away from the hooded group of wizards - but soon had to give in to the fact that Murphy had no space to manoeuvre his wheelchair. 

The dark figures had turned from them and were walking in a different direction, but the general commotion seemed to have spread beyond their wake. Emotions both good and bad had been running high over the last couple of hours, and now all of it was breaking ground. Fires were blooming everywhere, the air thick and biting with their smoke, and the sounds of screams and hollering were storming in on Orion from all sides. 

“Let’s go and find a meeting point,” Murphy suggested. He had to shout to be heard above the racket. “Maybe someone will be able to tell us what’s going on.”

Orion was about to agree when the atmosphere abruptly changed. Where everything had been black shadows and flickering flames before, the campsite was suddenly cast into a pale green light. An eerie silence settled over the burning field as hundreds of faces turned skywards. Moments after, screams erupted all around them, followed by the cracks of several people Disapparating in panic. 

Slowly, Orion raised his eyes to the sky. 

“Oh my God,” Katriona whispered next to him. Her voice was hoarse. “It can’t be…” 

She reached for Murphy’s hand, who watched the image of the skull with a snake winding from its gaping mouth with his lips tightly pressed together. He nodded. 

“The Dark Mark.”

Orion was still watching the sign of He Who Must Not Be Named - the symbol the whole wizarding world had hoped to never see again - when a sudden explosion in the distance made them jump. As if the sound had kicked time into motion again, people began to run, away from the fires, the explosions, and the skull in the sky, without looking left or right. Standing completely still amid the people fleeing around them, Katriona turned to Orion. Her face was ghastly pale.

“The explosion,” she said, her blue eyes wide with fear. “That was by our camp, wasn’t it?”

She clapped a hand in front of her mouth.

“That’s where Skye and Lizzie are.”

[nixies-creations]

Music Producer Bradley x Rancher Jake

"You know, baby," Bradley starts as he passes Jake a towel to dry his hands, "I definitely didn't have a cowboy kink before I met you." Jake hums, eyes flicking to Bradley before focusing on hanging the towel back up on its hook before turning to lean back against the counter. "Oh?" Bradley nods as he moves in to crowd up against Jake, hands moving to grip the counter on either side of Jake's hips as he tilts his head down enough to press a trail of kisses against his scruff covered cheek before capturing Jake's lips in a soft, tender kiss. "Yeah, baby. Definitely didn't have a thing for the rugged, sweaty, hard working type before I met you." "Should I apologize for opening your eyes to how sexy I can be?" Jake asks, lips curled into a smug smile as he moves to wrap his arms around Bradley's shoulders. "Definitely. You should definitely apologize for using your wile's to make me fall in love with you," Bradley agrees brightly, eyes sparkling as he moves his hands down to grip the back of Jake's thighs to lift him up onto the counter. "You finished with your chores?" Laughing, Jake moves to hook his legs around Bradley's hips, drawing him in even closer to that they are pressed flush together. "Ol' Jerry told me to take the afternoon off since he knew you got in last night. Seems to think his boss could use a little time welcomin' his husband back from bein' outta town." "Remind me to buy Jerry something to say thank you."

[littlespoonevan]

This Old Love Has Me Bound

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 3516 Summary: “Okay so, a high school crush,” Tommy starts, ticking the examples off on his fingers. “A maybe set up from your sister and one guy who thought you were flirting like, three years ago. Is that it?” Buck frowns, trying to think, because he knows there has to be more. Unbidden, a memory flashes in his head and he huffs a laugh. “There was one time this, uh, Christmas elf? Thought Eddie and I were married. Like we took Christopher to see Santa and she told me we had a beautiful family.” Something inscrutable passes across Tommy’s face but it’s gone in an instant. “Yeah? What’d you say?” “I-“ “Here we are!” the perky waiter interrupts Buck’s answer, looking expectantly between the two of them. “Who ordered the steak?” * In an attempt to better understand his newfound bisexuality, Buck tries to figure out if he ever missed any signs with guys before. The universe keeps interrupting every time he's about to think about Eddie.

Read here on ao3

[ariparri]

It's so interesting so everyone's own fears and not just MC's own! XD great job with this!

And my boy Diego 🤣 using his minor fear against the worst one xD

This actually brought back an idea I wanted to draw with Diego's fear for butterflies xD

Carson and Diego in agreement over their strong dislike over butterflies and snails because of incidents that happened when they were younger. Carson stepping on a snail with his barefoot on accident and Diego playing with his siblings running around with his mouth open wide in laughter and a butterfly ends up flying into his mouth causing him to choke on it 😭

 “It’s time to stand up – stand up! Show me what you’re made of! Hands up, hands up! Fight the fear…fight the fear! Rise up from the ground – Gonna make you a believer!”

~”The Fear” by the Score

x~x~x~x

a sincere thank you to @catohphm, @jackies-ear69​, @hphm-jeniferltheman​, and @ariparri​ for brainstorming about MC’s friends’ boggarts with me!

x~x~x~x

The year she took on the task of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Patricia Rakepick soon became many students’ favorite professor. Scholarly sorts like Rowan Khanna appreciated her extensive knowledge of the subject, while more avant-garde sorts like Jae Kim and Nymphadora Tonks liked her dry sense of humor. This didn’t even touch aspiring Cursebreakers Bill Weasley and Merula Snyde, both of whom Rakepick had a pointed interest in and greatly esteemed Rakepick for her skills.

There were students who didn’t take to Rakepick as well as others, though. Ben Copper could never completely relax around Rakepick, thanks in large part to how critically her eye always seemed to fall on him. Even serial rulebreaker Tulip Karasu got bad vibes from Rakepick, suspecting ulterior motives to the professor’s seemingly more kindly actions. 

And of course there was the last student Rakepick had taken a targeted liking to, and arguably the strongest liking at that – Hogwarts’ infamous Cursebreaker, Carewyn Cromwell.

Carewyn had distrusted Rakepick from the moment she first arrived at Hogwarts the previous year to supposedly help deal with the Cursed Vaults, and Carewyn’s opinion hadn’t softened toward Gringotts’s Head Cursebreaker anymore now that she was a professor. Even when Rakepick ended up saving Carewyn from an Imperiused Ben the previous school year, it only served to make Carewyn all the more wary of Rakepick’s intentions. After all, Carewyn couldn’t help but think, how was it that Rakepick caught up with her and Ben so fast, that night? Had she been keeping tabs on her? However concerned Rakepick had seemed for Carewyn, the Cursebreaker still left her, Bill, Charlie, Hagrid, and Torvus to deal with the Forest Vault, rather than going with them or dealing with it herself. Even now that Rakepick was a professor, she kept trying to get Carewyn, Bill, and Merula to work “with her” (read: under her leadership) to reach the next Cursed Vault. Admittedly Carewyn planned on searching for the next Vault and rescuing Jacob with or without help…but she couldn’t help but agree with Tulip that Rakepick clearly had her own motives. The Head Cursebreaker had even said herself that she intended to find the Cursed Vaults and “reveal their secrets” – therefore Rakepick was mainly interested in retrieving the Vaults’ so-called “treasure”…something Carewyn didn’t give a damn about, in the face of finding and saving her brother.

Carewyn’s distrust of her didn’t seem to bother Rakepick in the slightest, though. If anything, the professor only seemed to expect more from Carewyn and single her out in class more because of it. 

Once Rakepick quizzed the entire class on protective wards, only to insist that Carewyn tell her the difference between Protego Diabolica and Protego Horribilis. (Carewyn correctly explained that the first was a Dark curse intended to kill any enemies who tried to cross the boundary, while the second was a strong form of the Shield Charm specifically intended to protect against Dark curses, and Rakepick awarded Slytherin ten points before moving on.) 

Another time, when Rakepick brought an entire swarm of pixies for the fifth-year class to defend themselves against, the professor insisted that Carewyn use a spell other than Immobulus, the spell they’d been actively studying, to stop them – apparently Rakepick knew Carewyn had gotten help with the spell from her ex-Prefect, Felix Rosier, in the past and she thought that the assignment would be too easy for her on its own. (Carewyn responded to the challenge by using Impedimenta to slow down each pixie enough that she could levitate them one by one back into their cage with a Locomotion Charm before closing it – a solution that brought a satisfied smirk to Rakepick’s face.)

It was therefore no surprise in late October when Rakepick decided to give her fifth-years a proper review on boggarts, the Cursebreaker-turned-professor had Carewyn come up to the front of the class first to deal with the creature.

Carewyn was a bit startled despite herself.

Rakepick’s lips turned up in a smirk.

Keep reading

[ariparri]

A New Friend

HPHM Cardverse Masterlist

The Hogwarts Mystery Cardverse is an AU that takes place in a fantasy land called Cinderhaven. There are five regions, four of them representing a suit of cards; Spades, Clubs, Hearts, Diamonds. The final region representing the Jokers.

Warnings: A sassy bat annoying his owner.

Summary: Veruca meets the farm girl that lives between the borders of Spades and Clubs.

Word Count: 2,784

Tag List: @catohphm @lifeofkaze @eternalchaoschocolaterain @oneirataxia-girl @akikocho

If you want to be updated on content for the AU, let me know and I'll put you on the tag list!

Here is how our future queen and jack meet for the first time! Their friendship started off with a runaway Gambat just messing with his owner. Their friendship also eventually leads to them meeting the future King of Clubs but that will be for another chapter.

You can also read it on AO3

• ･❀･ ｡ . ⡀｡⠐❀ ･ ｡ . ⡀｡⠐❀ ･ •

The streets of the country were bustling with activity. The shops were busy and the trolleys were packed with people trying to get to their destinations. Townsfolk were happily chatting amongst each other while going about their day.

"Gambat!" A young brunette girl shouts, running through the streets of the town. Overhead, a brown fruit bat flies, chirping as if taunting the young girl to chase after him. "Come back here!" The small bat chirps again, before flying off further down the street. A frustrated groan came from the girl as she picked up her pace, almost bumping into people, shouting apologies as she goes.

"This was supposed to be easy!" She huffed, holding onto the leash as it flailed behind her. "Taking your pet out for a walk shouldn't be this hard!" She huffed, looking up once more to see Gambat flying in the direction of the markets and shops. "Argh– Gambat, come back here!" The girl pushes herself to run faster, hoping to catch up with her pet. A groan left her mouth, she promised her parents that she would be fine.

~ An Hour Ago - McQuaid Estate ~

Elroy and Wilhelmina stood in the foyer of the estate, watching their daughter come down the stairs with a maid following behind her. "Mo stoirín, are you sure you'll be fine on your own?" Elroy, ever the worrywart over his daughter, was proud that she was being more independent. A nudge from his wife was enough to get him to stop. "Veruca will be fine, love. She's a McQuaid, after all. It's other people that you should be worried about." Wilma mutters the last part to herself. A soft chuckle escapes her husband's lips.

It's true that Veruca can be a bit of a troublemaker herself. After all, she took after her father and brother in that regard. But most people can tell that Veruca was more like her mother. Strong willed, passionate, and easily irritable. A few were unfortunate enough to face their wrath after an incident at her old school where Veruca got in trouble for punching a boy. Well the boy had it coming, he was bothering Veruca after being told to stop multiple times. And Wilhelmina had to come in, telling off not only the headmaster and teacher, but also the parents for allowing such behavior to continue.

"Of course, Wilma. After all, our little Vera has the McQuaid fire burning within her. You are old enough to take Gambat out on your own now." Elroy states, feeling proud at their daughter's upbringing. "Though, it would be best to stay out of trouble." He nods his head at Veruca, giving her a knowing look.

Veruca lets out a huff as she rolls her eyes, "Of course dad, I know already. And I'll be fine, I'll just head to the park down the street and come back. No detours." She turns her attention towards the maid, Jolien. In her hands, a bronze cage holding a small flying fox bat. The young girl lets out her furry friend, holding her hand out for him to hang onto. "Hey there, boy. Are you ready to go out today?" Gambat chirps happily, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wilhelmina steps forward a small smile gracing her features, "Remember little one, put his collar on before you head out. Gambat may listen to your commands, but he still has the tendency to fly off on his own."

Veruca takes the leash and collar from her mother, "I know, mother, I know. I promise there won't be any trouble." She gives both her parents a confident smile. "Besides, it will be simple and easy." Wilhelmina narrows her eyes, but nonetheless nods at her daughter. Elroy on the other hand looks down at his daughter with beaming pride. "Okay, okay. I believe our girl has had enough of our nagging and worrying."

Elroy guides Veruca towards the door, handing her Gambat's collar and leash, "If anything happens, mo stoirín–"

"Nothing is going to happen, dad!" Veruca cuts him off, taking the items from her father in haste. "You've tagged along on my walks with Gambat all the time. I know what I'm doing." She places the collar around Gambat's scruff before attaching the leash. "Right, right. I'm sorry." Elroy holds his hands up in surrender with a grin. "Go on sweetheart, enjoy your walk."

Veruca smiles up at her father, before turning back to her mother, "Well I'm off! I'll be back later." She exits the estate and begins her trek towards the park. Wilhemina and Elroy stand by the entrance watching their daughter. Wilhelmina straightens her posture before heading back inside. "Come along now dear, let Veruca grow some independence. She's not going to be a little girl forever."

A few sniffles are heard from behind her and she glances back to see Elroy still gazing ahead. "No matter how old she gets, little Vera will always be my little girl." Wilhelmina simply watched her husband cry about time moving by too fast. She let out a chuckle before taking her husband by the arm and leading him back inside.

She knew her husband was right though. Time was moving fast. Coby is now attending college, and Veruca is starting to be more independent. But as her husband had said, they will always be their little boy and girl.

"Oh by the way, dear."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Did you get the new leash for Gambat, like I told you?"

"A new leash…? Shoot. Aha, about that…"

"Mm, so you have set my daughter up for failure."

"Now, Wilma! It wasn't my fault, there was a new set of equipment for the Abraxan Derby!"

~ Present Time ~

As Gambat flies through the air, the metal on his collar shines in the sunlight. Attached to the ring of the collar is a metal latch, part of the broken leash still connected to it. 'This is the last time I let dad do my shopping!' A deep frown settled on Veruca's face. She was too focused on Gambat and her thoughts to notice a wagon cart had pulled to a stop just a few shops ahead. Or the girl getting down from it.

Seeing the girl and a man step down from the wagon, Gambat lets out a loud chirp, getting the attention of the girl. Gambat's chirping had snapped Veruca out of her thoughts and she turned her gaze to see the people in front of her. "Wo– woah, look out!" Eyes wide as she tries to slow down, however the momentum was not enough for her to slow down to a complete stop. The other girl looked to see Veruca come stumbling at her. A look of surprise crosses the girl's face, accidentally dropping the small crate she was holding. Veruca crashes into her, the sudden force of the impact knocks both of them on to the ground. The horse lets out a panicked neigh, standing on its hind legs leaning back with head raised. The man was quick to move in and calm the horse before it tried to run away.

They both let out groans as they untangled each other and tried to sit up. "Ow, ow, ow…" The girl gets up, rubbing the sore spot on her head and Veruca did the same with her arm. "Ouch… oh shite, I'm so sorry about that." Veruca quickly collects herself, scrambling to her feet to help the other girl up. "My pet, ah… his leash broke and he started flying off." The girl waves her hand dismissively, adjusting her glasses. "Oh no worries, my animals tend to run off too whenever we leave their gates open."

"Are you girls okay?" After calming the horse down, the man rushes over to them, checking over the girl. "That was quite the stumble. Rowan, are you hurt?"

Rowan simply smiled up at him, "Don't worry Uncle Ollie, I'm fine! Just a little accident." Ollie sighed in relief before letting out a small laugh. "That's good, can't have my little helper get hurt on the job. Though, that's one crate of produce that won't be sold." All three looked down to see the crate destroyed, some of the fruits were smashed from the impact. Veruca looks to the side a little embarrassed, her fingers subconsciously playing with the ribbon on her dress. "I'm terribly sorry about that. If anything, I can pay for the damage."

Ollie laughed and patted her on the head, "No worries, accidents happen. We still have more produce to sell anyway." Realization crosses his features and he turns to the shop, "Speaking of which, I still have work to do." He gets another crate from the wagon, "Rowan why don't you clean up the mess. I'll take care of things with the manager."

"Okay, Uncle Ollie!" Rowan nods, before turning to Veruca. "You can help out too! That way, you can make it up to us." Veruca looked surprised before agreeing with her. "I think that's fair, though I still feel bad you lost out on some money." Rowan shrugged, "Eh, it happens." As they were cleaning, the two continued conversing. Rowan formally introduced herself as part of the Khanna family.

Her home was just on the outskirts of Spades, lying between the borders of the country and Clubs. Her family runs a farm, they provide many materials and produce from wool, to fruits and vegetables, and wood. Today it was her turn to help her uncle by delivering the products.

Veruca also told a bit about her family, and what life was like being born into an aristocracy with lenient parents who don't like following old traditions. She even explained that she was supposed to take her pet bat out for a walk but the leash snapped along the way.

Rowan smiles at Veruca, and the little bat finally comes down to rest upon Veruca's head. He was tired of flying so he decided to lay flat on his tummy. "So this is the one that caused all that trouble, huh." She states with a mischievous smile. "What's his name?"

The corner of Veruca's lips turned up a bit as she reached one hand up to rest upon Gambat. "This little guy is named Gambat. He usually listens, but he does like to fly away whenever he gets the chance." She takes a piece of the damaged fruit and hands it to Gambat. The moment the fruit is within Gambat's sight, he instantly reaches for it. 

"What a fun little fellow!" Rowan exclaims and Gambat chirps happily while munching on the fruit. Both girls laughed at the little bat and continued cleaning while Gambat helped himself with the fruit. Once they were finished, the crate was placed back into the wagon. Some of the fruit were safe from the fall however the ones that were damaged were given to Gambat who was more than happy to eat them.

"Hm, I still feel bad for bumping into you." Veruca began again, pulling out a small wallet from her dress pocket. She takes out a small card with her family's contact information, courtesy of her mother making her take it wherever she goes, as well as a checkbook. She writes the necessary information on the check before handing it along with her contact info to Rowan. The other girl looks on in surprise, examining both the card and check before turning back to Veruca. "You can already write checks? And a contact card? You're just a kid and your parents already trust you with this amount of responsibility?!"

Veruca frowns at that statement, "It's not that… My mother insists on me learning about money and banking." Her hand subconsciously went back to playing with the ribbon on her dress. "And the contact card is for professional reasons. But this was an accident I caused and damaged your products. If anything, my parents can compensate for my actions." Her voice trails off and she stands awkwardly.

Rowan stares at her before a smile breaks out on her face and she begins to laugh. A young girl of nobility with a bat lying on top of her head looking embarrassed and awkward is a funny sight to behold. Veruca stares at her before her lips quiver into a smile of her own and joins in with Rowan's laughter. Their laughter continued and the people passing by couldn't help but give the two odd looks but continued on their paths.

Soon the girls' laughter died down. Rowan wipes a tear from her eye, "You're funny Veruca! Both you and your pet!" She gives Gambat a small pet behind his ear. Veruca's smiles in return, "Thank you, Rowan." Talking can be heard from within the shop, and the girls looked over to see Ollie and the manager still talking over the products. "Oh by the way," Rowan turns back to Veruca, "are you going to be attending the Abraxan Derby next week?"

"Hm? Oh yeah! My dad and I love the event." Veruca's eyes lit up, "I want to play, but my brother says I'm way too short to get on the horse." Rowan laughs at that, "Well to be fair, the abraxans are huge! They still tower over my parents."

"Aha yeah. My dad and I will be going, we usually reserve a stand so we can watch it better." 

"You reserve a stand!? I wish I could get seats like those, so much better than the main floor." Rowan's shoulders slumped down. To be able to sit in a stand and watch the show from the air is always a blessing. Veruca gazed at her before an idea came to mind, "You and your family can sit with us." Rowan instantly turned to her, eyes wide at Veruca's suggestion. "What, are you sure? I don't want to impose."

Veruca shook her head, "I'm sure. Think of it as another way to pay back for what happened today. Besides, it's usually just my dad, brother and I that attend the event. Mom usually stays home."

"Well if you're sure, then alright! My brother and I love the Abraxan Derby! So I know he would be excited to see the game with better seats."

"Then it's settled. I'll let my dad know and we'll send you the passes." Veruca nods with a look of satisfaction. She takes hold of the leash before turning to Gambat. She ties the end of it to the loop of his collar, "We have to head back home, but first we gotta get you a new leash." Gambat chirps, stretching a bit before flapping his wings and flying off of Veruca's head. "Well, we better get going. It was nice meeting you, Rowan."

"It was nice meeting you too, Veruca." An angry chirp is heard from Gambat, causing Rowan to laugh. "And you too as well, Gambat." A happy chirp is her response. "I'll see you guys later! Have a nice walk back home!"

"Bye, come on Gambat." Veruca gives Rowan a little wave before lightly tugging on the leash. "You've caused enough trouble today." Rowan waves goodbye, the sound of the shop bell ringing as the door opens catches her attention. She turns to see her Uncle Ollie exit the store. He looked around to see the mess had been cleaned up. "Where did your new friend go?"

"Oh Veruca had to go home, but Uncle Ollie, she gave us this check to compensate for the mess." Rowan handed him the contact card and check. He examined the items, the moment he read the text his eyes widened. "McQuaid? The girl that bumped into you is a McQuaid?" Rowan nodded cheerfully, thrilled to have made a new friend. "Yep! And guess what. She even offered to have us sit with her family in one of the stands in the Abraxan Derby!"

Ollie looked at his niece as she rambled on about her new friend. He chuckled and ruffled Rowan's hair, "Well I'll be. All of this excitement in one day." He patted her shoulder before getting onto the wagon, grabbing the reins. "Come on now, we still have the rest of these crates to deliver. You can tell your parents all about your new friend when we get home."

Rowan fixes her hair before rushing to get on the wagon. "Right!" Once she is settled in her seat, Ollie flicks the reins and the horse begins to move. "I can't wait to see Veruca again! Oh Uncle, we should invite her over one day!" Ollie laughs as they ride further into the marketplace, but agrees with his niece. "We should. She seems like a nice girl."

[strangersatellites]

i have two (2) ideas based on this so yall chew on these

1: actor eddie x publicist steve where eddie is notoriously obnoxious at every public appearance in an effort to self sabotage to the point of not having to attend them anymore vs pr industry famous publicist steve whose whole schtick is somehow having his clients so whipped that when he tells them not to embarrass him they have no choice but to obey.

eddie doesn't even realize it's happened until he's being interviewed on a red carpet and he thanks the interviewer before he leaves.

and 2, the polar opposite: actor eddie whose publicist is now out of a job bc his new pop star singer boyfriend has him so wrapped around his finger he wouldn't dare embarrass him and therefore has wiped his public image squeaky clean without attending a single nda meeting

[dailyhowl]

Loops

They had driven back from the studio. Paul in his pearl-white suit and plum loafers. John in striped apricot pants and a wine silk shirt. They floated into John’s home, navigating the music room by lamplight. John cradled a violin to his flushed cheek and Paul sat at the keys. The tapes spun and the tabs on their tongues melted. And then so did everything else. (Sgt Pepper Era)

[rexecutioner]

Sorry ive been so inactive recently, I have a life that I needed to get back to for a bit! I am returning with a new hyperfixation (i am seven years late)

I drew me and my friend’s favorite characters in a silly artstyle!! We are going through the game together and we are almost done with Chapter Four (i am so scared) (ignore how tiny Rantaro’s head is) (i rant in the tags beware)

[hippolotamus]

thought i planned for everything (just didn’t count on you) | 1.6k | E (BuckTommy)

Earlier today I promised my wife @bidisasterevankinard an incentive for studying in exchange for making her think about too many WIP ideas. Since husband @diazsdimples is also going through it with schooling, this is for both of you 😘 ps: idk anything about what certs and licenses and stuff Tommy would need. Just roll with it and be nice, yeah? Also, this is unbeta’d so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t.

Tommy scrubs at his forehead, blowing out a frustrated breath. He’s looked at the material in front of him for months now, determined to ace his recertifications. And it had been going well. Really well, in fact. He had a study schedule mapped out, accounting for his shifts and time with friends. He even left a small margin for the unexpected. There was just one factor he hadn’t accounted for. Evan.

The past few years of dating haven’t exactly gone anywhere serious. Some casual dates, one that he thought could go the distance but only broke his heart. So the expectation of having that feeling again? Of having someone thoughtful and caring, who gives him butterflies and makes him want things? Pretty much zero.

But then a hurricane happened. Actual and metaphorical. It tore through his life, upending the idea that love – or anything close to it – just wasn’t in the cards for him. And when everything settled, there was Evan. Evan, who asks how his shift was, tells him when he gets back from a call, and turns a pretty shade of pink as he blushes and says ‘I missed you’.

Tommy doesn’t regret any of it, but he does wish the universe’s cosmic timing could’ve held off just a little longer. At least until the state of California tells him what he already knows and says he’s fit to pilot an aircraft.

A knock on the door gets his attention, but he seriously contemplates ignoring it. He didn’t order anything and he doesn’t have plans. Unfortunately, the first responder in him can’t help wondering if one of his elderly neighbors needs something.

Fine. He sets down the pen he’s been chewing on and reminds himself it’s been too long since he stood up and walked around anyway.

“Evan?” Tommy asks, surprised to see him standing there. He instinctively looks him up and down for obvious injuries or signs of distress, but finds nothing. Only his gorgeous boyfriend, smiling coyly. “I didn’t forget about a date, did I?”

“No, uh, nothing like that. Because you are supposed to be studying.” Evan raises one eyebrow like Tommy is in the wrong for answering his own door after somehow manifesting Evan’s presence.

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Evan says shyly. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of your time lately and wanted to help.”

For the first time, Tommy notices Evan’s got his hands behind his back and wonders what his definition of ‘help’ is. He’s dressed down, soft and adorable in a hoodie and joggers, so it’s unlikely to be a booty call. Though not completely out of the question. And not that Tommy would complain either.

“Did you bring flashcards or something?”

“As a matter of fact…” Evan steps over the threshold, past Tommy, like he owns the place. While shy, demure Evan is a favorite, confident Evan is by no means a turn off. Especially as he whirls around and proudly holds up a set of blue, yellow and pink index cards. “I did.”

“Evan-”

“A few nights, when I couldn’t sleep, I might have taken some notes of my own. And, like I said, thought I could make myself useful for my hot, pilot boyfriend.” He rocks up on his tiptoes, capturing Tommy’s lips for a chaste kiss before he meanders to the kitchen.

Tommy pushes the door closed, following Evan where he lays the cards down on the table, opposite the books and manuals Tommy has scattered. Evan walks to the cabinets and helps himself to a glass, filling it with water before returning. Next he makes himself comfortable in a chair, sitting slightly back with his legs spread apart.

“So, can I help?”

There’s a glimmer of mischief in the way Evan looks at him now that has his heart racing. Like helping is the last thing Evan plans to do.

Tommy gathers himself enough to sit down in his own seat and flashes Evan a confident smirk.

“Do your worst, kid.”

“I’ll start with an easy one. What is the atmospheric gas composition?”

“Twenty-one percent oxygen, seventy-eight percent nitrogen, one percent other,” Tommy rattles off.

“Well done.” Evan flicks the card down then casually leans over to untie one shoe and slip it off.

“What are you-”

Evan clicks his tongue, tutting in fake admonishment. “Can’t tell you all my secrets, baby. Next question. Each one hundred meter climb in elevation causes a temperature drop of what?”

“One degree Celsius.”

Evan simply grins and removes his other shoe, leaving him in socked feet. Tommy would be lying if he said his dick wasn’t taking interest now that he’s caught on to Evan’s game. It is thoroughly unhelpful.

“PAIP should be implemented how many minutes after an aircraft fails to give its position report or is overdue for arrival?”

“Fifteen. Got anything harder for me?”

Evan’s tongue darts out, licking along his lower lip. “Oh, you bet I do.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure and think about… anything except bending Evan over the table. If only it was that simple.

They repeat the process, volleying questions and answers back and forth until Evan’s stripped down to his boxers, his cock obviously hard and leaking beneath the tented fabric. It’s distracting as hell and Tommy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to concentrate.

“Come on, old man,” Evan teases, palming himself lazily. “Lives are on the line here. You need to be able to think under tense conditions.”

“You’re such a brat.” Tommy’s jeans press uncomfortably on his own straining erection and he doesn’t bother to stop himself from mirroring Evan’s movements.

“Yeah, but I’m your brat.” Evan applies more pressure, letting out an obscene moan as he strokes himself. “Or I could be – ahh – if you get this – mmph – question right.”

“Fuck, Evan.” Tommy undoes his belt and zipper, creating the tiniest bit of relief.

“That’s the idea. Even – oh, fuck – wore the new plug I told you about.”

Christ, Evan’s gonna kill him before they get the chance to see this all play out. And that’s unacceptable.

“Don’t stop,” Tommy orders, stalking off to grab the lube stashed in the couch cushions. When he returns, Evan is still stroking himself exactly like he was instructed. “Good boy, Evan. Doing what I told you.”

Tommy grips his chin and crashes their mouths together in a filthy kiss, delighted as Evan makes the most beautiful whine.

“But, you – ah – didn’t answer me,” Evan protests when they separate.

“Myoglobin.” He leans close to Evan’s ear, nipping at the lobe. “Lesson’s over, kid. Face down over the table. Naked. Now.”

Evan nearly trips over himself, leaping up from his chair and shoving his boxers down. He drapes himself over the piles of papers and index cards, wiggling his ass like he’ll die if he has to go one more second without being fucked.

“Gotta say, I like your methods,” Tommy murmurs, starting to work the plug in and out, tracing his other hand along Evan’s bare skin. “But now I think it’s time for your reward. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, yes. Please.”

“So desperate, my Evan,” Tommy coos. “Thought you would be in control, getting me all worked up. And here you are, laid out so gorgeously for me, just begging for it.”

Tommy pulls the plug out completely, discarding it to the floor. Evan keens and clenches around nothing, just waiting to be full again.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” Tommy shoves his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He slicks himself up with the lube and smears a generous amount on his fingers, fucking them in and out of Evan’s hole. Just enough to ease the way.

“Tommy,” Evan pants, practically crying when he pulls out.

He lines himself up, gripping Evan’s hips and pushing in without additional warning. He doesn’t pause for adjustments before he sets a relentless pace. It’s unlikely either of them are going to last, but he’s not going for longevity here.

Evan curls his hands around the edges of the table, leveraging it to fuck himself back against Tommy’s cock. It’s stunning and breathtaking, the rhythm they’re creating. A symphony of moans, squelches and skin against skin.

Soon the familiar heat pools in his belly, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Ohfuuuuck,” Evan moans, purposely tightening around him.

Tommy digs his fingertips into Evan’s sides, the world around him being reduced to static and white noise as he comes, filling Evan up. He thinks he might shout Evan’s name, but he’s not really sure, nor does he really care as he slumps forward, draping himself across Evan’s glistening skin.

“Gimmeasec,” he mumbles. “I’ll take careayou.”

“No need,” Evan murmurs back. “All good.”

Tommy presses a lazy kiss to Evan’s spine, enjoying the resulting small shudder. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He kisses another ridge, and another, before answering. “For taking notes. For caring. Wanting to help out. For being you.”

“It wasn’t too much?” Evan whispers, hesitantly.

“Never,” Tommy assures him, dropping gentle kisses over his neck and shoulders, mindful of the mess forming between them as he maneuvers to properly reach. “Never too much, baby.”

He bites back words that are too early to say, even if he definitely feels them. Has felt them building in his chest, creating a near endless chant. He wonders how long he’ll be able to smother them before they burst forth. Hopefully long enough. Enough for Evan to feel them, too. For Evan to want to stay.

“Clean up and nap?” Tommy asks instead.

“Sounds good. Earned it.”

Tommy huffs an amused sound against Evan’s skin before pressing one last kiss there. God, I hope so, kid.

[guppygiggles]

Ticklefish… 💙