#HOURS!!!! AGONIZING!!!!!! this is more lighting and background than i have EVER done

[mistypluie]

BINGHE UR BOOBIES.....

art for my friend’s wlw binggeyuan fic!! i spent 10 hours on this

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 02  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00   01

⇢ Word Count : 

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots. 

A missed call from your uncle. 

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb.  She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong. 

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at  Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

 “You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’.  As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a  little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.” 

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “  You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. 

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead.  A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door.  You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 22

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-consensual&dark sexual situations, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat  additional warnings: open the read more, CTRL + F and search “content warnings” to skip to the additional "spoiler-y" tags for trigger warnings

hey guys! i made a ko-fi! if you enjoy this and have some cash you could spare to help me out with my bills, id really appreciate it! if you follow the link and check out the ‘posts’, there’s a snippet for ch. 4 of posies! 

Their parents had died a few months after her thirteenth birthday and Penny essentially blacked out for the next 8 months. She didn’t remember anything from that school year, although she’d evidently scraped by in all of her classes—actually, Penny was still convinced that little Peter, who was already showing signs of being a tiny genius, had done at least half of her homework. She didn’t remember Hanukkah that year, or the first Christmas she’d ever celebrated with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. She had zero friends coming out of that year, having accidentally pushed everyone away in fits of rage or sadness that she couldn’t even remember. The pain cut just as deep every time she remembered showing up to school the first day of her freshman year only to receive the cold shoulder from half her grade.

That was actually one of the first memories she’d retained after coming out of 7 months and 3 weeks of complete emptiness, how none of her best friends wanted anything to do with her. Everything had been confusing, somehow devastating all over again but… it was less. Her parents were gone and it hurt so much but it was nothing compared to the agony that had beset her form seconds after being informed her mom and dad were dead. When Penny racked her brain she could almost remember Aunt May crouched in front of her while she sat on the couch at home, holding her hands.

Somewhere in her brain, Penny had known that plane crashes were possible. Like, as a concept she understood the idea. The plane that was flying through the air stops doing that, and all the people inside the plane die. But it couldn’t possibly happen to her parents—they were her parents, they were infallible. Plane crashes happened, yeah, but her parents couldn’t be gone. Aunt May had told her several years later that she and Ben had been petrified she would try to kill herself, especially when the state tried to take the young girl away from the Parker’s.

They’d never had the money for therapy and Penny figured she’d never regain the memories from those months but honestly, she didn’t want them. The gaps were reprieves, the missing conversations, the absence of any and all detail. Wasn’t she sad to not remember her eighth-grade graduation? Fuck no, it was a blessing to forget how she’d felt like everyone in existence had their eyes on her—except for the ones she wanted.

There were times she absently wondered how disappointed her parents would be that she didn’t finish college, let alone get an actual high school degree. Her dad had been so smart, a genius in his own right. And her mom… Penny tried not to think of her mom often, not when it hurt so deeply. Mary Parker had been a gentle soul with an IQ of 150 who made Penny feel safe and loved and understood every day of her life. Her mother would’ve been understanding, she would’ve seen the necessity in her dropping out but it would’ve hurt that gentle soul to know the opportunities her baby had missed.

It hurt Penny in a special way that neither of Mary and Richard Parker’s children would be graduating from high school. Neither would attend university. They wouldn’t go on to press the limits of their parent’s knowledge or make an impact on the world. Somehow despite everything she’d sacrificed, Peter would never get the opportunity that he deserved. Her genius baby brother, his potential capped before he had a chance to try. God, it was an agonizing burn in her chest, a searing pain that made her nauseous and light-headed.

Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if her ribs would crack. The cabin was lovely. Dark wood and an A-frame, a nice deck in the back and lots of windows. It was surrounded by trees, with dark needles or thin pale trunks, the purple mountains of the Rockies a lovely backdrop. It was colder than she’d expect for summer, especially considering the overcast sky and the breeze. The clouds moved so fast at such a high altitude and Penny watched trembling as a shadow passed over the house, chasing the light away before the sun followed its path ravenously once more.

Steve and Bucky were unloading suitcases from the back of the SUV, passing each other calculating looks as Penny stood practically frozen in place. Her shoulders were hunched almost to her ears, arms wrapped gently but tightly around the white kitten in her arms. It was purring quietly, the same way it had been for hours now. The little thing had cried the first few hours after they’d left the tower and subsequently the chubby cheeked orange kitten behind, only settling when Penny laid down across the middle seat in the SUV and let it burrow into the crook of her neck.

If Penny turned around she would’ve recognized the mournful looks on their faces, the pain in the lines of their eyes. The soldiers knew the hurt she felt, to be separated from their most important person—they understood that Peter was the most important person in Penny’s world. This separation was on their heads, but what could they do? They’d worked themselves into a rut, the three of them, wearing such deep treads into their negative behaviors that they couldn’t climb out. A complete shakeup was the only solution.

Both winced when she abruptly folded at the waist, clutching the kitten to her chest, and vomited over the pine needle strewn dirt of the driveway. Her hair fell in heavy, curly curtains around her face as she heaved again, hiding her tear-streaked face from the soldiers’ view. The sound of them setting the bags they held down registered in Penny’s ears but she couldn’t find the strength to collect herself before they converged on her.

“Come ‘ere doll, lemme take you up to the bathroom,” Bucky stated quietly, sweeping her and the cat up into his arms as gently as he could, “you can take a bath while me and Steve get everything unloaded. I think you’ll really like the cabin baby, we… well, we designed it just for you. If there’s anything you want to change, you just tell us. We want it to be perfect for you.”

She mostly caught flashes of green and white and brown, tucking her chin to look at the kitten snuggled into her cleavage. It felt cruel, to have taken the white one and left the orange, but the little chubby-cheeked kitten had taken to her brother so well—better than it had taken to her, even. Peter had named it Malcah and while it still didn’t like being picked up or held, it twined his ankles and meowed at him for love.

“Sit here baby,” the soldier set her carefully on the lid of the toilet, after having climbed a set of stairs and turned multiple blurry corners, “let me run your bath.”

It was all white tile, the toilet built into the wall. The tub was a freestanding clawfoot, with a spray nozzle and high sides. It was surprisingly small, considering how large the tub in the tower had been. Penny idly speculated that only perhaps one of the soldiers would be able to fit at time and it would certainly be a tight squeeze if she was forced in with them. There was a standing shower on the other side, where the roof wasn’t so sharply sloped by the A-framed roof. The nice thing, that Penny would never admit was very nice, was all of the plants. The entire room was predominantly white but there was a long-vined philodendron hanging gracefully over the tub, snake plants sitting on the shelf before the toilet. She could see a rubber plant and another type of vine by the sinks, framing the mirror.

They’d obviously gone to great lengths to make sure it would be something she liked, clearly evidenced by the bathroom alone. There were even candles waiting to be used on the antique, hunter green shelves and bath bombs with lovely scents. If she’d been able to design a personal bathroom, Penny figured it would probably have looked something like this and that made her hate it all the more.

The bastards were so in their heads they could barely see the sunlight. Penny was convinced that they were so distracted orchestrating her nightmare they’d lost the plot. They kept throwing stuff at her; beautiful plants, nice clothing, cute cats, lovely homes—but it didn’t mean a single thing. All of the possessions in the world didn’t make up for the gaping, rotting hole in her chest.

“Alright doll, let’s get you undressed,” Bucky shifted towards her once the water was at the right temperature and filling the tub, a small smile on his stubbled face.

“Do you think I’m debilitated?” She rasped after a moment, rolling her eyes up to stare him in the face before spitting a vomit speckled wad of phlegm onto the rug by her feet and setting the kitten on the shelf next to the snake plants. “Last time I checked I didn’t need to be treated like a baby. Are you gonna keep standing over me like a pervert? Get out.”

The soldier’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, surprised by the calmness behind her cutting tongue. Usually, when Penny got an attitude, it came with fury and fists and resulted in broken bones or bleeding wounds. This was overwhelmingly controlled; a bitchy rebuttal. Her voice was the gravelly tone she usually got after screaming or crying, dark brown eyes nearly black.  When he didn’t move, Penny rolled her eyes and stood, whipping her t-shirt over her head and dropping it to the ground.

“You’re bein’ a little moody, babe,” Bucky watched calmly as she undressed, her clothes piling up on the floor. “Wanna think about reigning it in?”

Penny’s hair was big and curly around her face, framing the clenched jaw and sneering nose. “What are you gonna do, kill me? Whatever.”

“Penny, what—”

“Peter is a thousand miles away,” Penny’s voice started out sharp but very quickly faded into a tired drawl, “you can’t hurt him from here. And what do I care if you hurt me? So could you either get the fuck out and let me take a bath or fucking drown me in it? Whatever it takes for this interaction to be over.”  

“Are you looking for a punishment right now?” Bucky’s lips pulled down at the corners, eyebrows furrowing, “‘Cause you’re working your way towards one really quick.”

“What’re you gonna do? Kill someone in front of me?” She groaned, reaching up to dig her fingers into the roots of her hair, tugging sharply before dragging it into a tangled, thoughtless bun on the top of her head “Or spank me until I can’t sit? Rape me? Could you just get it over with? I want to be alone, please!”

Bucky was silent for several long seconds before sighing through his nose, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. “Take your bath, think about your fuckin’ attitude. Steve and I are gonna bring the bags in.”

He left the door open and Penny was further irritated to learn he had too much dignity to stomp down the stairs the way she’d hoped he would. His break in composure had been so good for her it was unbelievable—but there was likely a punishment on the horizon and Steve wasn’t likely to let her off easy once the brunet told him what she’d said. The bastard was stone cold when it came to that shit.

She stared idly at the steaming bath, naked with her clothes piled around her feet—the question was whether she wanted a bath or if she’d been resigned to it? The water was scented, because of course it was. It was even one of her favorite citrusy scents, she noted disdainfully, another thing they had paid so much attention to while keeping her locked up in a tower like fucking Rapunzel. Now in a cabin, she figured she was a Jewish Goldilocks surrounded by hungry bears.

But it smelled nice and her body ached from the long car ride, it had already been run so why not hop in? Besides, it would keep her busy while the soldier’s fucked around and she wouldn’t have to see them for a bit. They were shuffling around and she could hear the sounds of bags being placed around the cabin. The door banged off the walls several times, always accompanied by a groan or a curse, one of which she recognized as a Yiddish swear—which she refused to find endearing. The kitten meowed at her from its position on the shelf, looking put out to be so far away but Penny shushed it quietly.

“You won’t like the water, just stay there,” she murmured quietly at the distraught little creature, picking up a washcloth and dunking it into the perfumed water. “If I come get you I’ll make a huge mess.”

She ignored the kitten as it continued to communicate with her, chittering in annoyance and pawing the edge of the ledge for several minutes before evidently surrendering and lying down with its little paws draped over the edge. Penny smiled to herself, the cat’s tail was roughly the size of its body and when it curled the fluffy mass of fur around itself it became unrecognizable as a cat. The orange one would’ve continued to complain until Penny let it down, would’ve just barely given her ankles a rub before running off to hide somewhere.

That’s why she decided to leave Malcah with Peter; the orange cat didn’t run from or scratch him. She twined his ankles, sat next to his thigh on the couch, kneaded her little paws against him. Peter had decided both kittens were female, based on the very reasonable basis that he wanted them to be. Penny wasn’t sure, didn’t quite care. The only thing she ever referred to the cats as was Chatul—which literally meant cat in Hebrew. She’d shortened it to Tuly for the white kitten, for the sake of ease, but refused to say it in front of the soldiers. The cat was hers, she didn’t have to share it with them.

The sounds of the soldiers were becoming more consistent throughout the cabin and Penny figured they must’ve brought in all of the bags and were focused on unpacking. She could hear someone down in the kitchen, unloading the masses of groceries they’d brought up the mountain while the other was in the bedroom. Penny rubbed the washcloth over her skin lightly, the oils from the fragrance making her skin soft and slippery.

She didn’t hear him come in, she felt Steve come in. The blond’s presence was just as overwhelming as Tony Stark’s, an aura bigger than his body that filled the room. She could feel the disappointed stare, even as she continued to wipe herself down with the washcloth. Her teeth ground together as he watched in silence, just waiting.

“Bucky said you’ve caught an attitude, baby doll.”

“Caught an attitude?” She rolled her eyes. “Wow, if only I hadn’t become desensitized to living in constant terror—you never would’ve realized I’ve had an attitude the whole time!”

“We’re supposed to be turning a new page, Pen.”

“Turning a—” Penny scoffed, face appalled as she abruptly stood from the bath and ignored the water going everywhere, “we’re not turning a new page—You burnt the fucking book!”

The blond’s eyes widened; Penny had gotten angry in the past, furious even. She’d broken things, broken skin, broken bones and it was always accompanied by outraged screaming. But Penny didn’t make unnervingly straight eye contact while she did it. She was barely coherent at the best of times, mostly she screamed to the room at large before flying into a violent frenzy—it was different. It was startling, the light in her eyes and the way her voice cracked.

“There is no page turning, there’s no fucking­—fucking reconciliation here, Steve,” she snatched a towel from the rack behind the tub, wrapping the light green fabric around her chest tightly, “I can’t believe after, fuck, how long has it been? A month and a half? Two months? What fucking day is it?”

“…It’s July 2nd,” he found himself choking out, still feeling shell shocked as she stepped out of the tub.

“A month and a half,” Penny’s face twitched, just barely concealing the distraught look he could see she wanted to make and she started shifting past him, “Jesus Christ after a month and a half you guys still don’t get it—you know what, never mind. After a month and a half, I should’ve been smart enough to realize what dumbasses you both are.”

“Penny—”

“God, fuck!” She shouted up at the ceiling, stopping in place halfway out the door. “I have listened to you two talk at length for what’s apparently been a month and a half! I have tried to listen to your stupid fucking rules, I put in the fucking effort and you still decided to take away the one thing I care about! I’m sick and tired of you saying my name in that fucking tone, I’m tired of constantly internalizing and I’m tired of being fucking walked on! So I’ll tell you what I told Bucky—either kill me or leave me alone, but for fucks’ sake just give me space!”

A low mew followed her statement and Penny made an abrupt about face, stomping past him to snatch up the kitten from where it had been sitting on the ledge and storming past him again. It was like getting brushed by a wildfire and Steve fought the urge to take a step back when her wet hair whipped against him.

She dug through one of the bags that held her belongings angrily, kitten on her shoulder, knowing that the blond continued to watch her from the bathroom doorway. Shorts, underwear, a sports bra, a t-shirt, and a hoodie over that. She would’ve put on socks but she knew it bothered Steve when she went barefoot.

“Come downstairs, precious,” he sighed after watching her dress, gesturing towards the stairs, “we’ve got to talk.”

“We’ve always got to talk,” Penny snorted derisively but started down the stairs anyway, Tuly back in her arms, “but it’s usually just you two telling me what I can and can’t do. Stop bossing me around.”

Steve followed after her, aghast and confused—Penny had always been brave in the situations she was forced into, whether it was taking custody of her fourteen year old brother or dealing with being kidnapped from her apartment by a billionaire criminal, but she hadn’t ever antagonized before. She’d talked back, got irritated, snapped, but she hadn’t ever just been flat out bitchy.

On the main floor, Bucky had already put away all of the groceries and was folding up the cloth shopping bags to tuck away for next time. The brunet’s eyes locked on Penny for several long calculating seconds and her hackles raised; whatever was coming was going to be annoying. She refused to be afraid though, not when there wasn’t anything to lose. Not anymore.

“Sit on the couch, let’s talk,” Steve directed, watching as she seemed to contemplate following the direction before doing so, “things are obviously going to be different here, precious.”

“The cabin is equipped with the same AI as the tower but its restricted to monitoring and safety protocols,” Bucky explained, gesturing to the open layout of the main floor, “you’ll be able to go outside so long as you ask first, there’s plenty to do out there. When Steve bought it there was an overgrown vegetable garden out there, we had it cleaned up for you and the shed fixed up and stocked. A lot of good hiking around here too.”

“I can’t talk to JARVIS?” She asked, eyes tracking the way the soldier’s exchanged glances. “Of course not. Then I would have some sort of interaction beyond the pair of you. Damaging to your plan, huh?”

“Penny, the rules didn’t end just because we’re out of the tower,” Steve had one hand braced on his hip while the other rubbed over his forehead, “be—”

“If you say Be Sweet I’ll find a way to kill myself,” Penny intoned, a dry look on her face. “Jews don’t have an afterlife you know, I’m not afraid of going to Hell.”

“Penny, we’re trying—”

“Penny we’re trying,” she mocked in a high-pitched voice, dead eye stare once again boring into Bucky’s, “I’m not. I’m done trying. You’ll either kill me or drive me insane, I’ll never see Peter again—I…I failed. I couldn’t protect him, I couldn’t even keep him safe until he was an adult, isn’t that insane? Grand total of three years and some change and I fucked it up.”

Penny stood up from the couch, shaking her head as she went. The kitten was quick to jump off the couch and follow after her, meowing while that massive fluffy squirrel tail curled over its back. The open floor plan of the cabin came in handy for the soldiers though, because she couldn’t really escape even as she walked across the living room and into the kitchen.

It was hard to pretend she didn’t actually love the cabin. The kitchen was small, located beneath the loft that held the bedroom and bathroom. The railing to the loft was covered in live vines that hung down to create a tiny illusion of separation between the living room and kitchen, the kitchen itself was sage green with white and dark brown accents. There were more plants, open cabinets mounted to the walls, the sink was small but there was a dishwasher. She loved the spiral staircase that led up to the loft, framing the kitchen to the left with small shiny baubles hanging from it.

There was a hamsa and a cross, both stained glass and hanging from the tallest step. Pretty cat toys hung from the lower railings, just within the kitten’s reach. It made Penny’s skin itch, just how lovely and perfect the whole cabin was. More evidence that they were paying a freaky amount of attention to her and every move she made.

“You didn’t fail, doll,” Bucky’s tone was quiet and he hesitated for a moment before following after her several paces, ending up on the edge of the kitchen, “You didn’t fuck it up, Peter—”

“Peter is trapped in a prison in New York with a creep more than twice his age who wants to violate and brainwash him,” Penny was on her knees in front of the fridge, digging through the crisper drawer in the bottom. “Literally all I had to do to prevent that from happening was pay more attention to his daily life. Fuck, kid was practically raising himself with how often I was gone—never stood a chance, you know?”

“Don’t think like that Penny,” Steve sighed, leaning down to pick up the kitten that had circled back to his ankles and setting it on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done. You know who Tony Stark is, you know what he’s capable of. You can’t heap that guilt on your shoulders.”

“Oh, can’t I?” She hummed, absently throwing a package of bacon onto the floor, followed by a flat of raw chicken and beef. “There can be dairy in here or there can be meat, not both.”

“We might need a second fridge,” Bucky observed quietly, watching Penny drop a couple of deli bags with sandwich meat onto the ground before she started shuffling everything into different places within the cooler. “We could keep it in the shed?”

“No room,” Steve shook his head absently, “garage?”

Penny had collected a stack of items from the fridge and piled them onto the counter, not even bothering to look back on the soldiers as she began puttering around. The open-faced cabinets on the walls held mostly dishes and containers filled with ingredients and she ducked down, opening the lower cabinets and digging out several pans.

“Do you… do you want a hand, doll?” Bucky asked hesitantly after several moments, watching her collect ingredients and tools and turn on the stove.

“No.”

“Penny—”

“Can I make lunch please?” She whipped around, an irritated look on her face and a spatula in hand, looking like she was about to use it to beat them both, “I’m hungry and I want to die, I figure you’ll only allow me to fulfill one of those wants so can you let me cook?”

The next thing she knew, Penny had been swept up into Bucky’s arms. The solider looked confused, lips curled in frustration but his brow furrowed with dismay. She stiffened at the action when he stomped back to the couch and sat down roughly, dropping her over his knees and landing a smarting blow to her ass through her shorts without warning.

“Thirty for this fucking attitude,” he barked, yanking the shorts down until the waistband settled under the curve of her ass against the tops of her thighs, “count.”

A sharp inhale followed the first skin to skin hit and Penny snarled in response, “one.”

“Apologize,” Steve’s fingers tangled into her hair, extracting the hair tie and letting the curls fall in chaotic waves over her shoulders and face.

“Two,” she counted dutifully and angrily, narrowed eyes landing on Steve’s face, “I’m sorry you’re a fucking monster!”

“That just added ten more, Penny,” Bucky sighed through gritted teeth, “you better reign it in.”

“You better just kill me,” she rasped, nails digging into his leg where she was holding on for balance through the hits, “because I won’t reign it in. I’m sick to death of you motherfuckers—Oh, fuck, three!”

“No cursing during punishments, start from one,” Steve ordered darkly, the hand in her hair pulling taught as he glanced into Bucky’s eyes—the baffling combination of anger and dismay and loss in the brunet’s eyes let him know he wasn’t the only one scrambling.

“Fuck you!” Penny shook her head roughly as if to dislodge his hand, canting her head to the side the best she could manage to look him in the eye, “beat me black and blue, I don’t fucking care. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter anymore! Nothing fucking matters.”

content warnings: spanking *edit, addition content warning: disrespectful terminology for Jewish people 

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #15:

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A/N: last one! I hope you guys liked it and I’d love to hear your feedback! Thank you so much for reading and being on this Losty journey with meeee🥳💕💕💕

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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A Pair Of Broken-Hearted Losties Have To Pair Up For An Assignment 📚🤩

Over the next few weeks, at the advice of Kenji and Kogane, Aone avoided you at all costs 

Every morning he sat there thinking about you and trying to figure out what he did wrong.... ultimately feeling worse and worse

It was incredibly difficult seeing you around school, but if it is one thing Takanobu knew how to do it was make himself scarce when it came to you, so at least you’d be fine. After all, it took you two years to even notice his existence 

Aone decide to have lunch in the library now because you’d never go there by your own free will. 

He spent that time going over his own homework, or helping his two friends with theirs, or just staring out the window doing another type of math calculation: the heart wrenching attempt to calculate how in the world he convinced himself that you would settle for him when you could get any guy you want

He should be glad you even gave him a chance for a year.

To be honest, Every day was a struggle for Aone to get out of bed—even weeks later—but he did it because he kind of told himself in some weird pathetically twisted way that you’d find him more attractive if he did; if you saw him as someone who could withstand hurricaines.

At the advice of his friends, when Takanobu would see you in the halls, he’d just look away or walk faster…. Knowing that his heart wouldn’t kill him as much if he only moved rapidly

The only time that was truly difficult was in the class mountain man had with you— the same class you first noticed him in when he defended you against the class snitch—the class where you sat only two seats to his right. 

It took everything in mountain man not to stare at you for the entire hour like he’d grown so accustomed to doing, remembering how when you two were dating you’d wink at him when you caught him staring, making him blush profusely 

It literally took all of his concentration to stare ahead at the teacher or down, and even then he still slipped up and caught himself enamoured with your side profile and new found quietness, when before you were always chatty… then again whether you could probably speak alien and Aone would still be in love with you. 

When he failed to not be captivated by you at least once a day and glanced over at you, Aone kept falling in love over and over again. 

His best friend would kill him if he admitted it out loud but Aone couldn’t bring himself not to like you anymore simply because you didn’t like him. 

Besides, He’s been in this position before and it never wavered his emotions. Sure, he’s hurt—he is really hurt, but the heart knows what it wants.

You didn’t lose your beauty or perfection, simply because you didn’t want him: Go figure.

 His heart just couldn’t take the whirl of opposite emotions. Love and Hurt. Why did you have to be his dream girl? Why couldn’t he think about anything else but you? Why was his biggest dream in life to be your husband, still? This was torture. Pure torture. 

Before, Aone used to be sad about it, but when he caught himself staring at you in class and felt like his chest was empty of a heart because it had been shattered in pieces again, he had never been happier that graduation was right around the corner. 

At least in University, you wouldn’t be in his classes

Anyway, as usual, Kenji would meet Aone outside of that class everyday, and Kenji couldn’t help notice the look on Aone’s face whenever he left that class. It looked eerily and alarmingly similar to Aone’s face when he was standing in the snow that night. 

Fuck. 

Things got worse when the teacher announced assigned partners for this small project he wanted the students to work on as a major final project.

As luck would have it, Aone was randomly paired up with his heart & heartbreak: you. 

“Hi,” You said quietly as everyone including you swapped seats to sit next to their partners. 

Aone just nodded, not trusting his voice.... 

This was like some awful deja vu. 

he’s absolutely screwed 

His heart beat 5x faster than normal when you came closer, like always. Mountain man had to let his mind work overtime so that he didn’t just beg you to give him another chance 

He felt like the green school tie he was wearing was getting tighter by the second, and this was all so hard for him 

You surprisingly took the reins on this small school project, knowing from Kusa that your ex boyfriend wasn’t speaking much lately, which Aone decided he liked you more for. 

He was falling harder for the girl who broke his heart. How morbid is this? 

The deprecating thoughts persisted.

Yep, he is screwed for life. 

When you got answers wrong, Aone would point to it and shake his head kindly, offering his hand for the pencil and then starting to write the correct answers

When he looked down at the paper, you took this opportunity to take in the man’s gorgeous features…

his dark, broody demeanour on such a light palette of colours: the white of his hair, the beige of his skin, the light pink on his cheeks….You wanted to sigh. He really does look like Santa & Mrs. Clause’s son that models for GQ. 

Geez, Aone Takanobu is so...................sexy. 🤤

It had been so long that you’d been near him. 

All of your nights consisted of thoughts of him. But your days consisted of actively avoiding him, hoping that he let another girl in then hoping that he didn’t 

You cried basically every night.......and the only nights you didn’t was when you fell asleep on Group FaceTime with Katana and Kusa. 

You missed Aone with ever fibre of your being. But you were doing this for him. He would never break up with you, so you had to.

And while you had to fight back tears at school every time you saw him speaking to another girl because you didn’t know their relationship, all of that only made this moment to admire him when he wasn’t looking more crucial: you had to take advantage of this project and this temporary closeness that you’re basically addicted to. 

Because it may just be your last.

Instead of just staring at the background of your iPhone where there displayed a picture of Aone and Perdu, you took this chance to check out this incredibly attractive mountain man in the flesh:

Your eyes roamed unabashedly from the tip of his scribbling pencil over his long, beefy arms: obviously muscular even through his Date Teko jacket....

up to his broad shoulders that were perfect to hold on to during intimate time.....

your eyes cascaded over his neck where his Adam Apple bobbed and made you whisper ‘all man’ in your mind......

up to his pink lips that were pressed together in a straight line.

Those LIPS. YOU’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN. 😩😩😩

you couldn’t help but recall the force and passion behind those heavenly babies on your lips when he was gripping your hips and forcing you down on him in a successful attempt to cause friction on his erection...... 

Even though you were dead-set on putting Aone first like he deserved, just like he did for you all those years when he crushed on you— sticking to your guns about this breakup so that he could find someone better was absolutely the brutal. Oh god, did you miss him. And oh god, did you want him to grab you and fuck you silly just li—

“Y/N?” 

You were pulled out of your daze momentarily when those lips you were staring at called your name in question. 

Aone had finished writing down the answers at about the same time your eyes reached his neck on their little journey, and he’d been staring at you staring at him ever since. He realized you didn’t notice he caught you staring, because you probably would have looked away. But like the whipped man he is, even now, he purposely waited to stop you because he liked being stared at by you. It made his cheeks flare up like a cherry and his heart soar. Not to mention when you were staring at his arms, neck and neck you looked one way—but when your eyes stopped on his lips for longer than a minute something in your expression changed—and you were staring at him like: 

Which evidently made all the blood from poor Mountain Man’s cherry cheeks waterfall down to his groin. Maybe he had been misreading your look as one that communicated sex, but it was pretty hard to decipher now when his penis was screaming at him for months worth of negligence. Aone’s poor mind went straight to the gutter, wanting to take you and have you sit on his face for hours on end. Holy, shit, you can’t look at him like that! Takanobu had to stop you then, only because his urge to consensually bend you over this desk was getting way too strong way too quickly. He had to remind himself that you broke up with him because you don’t want that with him. So, he reluctantly called your name. 

The man had no clue that you would have wanted nothing more than to satisfy him right here and now.

“What? Me!? Ummm yes?!” 

“The bell just sounded. We did not get too much done today, but we can continue in class tomorrow. And perhaps meet up outside of class, if you are comfortable with that. We have all week to start.” 

All week...? You pretended to ask. So I can continue checking you out until my panties are wet tomorrow too....? Oh God. 

It took you a second for your thoughts to catch up to what Aone was actually was saying to you and not Dream-Aone. You forced an excited nod. “Oh. Okay, um.... tomorrow., then. Um, bye.” You smiled at him sheepishly, scurrying out of the class behind all the other students. 

***

Five minutes later, Aone remained seated there at his desk. The class was empty. It’s not like he could get up yet with how hard he was currently, anyway, so he was waiting until his member calmed down. When Futakuchi poked his head in the classroom because he was curious as to where his friend was, Aone groaned and threw his head back, covering his agonized face with both hands. 

“Uh oh. It’s Y/N, isn’t it? 😒” Futakuchi guessed while walking in slowly. Kenji did not need confirmation, but Aone nodded anyway. 

“What did she do this time? Talking to other guys in front of you?” 

Aone groaned and shook his head again, still covering his face with his hands. 

“……Oi, is she being a bitch? Giving you the cold shoulder or something?” 

Another groan and shake of the head from mountain man. 

“Wait. Don’t tell me she asked out another—“ 

“No.” 

“Then what is it! Why do you look like you’re about to sink down to the damn floor? What is Y/N doing?!” 

Aone spoke through his hands, his smooth voice muffled by his wrists. “She’s being beautiful. I have absolutely no self control around her, Kenji-san, she is the most attractive person I.have.ever.seen. And now we’re partners for the final project. I am so in love with her, and on top of that she—How can I ever get over a girl that looks like that?” 

Kenji rolled his eyes, annoyed, but a realist through-and-through.He figured right away the Y/N must have unintentionally turned Aone on in class. That would explain why he’s still sitting down with red cheeks.

Kenji sighed. “Yeah, I do wish Y/N wasn’t so hot. But I mean, you just have to do the project and then we are off to College together and she probably won’t get in with her grades—“

Speaking negatively about the love of Takanobu’s life was a sure fire way to get his erection to soften. Aone should thank his friend. But instead, he groaned once again, shaking his head. “Cheerleading... scholarship.” 

Futakuchi deadpanned. 

“.......Shit.” 

A nod. 

“When you look at her for the rest of this project, just imagine it’s like a dead squirrel or something. I can spam your phone with dead squirrel pics all class if that will help.” 

Aone sighed, finally removing his hands from his face and sitting upright. His response surprised Kenji, making it known to both of them that this breakup was going to be harder no pun intended than either of them thought. Aone still couldn’t get the visual of you checking him out seductively out of his head, and it was not only making him hard again, it was screwing with his hormones and emotions and just everything, FUCK.

“Send the photos, Futakuchi-san. Please. I have a feeling I will need all the dead squirrels I can get.” 

After weeks of feeling depressed, Aone was guiltily able get himself off that night. ✨

———————————

Mountain Man: The Sequel (Post-Nut Clarity) ✨💫

After mountain man arched his back, his entire body trembling due to force of yet another orgasm that had been waiting to be released for months, he discovered something. 

He doesn’t need Futakuchi and Kogane’s plane when you are simultaneously Aone’s destroyer and healer.

You are like no other girl he will ever meet in his life. This Aone knows for sure.

This is clear due to the fact that now that Aone is working alongside you for a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression the more time he spends with you, simply because your mere presence made him feel better. THAT says something.

Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that was what he would willingly accept

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you choose a life with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again. 

He just had to prove to you that he’s deserving….somehow.

For years, Aone left his love life and his desire to be with you up to chance..... hopelessly pining after you and being way too shy to ever make a move until you did. 

But, tonight’s post-nut clarity changed everything. That old Aone who waited for you to make the first move was long gone. Now replaced by an Aone that goes for what he wants! 

And what he wants is you. 

***

The next morning, the K_nji’s were woken up by the amazing smell of breakfast wafting into their guest rooms at Aone’s house. 

They both drug their feet into the kitchen, Kenji tired - Kogane excited…. and they were flabbergasted by the scene they were greeted with. Their jaws dropped and their eyes widened like:

Standing there in his apron, whisking around the kitchen..... was their best friend—the same broken hearted best friend who rarely spoke the past few weeks, who rarely smiled, and who disappeared every chance he got to sulk in his room alone— that same best friend was making breakfast......and whistling. 

They’d never heard this giant whistle in their entire lives. 

“Aone-san…? Kenji whispered , rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, wondering if he was still dreaming. Upon hearing his name Aone had just noticed their presence, looking up and smiling only with his eyes. 

“Good morning! I made you both breakfast!” Mountain man greeted in a higher tone—still monotone— but the loudest they’d ever heard him speak with. 

Futakuchi stuttered. “Aone-san.... wha—why—?” 

Takanobu grunted and shrugged. 

“I thought I’d do something to commemorate the first day I...... well, the first day I put a plan I have in place.” 

“What plan, mom?!” Kogane asked, no longer shocked and digging into the rice. “This tastes amazing…”

Aone chuckled lowly, which is also so out of character for him! Futakuchi’s heart dropped because not only was this the fucking Twilight Zone, for the first time in his life the Justin Bieber look-alike is not able to read his best friend. Futakuchi tried hard, and came up with nothing. 

“What is this plan?” The brunette asked apprehensively.

Aone took a second to think about his wording before giving both friends a determined look. The blonde visibly stood straighter, speaking with conviction: 

“My plan to take charge of my love life for the first time in my life. In other words, grab a plate and allow me tell you both about my plan to.... to get the girl of my dreams back.” 

———————————

Outtake #16: CLICK HERE!

[blarrghe]

Twelve Nights - Chapter 10: Board Game Night Pairing: Pavellan, background Sera/Dagna

Summary: BusinessMan McMoneybanks Dorian Pavus meets LocalArtist Outdoorsyguy Taren Lavellan whilst on a trip to a Fancy Ski Resort In The Mountains with his Terrible Family, and learns the True Meaning of The Holidays (it's love).

Chapter Summary: Dorian is further invited into Taren’s life over board games and pizza, and everything becomes a bit more real. (aka: I lean into the found family trope so hard I make myself cry) Chapter snippet (taking this one from the end of the chapter actually, because I’m just really happy with this scene. So uh spoilers for how this chapter ends I guess.)

Rated M

From the top

--

Then, they moved inside, and Dorian very quickly made good on his promise to tear away all of Taren’s mismatched and paint splattered clothes. From the moment their boots were kicked onto the mat, each seemed unable to keep their hands away from the other or their mouths apart. They fell directly into Taren’s bed without pause, coats and boots and scarves left strewn on the floor all the way down the hall. But things moved slower, too, than they had yet before. Taren felt his every touch lingering, fingers dragging on skin laced through with those magnets that wouldn’t let him go, kisses deep and desperately afraid of release.

Dorian’s tongue tied his in knots, his breath misted in gasps and moans, words whispered against lips, against clavicles, against hips. Taren felt every word shudder through him; the way he said yes, the way he moaned more. But every slow touch was agonizing and aching and pulled through with an undercurrent of unhappy, unspoken fear that it could ever end. They talked more; if the buzz left by the happy night did anything, it loosened tongues to complimentary words. Dorian undressed him with careful attention, and kissing over every inch called him beautiful again, gorgeous, and looked over his skin as though he was trying to memorize each line. And Taren swore, cursing in every language he knew to bite back the words trembling in his lungs. A conversation in need and pleasure, where every word spilled a secret.

“Don’t stop” (don’t go), 

“I want you” (I love you), 

“please” (don’t go).

Over and over, from one beating heart to another. 

He drowned in him, and hours must have gone by in the bliss of it. Hands clasped overhead, gripping onto sheets, onto bedposts, bodies pressed tight. The curtains were closed to the world outside, the light dim and the bed soft. Dorian’s chest felt good. Hard; black hair and smooth skin and a couple of moles and spots that Taren kissed as he uncovered; a scar he wanted to hear the story behind, a strength he wanted to feel take him over. His arms were right, his hands everywhere they were supposed to be. They lost track of time, and it almost lasted forever.

And then, with barely an interruption, it went on. Lapsing out of sex, but into comfort. Taren lay back, half exhausted, and Dorian stayed.They turned in, heads propped on pillows, lips and hands still lazily meeting as they would. Dorian traced a finger around the outline of a bruise on Taren’s chest; uneven circles of yellow fading back to the light brown of his skin, still ugly and slightly swollen. His tattoos wandered through and over it all, sitting in his skin in their warm copper ink, and Dorian walked his fingers carefully along them, frowning over the bruises.

“I hate that I wasted any time...” he trailed off with the thought, still frowning, “if I’d warned you, or told you, or done something more, sooner...” he sighed.

“Stop, I’m fine,” Taren propped himself onto an elbow, and pivoted slightly to the side, leaning into him. “I told you it wasn’t that bad. Much better already, hardly hurts.” he promised, “just don’t press on that one” he gestured over the largest with a laugh that pulled nothing from Dorian’s frown.

Suddenly, Dorian was kissing him again, more fierceness and fire in it than Taren was prepared for, but he threw himself right back. Taren pressed in with his hips and wrapped his arms over his neck, hands tangling in his hair as a quiet moan escaped his throat. Breathing heavy against his lips, Dorian moved his hands down his arms, skipping the bruises, holding back. “I didn’t expect another chance,” he muttered, scared but honest. “I hardly know what to do with it.”

“Be with me,” Taren breathed in reply, pulling himself over him for another kiss, moving his lips to his ears, and along his neck, whispering every secret meaning through the kisses his words rode out on. “Just, even when you go, be with me.” Dorian moaned when his lips pressed firm into the hard underside of his jaw, “call me, talk to me,” he kissed his lips, and implored his eyes.

“As often as I can.” Dorian arched his neck up for another kiss, lips begging.

“And don’t forget about me” He breathed over them; love me. 

“Never.” love me; there too, in Dorian’s breath.

“And… come back,” Taren sat back, straddling over him, meeting his eyes. “in the summer, if not before. I want you to come back.”

Dorian breathed out, sad unspoken wishes in the air. “I do want to see this Bessie,” he said.

“I want to show you a lot of things.”

“I’d like that.” Dorian sighed, and pulled him back down, “it’s awfully far away, Tevinter, and yet…”

“Too close?”

“Too close.” He agreed, with another kiss that said something sad. “One more night,” he murmured, dropping his lips lower. “Let’s pretend it’s not the end.”

“It’s not the end.”

Dorian’s eyes sparked up, desirous and certain and full of promises, and he passed a hand over Taren’s cheek before pulling him into one more long, hungry kiss. And whether it was said with words or not, he knew, just knew: it wasn’t.

Read the whole chapter on AO3

[galaxyshine24-7]

Feng Min🎮 Before the Fog

Hey I made a small introduction to Feng Min on her last day in her world for a rp server I’m on and wanted to share it. Her character is so cool but I hear not a lot of people write for her so I wanted to give some love to this gamer girl. I hope you enjoy. 

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"Feng, Feng Min, Feng!" Feng jolts up from her chair as the owner of the internet café gives her a concerned look. Feng looks around as her screen shows a large Game Over screen in front of her. 

    "Damnit," Feng brushes her fingers through her hair wiping the stream of drool on her face. The area around her was filled with wrappers and napkins as a blanket rests over her shoulders. 

    "Feng listen you've been here for days." The owner rests a hand on her shoulder. Feng frowns at him rubbing the crust from her eyes. 

    "Maybe go home take a shower and rest a bit. Trust me the games will always be here." He pats her on the back as he goes to help out a customer. Dark brown eyes look over the screen as she leans back in the chair crossing her arms. Her head throbs as she takes a deep breath slowly getting up from the chair. 

    Shit just great, another game over. She thinks to herself as she cleans her station and starts to pack up her things. All the wrappers and empty cups of coffee from the previous days end up in the bin. As she walks to the entrance she makes sure to place a large tip for the owner having to deal with her for the past few days. Her hand opens the door wincing a bit at the light she hasn't seen in what felt like ages. She coughs fishing through her pockets to find a simple black mask. The air quality has never been the best in the heavy parts of the city. People pass by her going about their lives in a sea of blurs. Feng looks straight ahead, her mind focusing on strategies and her next moves. A person bumps into her, but she doesn't notice making the track back to her apartment. 

    The building was placed in the middle of the serval internet cafes and arcades giving her enough access to training when need be, and as of lately the bars have been pretty good too. She squeezes through the bodies trying to move in and out of the complex. 

    "Ms. Feng Min your rent is due soon." The landlord said from the front desk.

    "Can't talk now, I will have it later." She waves her off hopping on the elevator. The doors are about to close until someone places their hand out making them open up again. A woman wearing a bright smile greets her squeezing into the elevator. She steps in seeing the button was already pressed for her floor.

    "Hello good morning." She smiles sweetly. 

    "Hi," Feng lets out a sigh resting her head on the wall. 

    "Rough day?" The woman asks. 

    "Rough Life." Feng blurts out a bit surprised at herself, she must be tried, she's being social. That's a huge red flag. 

    "Aw I'm sorry to hear that. Your name is Feng right?" Her brown eyes narrow at the women. 

    "How did you know that?" She crosses her arms.

    "Oh I live next door to you." She tilts her head. Feng raises a brow. 

    "You know Maryann, I lived by you for three years, I gave you muffins for the holidays." Oh she threw away those muffins. She always waited too long to eat them. However with the way her stomach twists right now she wishes she had eaten them. Her eyes dart to the sparkly ring on the woman's finger. 

    "Married?" Might as well go all the way into this socializing thing, it's not like she does it every day. 

    "Engaged going to be married soon." She smiles looking at the ring with such warmth foreign to Feng. Like she has ever had time for relationships all she wanted to do was win, watching her team deal with them and get distracted didn't do much to convince her they were worthwhile. 

    "Congrats." With a large stretch the elevator opens as they both step out. 

    "Thank you we've made so many plans for a house upstate, with nice schools for kids when they came around. I can't wait, we're already thinking of names."

    Were my parents this happy thinking about kids? It's so hard to imagine how they barely talk now. She wonders what stops them from having more children to cover the mistake that is her.

    They walk for a bit as they reach their rooms. Feng takes out her key, opening up her dark apartment. 

    "Well it was nice talking to you Feng have a nice day." She waves. Feng gives her a small smile stepping into her home closing and locking the door behind her. It was a dark loft apartment with plush furniture and high tech gaming equipment. Posters littered the walls and trophies adorn the shelves picking up dust. She throws her things on the couch pressing the button to open the blinds to a full city skyline. The money she made in tournaments helped her afford all this. Being among the highest to show that she could win. Rain starts to fall along the glass as she peels away from the view to head upstairs to shower. She finds her more comfy clothes heading to the bathroom. 

    Turning on the water she undresses stepping inside welcoming the warm water as it cascades down her hair and back. Her forehead presses against the cool tile as she counts her breaths. It's been six weeks, six agonizing weeks since she was ordered to take a break from the team after her recent mistakes costing tournaments, she even got kicked out of the dorms. She punches the wall as a wave of disappointment passes over her. She can't lose, she can't lose, she has come so far. Only to fall now in her prime would be pathetic and every doubt everyone made about her would be true. She couldn't count the thousands of comments in the fan forums all of them saying she was losing her touch. That she was only a one hit wonder, a smile creeps onto her face. She would show them she would so all of them. Her determination was too strong to give up. 

    "Fuck that." She would rather die than give up a game she knows she can win. The goal was so close she could feel it. She was so close to her purpose. 

 She steps back finishing her shower, now that she's more awake she can realize how dirty she was as stains cover her old shirt and the pits are ripe with sweat. 

    "Gross," She tosses everything in the hamper turning off the water. She looks in the mirror wiping away the fog. Black hair sticks to her pale skin as dark eyes stare back at her. She can't remember the last time she looked at herself. As she grew thinner or as she gained weight. She couldn't even tell anymore. Drying herself off she shakes her head cleaning herself up changing her clothes. After she blows, dries her hair until it untangles and is soft again. When she's done she cracks her knuckles heading back downstairs hoping to get some practice in on her console but her stomach growls loudly. 

    "Shit," her stomach hasn't seen a full meal in days. She could order take out, but she knows she needs to get outside more. With a large yawn and a pop of her back she grabs her bag and keys. Her feet step out into the apartment once more locking the door behind her. Leaving the building a few hours have past since she as been in her apartment getting ready. She thinks about what she wanted to do pulling up her hood and putting her mask back on. Feng fumbles in her bag taking out her earphones to play a soundtrack from her favorite game. The rain falls around her but she doesn't mind welcoming the sensation. She has forgotten how much she missed playing outside. In a time when her parents weren't so disappointed in her and splashed in the puddles at the park. A time the world was so new and she wasn't a black sheep to anyone. A laugh escapes her mouth, maybe there was a time people liked being around her. She didn't really do much out of gaming but anyone could see that fact. The smell of food fills her nose as a restaurant comes into view. It's a place she's been to before and liked what they had there. Authentic Chinese food reminded her of what her family's chefs would make. She opens the door getting a whiff of the food a bit more now. 

    The restaurant was a family run establishment creating a cozy feel as a fire runs in the background. Pictures of past customers all smiling hang on the walls.

    "Would you like a table Ma'am?" A man asks her. 

    "Table for one please." The man takes out one menu sitting Feng down at the bar. She already knows what she wants as she hands back the menu just asking for water to drink. The man smiles nodding his head going to get her order. She looks at the tv listening to the sounds of the chefs cooking in the kitchen. The tv shows a news report talking about the esports tournaments. She rubs her temple, she really doesn't need this right now. 

    "Last month the popular esports team lost the primary rounds, however it wasn't always like this. Since the teams current decline fans have been reminiscing the past wins of the team." She puts her head in her hands as someone asks to turn it up. "One name that always comes up is the player Shining Lion. Otherwise known as Feng Min, a star in the field who won her team the championship cup." They show Feng Min with her team carrying the shining trophy that now sits in her apartment as it lost its luster. Her smile was wide and her eyes filled with joy. She remembers every moment of that day hearing the crowds chant her name and the phone calls she got afterwards for commercial deals and TVs shows, collabs with famous gamers she looked up to, but that day her parents actually told her she did a good job. That was something she never forgot. 

    Her food comes back as she begins to eat and the reporter moves on to other stories. The food was as good as she remembered loving each bite as all her problems seem to melt away. That was until a voice rang in the back of her. 

    "That's Shining Lion, dude she's over there." Her shoulders drop stabbing her chopsticks in her dumplings. She slowly turns around to see a few kids staring at her. One kid shushes the others as he walks over fiddling with his fingers. 

    "Um excuse me Ms. Lion can you please take a picture with us." She looks at her food then at the kid. His eyes looked at her with such adoration. 

    "Sure kid I'll take a picture." She couldn't say no to a face like that.  

    "Awesome, and don't worry my parents owned the restaurant. I can pay you back in dumplings." She snorts at that. Huh, she can't remember the last time she laughed either. They stand in the back as him and his friends take turns posing in pictures with her. 

    "Thank you so much, you were always my favorite in the team, I wanna be just like you some day." The boy said as his friends nod in agreement. 

    "Thanks," She brushes her hair behind her ear. The boy then looks down as the others start to look sad. Feng raises a brow at that tilting her head as one of them speaks up. 

    "We are sorry to hear the news." The one that called out to her before said.

    "Yeah the team is full of a bunch of idiots for getting rid of you." Her stomach sinks to the floor at that. 

    "What?" She was a bit breathless. The boy takes out his phone showing her the team's official website. It rests on the screen in bold letters. Feng Min Known as Shining Lion will hereby be cut from the team for the foreseeable future her space will be filled by a new up and comer. She looks back at the kids then at the phone this message was a few hours ago. 

    "Is everything okay?" The kids look at her concerned as Feng stands up taller now. 

    "Yes, don't worry about it." She walks away, placing down a large bunch of cash as she walks out the restaurant pulling out her phone. She has the team's manager on speed dial as she waits under a street light for her to pick up. 

    "Hello," Feng clutches her phone.

    "Feng uh hey, um listen we need to talk." They say over the phone. 

    "Cut the bullshit, I know, I saw the message. Why the fuck did you cut me, I was on a break I would've been back in gear in a few days." She starts to shake a bit wanting to throw up. 

    "Feng the team and I have been talking and I don't think it's been getting healthy for you to stay." They try to say softly. 

    "What?! And replacing me with someone else without a fucking word was going to make me better!" She shouts, several heads turn towards her as she moves into the alley to sit on a step, her leg jumping up and down.

    "Feng it's not like that, listen the team hasn't been doing well and you have been slipping. As much as you are advantaged you are much more of a liability. Especially with your drunken escapades that you can't seem you remember. It's just...not a good look for us please understand." Feng forms a tight line as she throws her phone to the ground cracking the screen. The rain falls harder as tears fall from her eyes. She leans her head back looking at the sky. The sun starts to set over the city. She stays there for what feels like hours, her soul sinking into a pit. A pit she's trying to crawl out of, enough to where her nails draw blood. Thunder roars overhead as she slowly gets up, grabbing her broken phone and placing it in her pocket as she walks aimlessly throughout the city. So much for her purpose to think all that hard work only to have to do it all over again. She kicks a rock as a neon sign catches her attention. It's a bar having a deal on drinks. 

    "Of course." A sad smile creeps into her face. The comfort she always tries to escape always finds itself in front of her again. What did she have to lose? Boots splash into puddles as she walks up to the bar hearing the drunken cheers of people. Feng walks inside the dim establishment taking a seat in the back ordering a round of beer for herself. She drinks, and drinks, and drinks letting everything in her world drown out. Leaving only thoughts of winning, maybe it's just hopeful thinking but she's going to get out of this pit and rise above it all. She will find her purpose even if it kills her. After a few bottles she pays and leaves the bar walking around the city until she finds a nice trash pile to fall into. The alcohol was getting to her as she looked at the black sky. It's so endless to her you never know what's out there. Whatever the future holds she will find her purpose she will win no matter what. Her eyes grow heavy as her body grows cold. A cloud of fog escapes her lips as it starts to surround her, but before she could react she gets pulled into the embrace of sleep as a spike of determination fills her core. She gets shocked with a wave of electricity as a haunting laugh greets her in the darkness.

And with that Feng was never seen again.

[evalieena]

35 Questions for Fanfiction Writers

well since dearest @bachint​ asked, here goes nothing!

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

well if no downplaying’s allowed i guess i’d give it a 3/5? some mistakes since i’m not a native plus i”m still working on getting my english style better! i like what i come up with all the same, i’ve improved a lot these past two years, and my grammar isn’t that bad i guess?

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to do what developers didn’t do in the first place to make good use of my imagination, to cope with the fact that some characters don’t exist and i will never follow another one of their adventures, to forget about a boring real life...

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

my writing doesn’t stand out lmaooo but i guess i’m always trying to focus on the character’s psychology, struggles and all that, so if someone likes my work, it’s ‘original’ bc it’s usually quite different from the usual stories where there are a lot of dialogues and interactions.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

i’ve been inspired a lot by @welcometogressenheller​ (i wish i could do as well as she does.....), @aceklaviergavin​ (kudos to you even if you never see that post and you probably don’t know who i am), and some others whose name i forgot (sorry!)

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

i didn’t write much but i guess that my latest fics are really nice (There’s No Light In You Anymore, and the whole Faith series on AO3). also my big project “Now That You’re Gone”, i’m glad i’ve been able to write that much for it and i intend on continuing as soon as i find the motivation!

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

pain, struggles and all that comes with it as long as it’s in the character’s mind, because beware here you step in a dark space

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

ordinary scenes of life? i always find my writing lacking as soon as i step out of my comfort zone, i’m all for rambling and never-ending pain

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

desmond/descole surely

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

all the good guys (and dimitri allen because i’d love writing about him but i’m? just unable to?)

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

that may come as a surprise! angst!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

a mix of question 8 and 10 and you’ve got your answer

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

professor layton and the shattering secrets!!! i’m so happy of what this AU will look like when i’ll be done writing the following chapters, at first it probably looks annoying but heck i wanna promise anyone who’s reading it that the plot twists are gonna be worth it even though the overall background isn’t that original because i’ve mixed up different elements from other games (aaaand we’re back in our oh-so-amazing comfort zone that covers up a massive lack of imagination)

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

ummm? the vampire diaries maybe? back when i was 10 or 11 lol

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

hands up... pROFESsoR LayTON

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

i didn’t write for many fandoms but back in my younger days i used to do self-insert fics with the vampire diaries cast and it was so odd and i wish i hadn’t just confessed that on my tumblr blog

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

nothing that comes to mind

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

dunno either

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

PL and the shattering secrets! huge canon divergence and one heck of an AU (also its original version is much worse, my mind was going crazy when i was 15)

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

i love reading AUs, writing some requires solid imagination which i have not, but honestly i don’t really mind

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

gen

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

desmond sycamore x his wife / randall ascot x hershel layton (be it romantic or platonic) / randall ascot x basically anyone from the MM i guess though i didn’t write anything about that yet (it’s about to change guys)

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

yea i can’t write without listening to music - any playlist does the trick as long as i like what i’m listening to but usually i listen to sad soundtracks, or i’m inspired by some random lyrics

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

i’d go with challenges bc my horrible ass has very few ideas but i usually come up with independent ideas

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

one shots!

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

i don’t remember ;_;

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

i’ve got one OS in mind with randall/layton but i don’t want to be the talk of the town because it’s probably going to be awful? also any other fic including the PL3 crew

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

@welcometogressenheller telling me she believed i was a native!!! i struggle so much trying to improve my writing style in english and i have a lot of insecurities so it was so heartwarming and incredible to read...

also basically any other comment where people tell me they like what i write. i love that writers feel the need to take some time reviewing my works bc i need constant validation

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

well i’ve never really received ‘harsh’ criticism or anything, save for some very rare remarks on my grammar so i guess i don’t know? at first it’s always sad to see that what i’ve done isn’t perfect but i guess it’s impossible to be perfect so i’m really happy that people take some time to underline what looks wrong to them

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

currently trying to with shattering secrets and it’s actually a great way to improve!

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

MERCILESS ANGST

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

i wish i could but it would perhaps be a huge spoiler so i don’t wanna say much about them...

i have 1) annabell sycamore, des’s wife, whose personality fits very much mine. she’s a playwright, spends lot of her time writing and acting in front of des AND WITH des. also she’s a very realistic person and some people usually tell her that she’s being too pessimistic 

2) aurelia from the shattering secrets and on her i really cannot say much... if anyone’s read this far it would be so nice if you could give SS a shot by the way!! 

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

desmond sometimes finds happiness but it’s always taken from him

(isn’t that a summary for everything i’ve ever written?)

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

i don’t translate my works from my original language to english, i write straight in english. i spend a lot of time making sure i haven’t done any grammatical mistakes, checking the definition and the use of some words i’m not sure about, and sometimes it’s quite a pain and it can be also very discouraging bc i end up believing what i write comes from a random internet dictionary while deep down i know it’s not true but hey what can i say. huge insecurities laid bare here.

(if any reader of mine’s reading this, i apologize)

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

(beware: spoilers for the whole prequel trilogy!!!)

“Hershel Layton was puzzled. A funny emotion to feel for someone who loved puzzles that much, but nothing could ever describe better the way he’d felt for hours now, hours that seemed like ages.So much did happen in the span of a few hours.

First he’d learned his parents could be targeted by Targent, then Aurora had made it clear that she didn’t want to live anymore, all so she could protect them. Then Desmond—no, Descole—had taken the key from her hands, and revealed himself as the dangerous scientist Layton knew him to be.

Then they’d fought. Despair was filling the air, though Hershel didn’t understand what Descole meant when he cried that the Azran legacy was all he had to live for.

And as if there hadn’t been enough betrayals as it was, Emmy was soon to follow. Luke had been abducted. He’d had no other choice than siding with Descole to prevent Bronev from unleashing doom on Earth. Misery didn’t seem to end.

Just when he’d thought he’d finally be able to change things, Descole had been ready to sacrifice himself to save Luke. And then…

Then everything just collapsed.

He held his agonizing brother in his arms; the one who’d wanted so hard to take him down only a few hours back was now confessing, fearing death was on the way.“

[...]

from ‘Six Times Hershel Layton Remembered, Plus The One Time He Didn’t’

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

oops i haven’t got anything more to say but thank you for reading? perhaps?

[wiltedeyesandtwistedlies]

What are the inattentive symptoms of ADHD?

Before I answer, it’s important to acknowledge that not everyone experiences ADHD the same way. I came up with this list through hours of extensive research, but I still explained each one based on how I experience them personally, because I wanted it to be an honest and accurate resource.

Now, I experience every inattentive symptom of ADHD severely. As well as most hyperactive type symptoms, but not nearly as severely. Hence why my explanations are on the severe side. So if you don’t experience every one of these, or you don’t experience them exactly like this, that doesn’t mean you don’t have ADHD.

Most Commonly Known Symptoms:

Inattentive ADHD is pretty much the same thing as hyperactive ADHD but with less hyperactive tendencies. So technically these symptoms apply to both, but ADHD has a few more that won’t be listed here.

• Inability to focus on disinteresting or unengaging tasks even if you need or even want to – As if your brain physically won’t let you. Because that’s exactly what’s happening. There is no, “Just do it because you have to.”

For real. Imagine a video came where you’ve reached the end of the map and there’s that invisible barrier to keep you from going any farther. But all the other players are passing it just fine. They look at you like you’re crazy and can’t believe that you can’t get through. But it’s literally IMPOSSIBLE.

Now apply that to easy individual movements or tasks like plugging in your charger right next to you or washing a few bowls.

• Focusing WAY too much on this single thing whether you like it or not. It’s called “hyperfixating” and it’s both the most exhilarating experience in the world and the most soul crushing. You can watch/do nothing else, consume nothing else, think of nothing else. It’s exciting and invigorating. But as soon as there is no more material/info about it to devour, existence is gray and meaningless. The adrenaline rush and laser focus are like nothing else, but the crash is just as intense.

• Inability to divert attention to something different when you're already focused on something else. (More of a product of the two above, really)

• Inability to organize or maintain a neat system. It’s not that we don’t have a system (because we do, and if it’s altered in the most miniscule way we will know and we will be furious) but that our systems tend to be more about ease of access. It looks messy, but everything is just easily reachable instead of tucked away in drawers or hidden in organizer bins.

“Out of sight, out of mind.” As soon as we can’t see it, or we get used to it and it becomes a background visual (like background noise but for your eyes), it no longer exists. Until we see it again we have never seen it before either.

• Emotions are forceful and kinda scary. Lacking the ability to regulate emotions means violently strong feelings. They can sweep you away and leave you stranded in an uncomfortable predicament. Major highs and lows as well as strong grudges and emotionally based actions.

• Distractability: There’s this stereotype that all people with ADHD are hyper airheads who cut off mid sentence to shout random shit like “SQUIRREL!” whenever they see something remotely interesting. They’re super excited about it and HAVE to let everyone know, no matter what they were doing before. It’s kind of the “cutesie” version that the media portrays a lot. Most ADHDers don’t actually fit this stereotype.

However, stereotypes are often based on true characteristics, even if they have been twisted into a sick joke or a cruel portrayal.

NOTE: There is nothing wrong with this form of ADHD. It just sucks that if you don’t match this stereotype, no one really believes you have ADHD. Also that so many people use it to insult and bully people with ADHD, even if that isn’t how they display their symptoms.

Lesser Known Symptoms:

Basically if these are #relateable, you probably have ADHD.

• Unable to conceptualize time in any way. Will this take two minutes? Three hours? No one knows! You thought this would take a half hour at most and it’s taken three! How?? This was a five-minute task and you’ve just realized you zoned out. It felt like two seconds but it was two hours!

• There is only Now and Not Now. Again, it’s a time thing. The future always seems so far away that it's almost like it doesn't exist. "Time is a construct" is something I often say because I have no sense of time passing, having past, or will pass. People describe me as "living in the present.” But that’s only because I forget that there is a future or that time is moving. I just don't think about it at all and when I try to it's impossible to understand and it feels made up.

• Sensitive to any form of rejection, actual or perceived. A friend texts you back, but they don’t sound nearly as enthusiastic as usual. You immediately tear your message apart to try to find what upset them and how you can make it up to them. Because surely that’s what that nontypical period means? You want to curl up in a hole and never come out, never face the horrible thing you’ve done to a treasured friend. Intense fear and sorrow mingle into all consuming guilt. The kind that makes you wish you’d never met them, just so they wouldn’t have to be hurt by you now. All because they added a period.

Everyone with some form of an anxiety disorder will recognize this. But it’s also a very common ADHD experience. This is in part because anxiety is SUPER likely to be comorbid with ADHD. But we also have Rejection Sensative Dysphoria. Which basically means we’re ridiculously sensitive to the slightest possibility of the barest chance that we maybe might receive a sliver of perceived ambiguous rejection. To the point where we cut off good relationships for seemingly no reason because we’re too afraid to even speak to them again, much less explain our emotions that we know are irrational but can’t help. The guilt and regret are too agonizing, the fear to face them too much.

• Reading is AWFUL. We’ve already established that attention is not your friend. Unfortunately, that makes it difficult to read blocks of boring text. The information could be good, it could be fun even. But if the format is too uniform and plain, it’s impossible to get past the first few sentences. You just keep rereading the same line over and over, realizing every time that you zoned out halfway across. It’s infuriating and very sad. It also makes studying an absolute nightmare.

Many people actually don’t have this experience. They hyperfocus on their reading or their schoolwork so it isn’t a problem. I was the same way until college and now I can’t even read a little recipe card without zoning out. But it’s a very common experience nevertheless so I listed it anyway.

• Ringing ears, hearing electricity. This is one I just heard about. I haven’t been able to actually research this one, but it’s interesting and every ADHDer I know has confirmed it so I’m adding it. ‘Cause I’ve had constant ringing since I was old enough to talk. And I’ve always been able to hear power lines, household appliances, wires inside the walls, all those varying vibrating hums and crackling pops. It’s one of the weird quirks that “run in the family.” Just like Tinnitus and all ADHD symptoms. Apparently, MANY people with ADHD have similar experiences.

• Negative stimming. Things that negatively stimulate your senses. After encountering a certain stim, you feel it physically. It causes a sensation that hurts, in a way. It shouldn’t, logically. But your body’s reaction is to pain. This includes foods you can’t eat because the texture is wrong. Clothing you can’t wear because you can easily breath but no you really can’t because the collar sits wrong against your throat. Sounds that make your spine stiffen or skin crawl. Bright lights or colors that don’t affect anyone else but make your head ache.

Stims and sensitivity can affect any and all senses. A certain smell, agitating fabrics, an unbelievably smooth stone, specific tastes and food textures, certain color combinations, particular sounds/pitches/volumes, et cetera.

• Positive stimming. The other side of the sensory coin. Things that are exceptionally pleasant to your senses/stimulate you positively. For example, the way light shines through a transparent bright blue gem. Watching the light catch and twist so fluidly when you move it takes your breath away. There’s a euphoric feeling to it, and you can’t look away. It’s too pleasing. It’s like a deep satisfaction you can physically feel throughout your whole body, emanating from deep within your chest. You never want to stop that feeling.

Personally, it feels like my chest is somehow much deeper than it actually is. And at the farthest, deepest part is where that satisfaction settles. Nothing else can ever reach that hidden, impossibly deep cavity. It’s so amazing, I never want it to stop. It can feel like that endless pit is starved, and the stim is the first sustenance it’s ever had so it never what’s to let it go.

• Forgetting supposedly unforgettable things. Like where the fuck I parked my car. Also what my car looks like. It’s blue right? It has a hatch. I accidently memorized the license plate (complicated story) but I can’t tell you what model it is?? Is it even in this parking lot? I’ve never parked anywhere else but my memory is obviously garbage so now I need to check every parking lot just in case.

End Note:

It’s important to know that ADHD has many symptoms that overlap with other nuerodivergencies such as autism or ASD. Executive dysfunction can be caused by a number of mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety. Emotional regulation problems can look just like Bipolar disorder and vice versus.

My point is, every symptom could actually be something else. It’s really easy to be misdiagnosed because they all have such similar symptoms. I know someone who thought they had ADHD for years, but it was actually a mix of severe depression and anxiety that fucked with their working memory (as both depression and anxiety do). Someone else I know was diagnosed with manic depression and thought they might be bipolar, but it was undiagnosed ADD the whole time.

[mithrilwren]

Shadows and Light

On the evening of the Nein's return to Xhorhas, Essek finds himself wandering past their door again, searching for... well, if he knew the answer to that question, this would all be so much simpler. 

Basically, Essek and the M9 hang out, because this poor boy deserves a break. Also on Ao3.

-----

With all likelihood, they won’t even be there.

The Mighty Nein are just as likely to have returned to the Empire by now as to have stayed the night in Rosohna, Essek reasons, even as the inescapably logical portion of his mind soundly rejects the hypothesis.

(They said they were for us, for the Dynasty, and even if most of them are from the Empire…

And even if…)

It’s just a walk, is his second justification. A chance to clear my mind. He has work to do – reports piling up on his desk, people to message before the day is done – but he can spare fifteen minutes, surely, to breath in the night air and recenter himself. It might make him more productive when he returns to his study, and at the same time he can check for watchers-on in the vicinity of the house, or any sign of illicit activity. While he does not think anyone would openly accost sanctioned guests of the Bright Queen, these are strange times, and it does not hurt to be cautious.

Excuses continue to float through his mind as Essek approaches the halo of luminescent light that radiates from the guardian tree upon the house’s apex. The sound of caterwauling – in every sense of the word - meets his ears.

Home, then, Essek thinks, then corrects himself. Still here. The Mighty Nein have not yet returned to Rexxentrum, and any would-be lurkers have doubtless been chased off by the awful din emanating from the house. No reason to stay any longer.

At his own home, the work is waiting. It is always waiting: an inescapable, immovable mountain of tasks, no matter how much he chips away at the foundation. One night of neglect, and it will all come crashing down on his head – or, at least, it often feels that way.

Five minutes more. He’ll walk past the door, and then return. By this point, the path to the house is practically on the way. A justifiable excuse to continue walking.

Five minutes more.

The cobblestone reflects the faint daylight that drifts from the tree to the street below. It burns faintly against Essek’s skin – not quite strong enough to damage the tissue, but enough to be a constant aggravation. He’d thought at first the magic was a deterrent, meant to keep unwanted drow from snooping about. But now, he suspects the Mighty Nein were simply ignorant of the effect it would have on their neighbours, as they are ignorant of most everything that lives within Xhorhas.

That willful lack of prudence should be frustrating – after all, he is tasked with ensuring the group assimilates, to some degree– but their carelessness seems only to add to his hopeless endearment with each passing day.

And after all, some of the dens in the area could stand to experience a little discomfort now and then.

He’s by the door now, close enough to look through one of the windows if he so chose. Close enough to knock. Which is a foolish idea. An utterly foolish idea.

He has so much work to do.

Almost anything else would be preferable.

His hand finds the doorframe almost of its own will, and he can scarcely believe what he’s done as he draws back, the echo of his rapping knuckles against the wood fading away.

He stares at his traitorous hand. Surely, the sound was drowned out in the rest of the noise, he thinks wildly. The instruments haven’t ceased their wailing, at least. Surely, he still has time to-

Ting-a-ling-a-ling.

The door cracks open, revealing a sliver of green skin near waist level. Yellow eyes blink up at him. He blinks back.

“Guys?” Nott calls over her shoulder, never breaking eye contact. “Essek’s here!”

The music finally stops, and Essek has no rational explanation why his heart feels suddenly too weighty for his ribs to contain.

A flurry of footsteps, and then the door is swinging fully open, and there are four of the Nein staring out at him. Beau, and Fjord, and hovering in the background, Caduceus, with a flute of bone and pearl still dangling in his fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Beau asks, already pressing forward past the others. “Did something happen?”

Right, he thinks. Right, that would be the assumption, as he tries to come up with some excuse, any excuse for his presence that isn’t in the shape of ‘it seemed less agonizing than heading home’.

“My apologies,” he says, bowing his head slightly, “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was only hoping to borrow Caleb for an hour or so?” Beau’s eyes narrow, and Essek searches for his next words, the right ones to justify himself. To de-escalate the mess he created. “Since your group might not be back in Rosohna for some time, I thought we might take the opportunity to squeeze in one more lesson. Assuming Caleb is interested, of course.”

Good. Plausible. And knowing Caleb, an undeniable lure. The correct thing to say, even if Essek’s heart clenches in his chest all the more to know he’s drawing the man away from his friends for the evening, all to bolster his own pointless deception. He’s seen the bags under Caleb’s eyes. He deserves to relax for a night, as much as any man. And still, Essek is selfish, and he cannot take back the words now he’s said them.

Beau considers for a moment, then glances down at Nott, who looks back at Essek with unveiled suspicion, and he is suddenly and violently reminded that however much he has observed this group, they have been observing him in turn.

The thought is… not pleasant.

“Nah,” says Beau. “Fuck that shit.” Then she grabs Essek by the arm and pulls him through the door. “Caleb’s spent the last two days stuck in the library with me. Your little lesson can wait until the band’s finished, at least.” Fjord jabs her in the ribs as they pass him by, and a smile materializes on Beau’s face, one that more closely resembles a pained grimace. “Oh yeah, come on in, welcome to our home, whatever.” Beau glares at Fjord. “Do I have to do this every time?”

“No formalities are necessary,” Essek assures her, and takes his arm back before she can feel the escalating rate of his pulse through his sleeve. Which is, again, a foolish reaction. He has no reason to feel anxious. The Dynasty granted the Nein this house, it’s as much his right to be there as theirs, but he still isn’t sure how he ended up in this position. How all his individual actions could have led to this moment, to him being pulled into an open space of haphazard pillows and mismatched furniture arranged in a semi-circle around a still-seated Yasha and Jester. Caduceus rejoins the pair, and Beau directs him to the spot on the floor next to where Caleb sits cross-legged with his cat in his lap. He balances a closed book on one knee, like he meant to open it and got distracted somewhere in the effort.

Caleb looks up, taking in Essek’s presence with a little surprised oh that becomes a welcoming nod, and that too is endearing, and Essek should not be here. He is meant to be at home, finishing his work, ensuring all is ready for the days to come.

“I’m sorry,” he begins to say, readying the next excuse on his lips, when Caleb’s hand finds his sleeve and pulls him down to the floor. And, light guide him, he goes.

He allows himself to be manoeuvred onto a cushion, seated with legs bowed slightly to the left as the trio resumes their playing. Nott still shoots him the occasional suspicious look from Caleb’s other side, but the rest of the Nein seem… strangely comfortable with his alien presence in their midst. He is considerably less comfortable to find himself there.

This whole circumstance is beneath him. If someone from the Bright Queen’s council were to see him here, in such an undignified position as this, he’d be laughed out of the throne room. To be taken seriously has been a decades-long endeavour, in light of his age and his as-of-yet unconsecuted status. He knows there are still those who would jump at the chance to embarrass him for less than this, if it meant elevating their own status.

And yet, he accepts a lukewarm cocktail from Beau when offered, and listens all the way to the end of the ‘song’, if it can be called that. Caleb’s presence at his side is an ever-nagging thought, prodding at him from all angles, and that too is an impropriety he should not indulge. Has not indulged. Has been very careful not to indulge, for many, many weeks.

(There are many things he knows, that would be dangerous in the wrong hands. He does not intend to make his own feelings one of them.)

The music ends, and he is immediately smothered in attention. Jester’s voice rings the loudest, pressing over the others with adulation and excitement that makes his (recently, near-constant) headache start to surge.

And it’s Caleb, of all people, who takes his sleeve again and draws him away from the clamour.

“We will be back,” he assures the rest, “but I believe you had something to show me?”

He leads Essek down the stairs, towards the basement library where they’ve spent the majority of their time together. His mouth runs drier with every step.

He made a promise of more, when he arrived, and now he must honour it, but there haven’t been the proper preparations this time. Essek is walking himself out on a narrow limb at an already precarious time, and if he teaches Caleb yet another unapproved spell tonight, he may find himself tipping the balance. The Bright Queen still doesn’t trust the Nein, after all they’ve done.

And he, so, so foolishly, does.

They stop just inside the door. Caleb closes it, and Essek swallows down the tightness in his throat. With his back ramrod straight, he has a good few inches over Caleb, and his posture is always pristine. He still looks the part of the confident tutor, and that is all that matters.

“So,” says Caleb, “what are we going to study tonight?”

The brightness is still there in his expression, the eagerness mixed with no small hint of fear, as Caleb makes himself vulnerable before Essek’s eyes. He makes himself vulnerable, as much as Essek makes himself imposing, and he wonders if Caleb has realized the same thing about him yet – whether only Essek has been watching closely for the tricks of the trade. They understand each other too well. They have known the same sort of training, have lived very different but somehow parallel lives.

They are complicit in their dishonesty, and Essek is abruptly tired of it, so very tired of everything that is involved in this dance of mutual manipulation. He is tired.

“Nothing,” says Essek. “My apologies, yet again. I should not have come.”

Caleb’s hand is on his arm once more, and the touch burns right through his cloak, through his skin, all the more painful for how much he wants to let it linger. It feels different than the tension that courses through his limbs, and he has wanted nothing else, through the last few weeks of escalating demands and endless worry and impossible tasks, to feel different. It’s comforting, and awful, and he doesn’t want to remove the hand, and hates himself for not having the same willpower he did in the forest – the last time Caleb attempted the same.

He wants to think that the touch is genuine, but wanting is not the same as believing. This – this thing between the two of them – is still work, of a sort, and pretending it is anything else would be a betrayal. It would be a betrayal of his queen, of himself, and even of Caleb, who is working as hard as him, though towards an end Essek has never been able to fully pin down.

“Should we sit?” Caleb offers, and Essek finally removes his eyes from the lingering hand, the one he has not yet managed to shrug off. They find Caleb’s, and there’s a different sort of vulnerability living behind them now – uncertainty, yes, but also understanding, and no small measure of determination. “It was too loud up there for my tastes. Thank you, for giving me an excuse to catch my breath.”

Still, Caleb looks at Essek, and squeezes his arm gently as a small, self-deprecating smile ghosts his lips. He saw my discomfort, Essek thinks. He noticed, and offered me an escape.

What does he expect in return?

Essek does his best to mirror Caleb’s expression, to keep the dance going, but can’t quite make the same light appear in his own eyes. There have been too many sleepless nights to fake another expression of certainty he doesn’t feel, and he doesn’t know what Caleb hopes to see anyway, so really, what’s the point, of any of it?

His inner voice is petulant to his own ears, and he chides himself even as he surrenders to it. One does not remain the Shadowhand by dropping their guard at a whim. It’s his duty to maintain his own composure, regardless of any feelings he might hold. It’s his responsibility. It’s-

“-alright,” Caleb is calling up the stairs. “We’ll be up soon, Nott!” He looks back at Essek. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says more quietly. When did Caleb become this confident? When did their roles reverse?

And Essek still can’t spot where the manipulation hides.

It scares him, more than the thought that he might have missed a tell, the notion that this might not be a game after all. That Caleb might be honest – at least here, at least now – in his intentions.

After all, the Mighty Nein – to a fault, admittedly – seem to land within the realm of overbearing honesty. When Jester asked about his mother’s name earlier in the evening, he forgot to be suspicious of her reason for asking. When Beau offered him a glass, he did not think to check for poison lacing the rim. If Caleb touches his arm in a comforting manner, can he believe that too?

If there is a proper manner to forming… honest relationships, he is sorely out of practice. But the alternative is to remain on guard for the rest of eternity, and more and more, he’s beginning to suspect he won’t survive to his first consecution, if he doesn’t find a way to relieve the constant pressure in his chest, the kind that reminds him that every word must be carefully considered. That anything less than perfection could mean the end of his career, his status, the very future of his soul.

(There are times, when he sits at his desk and puts his head in his hands, and tastes the sourness on his own quickening breath, that he wonders if this body is already falling apart from the inside.)

“Thank you,” he says at last, and puts his hand over Caleb’s – not to draw it away, but to press his own fingers down. To squeeze back.

He’s not wearing gloves. It has been an age since he’s felt another’s skin against his own. He’s almost not sure what to make of the sensation, at first. But Essek finds he doesn’t want to let go, and Caleb doesn’t force him to. No expectations. No exchange. Just a small moment of comfort, the first he’s allowed himself in a long while.

Essek almost lets himself believe, as he chances one more glance into Caleb’s eyes before pulling away, that it was a comfort for them both.

They return upstairs, in the end, and Essek stays for another hour of socialization more. He dances around the edge of Jester’s more personal questions, but answers a few of the less intrusive ones. He compliments the unnerving beauty of Yasha’s new harp, and receives a soft smile in return. He finds himself laughing at Fjord’s dry humour, and the sound catches him off-guard, for being the second time he’s heard it leave his mouth today.

He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed – at least, not without flattery as the main objective. Perhaps a little too much honesty has seeped into his blood now, because it feels worryingly natural to be easy in their company.

That’s another thing he’s scarcely remembered – that some things could be easy.

At last, he begs off to return home, and they all bid him farewell at the door. Even Nott gives him a little wave, and he waves back before heading off into the night.

When he opens the door to his home, his servants greet him immediately, take his coat, beckon him towards his study. The world grows narrow again as the new words filter in amidst the resumed rushing in his ears, -needs a response by the morrow- and he agrees without fully hearing the request.

If it must be done by tomorrow, he will get it done. There is no other option. And he does, along with every other task that cannot wait. Then he looks at the stack of scrolls on his desk.

It will continue to grow if he leaves it, and there are still a few hours yet till morning-

Thank you, for giving me an excuse to catch my breath.

Essek shakes his head, and looks again at the stack.

They will still be here tomorrow.

…It can wait.

Though morning still comes too soon, Essek finds it easier to drift off to sleep tonight than usual.

He may be foolish, but he’s not so naïve that he doesn’t realize the reason why.

[miss-tc-nova]

The Cat’s Meow - Jumin Han x Fem!Reader Bonus

I tried SO HARD to keep this to a decent length, but I can not. So suffer! But I love this bonus chapter so much I’m smiling just thinking about it. 

Bonus: The Cat’s Meow

                “Are you serious?”

                “I’m sorry, love, but this is important for partnering with the cat furniture company.”

                I heave a sigh, sitting on the bed. “So how long is it going to take? Remember, we have that get together with the SC tonight.”

                “I know. I promise I’ll be done before then, but I have no idea when.”

                I flop onto my back, grumbling, “You mean I probably won’t get to see you all day.”

                “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

                “No. The last time you tried to make it up to me, I had to convince you not to buy another private island and I’m not having that argument with you again,” I scoff. “Just do what you need ot do. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.”

                “Thank you, love. I’ll talk to you when I can. I love you.”

                “Love you too.”With that, the call disconnects. I stare at the ceiling and contemplate what I’m going to do all day by myself.

                Things have been going pretty smoothly since we started officially dating. Jumin, Jaehee, and Zen have taught me how to fend off the paparazzi and Jumin’s father has finally come around to accepting our relationship. We even moved in together. It took several months of Jumin agonizing over his own beliefs of living together before marriage, but he eventually caved and asked me to move in with him. Watching the moral struggle was amusing. I only wish his work could be just a little more predictable.

                Just as I finish putting the dishes away, I get a message. Jaehee wants me to join her and Yoosung shopping. Seeing as my day has been cleared, I agree and meet the two in the shopping part of town. We wander around for a while until we end up in a higher-end store. As we go, my eye catches a very pretty purple dress.

                “Hey, how’s this one?” Yoosung asks, holding up a gray, pinstripe vest.

                “Oh, that would go well with your blue jacket,” Jaehee hums.

                “What do you think, _____?”

                I smile. “It’s nice. You should try it on.” He takes the vest and heads for the changing room and Jaehee gives me a smile. “What?”

                Her eyes shift to the dress. “It’s very pretty, isn’t it.” I’d been caught and now I’m worried she’ll tell Jumin on me. “You should try it on.”

                “I don’t know about that,” I chuckle nervously. “I’ve got plenty of outfits.”

                “Oh go on,” she urges. “It suits you so well. And I’m sure Mr. Han would love it.”

                I put a hand to my chest. “Are you threatening me?”

                Her eyes roll. “Go on. Just try it on.”

                “Fine, fine,” I sigh.

                I really hate to admit it, but Jaehee’s got me pinned; I love the dress. The fabric crosses over the torso, creating sleeves that sit just off the shoulder, and it reaches just above the ankles with the A-line skirt, and I’m in love with the royal purple color.

                “Show us!” Yoosung calls from outside the changing room.

                Embarrassed, I step out of the changing room. “I hate you so much, Jaehee.”

                She seems none perturbed. “You look stunning.”

                “It’s so pretty,” awes the blonde.

                I put my hands to my face. “You guys are absolutely terrible.”

                “You have to get it,” the woman encourages.

                “I don’t know…”

                Needless to say, the two pester me into buying the dress and a pair of silver sandals to go with them. While I leave sulking, I’m excited to show Jumin.

                My phone meows mischievously. “Huh? What’s Saeyoung want?”

                ‘Toy Master incoming!’

                “What does that-” Before I finish my question, a heavy force slams into me.

                “Impact!”

                I look up at the man hugging me who’s got the cheesiest grin on his face. “Saeyoung! What are you doing here?!”

                He releases me to stuff his hands in his pockets. “We went and got lunch,” he hums, pointing to his brother catching up. “But now we’re gonna go get ready for the party.”

                I check my phone. “Now? The party’s not for another five hours…”

                “Yes, but Saeyoung procrastinates everything,” grumbles Saeran, giving his brother a scolding look. “And V asked us to help him with the decorating.”

                Saeyoung slings an arm around my shoulder again. “It looks like you’ve all got new clothes for this shindig! Why don’t we all have a pre-party party at our house?!”

                “Sorry, but I promised my guild we’d run a few dungeons before the party,” Yoosung replies.

                Jaehee sighs, “And I’m afraid I have prior commitments as well.”

                “Oooooh! Lame!” Those golden eyes turn to me with hope. “_____?”

                Jumin still hasn’t contacted me saying he’ll be off work any time soon. “Sure. Why not.”

                “Yahoo! Let’s party!”

                “Big mistake,” mumbles Saeran.

                From there, I bid Jaehee and Yoosung bye and follow the red-heads back to their place. Just as I flop onto the sofa, Saeyoung lunges for the bag in my hand.“Hey hey! Show us that dress you got!”

                “What?” I laugh.

                “Yeah! Go put it on! I wanna see it!” His eyebrows wiggle. “Unless you don’t mind me trying it on?”

                I jerk the bag away. “No! Knowing my luck, you’d look better in it than I do! And I am not having that image haunting me tonight!”

                “Later then!”

                I look to Saeran who gives me an ‘I told you so’ look. The red-head begs and begs until I just throw my hands up and give in. For the second time today, I pull on the dress. When I step outside the bathroom, Saeran’s mouth drips ice cream on his shirt and Saeyoung trips mid-step.

                A bit pleased with my inadvertent revenge, I smooth out the skirt. “Maybe wearing this tonight will end in a trip to the hospital.”

                “Wow! You look great!” Saeyoung shouts, sitting up.

                Saeran drags a sleeve across his mouth. “That’s a nice color on you.”

                “Ohohoh!” At the speed of light, Saeyoung bolts out of the room and down the hall. Saeran and I stare in confusion until he races back with multiple boxes in his arms. He dumps them on the desk and waves wildly at his chair. “Sit sit sit!”

                “Okay okay okay,” I laugh, thoroughly confused but not wanting to find out what happens if I refuse.

                Saeyoung cracks open one of the boxes and my jaws drops. He’s got more make up in one box than I’ve had in my entire life.

                “Wait! Hold on! I didn’t-”

                He grabs my hands, giving me the biggest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen. “Please _____! Let me do your make up! It’s one of my top ten dreams!”

                “Your dream is to do my make up?”

                “YES!”

                As if he knows it’ll make it worse, he pulls off his glasses and continues begging. There was no hope for me. “Fine.”

                Saeyoung literally does a victory lap around the house.

                Saeran leans closer to me. “You know he’s not gonna stop at makeup, right?” I glance up at him. “He’s got an entire closet full of wigs.”

                “Oh no…”

                Saeyoung plucks, pads, and pokes at my face while Saeran gives his input. I shoot him a glare when he’s the first to comment what hairstyle would work best. His response is a smug smirk. To my dismay, Saeyoung delves into styling my hair as well. At least he makes Saeran paint all my nails for me. In the end, I’m really impressed at just how good Saeyoung is at this kind of stuff.

                “Tadaaaa!”

                I nearly stop breathing. It’s perfect; all of it. I could rival Zen. “Saeyoung, I will never in my life ask anyone to do my hair and make up for me again. This is amazing!”

                “Of course! Nothing but perfection in my work! And for you, all I charge is kitty pats!”

                “As long as you don’t tell Jumin I let you come over, we have a deal.”

                “Good,” mumbles Saeran. “Then maybe I can have some peace around here.”

                Saeyoung gasps dramatically. “But Sae! Don’t you love your big brother?!” He tries to hug the grump, but the grump resists.

                “Nobody can deal with your antics all the time!” Unable to hold off his brother, Saeran goes down, dragging Saeyoung with him. “Get off me!”

                “Not until you admit you love me!”

                “No!”

                “Say it!”

                “NO!”

                The doorbell rings but obviously the two are not going to answer it. Dancing around them, I pull the door open to see the actor and the photographer.

                “Oh hey, __-Wow!” Zen’s eyes go wide. “Damn, that trust-fund-kid is a lucky jerk.”

                I giggle and V offers a smile. “You do look lovely, _____.”

                “Why thank you,” I hum. “So what brings you into our world of chaos?”

                He glances past me into the Choi home. “Well…Saeyoung and Saeran were supposed to come with us to help set up but…I see Saeyoung is procrastinating again.”

                “He certainly didn’t procrastinate in attacking me,” I retort, looking back at the boys rolling across the floor. “But I honestly don’t know what you were expecting.”

                “Well, guess it’s just us,” Zen says. “Wanna come help?”

                I glance back again and decide I should get out of here for now. “Yeah. Sure.” I pick up my bag of clothes and purse. “Sae. Saeyoung. I’m gonna go with Zen and V.”

                “See you at the party!” Saeyoung calls, pinning Saeran down. “Say you love me!”

                “NEVER!”

                Rolling my eyes, I close the door and go with V and Zen to the party location. It’s a small, but very fancy place with a gorgeous garden in the back. The men roll out a few tables while I hang up a banner and some streamers. Because it really is a small party for just the charity members, we aren’t going crazy with the set up.

                I lean back. “How does that look? Is it even?”

                “It’s perfect. Nice job, doc,” Zen compliments.

                He holds the ladder while I let myself down and V calls out to us. “I think we’re almost done. Why don’t we take a break? _____, can I borrow you for a bit?”

                I glance to Zen and shrug. We amble towards V and he waves to the door out to the garden. “What’s up?”

                “I was hoping you’d be my model for a bit,” V asks sheepishly.

                “What?”

                “You look amazing and the flowers would be a beautiful background and-”

                “He’s an artist. He’s going to be pining to take your picture all night,” chuckles Zen, further instigating V’s awkwardness.

                I let slip a nervous laugh. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer the god that is Zen?”

                The photographer’s hand goes to the back of his neck. “I’ve got plenty of pictures of Zen and I’m looking for more of a feminine touch.”

                “Zen wears more make up than I do!”

                Zen doesn’t seem offended at all. “It’s probably true.”

                “Please, _____?”

                “I have ino dea how to be a model.”

                “Don’t worry about it. I’m a professional.”

                “Okay,” I sigh. “What do you want me to do?”

                V ushers me into the garden and starts having a field day. Zen tags along with his suggestions or just to pull my attention away from the camera and make it more casual for me. I admit that it’s actually quite a lot of fun, especially with friends to take the edge off the awkwardness.

                “And then that rich kid began critiquing Yoosung’s cosplay of him!”

                I’m almost crying from laughter. “Are you serious?! Why have I not heard this story before?!”

                “Because Yoosung’s ashamed of his drunken adventure. Don’t tell him I told you.”

                “Oh you are screwed, buddy.”

                V approaches, looking at his camera happily. “Okay. I think I’ve got enough pictures.”

                “You ran out of memory, didn’t you,” I question.

                “…Maybe.”

                I laugh. “I’m happy to have been your model but…you’re not going to display those, are you? Like…publicly?”

                He cautiously moves his camera further away from me. “I am.”

                “What?! Nonononononono!” The man is easily taller than I am and simply holds the camera above my head. “This is not fair! I was not warned of public use beforehand!”

                “What’s wrong, _____?” he replies in amusement. “You look wonderful and I’d never show an embarrassing photo of you…Unless Jumin asks.”

                “V! I will take you out by the shins! I-” My phone meows. Pulling it from my dress, I see my boyfriend calling. Instantly, I put it on speaker-phone. “Jumin! V is being a bully!”

                “A bully? That doesn’t sound like V,” he replies. I can already tell he’s entertained but I’m still going to stick to my point.

                “He took pictures of me and says he’s going to make them public!”

                “My love, you are gorgeous, always. And he’s a professional. What could it hurt? Don’t you trust V?”

                “Yes, don’t you trust me?” teases the criminal. I stick my tongue out at him.

                Jumin goes on, “I’m sure V will be respectful in displaying photos. You’ll be fine.”

                “You guys are rude,” I grumble.

                “I’m on my way home now. I suppose you’re not?”

                “No, I got kidnapped consecutively. But I don’t wanna be picked on anymore, so I’ll meet you at home.”He agrees and I bid the men goodbye to call a taxi.

                Jumin beat me to the penthouse but I did not expect him to greet me with a surprise. He’s waiting with a beautiful bouquet of roses in hand. His casual expression softens and he looks like he could melt.

                “You’re breath-taking,” he hums softly.

                “Oh sweetheart.”

                He passes the flowers to me. “I got these for you. Since I’m not allowed to buy private islands anymore,” he ends teasingly. A sweet, loving kiss with just a hint of hunger makes my knees weak, even after all this time. “Though I must admit that they are nothing compared to you.”

                “Stop,” I laugh. “You really didn’t have to.”

                “Of course I did.” He steals another kiss. “I missed spending the day with you.”

                “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to be lazy later.”

                We kill a little time, feed the cats dinner, and are heading out again before long. Upon arrival, Jumin and I appear to be the last ones there and the party starts. Everyone’s normally a bit lively, but there seems to be a bit more static in the air tonight. Nevertheless, I can’t help admiring my friends, the people I love. I get in on the antics and enjoy the night with them.

                “Hey hey! Didn’t V have some surprise for us?” Saeyoung announce, easily shifting everyone’s attention to the unprepared man.

                He gives a modest laugh. “Well, I did prepare a video for you all.”

                “Is that what the projector’s for?” Yoosung asks. I hadn’t even noticed the machine in the corner earlier.

                “Yes. I wanted to share some memories with everyone.”

                “Please don’t tell me my cosplay of Jumin is in there,” sighs Yoosung.

                I start giggling and he glares at Zen while Jaehee hums, “I bet there’s a lot of Zen’s pictures in there.”

                With the projector aimed at the blank wall, V clicks at his computer and starts a slide show. We’re instantly greeted with a young Jumin and V and I can’t help but awe. But seriously, the slide show is amazing. There are pictures of everyone by everyone in our happiest moments. I love it. And then I notice that there are an unusual number of pictures of me and Jumin.

                “God, are you guys stalking us,” I laugh after the eighth one in a row. And then the pictures of me in the garden come up. “V!”

                He grins shamelessly as my boyfriend pulls me back by the arm. So I’m forced to endure the embarrassment of being the focus of this slideshow.

                Then there’s a different picture. In the background, I’m there, back to the camera, paying attention to the flowers. However, in the foreground is Jumin, his back also to the camera. Hands behind his back, in one hand is the bouquet of roses he gave me earlier. In his other hand is a sign.

~~~

Will you

marry me?

~~~

                I stare in shock, instinctively reaching out for Jumin’s sleeve but he’s not there. Surprised, I turn to look for him, only to find him behind me, on one knee. He opens the box in his hands, displaying the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.

                “Will you?”

                Months ago, I would’ve said no, or at least hesitated, but that’s all different now. We’ve grown so much since we met and I can genuinely say that I want to spend my life with him.

                “Yes,” I breathe, worried that my voice will break should I be any louder.

                The room breaks out in cheering and whistled and somehow, confetti and streamers. Jumin rights himself, slipping the ring into its rightful place. Unable to contain myself much longer, I launch myself at Jumin with a kiss.

                Chuckling, he breaks away. “I told you I’d make it up to you.”

                My cheeks burn. “You planned everything, didn’t you?”

                “Right down to the purple dress.” My jaw drops. “I know what my fiancée likes. Ooo. I like how that sounds.” He brushes his nose against mine. “I love you.”

                I giggle at the ensuing peppering of kisses. “Jumin Han, you are absolutely, without a doubt…The Cat’s Meow.”

[rohad93]

Holly Jolly Secret

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920110

Downtown empire city was covered in a soft sheet of snow, from the street to the rooftops of the skyscrapers, everything had a sheen of white to it.

In one such building, the light from an office glared out on the darkening city, the surrounding windows going dark one at a time. 

The constant clicking and clacking of the computer keyboard was the only sound in the office as Yennefer Diamond sat hunched over the desk, typing away at the end of the year reports her mother wanted before next week's end.  

The large 29th floor office, with an entire wall of floor to ceiling windows, overlooked the entirety of Empire City and the setting sun had very nearly disappeared behind the many skyscrapers, the last tendrils of orange, pink and yellows fading into the navy blues and inky blacks of a winter night. The beautiful sky however was duly ignored by the office’s sole occupant in favor of the work in front of her, a rather common occurrence.  

It was ten till five on a Friday evening and even with her office door closed, she could still hear the racket of her employees doing anything but working, and it grated on her nerves as she went through their fiscal earnings for the last year line by agonizing line, getting more annoyed by the second as she did with the ongoing noise in the background a constant annoyance.                                                                                   

Diamond industries had suffered some… losses over the course of the past year and it showed in every line of numbers she punched in, glancing occasionally at the stack of papers at her side, checking every statement and receipt. They had hardly done poorly, but not as well as last year and it irritated the thirty-two year old executive to no end as she hit the keys a little harder than necessary. 

She stopped and leaned back in her chair, heaving a sigh and pinching the bridge of her nose  as she looked at the columns and lines of numbers blurring together tiredly as she thought about the next few hours she would be sitting here trying to finish these so she could move on to anything else.

A knock on her office door made her sigh heavily through her nose, just before the door opened and her personal assistant, Daisy, popped her head in, along with the now unfiltered noise of an entire office floor on a Friday evening, two weeks before Christmas and 5 minutes before punch out time. 

The dull throbbing that had begun it’s slow build over the last hour behind her eyes gave a sharp jab, making her close her eyes for a long second before opening them again, exhaustion dulled amber eyes focused on Daisy, silently prompting her to speak. 

“I have the rest of the reports you asked for, Miss Diamond.” She held up the armful of folders and Yennefer nodded, prompting the other woman to enter, closing the door behind her and shutting out the majority of the noise as she entered, but the sharpness of her headache remained, making her frown deepen.  

“Just lay them there.” She nodded to the corner of her desk, turning her tired eyes back to her computer monitor and the endless lines of numbers still waiting for her to review. The glare of the screen made another sharp stab of pain shoot through her head just behind her eyes. 

Daisy sat the folders in the empty space before holding up her tablet and reading through the itinerary for the upcoming week as was the norm on Friday, just before her PA left for the weekend. 

“You have a meeting with Ms. Diamond first thing Monday morning…” She started and Yennefer rolled her eyes. What could her mother possibly want now? They had had lunch together just this afternoon and she had made no mention of any meeting. Not that her mother neglecting to tell her things was new by any stretch of the imagination.

“What else?” She grunted, laying her chin in one hand and tapping her mouse on her screen with the other.  

“You have three phone conferences Tuesday and…” She continued while Yennefer only half listened, most of her attention still focused on the black and white spreadsheet sitting in front of her and trying to estimate how much longer this would take, while the clock on the eastern wall above her leather guest couch ticked away. 

“...provided everything stays on schedule Friday.” Daisy finished scrolling through the listed items on her tablet. 

“Good, thank you.” Yennefer nodded, not looking away from the screen and having missed most of what her assistant had been saying, as if they wouldn’t run through the itinerary again Monday morning. 

“Oh, here’s your drawing for the Christmas party secret Santa.” She dug a slip of paper out of her pocket and held it out to Yennefer. 

This did cause Yennefer to turn and look at her assistant before her gaze fell on the folded slip of paper in her outstretched hand.

“The secret Santa?” Yennefer repeated, like the words were foreign to her.  

“You signed up for it, Miss Diamond, last week?” she reminded. “After the investor meeting, they passed around the signup sheet and you told me to put it in your calendar; today was the drawing, so I brought you yours.” She still stood there holding out the little slip of festive red paper.

Yennefer clenched her jaw as she looked at the paper, vaguely recalling the signup sheet that had been passed around after the end of last week’s investor meeting, but she had been in a hurry, trying to get out as the head of imports had been heading her way when she had told Daisy to simply sign whatever it was in her stead. 

She finally took the slip of paper, not caring one bit that her assistant saw her scowling as she did. 

“That will be all, Miss Almar.” Yennefer dismissed her assistant with a huff, trying and failing at not letting her annoyance shine through. Daisy was used to it though and nodded.

“Have a good weekend, Miss Diamond.” She smiled, nasally voice exceptionally grating on Yennefer’s nerves and headache tonight as she left the office. 

Once she’d gone Yennefer looked down at the little slip of paper like it had personally wronged her. She had had no intention of participating in the gift exchange, just as she hadn’t the past five years she had worked in her mother’s company.  

She cursed herself for the momentary lapse in judgement last week for not simply doing it herself and saving herself the trouble of having to get some sort of meaningless gift for one of the many nameless workers that worked for her mother. 

She glared down at the paper as she opened it, fully expecting the name to not even ring the faintest of bells in her head. 

‘Belle Ryan.’

Yennefer sat bolt upright, staring down at the name written in elegant swooping script on the tiny slip of crimson paper held tightly between her fingers. 

Immediately the image of a tall, fair skinned woman with piercing blue eyes, platinum hair and a lilting Irish accent filled her mind’s eye. 

Of the two-hundred something people in the office, Yennefer had to get her, of course. She pursed her lips tightly together, staring down at the name and willing it to change into any other, but it remained the same much to her chagrin.  

She sighed heavily to herself, leaning back in her chair, the slip of paper still held loosely between her fingers. 

Now, she had to get a gift for the one woman in the office she had an untameable attraction to, ever since she’d started nine months ago. 

She groaned as she dragged a hand down her face. 

They had met at a company function nearly two years ago. Her father was a large investor in the company and she was attending the party with him. When he passed away nearly a year ago and she had inherited his stock and investments in the company, her mother had been quick to take her on board as an executive in the production sector as head of imports. 

She was quite skilled at finding product from sources willing to sell or trade. 

They had a handful of talks here and there whenever they passed each other in the halls or in meetings but Yennefer was always quick to make an excuse and get away.

With good reason.

Belle Ryan was well off, highly educated, and maybe the most beautiful woman Yennefer had ever seen, and everything about her seemed to make Yennefer’s better senses stop functioning. 

Yennefer liked to consider herself to be quite well spoken when she needed to be, but she came up blank more often than not in the Irish woman’s presence. 

Now she needed to come up with a gift for her by Thursday the twenty-third, the night of the party and their last day of work before the holiday. She looked at the desktop calendar sitting next to the monitor. It was Friday the tenth. 

In theory that was plenty of time. In reality, she had no idea what she could possibly give the other woman. She knew very little of her personally, though she might know more if she wasn’t so afraid of making a fool of herself in front of her. 

She drummed her fingers on the large oak desk, staring off into space, deep in thought, the year end reports sitting completely forgotten as she mulled over her predicament before shaking herself out of it. 

This was exactly what thinking about that woman did to her. She shook her head and sat up, concentrating on the reports in front of her once more, this was far more pressing then secret Santa presents, though, far more mind numbing. 

She didn’t allow herself to think about her coworker again until she was shutting down her computer and pulling on her coat to leave her office two hours later, long after the regular staff had gone. She carefully put the last files she needed to look at into her briefcase before leaving her office. The rest of the lights were all out in the cubicles as she walked across the room to the elevator. Everyone else had gone home hours ago.

She got on the elevator and punched the button for the ground floor. 

Not for a second noticing the other lit up floor on the panel.  

Maybe she had simply thought her name too many times or maybe the universe was playing a game with her, but sure enough the elevator stopped on the 26th floor and when the doors slid open, they revealed the very woman she had been doing her very best not to think about.

Belle Ryan was standing there in a sapphire blue pencil skirt and white button up blouse. A small blue, diamond shaped pendant on a silver chain peeked out from the neck line. Her long platinum locks were pulled up onto her head in a perfectly neat bun off her long slender neck and a laptop case was slung over her shoulder.

When those blue eyes fell on her, they lit up, mouth turning up into a soft smile and Yennefer felt herself go ridgid under that cornflower gaze.

“Good evening, Yennefer,” she said as she stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind her. “Do you always stay this late?” she asked, clasping her hands together in front of her as the doors slid closed behind her, closing them in together for at least the next twenty-six floors. 

“I stay late more often than not, but tonight I was finishing the year end reports.” She said stiffly, looking from Belle to the much to slowly moving number on the elevator control panel. “Usually I’m the last to leave. Though apparently, not tonight.” she said, trying to ignore the nerves humming just beneath her skin.

“Ah, yes, I try to leave at five myself but as you said, there are a lot of year end things to be done.” She once again aimed that beautiful smile at her and Yennefer tried not to fidget under her attention as they moved ever closer to the ground floor. Yennefer just hummed an agreement. 

“I didn’t see you at the thanksgiving dinner the company threw. Will you be attending the christmas party? I’ve been told Whitney spares no expense,” she said.

“If my mother enjoys anything, it's an elaborate party, and yes, I’ll be there,” she nodded.

They traveled a few more floors in silence and Yennefer could feel herself getting antsy in the small quiet space, shifting her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet.  

“Have you eaten yet?” Belle suddenly asked. “I was going to grab something from the Thai place across the street if you’d like to join me?” 

She asked just as they hit the ground floor and the doors slid open to the lobby.

“Thank you, but I really need to hurry home.” Her mouth was moving before she even had time to think about what she was sas saying. Belle looked disappointed and it was like a sucker punch to the gut that a face like hers should ever be anything but happy.  

“Oh, of course, have a good weekend, Yennefer.” Belle nodded, her smile not as bright as before as she walked out of the elevator and through the pristine lobby toward the front doors, her black heels clicking across the polished white marble floor.  

Yennefer stood there watching her go long enough for the doors to slide shut again, her reflection stared back at her in the highly polished metal and she cursed herself. 

“Why did you say no?” She couldn’t help but ask her reflection with a scowl;predictably, there was no answer. She ran her free hand through her short blonde hair tiredly and sighed before hitting the button again, a little harder than necessary, and the doors once again opened up to the lobby. It was empty, save for the couches and chairs. Even the receptionist desk stood empty. 

She grumbled to herself as she headed for the exit, the only sound being the clicking of her own heels on the marble as she left the building.

The cold hit her in the face the moment she stepped out the front doors. The sting of winter winds biting at her nose and ears as she walked towards the parking garage at the side of the building. Luckily, her reserved spot was close to the entrance. She pulled the coat tighter around her, regardless.   

She let herself glance across the street to the Thai restaurant, it’s red neon open sign blinking a greeting. She hesitated a second before she scoffed at herself again as she turned away toward the parking garage. How foolish would she look to go over there now after saying she needed to get home? She had shot herself in the foot on this one. 

She quickly left the office and restaurant behind as she climbed into her car. 

She had a lot to do before her meeting with her mother on Monday morning and she wanted to spend as little time thinking about it as possible. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Monday morning Yennefer sat in her office, clicking through her emails and sipping on her coffee. 

It was only seven thirty, the majority of the office, including her assistant, wouldn't be in for another half hour. This was her quiet time of the day. The still mornings before everyone came in, when she could work in peace and solitude, even if only for a little while. 

Her phone buzzed, rattling across the polished wood surface of her desk. She glanced at the notification over the top of her coffee mug. 

‘Rosie’      

She sat the cup down and picked up the phone. What could her sister possibly want at this hour of the morning?

She pressed a finger to the sensor on the back, opening the message. A picture of a toddler with curly black hair in a high chair and his nose turned up at a tiny, red plastic bowl of oatmeal greeted her. She couldn’t stop her lips from curling up even if she wanted to at the sight of the boy. 

Three bubbles popped up and she waited only a second before the message came up.

“This is your fault!”  

Yennefer snorted at the message, looking back at the picture of her three year old nephew before typing out a quick reply. 

“I can hardly be blamed for your poor cooking skills.” She typed back.

The bubbles popped up before she could even take her finger off the keyboard. 

She set the phone down, ignoring the buzzing that immediately followed her text with a grin, she took another long sip of her coffee as her phone buzzed several times. Only when it finally went silent for more than a full minute did she pick it up.

“There is nothing wrong with my cooking, you jerk!” Yennefer snorted at that.  

“Ever since you made him your oatmeal, he won’t eat mine! What are you putting in it?

“Can Steven and I stay at your place next week for Christmas?” That did give Yennefer pause.

“Where’s your husband?” She questioned.

“Greg has to work so it’s just going to be me and your favorite nephew! Please?”

Yennefer pursed her lips. Her penthouse was hardly child proof, though more so than their mother’s luxury house, not that Rosie would stay there if she could help it. Things were still tense between Whitney and her youngest child, understandably. 

When your mother is overbearing and controlling and your sister runs off and elopes, getting pregnant; family functions and holidays are a little tense. 

Yennefer sighed and took another slug of her coffee as she typed a response.

“If you must.” 

Instantly the bubbles indicating her sister’s incoming message popped up.

“Thank you! See you next Tuesday!” 

Yennefer rolled her eyes as she sat the phone back on the wireless charger sitting next  to her keyboard. 

Suddenly there was a knock on her door and she glanced at the clock- ten till eight. Her assistant was early, even for her. 

“Come in,” she said, turning back to her screen and lifting her mug to her lips. 

“Good morning, Yennefer.” Belle was standing in her doorway and Yennefer sucked in a breath, inhaling a mouth full of coffee in the process. 

She choked, coughing and sputtering on the warm liquid in her lungs, tears in her eyes as she tried to breath.

A hand was patting her back, helping expel the coffee from her airways.

A full minute of hacking later she was finally breathing again, Belle at her side, hand still resting on her back as she composed herself. 

“Are you alright?” She looked incredibly concerned as she peered down at the blonde. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” Yennefer rushed to assure her, voice still raspy as she tried to regain control of her breathing. 

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” she asked, stepping back as Yennefer stood, trying valiantly to compose herself in front of the executive importer. 

“No, no...I swallowed wrong is all.”  She pulled the handkerchief from the pocket of her ochre colored blazer and wiped the water from her eyes with as much dignity as she could muster; which didn’t feel like much at this moment. “I’m just surprised to see you, or anyone here this early…” she managed. 

“You’re here, and, from the looks of it, have been for some time,” Belle observed, glancing at the desk, coffee mostly gone and several folders already sitting open on its surface. 

“Yes, well. I usually come in early to get a head start on my work. There’s always something more to do…” she trailed off, brushing imaginary dust from the front of her blazer if only for something to do with her hands. 

“You are the VP of finance,” Belle agreed with a smile that made the back of Yennefer's neck grow hot.

“Did you need something from me?” she asked, settling on folding her hands behind her back to keep them still.  

“Oh! Yes, I nearly forgot.” She held a hand to her mouth and chuckled to herself. “I was wondering if you knew what the meeting this morning was about?” she asked.

“The meeting?” Yennefer repeated, blinking. 

“Yes, with Whitney? The email I received Friday evening didn’t say, just that I was supposed to meet with you and Whitney ” Belle looked at her curiously. 

Oh, right. Her meeting with her mother that Daisy had told her about Friday before she’d left. 

A meeting she had not been informed of by the CEO; nor that it would include the head of imports. She felt herself grow prickly by the perceived slight from her mother all over again. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea myself,” she admitted, glancing at the clock; five till. “The meeting starts in a few minutes so we may as well go and find out.” She nodded toward the clock on the wall.

“Oh, yes, I guess we should,” she nodded as they walked out of the office. Yennefer surreptitiously checking her reflection in the mirror to the left of the door as she followed Belle out of her office, shutting the door behind her. 

A few people were starting to trickle into the office from the elevator and they were quick to move out their bosses way as she got on the lift with Belle and hit the button for the top floor. 

The quiet of the elevator was oppressive to Yennefer, though she wasn’t sure she was grateful or not that it wasn’t to last. 

“How was your weekend?” Belle looked at her as the elevator began to move upwards. Even with both of them in heels, the blonde was still a couple inches taller. 

“It was fine, yours?” she asked back conversationally. 

“Quiet, but nice, I spent most of it practicing.” 

“Practicing?” Yennefer couldn’t help but ask curiously.

“Yes, on my piano. I don’t get to it as much as I would like these days. It’s nice to sit and play to relax.” She folded her hands in front of her, against the green and blue plaid skirt she was wearing today. 

“I didn’t know you played…” 

“Since I was a little girl.” She smiled, seeming to light up under the line of questions, to which Yennefer was quick to take note. 

“What kind of music do you play?” 

Before she could answer the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to the thirtieth floor.

The room just outside the elevators opened up to a large pristine white carpeted waiting room.

The eggshell colored walls in combination with the carpet always made Yennefer uncomfortable with it’s sterile atmosphere. Belle seemed equally uncomfortable in the room.

Her own floor of the building was decorated in soft blues, grays and whites that Yennefer always thought had a nice calming effect whenever she had to go down to the twenty-sixth floor, though she preferred her own floor with it’s rich brown wooden flooring and light yellow painted walls. 

They crossed the waiting area with it’s stainless steel table and the black leather upholstered chairs situated around it, moving toward the desk sitting just outside the doors to her mother’s office. 

The woman behind the desk, even with the black eyepatch that covered her left eye, in her pink floral patterned skirt and white blouse was perhaps the most colorful thing in the entire room.  

Poppy Spears, her mother’s PA, smiled at them as they approached.

“Ms. Diamond is waiting for you; go ahead.” She gestured to the door and Yennefer just grunted in affirmation, Belle following behind her. 

The office was decorated in a similar fashion to the waiting room. Tones of black and white, though with a few more personal touches. Some expensive paintings in abstract hung from the walls, the harsh pops of reds in them the only hints of color to be found. 

She was not surprised to find her mother sitting behind her large desk, already looking at something on her computer screen. Coal black eyes looked up when the door opened and she smiled, accentuating the lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, despite the heavily applied makeup, revealing two rows of ivory white teeth.

“Ah, Yennefer, Miss Ryan, do come in; have a seat.” She gestured to the plush black leather chairs sitting in front of her desk. 

Yennefer sat in one of the chairs, arms immediately folding across her chest; still less than pleased about this surprise meeting that she hadn’t the faintest idea of the point of.

“I’m sure you’re both wondering why I’ve called you in so let’s get straight to the point,” her mother began without preamble. “Very recently I was brought to the attention of some assets up for sale in Delmarva. However, before we acquire them for the company, I need them to be assessed by the both of you.”  

“Why us?” Belle asked before Yennefer could, though the one hiked blonde eyebrow spoke loudly enough of her question to the ageing CEO. 

“The acquisition in question is a business that imports precious minerals and jewels called Mica Incorporated,” she explained, folding her hands atop her desk. “You are the head of imports and acquisitions, Miss Ryan; you know best what’s worth keeping or not. I need you to go over what they’re taking in and what we want to keep when we buy them,” she explained. 

“Of course,” Belle nodded. 

“You want me to go over their books…” Yennefer said. It wasn’t a question. Whitney smiled at her eldest.

“Of course. Your flight leaves at five am tomorrow.” she informed.

“Tomorrow?” Yennefer shot upright in her seat.

“That is rather short notice,” Belle intoned. Whitney just nodded to both of them.

“Yes, I know, but it has to be all closed out before the holidays, so it is a rush job, I’m afraid,” she admitted. “The flight and hotel have already been booked; you’ll come back Wednesday afternoon. Your assistants have all the information you need.” 

With a glance at each other, they both stood from their seats at the obvious dismissal and made their way out of the office. 

Inside, Yennefer was fuming. It was one thing to have to do this, she had done similar jobs before, but the lack or warning was what really grated on her nerves. Her mother had obviously known about this since at least Friday afternoon, since her assistant had been told, yet hadn’t made any mention of it all weekend. Not that they had talked at all over the weekend. 

The fact that she had not deigned to inform her earlier, as opposed to springing it on her the morning before, was maddening.

She did not stomp, but her footfalls were considerably heavier than they had been on the way in as they made their way past Poppy to the elevator. The PA only smiled at their retreating figures, more than used to people leaving the office in a sour disposition, Yennefer especially. 

She smashed the button to her floor as she got on, crossing her arms over her chest. She very nearly forgot about Belle standing next to her till she reached out to press the button for her own floor; she turned to her once the doors had slid closed.

“I live on the other side of town, by the river. You probably live closer to the airport, don't you?” she asked. Yennefer nodded, glancing over to see the other woman playing with the blue pendant hanging from her neck. 

“Yes, near the park,” she confirmed, trying not to growl, her fingers tapping agitatedly against her arm.

“Since it’s on the way would you like me to pick you up in the morning?” She looked up at the blonde and all the boiling anger that had been simmering in Yennefer’s gut seemed to vanish, watered down by the baby blues looking up at her. 

“That’s… very kind of you, yes,” she finally managed to spit out. 

“I’ll be there at three?” she asked and Yennefer only managed to nod, just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open on her floor and she stepped out. 

“Great, just send the address to my assistant, I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiled and Yennefer only managed to nod before the doors slid shut, moving down toward the twenty-sixth floor, leaving her to stare at her distorted reflection in the metal doors.

“Miss Diamond?” 

Yennefer jumped, whirling around to find Daisy standing there, her tablet held in front of her.

“I have your flight and hotel information, shall I email it to you?” she asked, looking down at the tablet screen before looking back up at her.

And just like that, the cooling embers of her anger burst back into flames. 

“Yes,” she ground out, stomping across the floor to her office, Daisy on her heels, tapping at her tablet screen. 

Yennefer felt her phone buzz in her pocket, signaling the arrival of the email, followed by another. 

Entering her office she made a beeline for her computer and opened up the two emails; one a confirmation of her flight and hotel accommodations that she only briefly glanced over before opening the other, detailed information about the business and the location of its head office. 

She saved the address into her phone and looked up at the clock. Eight-thirty. She looked over the last few things she needed to do and decided. 

“Daisy…” Her PA was quick to jump to attention at the call of her name. “I’m leaving at noon so I can get things together before tomorrow morning. Move anything pertinent I need to do today too before then or reschedule it,” she commanded, eyes already trained on something on her screen.

“Of course.” She nodded, already swiping away at the tablet screen. 

Yennefer went to close the email but caught sight of the ‘To:’ box where she and Belle had both been tagged in the email and paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“Daisy, please send my home address to Miss Ryan’s assistant.” she said after a moment before resuming her work. 

She could see her assistant out of the corner of her eye, looking at her curiously before nodding to herself and turning back to her tablet, fingers flying across the screen as she worked to complete her tasks. 

With that out of the way, she was able to turn fully back to her work without distraction. One phone conference, several very long individual calls, and thirty emails later, and she was shutting down her computer and heading out with Daisy at her heels, taking quick notes as they walked.

“If anything urgent comes up, call me and I’ll take care of it,” she instructed, snapping her briefcase closed as she waited for the elevator.

“Of course.” Daisy nodded, still tapping away at the screen.

 The elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped inside, turning to face her assistant. 

“Take the rest of the day off,” she said, pressing the button for the ground floor.

“Thank You, Miss Diamond. Have a nice trip,” she trilled as the doors slid shut, leaving the VP alone in the quiet elevator.  

“I doubt it,” she grumbled to herself as the elevator moved downward. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Yennefer yawned as she sat at her kitchen table, taking long sips of the black coffee in her cup. Her bag was packed and sitting next to the front door, along with her laptop case. 

Her phone sat silent and dark on the table as it usually did at three fifteen in the morning.

She ran her hand through her slightly damp hair, still coming around, even after the near boiling shower. 

If nothing else, she was glad she didn’t have to get herself to the airport. She would need to think of some way to show Belle her thanks.

Which reminded her. 

She still had to get her a gift for the secret Santa; she cursed to herself. 

She still had lots of time and perhaps she would learn something useful that would give her even the faintest idea of what she could give her. 

True, if it had been anyone else, she would have just picked up a gift card of some kind and called it a day, but that wasn't going to earn her any points with the executive importer she was sure.

She sat contemplating it and sipping her coffee when her phone lit up, the vibration making it rattle across the table.

She picked it up, squinting at the bright screen. 

Instead of a name there was an unknown number and a single line of text. 

"I'm parked out front."

It took her a second before she realized with a jolt who it had to be and jumped up, setting the empty coffee cup in the sink before pulling on her leather long coat and picking up her bags, leaving her apartment and locking the door behind her.

Outside, her apartment building was cold and dark, save for the christmas lights that decorated some of the buildings and trees, and the headlights of a single silver car parked at the curb idle-ing.

 When she stepped out onto the street from the lobby, the driver side door opened and Belle climbed out. Her hair was down, laying in silky curtain of white against the back of her deep blue peacoat and it gave Yennefer pause before the biting cold forced her to keep moving toward the car.  

“Good morning.” Belle greeted her with a smile warm, enough to chase away some of winter’s bite as she popped the trunk. 

“G’morning…” she mumbled, as she stuck her bag in the trunk, her hot breath coming out in wispy clouds around her head. She walked quickly to the passenger side and climbed inside. Her ears and hands burned as the hot air coming out of the heater hit her cold skin.

The very next thing that hit her was the subtle scent of lavender and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.  

Belle climbed into the driver's seat and once the door had shut, Yennefer realized the pleasing and delicate floral scent was coming from her.

 A chill ran up her spine but not from the lingering cold. Clearing her throat she looked at Belle as they pulled away from the curb and toward the airport.

“Thank you; for picking me up.” she clarified. 

Belle glanced at her, smiling before turning her eyes back to the road.

“Of course. I was happy too,” she said before turning her full attention back on the road. 

Yennefer wanted to say something, anything really, but she came up blank and rather then make a fool of herself, she stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, looking out the passenger window.

Arriving at the airport was a hustle of checking in and waiting in lines that stretched on forever, thanks to the jolly time of year. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, they were seated comfortably next to each other in first class. 

She pulled off her coat and glanced to her side where Belle had pulled out a book. She wanted to say something but she seemed rather concentrated on the literature, so, with a silent sigh, she leant back and closed her eyes, determined to sleep through the flight. 

Which she did.

She didn’t open her eyes again until they had landed and Belle was gently nudging her awake.

They were able to get their bags quickly and get out to the rental car waiting for them.

“Do you mind if I drive?” Yennefer asked distractedly as she looked at the address for their hotel on her phone.  

“Not at all,” Belle answered as she set her bags in the trunk. Yennefer nodded as she set her own things next to hers before climbing into the driver’s seat.  

“It should be close by…” she mumbled more to herself than anything.

‘We aren’t expected at Mica till eleven,” Belle said. 

Yennefer looked at the clock on the dash blinking nine-fifteen at her. They did have time. She hummed in agreement, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel and glancing at the GPS on the phone as she followed the road to the hotel.

She wasn’t at all surprised by the scale of the building when she pulled into the parking lot. Her mother never settled, even if only for one night. The parking lot had been shoveled but everything around was covered in several inches of snow. Lights of red and green, as well as  wreaths decorated the front of the building. 

They gathered up their bags and headed inside, which was just as lavish as Yennefer had predicted. The lobby was pristine, and reminded her too much of her mother’s office.   

“Good morning Ma’am. Name?” the man behind the counter greeted.

“Diamond.” she told him simply as he turned to his computer typing something before nodding.

“Here it is,” he said, typing a few more things and handing over two key cards.

“I’ll only need one.” She tried to hand back the second but he held up a hand.

“No Ma’am, the other is for your companion. Miss ...” He glanced at the screen before turning back to her. “...Ryan.”

“We only have one room?” Belle asked, stepping forward as Yennefer went silent. 

“Yes, I’m sorry Ma’am, but when the reservation was made it was the only room available for the night, everything else in the city has been booked due to the time of year,” he informed them, looking apologetic.” 

Yennefer’s jaw clenched and she could feel the words about to erupt from her mouth when they were silenced before they could even start.

“That’s alright, we’ll make do for one night, right?” Belle smiled at the relieved looking desk clerk before looking over at her, and all the vitriol gathering on the end of her tongue vanished in a puff of smoke. Left with no other options she just nodded and held out the second key card to Belle, trying not to look as disgruntled as she felt.

“Breakfast is still being served in the dining room. Enjoy your stay, ladies,” The clerk smiled as they walked toward the elevator. 

Yennefer huffed inside as they got on and hit the button for the third floor.

“I hadn’t even thought about how booked up all the hotels would be,” Belle hummed.

“Tch, all they could have had left is a cot in a closet and my mother still would have insisted we come,” she grouched, unprepared for when her companion giggled. 

“We’re lucky they at least had one room then,” she grinned and it took all Yennefer had to look away. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her leather coat and nodded, unable to stop the twitch of her lips which Belle seemed to notice, if the widening of her grin was anything to go by. 

The doors opened on the third floor and they quickly found the room in question. Belle opened the door and walked in, flicking on the light but she stopped suddenly, Yennefer nearly running into her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Oh, no, nothing.” she assured quickly, moving into the room properly and allowing Yennefer in; she stopped herself.

Situated in the center of the room was one queen sized bed. Not the two fulls she had expected.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,’ she thought to herself.

She glanced at Belle, who was unpacking her one bag and putting her clothes in the second drawer, but was glancing at Yennefer in the reflection of the vanity situated atop the dresser, waiting for her reaction.

Yennefer’s hands clenched. There were no other rooms to be had and she didn’t want to make this any more awkward than it already was by having a fit about it when it certainly wouldn’t help the situation or put either one of them anymore at ease. 

She exhaled heavily through her nose and moved to set her bag on the bed before taking a deep breath. 

“Do… you have a preference for side?” She couldn’t believe she was asking. 

“Oh…” Belle looked at her in the mirror’s reflection and Yennefer thought just maybe her cheeks were a little pink but they had just come in from outside. “Closest to the wall?” she said, uncertainly and Yennefer nodded, setting her laptop case on the bedside table. She preferred to sleep on the outside edge anyway.  

Belle disappeared into the bathroom and she took the opportunity to put her clothes in the top drawer she had left empty for her. 

She grumbled to herself while she did. 

Of all the people she had to go on this trip with and then end up sharing not only a room but a bed! It, of course, had to be the most attractive woman in the office. 

She snorted to herself; it could have been worse, she supposed- it could have been a man or her mother. She grimaced at the thought, just as Belle reappeared.

“Would you like to go down and have breakfast?” she asked.

Yennefer glanced at her watch. It was only ten.

“Sure,” she nodded. Anything so that she didn't have to stand here, awkwardly pretending she was fine with sharing a bed with a woman she could hardly talk to most days.

The food set out downstairs was the usual continental breakfast and there was no telling how long it had been sitting there, so Yennefer grabbed a bagel and an orange from the fruit stand before finding an empty table in the back corner.

Belle sat down across from her with a bowl of the hotel’s oatmeal and Yennefer couldn't help but make a face that was immediately noticed.

"What?" Belle questioned, head tilted at the look being leveled on her breakfast.

"Hmm?" Yennefer looked up, amber meeting blue and flushed, realizing Belle had noticed her looking at the bowl of vile, mushy oats. "Oh, no nothing." She took a bite of her bagel to avoid saying anything else.

"You're just glaring at my breakfast for no reason?" The tone was more than a little amused and Yennefer's neck burned as she chewed on the bagel.

"I didn't… mean anything, I just have an aversion to most oatmeal. I got food poisoning from it once as a child," she informed.

"Oh, I see," Belle said.

"Mhmm," Yennefer nodded. "I have my own recipe which is the only kind I or my nephew will eat." She couldn't help the twitch of her mouth, thinking of the other morning when Rosie had sent her that photo of Steven refusing her oatmeal as she picked up her coffee cup.

"Your nephew?" Belle questioned wide eyes. "I didn't know you had any siblings. Do they work at Diamond industry?"

Yennefer snorted into her coffee cup.

"No." she stated flatly. "My sister and mother have a… let's say, tenuous relationship," she mumbled the last part.

"What about your nephew?” she asked before spooning some of the oatmeal into her mouth, but all her attention was on Yennefer. 

“Steven? He’s very musical and intelligent for his age, he’s going to do great things.” She nodded to herself; she was certain of it.

“I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about anyone; you seem very fond of him.” Belle smiled teasingly and the heat that had receded from Yennefer’s neck was back full force. “Do you have a picture?” She leaned forward eagerly.

She pulled her phone from her pocket, and flicked through it a few times before coming to a picture of Rosie holding Steven on the beach last summer when she had taken a rare week off to go with them, coincidentally that had been the week she’d fed Steven her oatmeal one morning and he wouldn’t touch any other since. 

She handed the device to Belle who cooed at the little curly haired boy and Yennefer couldn’t help but grin.

“He’s adorable,” she murmured. “Is that your sister?” she asked looking at the younger woman with bright pink dyed hair, though it was curly, just like the little boy’s. Yennefer nodded, peeling her orange. “I would have never guessed,” she said, handing the phone back.

“We have different fathers,” she shrugged. “Rosie is eight years my junior,” she said. popping a peeled slice into her mouth.

Belle sat there eating her oatmeal and trying to wrap her head around two different men being interested in the curt and exacting Whitney Diamond, and had a hard time wrapping her mind around it as they finished their breakfast and headed for the office.

~ ~ ~

Belle did not see Yennefer again until almost five o’clock that afternoon. She didn’t have too much trouble sorting through the company's inventory and current trade contracts but one look at Yennefer when she got off the elevator to the lobby said that her counterpart had not had as easy a time.

“Are you alright?” Belle asked as they walked out of the building toward their rental. The VP was hunched over, face set in a deep scowl.

“A monkey could keep better books!” She dropped her laptop case into the back seat, trying not to slam the door and not really succeeding. Belle winced at the bang.

“I spent the entire day just sorting out the mess,” she growled, plopping down into the driver’s seat. 

“Is there no way to turn it around and make it profitable? The state of their inventory and their contracts are good.” 

“Oh, it will be profitable. I have everything sorted out now and I've put together an offer my mother has approved, I just needed to know what your assessment was before putting it to the owner tomorrow. Everything is set, whether or not he accepts the offer before he goes broke will be up to him.” she grumbled, starting the car.

They drove in silence for several minutes, Yennefer still too annoyed with her day to have time to feel awkward. All that time spent trying to make sense of their accounting had left her with a dull throbbing headache. 

“Do you want to get dinner before we head back to the hotel?” Belle suddenly piped up as they drove past a row of restaurants. 

“Sure,” she grunted. 

They ended up in a booth in the back of an Italian place near their hotel. 

“Outside of time spent in meetings, I think this is the most we’ve ever interacted before,” Belle suddenly said once the waiter had walked away and Yennefer looked up at her, garlic bread in her mouth. She finished biting it and and chewed, trying to figure out what she was supposed to say in response to that.

You make me nervous, so I try to avoid you most days? 

That would go over about as well as it sounded. 

She was saved from having to come up with an answer when she went on.

“What do you do for fun, Yennefer?” she asked and she fidgeted a little under the intense blue eyes looking at her.

“I don’t usually have much free time with all my work… but when time allows, I enjoy theater,” she finally said after a moment of thinking. 

“What kind of theater?” Belle looked genuinely interested and it made Yennefer’s nerves settle a little.

“Musicals, mostly. I used to do do some performing in college,” she admitted. 

“You sing?” Her eyes shot open at that and Yennefer could feel her face warming.

“Not anymore.” She concentrated on the bread in front of her.

“Whyever did you stop?” she couldn’t help but ask, though it didn’t occur to her until after the words had left her mouth that that might have been prying, “Oh, maybe that’s too personal?”

Yennefer just shrugged.

“Between my major in business and minor in finance there wasn’t any time for long rehearsals and show nights.” Yennefer pursed her lips, remembering exactly when her grades had took a slight dip during the production of ‘War paint’ with it’s long hours that had taken time from her studying, and her mother had been beside herself that her ‘little hobby’ was affecting her school work.

It was easier to quit then deal with all of that. As much as she’d hated to.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Belle frowned, having watched the dark mood that had settled over her companion for a brief moment but decided against asking about it. “I’m rather fond of musicals myself. I double majored in music and business actually, though the second only at my father’s insistence. He had many ventures and since I was an only child someone had to manage them.” She gave a little shrug. 

“That’s very impressive,” Yennefer commented and was fascinated by the slightest of pink hues that dusted across her companion’s fair complexion.

“Thank you,” she said it almost bashfully, looking at Yennefer from beneath her lashes and immediately Yennefer only wanted to set her at ease, despite the rigidness of her own spine.

“Have you seen any shows lately?” she asked. It was the only thing that came to mind. 

“I haven’t, I wanted to see the production ‘Rent’ downtown next month but they’ve already sold out every showing.” She pouted and against her better judgment Yennefer couldn’t stop herself from thinking how cute it was. 

“It’s always popular,” she agreed, just as the waiter was setting their food down in front of them, though that didn’t stop Belle from talking about the shows she’d seen in the past and the more she talked, the more at ease Yennefer felt herself becoming. 

They talked the entire meal about theater and music. 

She had even managed to forget all about their sleeping arrangements till they got back to the hotel and she was faced with the impending reality that for the first time in longer than she cared to admit, she would be sharing a bed with someone. 

By half past nine it seemed there would be no more stalling and she picked up her night clothes and went into the bathroom to change. 

Once she was dressed in the yellow cotton shorts and tank top that served as her sleeping clothes, she looked hard at herself in the mirror.

“This is fine. It’s not weird; this is a business trip. Just go to sleep,” she mumbled to herself before leaving the bathroom. 

Belle looked up at her when she came out, and she was working so hard not to make eye contact that she didn’t notice the much longer than necessary look over the Irish woman was giving her before picking something up off the bed and heading into the bathroom. 

With a sigh of relief, Yennefer climbed under the blankets and scrolled through her phone messages to find she had an unread text from her sister.

“I talked to mom… she wants Steven and I to come to the company party Thursday, I’m only coming early if I can still stay with you. I didn’t tell her that though, I know she’d put the squeeze on you.” 

Yennefer snorted- that was an understatement. On the one hand that was five more days with her sister, and while they got along much better than Rosie and their mother, they still didn’t see eye to eye that often.

On the other hand, that was five more days with Steven, which was ultimately the clencher. 

“Fine,” was her to the point reply. 

It was just as she hit send that the bathroom door open and she looked up on instinct, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

While she would be hard pressed to call that off the shoulder, baby blue nightgown that stopped  more than halfway up Belle’s thighs transparent, it’s paper thin looking fabric certainly wasn’t as opaque or long, as she wished it was. 

Her face burned scarlet and she could feel it. Amber eyes locked with blue for a moment that felt much too long just as her phone buzzed and she jerked to look at the screen, to look at anything but the barely clothed woman in front of her.

“You’re the best, Yen!”

She pursed her lips and set the device on the nightstand. She wasn’t sure she was the best at anything right now, while she carefully avoided looking in Belle’s direction as she felt the bed shift while she climbed under the sheets.

She took a deep breath and glanced at Belle who’s eyes seemed to dart away when she looked her way, making her tense up even more. 

Her skin felt itchy and hot, tingling in an unpleasant way. She cleared her throat, still not looking at her companion though she swore she could feel those powder blue eyes burning a hole in her.

“Goodnight,” she said simply, as she reached over and flicked off the bedside table lamp and laid down, facing away from Belle.

“Goodnight” was echoed back to her before the other light went out, casting the room in darkness and quiet.

Her face was still burning, the image of that nightgown was seared into her memory as though with a hot iron. 

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look Belle in the eye at a meeting ever again. 

She felt the brush of skin against one of her legs and electricity jolted through her from the point of contact all the way to her fingertips.

“Sorry” came the quiet apology from in the darkness.

“It’s fine,” she lied. She was anything but fine at the moment as she carefully scooted closer to the edge.

She tried to stay as still as possible even as she felt Belle move around, neither of them touching again. She was practically hanging off the edge of the mattress, least she brush up against her and cause another flash of intense heat to shoot through her nerves. 

Maybe her therapist was right, she thought idley. Maybe she was touch starved.  

She tried to relax, but doing her best to be as still as stone ran counter productive to that goal.

It was tense for a while as they both settled, eventually all movement on the other side of the bed ceased.

She laid there for a long while, eyes clenched shut and trying to fall asleep while being perfectly still, when a sudden sound made her eyes pop open, looking out into the darkness, her ears strained for whatever it was she’d heard.

It was a low rumbling noise, coming from just over her shoulder.

With an amused snort she realised what she was hearing was Belle.

Snoring.

She listened to the sound, without realizing that she was slowly relaxing to the rhythmic sound of Belle’s breathing, and was drifting off.

The next thing she knew she was waking up, the grogginess of sleep slowly ebbing away as she peeled open her eyes. 

The room was still dark and quiet, only the sound of the heater running broke the otherwise quiet stillness in the room.

She looked at the clock sitting on the table, squinting at the numbers.

Five forty-five glared back at her in neon red. Here alarm wasn’t even due to go off for another fifteen minutes. Not that she would be able to go back to sleep now. 

That extra time would give her time  for an extra long shower and get woken up before breakfast. 

She started to sit up when something pressing tightly against her back gave her pause.

A quiet mumble against her shoulder made her seize up as she realized that Belle had shifted in her sleep and was now pressed firmly against her back. 

‘Of course’. 

She could feel every bit of the other woman’s body heat radiating through the gossamer thin nightgown right into her back, not to mention every dip and curve of her body; and every breath she took, still snoring quietly. 

Yennefer began to sweat, nerves on fire; she needed out. 

Moving as slowly and carefully as she ever had, Yennefer slid out of the bed without disturbing Belle, who curled up into the warm empty space she left. She breathed a sigh of relief.

 She needed a shower.

Moving carefully through the dark room she entered the bathroom and closed the door quietly behind her before flicking on the blinding light.

She quickly grew accustomed to it as she turned on the shower as hot as it would go. 

To her disappointment it wasn’t near as hot as her shower at home, but it would make do.

Once her muscles started to unclench, she found herself humming a Christmas song that had been playing on the radio on the drive back to the hotel from dinner. The humming turned to singing. 

The words began quiet, mumbles under her breath as she washed her hair, but grew into a loud sound reverberated off the smooth tile walls until she shut off the water and climbed out. 

She’d never admit that singing in the shower was a daily occurrence. She dried off quickly and dressed before opening the bathroom door. 

She was surprised to find the room lights on and Belle, still in her nightgown, and putting some things in her bag. It was only now Yennefer noticed that she was still wearing the small diamond shaped necklace; she must have slept in it. She looked like she had been up a while and she wondered if she had woken her up after getting out of bed… and if she had heard her singing. 

She looked up when Yennefer came out of the bathroom and smiled.

“Morning.” She smiled and Yennefer returned the greeting. “Are you done in there?” She gestured to the bathroom and Yennefer nodded, still rubbing the towl through her damp hair. 

She supposed Belle hadn’t been able to hear her.

She gathered up her clothes and a towel before walking toward the bathroom. She glanced at Yennefer just as she passed by on her way into the bathroom.

“You sing beautifully.” Belle grinned just as she closed the bathroom door, leaving Yennefer standing alone and red faced in the middle of the room.

~ ~ ~

Despite the rough start to her morning, the rest of the day went much smoother than the day before. She presented the buy-out to the short, bald CEO who hemmed and hawed a while at the number before Yennefer threatened to withdraw the offer altogether.

He signed the papers soon after, which she quickly faxed to her mother to sign, placing the originals carefully in her briefcase. 

With business done, they were both eager to return home. 

The flight back was spent sleeping. She was going to need all her energy for her sister and nephew in the coming days. 

She and Belle spoke little untill she was dropping the blonde off in front of her apartment building. It seemed it had snowed again while she was gone, as piles of fluffy white stuff covered every surface save for the freshly shoveled walk. It certainly made it feel more like christmas. Steven would be beside himself with the snow at the park.

She walked around the car, bag in hand as the driver side window rolled down.

“Have a good evening, Belle.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she smiled before the window rolled up and she was pulling away.

Yennefer quickly made her way up to her floor; she had child proofing to do and a phone call to make to a friend that owed her a favor.

~ ~ ~  

She in fact didn’t see Belle on Thursday nor Friday, she actually didn’t see her again until the next Thursday, at the company’s Christmas party. 

The room was loud and full of people, all dressed in the loudest and ugliest christmas themed apparel Yennefer could imagine. 

Herself included; unfortunately. 

She glared at anyone who stared too long at the ugly green sweater with bright yellow garland sewn all the way around it, with it’s shiny red balls that hung from the material, jingling with every step she took.

She'd outright refused the monstrosity when Rosie had held it out to her; till her nephew had gotten teary eyed at the refusal of what was apparently his hand picked gift. 

So, now she was wearing it. 

She drew the line at the Santa hat, instead pushing it down over the toddlers curly locks, making him giggle.

She held Steven in her arm, tucked against her shoulder as her sister and assistant chatted, scanning the room for Belle. A red envelope held in her left hand. A sudden part in the crowd and those platinum locks came into view.

“Here. I’ll be back in a minute.” She handed Steven over to his mother before walking off through the crowd, jingling all the way, much to her annoyance.

She was halfway there, envelope in hand, only to be intercepted by her mother.

“Yennefer, this is for you, my dear.” She handed over a thin rectangle wrapped in blinding silver paper. “I had the good luck to draw you as my secret Santa.” The older woman smiled and Yennefer cocked a brow in silent question as to what about that was lucky, but it also made her wonder what poor bastard had gotten her mother if she was participating.

She pulled the wrapping off to find a gilded silver frame with a photo of no one else but her mother, dressed in the gaudiest grande dame outfit she could have ever imagined, complete with the boa, and all she could do was squint at it while Whitney beamed.

“What do you think, my dear? Lovely, isn’t it? I thought you might put it in your office at home.” She tapped the frame with a long, manicured nail.

“Thank you, mother,” was the best Yennefer could muster in response to the gift, not that it was completely without question, given the older woman’s history in the gift department. All things considered, she had gotten off easy. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

Suddenly her sister’s bright pink head was looking over her shoulder at the photo, Steven held in her arms. “What is that?” she asked, completely gobsmacked.

“Your sister’s Christmas present,” Whitney huffed, glaring at her youngest.

There was a tense moment before Rosie turned to her and with the most serious face she could muster said- “I’m sorry.” 

She couldn’t stop the grin that followed that statement, especially when Whitney turned on the youngest.

“What exactly do you mean by that?!” she huffed.

Yennefer quickly walked away as the two began to bicker, there would be plenty of that till New Year’s. She scanned the crowd for a shock of platinum white hair. Finding it, she squared her shoulders and walked purposefully across the room. 

She stopped just behind her as Belle turned, jumping at the blondes sudden presence, smiled nonetheless. 

“Yennefer! Merry Christmas, I didn’t see you much last week. I went to your office last Friday and your assistant said you were out.” 

“I did most of my work at home since my sister is staying with me till after Christmas,” she explained her absence. 

“Oh, here I thought you were avoiding me…” 

“Of course not!” Yennefer quickly said, making Belle’s eyes widen before she laughed happily.

“I was only teasing you,” she assured, laying a hand on the blonde’s forearm. Yennefer could feel her neck burning. A reoccuring theme whenever she was in the executive’s presence. “What do you have there?” She tilted her head, noticing her mother’s gift.

 Now her whole face was red.

“My mother was my secret Santa..,” she grumbled, presenting the photo to the now wide-eyed woman. 

“Oh my..,” she started. “That’s… lovely?” She didn’t seem too sure. Yennefer sighed heavily.

“No, it isn't, but this is on par for her,” she mumbled quietly so only the two of them could hear. 

“I see.” She giggled and Yennefer smirked before remembering the reason for coming over.

“This is for you.” She held out a red envelope.

“For me?” Belle repeated, taking the envelope with her name written on it in smooth, blocky script. 

“I was your secret Santa,” she explained, trying not to fidget under the seemingly intense cornflower stare.

“Oh!” She looked back down at the envelope, testing it in her hands. “Thank you, Yennefer,” she said as she pulled open the flap and reached inside, her fingers wrapping around two slips of paper.

She pulled them out and looked curiously at whatever it was and after a moment her eyes went wide, head whipping up to look at Yennefer.

“Rent tickets, how did you…?” she didn’t know what else to say.

“I know someone…” She shrugged. “Merry Christmas, Belle.” 

“I… thank you, Yennefer.” She smiled so prettily up at her, Yennefer had to give herself a mental shake, thus cueing her to go.

"You're welcome, have a good time."

“Wait, Yennefer…” Belle started just as she turned to go but whatever she was going to say was cut off by a small but high pitched voice.

“Yen!” 

They both turned to look, just in time to see a little boy with curly black hair in a Santa hat come running across the room straight into Yennefer's knees.

"Pick me up?" He looked up at her with wide eyes and held up his arms.

Not one to disappoint him, she reached down and pulled him up, saddling him against her hip. 

"Ohh..."

They both looked up at the coo. Belle was staring at the little boy with wide eyes, even more so when he saw her and tucked his face into his aunt's shoulder.

“Hello,” Belle smiled.

"Don't be rude." Yennefer gave him a nudge. He peeked up at her before looking at Belle.

"Hi.." he said shyly.

"You must be Steven." Belle leaned down, smiling at the boy. He turned to face her better.

"Yeah!" He grinned and Belle couldn't help but return it.

"Your aunt told me a bit about you, you know. She thinks you're very impressive," she said and he looked awed by that before looking up at the obviously embarrassed VP with starry eyes and smiling brightly. 

"Yes, well… We need to get you back to your mother." Yennefer cleared her throat, turning away.

"Wait just one second, Yennefer." She reached out, laying a hand on the blonde’s shoulder before she could walk away.

She turned, half way around, waiting as Belle seemed to think about what she was going to say, biting her lip.

“Considering that we’re both theatre fans, perhaps you’d like to go with me. To see the show?” she asked, pushing a few strands of white hair behind her ear. 

Yennefer knew her face was red if the heat coming off it was anything to go by.

“Like..” she floundered for words, only for Belle to beat her to it. 

“Like a date,” she finished, looking more amused than anyone had any right to be, despite the color spreading across her own face.. 

“Yes,” she managed to spit out even though her mouth felt like it was full of sand.

“Great! Well, I have an early flight to Ireland in the morning; I need to be going, but I’ll see you when I get back?” she asked.

Yennefer nodded and Belle only smiled in reply before she turned to go. She watched her move through the sea of their coworkers before she was out of sight.

“Oooh, who was that?” 

She jumped, turning to find her sister giving her a shit-eating grin, and her face burned even hotter. 

“None of your concern,” she scowled, handing Steven over as he held his arms out for his mother.

“She was pretty…” Rosie teased, looking where Belle had vanished before turning back to her.  

“Unless you want to stay with mother, I suggest you drop it..,” she warned with a glare.

“Touchy… fine, have it your way.” She waved, walking back toward the refreshment table with Steven in tow. 

Once she was gone did Yennefer allow herself to glance back into the crowd, but a small flash of light caught her eye.

Laying on the floor, just peeking out from beneath the dessert table was a small silver pendant with a blue, diamond shaped charm that she immediately recognized. She scooped it up, the fine silver chain still warm against her skin as she walked quickly toward the elevator. 

The tiny bells of her sweater monstrosity jingling rapidly as she maneuvered through the throng of people; who unlike any other day were not so quick to get the hell out of her way. 

“Belle!” she called, just as the elevator doors were about to slide shut. Her hand slipping into the crack just in time to make them slide back open, to the executive’s surprise. 

“What, what’s wrong?” She blinked up at the blonde.  

Instead of saying anything she simply held out her hand, revealing the necklace laying in her palm. Belle gasped, grabbing the delicate jewelry.

“My necklace!” She held it in her closed fist, pressed to her chest and looked up at Yennefer.

“It was on the floor,” she explained simply. 

“My father gave me this,” she said quietly. “Thank you.” 

She said it so sincerely that all Yennefer could manage was a nod.

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled. 

Belle was looking up at her but her eyes seemed to be drawn to something just above Yennefer’s head; she chewed her bottom lip. 

Before Yennefer could ask her what she was looking at the other woman practically lunged forward, pressing her lips to the stunned VP’s cheek.

Yennefer could only stand there, slack jawed, staring at the the red-faced but smiling Belle as she stepped back, allowing the doors to slide closed this time, leaving her staring at her beet- red, faced reflection. 

A whistle made her whip around to find her sister, Steven still in her arms, grinning at her. She only flushed harder as Rosie pointed upward and she glanced up to find that someone had hung a sprig of mistletoe in the frame of the elevator.

“Maybe you’ll have a second aunt before you know it, honey,” Roise said to her son with a smug grin as he looked at her, wide eyed.

“Rosie!” 

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 6 - Dressmaker

Author’s Note: Well, here we are - my first made-up akuma. This one wasn't supposed to be more than a simple concept, but then my friend loved it and now we've got a decent background character who I may add in occasionally. He's great.

Chapter Summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir fight an akuma. Marinette makes a couple of lists.

First | Previous | Next

Ladybug exits Marinette’s room, immediately heading to the Eiffel tower. She’s done this often enough that she’s on auto-pilot while her mind is focusing on acting right.

Marinette might be a mess, but Ladybug is fine. After her little melt-down with Chat on the Eiffel Tower, she was determined not to let that happen again. She is a hero . Heroes don’t have a melt-down over the simple fact that she’d messed everthingupsomuchshe’soterribleutterfailurec- 

No. No. That’s for Marinette. Ladybug is fine. Maybe a little more focussed on professionalism in the past few weeks, but that’s to be expected after that whole incident. Paris depends on her and she won’t let them down too.

Arriving on a rooftop nearby she surveys her surroundings. It doesn’t look like there is much damage, but it’s a type one, so that was to be expected. There seems to be some sort of event going on though - everyone around looked kind of dressed up.

Footsteps behind her, “Evening, M’lady!”

Pasting a gentle smile on her face and speaking in an easy tone, she turns to him, “Hello Chat. Do you know anything about the akuma?”

“Nope! Just got here.”

She sighs, pulling out her yo-yo, “Right, let’s see if the news has anything…”

Chat is about to suggest she check the Ladyblog, but thinks better of it. Alya may be a good source, but in the past few weeks, Ladybug has favored more professional news organizations. He doesn’t know what happened, but after their talk last month, he’s been trying to avoid upsetting her. He doesn’t know what caused her tears, but he hates the thought of her so upset. 

She certainly seems better now. In all honesty, the next time he’d seen her she’d already looked better, so maybe she just had a tough time adjusting to her new school - a few bumps in the road that’d smoothed with time.

“Okay, definitely a type one...”

That’s a relief, sometimes the alert gets it wrong and they go in expecting one type only to be met with another. 

Ladybug continues,”He goes by ‘Dressmaker’. He shoots glitter from his ...tentacles? Okay. If someone gets hit then they’re wearing a dress… they’re pretty tasteful.”

“Are you telling me this akuma isn’t a total eyesore?”

“Oh no, he definitely is, but his victims look great.” She turns her screen to him, where a man is wearing a dress… with tentacles? Yep. The akuma is wearing a glittery ball gown with three distinct colors. The top is hot pink, the middle is gold, and the bottom is a bright light blue. All the colors are entirely glitter and Chat can’t tell if it is just glitter or a very glittery fabric. Out of the middle there are four appendages that can only be described as tentacles - thrashing about, spraying glitter everywhere. Sure enough, when someone comes in contact with it, their outfit changes to a dress, though no one seemed to have the same one. On top of his curly hair sits a tall, heavily jeweled crown, with a blue flower gem in the center.

“That’s quite the outfit.”

“Isn’t it? But I guess there’s been worse ones. Though I’m pretty sure we’re going to have an afterimage of his dress burned into our eyes by the time we’re done with him.”

Chat nods, but looking at the akuma again on his own baton, something about the colors struck him.

“Wait, look at the colors on the dress…”

“What about them?”

“Pink, yellow, blue… isn’t that the pan flag?” “Oh hey you’re ri-”

Ladybug gets cut off when a blast of multi-colored glitter shoots just past the two heroes.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir! Hand over your miraculouses!”

The Dressmaker is on a nearby rooftop, having climbed up with his tentacled dress.

“Sorry buddy! Not happening! Don’t you know how this works by now? My lady and I make a fur- midible pair! We’re going to win!” Chat Noir’s grin grows in response to his partner’s customary eye roll.

“You’ll never defeat me! All of Paris will try a dress!”

“...’Try’? I thought your goal would be for all of Paris to wear a dress?” Ladybug is to the right of the akuma, but pauses in her approach after her question.

“That would be ideal wouldn’t it? However Ladybug, people are welcome to change out of them, I wouldn’t force someone to continue an experience they didn’t enjoy.”

“Aren’t you forcing them to do that right now?” Chat is impressed, this is one of the more considerate akumas they’d had, but as always there is a bit of a questionable leap in logic there.

“I am forcing them to try it.” Dressmaker punctuates his statement with a glitter shot at both heroes, who easily dodge,”As I said, they are free to do with their makeover as they please.”

Out of the corner of his eye Chat Noir notices Ladybug gesturing for him to back off. Shrugging, he says, “Well all of them certainly look purr -ty. Un- fur- tunately, I have a prior engagement and simply must be on my way.” Giving a quick salute, he turns and jumps several rooftops away before using his baton to meet his partner at the top of the tower.

Seeing his two nemeses back off, Dressmaker resumes giving people glittery make-overs. After watching for a moment to make sure he wouldn’t try to scale the tower, Chat turns to Ladybug.

“Everything alright Bugaboo?”

Even as she rolls her eyes at the nickname, he can’t miss her small smile.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Then why-”

“I’d prefer to not get my suit turned into a dress. I think the easiest way to defeat him would be to catch him off guard. While he’s distracted with his makeovers I can wrap him up with my yo-yo.”

“Any ideas on the akumatized object?” “It’s got to be that crown.”

He nodded, that had been his thought too, “Well, there’s no time like the present!”

“I mean… I’m sure there are some people that could consider this a learning experience.” She sits down, leaning against a beam in mock-relaxation.

Chat gives an over-the-top gasp of disbelief and goes along with her - she didn’t joke very often so he treasures every moment he gets, “What’s this I hear? Ladybug suggesting slacking off- during an akuma attack no less ? Is this the end? Has Hawkmoth got you under some spell?”

She swats at his arm playfully as she stands again, “Rest assured Kitty, this bug is under no one’s spell.”

“Well, I’m certainly under your spell.”

She shook her head, and though he may have imagined it, he is fairly certain he saw a light blush on her face.

They swing off the tower in unison, quietly landing on the rooftops once more. Dressmaker wanders around, glitter flying about, unaware of the heroes approaching. A yo-yo shoots out behind him, quickly wrapping around his tentacles - restraining them.

“Hey! How dare you!”

Walking up behind him, Chat Noir plucks the crown from the man’s head and throws it one the ground before stomping on it harshly. The delicate headwear breaks into pieces and a dark butterfly flies out.

Ladybug retracts her yo-yo and quickly purifies the butterfly. With the akuma gone she realizes that the fight was so simple that she hadn’t called a Lucky Charm. Technically, she didn’t need to have one - she could just use her yo-yo - but without a timer going, she’d have no excuse to get away from Alya if the girl comes along. There wasn’t a lot of physical damage, but this is the one thing she’s supposed to to, so she can’t just not .

“Uh... Lucky Charm!” a red and black spotted figure falls into her hands. Her ever curious partner leans over her shoulder. 

“What is it?”

“Uhh… a demon? I think?”

“Odd, but okay.”

She shrugs tossing it in the air, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

As the small bugs went about their jobs, the two heroes finally turn to the victim.

A curly haired man stands before them, looking disoriented. He’s dressed in a white dress with blue flowers.

Ladybug sees that the crown has turned into a blue flower hair clip. Picking it up, she holds it out to him. “Um, I’m guessing this is yours. Do you remember what made you upset Mr…?” 

“Oh! Just Leonardo is fine.” He accepts the clip, putting it in his hair. “Someone said something about how men shouldn’t wear dresses - usually that wouldn’t bother me, but it’s just been one of those days ya’ know?”

She nods, understanding. Her hands fly to her ears as her earrings beep, “Well, for what it’s worth, I like your dress. Bug out!”

She waves at Leonardo and her partner as she ducks into a nearby alley. She and Chat have patrol soon, so there is no use going home.

“Spots off.” She detransforms once sure she is alone, and Tikki flies out of her earrings, landing in her open hands.

“I think Hawkmoth might be running out of ideas, that was the easiest akuma yet!” Tikki bites into a cookie as she speaks.

“Or he’s just bored. With all his free time you’d think his akumas would look at least semi-decent.”

Tikki giggles at the comment as she finishes her cookie, having eaten quickly.

“Ready Tikki?” at the Kwami’s nod, Marinette transforms back into Ladybug.

Ladybug quickly makes her way back to the top of the tower, where her partner is waiting for her, having not had to recharge.

“Long time no see, Ladybug.”

“I’m sure you managed to live without me for all that time Chaton.”

“I did, but every second was agonizing.”

“How do you do it everyday then?”

“Even I’m not sure. I think it must be magic.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Alright, whatever you say kitty. Let’s start patrol.” Jumping from the tower she shoots out her yo-yo to swing to the rooftops. Chat follows behind her. The two take off across the rooftops along one of their usual routes.

---

They’d been out for about an hour, and Ladybug is starting to get tired. Not that she will say anything of course, but she’d had a long day - much more eventful than usual. Their patrols typically wouldn’t last more than an hour and a half, so she only has to last another 30 minutes. Just 30 more mi-

Distracted and tired as she was, she lands poorly on a rooftop, tripping on her feet and almost faceplanting, if not for the fact that she manages to correct herself. Despite her hopes, her partner certainly notices her stumble.

“Woah, Ladybug are you okay?” he sounds concerned.

Of course she can’t even manage to get through a whole patrol, who does she think she is? “Yeah, I’m fine.” She adds a smile at the end to really sell it, “Just tripped.”

Somehow he doesn’t seem entirely convinced, “Are you sure Ladybug? You look a little tired…” He looks over her, seemingly as proof of his statement.

She holds back a yawn, “What are you talking about?” Her eyelids decide to take his side - fluttering closed for a moment too long before snapping back open, “I’m fine.”

He gives her a look, “I think we should cut patrol short. We could both use some rest, and we can’t protect Paris if one of us falls off a building.”

“No, no! We don’t need to-” Can’t even last one patrol and worrying her partner, what an idiot.

“ Yes we do. Before you protest, I get the feeling you would sooner run yourself into the ground than admit that you’re just as human as the rest of us. You need to rest too.”

She opens her mouth to protest more, but all that comes out is a yawn, and she immediately blushes in embarrassment. Chat grins.

“See, I was right! Now go home.”

She sighs in defeat, Chat Noir isn’t going to let this go. Taking out her yo-yo she turns in the direction of her home,”Goodnight, mon chaton.” 

With that she swings away, hearing him call out a goodnight to her before he presumably turns to go to his own home. 

Landing on her balcony, she says, “Tikki, spots off!”

Her Kwami comes to float in front of her, “Marinette, Chat Noir was right, you should rest.” “I know…”

“However, I wanted to talk to you first. I suppose it could wait until morning if you don’t think you can stay awake. Your health is important.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” She had climbed into her room, and now is sitting against her cat pillow, looking at Tikki.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about Marinette. I don’t think you’re fine. It’s been almost a month since you left Françoise Dupont, and I don’t think you’re handling it very well.”

“What?”

“I’m worried about you. I think you’re dwelling on it, and it’s making you scared to move forward. Marinette is stuck, and I’ve seen such a difference from how you acted before then, and now. Ladybug seems to have found a way to move forward though. As Ladybug you talked to someone - briefly - and I think it might have helped. I know most holders have a different mindset when they transform, and I think it might help a some if you brought a little Ladybug into your Marinette life.” The Kwami brings one of her paws to rest on Marinette’s face, looking at her chosen with concern.

“I don’t know Tikki…”

“It’s okay Marinette, it’s only a suggestion. I just want to see you move on, and I know your friends do too.” She kisses Marinette’s forehead softly before floating over to the small bed on Marinette’s desk.

Marinette sits awake for a few minutes, not sure what to think. Has she not moved on? She certainly moved schools… but was she dwelling on what happened too much? She tried to avoid thinking about that Thursday in general so surely she wasn’t. Tikki said that Ladybug seemed to have moved on. Was that true? Was Ladybug better? As Ladybug, she just tries her best to act like she did ... before . Ladybug only thought like Marinette when she was alone (during akuma attacks so that there’s no threat of attracting an akuma). Ladybug hadn’t gone through what Marinette did though. She has to move on right? So that means accepting what happened. She should make a list.

Taking out a small empty notebook from behind her bed, she starts writing.

  Things to Accept:

 Okay, what did she need to do? Write the things she avoided thinking about and...what? Just come to accept that they were true. That sounded right… 

  You messed up.

Everyone Most people at Françoise Dupont hate you

You don’t know how to do friendship properly. 

 That last one makes sense. She’d been pretty friendless before Alya and now… well she had a group of people that she enjoyed hanging out with, but they were just being nice. Okay, what else?

  People want to believe you’re a bad person

 It was like Lila said, she only tells people what they want to hear.

  You’re a terrible hero, and Paris deserves better.

 That one hurt, but it was true. What kind of hero attracts as many akumas as she has? That’s probably why Tikki gave her this advice. Best to tell Marinette before the earrings are gone and she can’t tell the girl anymore. Preferably, the earrings would be with Chat or Fu though, not Hawkmoth.

  You’re an obsessive stalker-ish creep.

No one actually likes you.

 Because if they did then what would that make her…? Her old classmates had thought her crush on Adrien was weird, and they’d all turned on her so quickly. She knew those people for years. They were good people, they were smart, she could trust their opinions. 

  You shouldn’t be trusted with responsibility

 She’d been class president, and had been pretty terrible at it. They’d said so. As Ladybug, come on, it doesn’t take a lot of research to know she’d messed up quite a bit. Even her first akuma battle managed to go wrong.

 She continues with her list, eventually making about two pages. Reading them makes her want to cry, but that’s against the rules… rules, she should make a list of rules to follow. She’s always been good at following rules. 

  Rules To Be Better:

Don’t cry

Smile

Be nice to people

Apologize when you mess up (again)

If someone needs a favor, do it

If asked, you’re doing good

Laugh at jokes, even when tired/sick

When tired/sick, do not show it

Take care of akumas as quickly as possible

Only lie if absolutely necessary - honesty is important

Adrien, Claude, Allegra, Allan, and Felix have been nice enough to be put up with you, don’t make them regret it.

 There, that seems right. There is space to add to either list if necessary. Marinette reads over each list a few times. Reading over the facts helped make them feel less bad, that would lead to acceptance right? She would try to read them before bed when she could. As for the rules, she would memorize them, that would make sure she didn’t forget and accidentally break one.

~~~

Author’s Note: Marinette, honey, no. (So close, yet so very very far)

If anyone is wondering why the lucky charm is a demon, I spent far too long looking for something that would be symbolic of her current state (because her lucky charm is worried too) and finally found this, so I went with it.

I put together a reference slide for Leonardo, I’ll post it soon.

The next thing I've got planned on the timeline is actually the first akuma I thought up for this story, and has a much bigger impact on the story and characters. That said, I'm tempted to put a short chapter in between to give an idea on how the Quantics feel about all this, so I may do that next instead. I'm really looking forward to the akuma though, and you'll have to put up with (looking at the timeline) another two akuma battles pretty close together. These ones will probably last longer than Dressmaker though, and serve more of a purpose than just a 'check-up' on Ladybug.

As always, thanks for reading, and constructive criticism is welcomed.

First | Previous | Next

[thechildoflightning]

Satellite

Title: Satellite

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Background CALM/LAMP

part of the jksf verse

~

Summary: 

To put in simple terms- Logan and his sister don't talk.

To make it more complex- Well are you sure you want to open that can of worms? - Or: Logan and his sister have played the blame game for years. It's time to metaphorically clear the air. But doing so brings up a lot more than simple sibling rivalry.

Warnings: Unhealthy Family Dynamics, Internal and External Ableism, ABA Therapy and Practices

[ao3 link]

~

Satellite

It was approaching dark on the fourth of July when Logan decided to make his way outside. He and his sister had both been home for three weeks now, and neither had made an effort to really talk to each other. Not that the lack of communication was unusual, in fact it was quite normal for them. Now, nearing dusk, Logan was attempting to change that.

He opened the front door and slipped out, his headphones around his neck as an upcoming precaution against the fireworks he knew were bound to go off.

In the past few hours there had been minor bursts; mostly kids playing around with Bang Snaps and the like. Nothing large had been set quite yet, as it was still early evening and no one wished to waste the colorful bursts in a sky that was still light.

Veera, his sister, was sitting out on the deck, half-reading a book as she watched some of the children on the street race around in hyperactive excitement.

Logan carefully took a seat next to her, letting the sound of the neighborhood reach him. The kids were loud, but the space around them trapped their voices and made them seem far away. Parents muttered on decks and the faint smell of BBQ and potlucks was in the air.

Logan’s own parents were inside. When they were younger, his parents had done more to celebrate the holiday, most notably bringing them to the 4th of July parade and buying small fountain fireworks.

The holiday had always been Logan’s least favorite. The bustle of activity combined with the noise of the parade, fireworks, other activities already provided an overwhelming amount of sensory input. Add in the overwhelming smells emanating from grills, perfumes, and gunpowder, well it had always been quite a bit more that just “too much” for him. All of the excessive stimulation was truly agonizing.

As a child it had led to overwhelming meltdowns that had his parents dragging him inside by his arm telling him to behave and not ruin the holiday for everyone else. He wouldn’t even be able to respond, shutting down at the best and getting violent at worst. He would scream and shake but his parents would just yell at him and sometimes even cry, and well, it wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone.

In result of this, he was more than happy his parents had stopped making such a big fuss out of the holiday. He definitely preferred it over the alternative.

It was during this inner reflection when the first of the fireworks went off with a loud bang and a flash of color.

Logan jumped and slammed his hands over his ears. The loud noise echoed inside his head and he gritted his teeth in a futile attempt to protect against it.

As quick as he could, he took his hands off his ears to grab the headphones around his neck. He placed the headphones over his ears to better block out the noise.

He could still hear the bangs, but they were not nearly as deafening and overstimulating as before. Logan started to rock back and forth gently as he stared up at the colorful explosions.

Veera turned to give him a look at the action, then rolled her eyes and stared back up at the sky.

Logan’s heart dropped and he stopped rocking.

The noise- which had seemed manageable just moments ago- started to build.

It was then he remembered an old conversation with Patton and Virgil. A conversation that led to research and explanations about stimming. Because that’s what the rocking was- it was a stim. And he shouldn’t have to be ashamed of that. He knew that. And even if he forgot, his boyfriends were quick to remind him over and over again, as many times as he needed.

He had momentarily forgotten that and started to feel ashamed of his stims. That’s why he had stopped rocking. Veera had given him that look and he had remembered everything he had been taught, everything he had been told to hate about himself.

He was ashamed, but he shouldn't have to be.

The noise from the fireworks continued to build.

Logan made his decision, and continued to rock.

The noise settles slightly, falling back into the manageable sensory range, and Veera didn’t spare him another look.

The two of them watched the flashing colors for what had to be hours before they started to dim. And just dim- not stop completely- even though it, again, had to have been hours. Not that he had been expecting any different, America could be quite extravagant when it came to such a holiday.

The noise had also reduced to a much more manageable level, so Logan slid his headphones off, even as he continued to rock.

Veera side-eyed him as Logan slipped his headphones off, and he decided that now was as good of time as any.

“We haven’t talked much this summer,” Logan commented.

Veera let out a soft scoffing noise before speaking up.

“Logan, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve never really talked that much,” she stated.

“We did as children,” he insisted, and then before she could reply to that he continued you on, “I know I’ve told you this before, but I’ve been dating someone over a year now. Patton. And he talks to his siblings all the time. And, a friend of mine, Roman, does the same.”

Logan felt a little guilty of calling Roman his friend instead of boyfriend, but he hadn’t had the chance to explain the concept of polyamory to his family, and now was not the time. He continued to rock.

“The both of them talk to their siblings quite fondly, and often. They do occasionally fight with their siblings, and get into quarrels, but they always come back to each other just as close. We don’t do that,” Logan continued.

“We don’t,” Veera agreed, shifting slightly to place her book off to the side from its position on her lap.

Logan took it as a sign that she was indeed listening to him.

“Why don’t we?” he asked.

She gave him another look, one that Logan was absolutely unable to decipher.

“You know why we don’t talk Logan,” she said.

Logan did not.

But even so, he scrambled for some sort of solution. He had no clue what she was referring to, but she obviously expected him to know- which meant he missed something vital in a previous interaction.

He rushed to locate exactly what he had missed, because he tended to miss a lot of things with other people and he couldn’t ask questions because he was supposed to know these things, was supposed to know how humans work because he was one and why couldn’t he just figure this out like he was supposed to?

He paused for a breath and took a figurative step back.

He missed something in a human interaction, something that he knew tended to be a result of his poor social skills, most probably stemming from being autistic. That’s all it was. He didn’t understand because that’s how his brain was programmed. It worked differently, and that was okay.

It was also okay to ask for help and guidance. If someone refused, that was their own fault.

“Veera,” he spoke up, “I- I actually don’t know why we don’t talk. I don’t have a clue why.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Logan, you’ve always been the center of our parents' attention. They devoted everything to you. And like I get it or whatever. Mom and Dad didn't expect to have a kid who has autism.

“But that then meant that everything was about you. ‘Oh Logan finally did this!’ ‘Logan looked me in the eye’ ‘Logan’s new therapy seems to be going really well.’ They always, always, have cared about you more. And again- I get it. But it meant nothing was ever about me. Everything was always Logan, Logan, Logan.”

Logan could only slowly rock in numb silence as her words crashed over him.

The first thing that seemed to come from that numbness was anger, because plain and simple- her assessment wasn’t fair. And that made him angry and hurt.

Here was Veera complaining about him taking away their parent’s attention when he had never asked for it. She also claimed that they cared for him more even after they put him through tortuous programs that forced him to behave as neurotypical as possible. Plus, they always talked about Veera. How many times had Logan heard ‘Why can’t you just be more like your sister’ growing up.

How many times had he been compared to Veera’s perfection?

She was always the achiever, and Logan’s parents loved her for it, and hated him for never meeting her standard.

“That’s not fair,” he protested as he ceased his rocking. He clenched his hands and his fingers dug in deeply into his palms. “That’s not fair,” he repeated.

“Life’s not fair Logan,” was Veera’s bitter response.

“No,” Logan insisted, “No, no, no,” and he was choking a bit on his words now. It was getting harder and harder to talk, to just get them out, but he had to, “Mom and Dad did spend a lot of time dealing with me. But it’s not fair to say that they cared about me more than you.

“All they did was try to make me easier to handle. That’s not care at all. I may have gotten more attention than you, but you’re assuming that the attention was positive, which it wasn’t.

“And even if I was cared for more or given more love, it’s still not fair for you to be mad at me about that. Because I didn’t do anything. I didn’t ask for any of that. Our parents chose to do that, but that was their decision. I had nothing to do with it.

“And it’s unfair that you say I was cared for more. Because I was always compared to you. I was always told that you were perfect and I knew that I would never meet that standard. Our parents knew it too. And that disappointed them,” Logan explained.

When he finished he took a deep breath to center himself. He felt tears start to poke at the corner of his eyes. Weird, he hadn’t realized he had gotten this emotional over the conversation.

“I mean, sure, but if you hadn’t been-” Veera cut herself off.

Logan closed his eyes harshly as he held back tears. He may not be the best at nonverbal language and cues, but he knew how to fill in this particular blank.

“If I hadn’t been autistic,” he said.

His hands gripped tighter in on themselves, and he had to fight the urge to sit on them or shove them into his pockets.

“I-” Veera floundered. She ducked her head, “Yeah,” she admitted quietly, “If you hadn’t been autistic. A lot of the things that are issues started around that.”

“They might of started around that,” Logan admitted, as the first tear fell from his eye, “But it’s not fair to say that’s what caused it.”

“Then what did?” she challenged.

“Maybe it wasn’t me being the autistic that was the problem, but our parents inability to support an autistic child.”

“That- I get what you’re saying Lo- but that’s not- they did everything for you.”

“No,” he whispered, “No they didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone taking on a startling biting edge.

“I-” Logan tried, “Have you ever looked up what autistic people have to say about ABA?”

“What? Logan what does this have to do with anything? “

“Look it up?”

She frowned at him but pulled out her phone. For a few minutes she typed and scrolled. Eventually, she turned back to him. Logan was surprised to find her cheeks were stained with tears. She reached up a hand to wipe a few away. Logan’s own tears continued to slowly drip from his lashes.

“Oh,” was all she offered.

“Yeah,” Logan said.

“Oh.”

“Do you remember when you bought me the book Seeing Stars by Sarah Gillingham for my sixth birthday?” Logan asked abruptly.

Veera let out a watery chuckle and sniffled.

“You remember that?” she asked him.

“Yes, of course,” he aid quickly, “It was- is my favorite book. I still have it.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. He hesitated, he looked up, briefly making eye contact with her before pulling his gaze a bit upward to look at her forehead.

“I want us to be like we were on that day. I opened the package and was so excited. And you hugged me tightly and laughed as I rambled about our solar system. After I was done, you pulled me on the back and opened the book to read the first page to me.

“I couldn’t sit still and kept jumping up and down, which must of hurt considering I was sitting on top of you. But you didn’t complain. You just laughed and smiled and read to me. I want us to be able to have that again.”

She hesitated. Logan saw her hesitate, and he knew it was now or never. He would convince her or not. This was it.

“I have a lot of resentment,” he admitted, “And a lot of that resentment used to be directed towards you. Because you could be really mean as a child. When I used to have meltdowns you used to scream at me, telling you you hated me and to shut up. And that hurt. But I get it, I understand now. And I forgive you.

“The truth is, the only resentment I hold now is towards our parents. Because they were the ones that were supposed to teach and guide us. Instead they pitted us against one another and were unable to handle us. They never scolded you because they didn’t know what to do.

“You were a child, and so was I. None of what we did had malicious intent. Both of us were hurting and we didn’t know what to do. Our parents failed us in that regard. But that wasn’t our responsibility. We were children.”

At the end of his mini speech, both him and Veera were crying heavily.

They two of them were silent cries. Silent cries because they had both learned to hide such a thing.

Logan hid it because he always cried about the wrong things. The texture of food wasn’t something he was supposed to cry about after all, he was just supposed to eat it dammit.

Vera hid it because she learned it was distracting. If she was crying it took away from Logan’s time, and Logan needed the extra help, you understand right sweetheart?

They were crying because at the age of adults they were still lost children.

“I think Mom and Dad are trying a bit more now,” Logan eventually got out as the tear tracks on his face refused to leave, “I haven’t talked to them for a while ago. And I- well I don’t think they’re ready for us to have a conversation about what autism really is and what ABA does and everything.

“But, I think they know something along the line got messed up between us. We both know something is missing. I- I think they’re trying to figure out what.

“And maybe- well maybe you should talk to them too. I- I don't think they meant to hurt us. I know that doesn’t excuse it by any means, but I think, I do think they care about us. I think they care enough to try for us. That, at the very least, is important to me.”

“God Logan Berry, when did you get so smart?” Veera asked.

“Well if we’re relating ‘smart’ in terms of brain development, the brain develops the most in the first two years of life and finally stops around age 25. If we’re talking about ‘smart’ as in over all knowledge, I actually know very little of all that is out there, and such knowledge would be hard to compare to other human beings. Plus we would then have to factor in the possible existence of aliens as well as the possibility that knowledge is infinite and therefore impossible to measure. Or we talking ‘smart’ in the way of in tune with others? Because I’m particularly bad about that too. Really, the word ‘smart’ has so many definitions and ultimately is subjective and therefore undefinable,” Logan rattled off.

She smiled a bit at him before releasing a quiet huff of laughter, but Logan didn’t think it was directed at him. She then looked back at the sky, which now seemed to be absolutely devoid of all fireworks.

“You said you wanted to talk more?” she asked.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Okay,” she said with a nod, “Let’s talk more.”

Thinks weren’t suddenly perfect between them, and perhaps they would never be, but they had started the process of reconnecting. That in itself was worth a chance.

The two of them spent another hour outdoors, just staring upwards. Logan pointed out the constellations that were visible in the polluted sky, and only decided to go back inside once their constant yawning was too much to ignore. They gathered themselves and headed inside, quietly say goodnight to the velvet blanket above them.

And somehow, the stars seemed to glow brighter than ever before.

~~~

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[salaciouscrumpet]

Whumptober Day 14

Whumptober Day 14 Prompt: “Fever”

Going with alternate prompt #3 this time, instead of prompt #14 (which was supposed to have been tear-stained). I guess there are some tears in this (and weirdly, not a whole lot of mention of fever?), but the tear-stained prompt as a whole didn’t work for me whereas the fever one was what inspired this, even if the POV character doesn’t really think about fever until the end.

It didn’t go in the direction I had planned and ended up being longer than intended, but this is the way I roll. Eh, I’m not gonna overthink this. It is what it is. Once again this is not heavily edited.

CW: vague and super-brief references to childhood abuse; what might be seen as a brief incident of domestic abuse (but accidental? I’m not sure really how to tag that without being spoilery?)

Characters: Luke, Charlie, Kate

The world had gone all topsy-turvy on Luke. 

When his eyes opened, he was staring down at adobe-coloured tiles about three feet from his face. It took him a long time to sort out whether he was looking at the floor, the ceiling or a wall, but eventually it was the pressure around his face – a cushioned circle that left his eyes, nose and mouth exposed while supporting his forehead and chin – that told him he was facing downward. It took him even longer to realize he was lying facedown on a massage table, his head on the special headrest. 

He didn’t remember going for a massage. He couldn’t remember anything from the past several hours, but he was absolutely positive he wasn’t scheduled in for any sort of massage or physical therapy, despite how often Charlie tried to badger him into taking better care of himself. 

Luke decided this was the worst massage he’d ever had. The room was too bright and way too cold, and there wasn’t soothing instrumental music or nature sounds playing, nor could he smell incense or fancy massage oil. And he knew this wasn’t something Charlie or Kate had set up as a sort of romantic gesture, because either of them would use candles and there’d be a bottle of wine and some nice glasses set along one of the shelves instead of plain white towels and an assortment of feel-good self-help books. 

Instead of music or the sound of waterfalls or ocean waves Luke could hear two people arguing over him, familiar voices speaking over each other in a sort of whisper-shout. Kate and Charlie didn’t sound angry, exactly; more like … scared? And maybe … frustrated? Luke spent a few seconds trying to make out what they were hissing back and forth, but even once he did his current circumstances still didn’t make any sense. 

“—need to know what it was!” That was Charlie’s voice, full of frantic energy. 

“I told you, I don’t know!” Of the two of them, Kate was the one who sounded closer to being angry, but Luke couldn’t figure out who or what she was angry with. He could tell that they were standing very close to him, possibly on opposite sides of where he lay on the massage table. He wished he was facing upwards, so he could see their faces and make better sense of what was going on. “He’s the one who would know! He’s the smart one!” 

Oh, Katie, Luke thought, frowning down at the floor. Intelligence and education was the one area where Kate’s incredible confidence was lacking thanks to her unorthodox childhood. She was smart – he knew that for a fact – but she’d missed out on a formal education. In this instance, however, Luke had the sneaking suspicion they weren’t talking about something she should have learned in history or science, but rather something Luke had been taught as a result of his own unorthodox childhood. Although in Luke’s case, his background was actually fairly standard – for a Knight of Oberon. So-called “normal” kids probably didn’t get educated on the different types of things that went bump in the night, but sometimes Luke thought the world might be benefited if they were. 

“—not saying you’re not!” Charlie hissed, and Luke had the sense that he’d missed the thread of the argument somewhere, because now his boyfriend sounded both frustrated and conciliatory. 

“Stop fightin’,” Luke mumbled down at the floor. Charlie and Kate both immediately fell into a sort of stunned silence. “You’re both pretty.” 

Kate huffed out a startled laugh, but Charlie just sniffed in a way that made Luke wonder if he’d been crying at some point. Or maybe it was allergies. Maybe allergies were the reason Luke couldn’t smell massage oil or incense. 

“How do you feel?” Charlie asked, his voice sounding somewhat wet and thick. 

For a brief moment Luke thought that seemed like an odd question – and then something, possibly just a current of air, moved over the exposed skin of his back and suddenly his world was on fire. 

Pain like the edge of a heated blade seared across his back from the nape of his neck down to the base of his spine. It was hot and sharp and deep, like each individual cut slashed right down through muscle and bone into the very core of him, and he could feel each line as a separate fiery agony. He had never been more aware of just how much skin he had, how broad his back was, how many nerve endings there were and how each and every single one of them could scream out in separate and discordant pain. The only other time he’d felt anything even remotely like this was – 

Fire. 

FIRE! 

Sudden panic swept through him at the familiar agony of flames. He was burnt. He was on fire. He was on fire! 

Luke shot up like he was spring-loaded, lunging upwards and backwards as though the table underneath him was the source of the flames. His limbs were weak and uncoordinated and he flailed awkwardly, lashing out with his fists as he struggled to get away from the pain. One fist – his right – connected with something and there was a muffled grunt, but Luke paid it no heed, too desperate to escape the source of his agony to pay attention to his surroundings. His vision blurred and narrowed, the bright lights going dim and hazy, and as he launched himself off the massage table and his bare feet hit the tiled floor he felt his knees give way. He staggered, flailing again, this time for something to catch him before he fell. The world was swimming. There was a rushing sound in his ears and he collapsed, falling into outstretched arms. 

Charlie’s grip was strong and sure as he levered Luke back up and onto the table. When Luke resisted being settled back onto his stomach on the table Charlie helped him to sit up instead, helping him to lean forward enough that he wasn’t putting any weight on the agonizing marks on his back. 

“It’s all right,” Luke heard Charlie saying, as if from a great distance, “You’re safe, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” 

Luke sagged forward into Charlie’s arms. It hurt, having Charlie’s hands on him, but it felt safe at the same time, the familiar strength and comfort he took from Charlie’s confident touch. After a few seconds resting like that he finally let Charlie lower him back onto the table on his stomach, although he resisted the effort to face down again, and instead propped his cheekbone on the headrest and kept his head turned to one side, facing his boyfriend. Kate seemed to have disappeared from view, and as Luke settled he realized his hand was aching and it was a new, dull pain entirely distinct from the agony of his back. He dangled his hand in front of his face and blinked in consternation at the fresh split over one of his knuckles. 

“Katie-Kate?” Charlie called. He still sounded very far away even though he was standing directly over Luke’s prone form. 

“’M all right,” Kate mumbled, voice muffled. 

Above him Luke heard Charlie fussing and got the sense that this time it wasn’t directed at him. Kate made some kind of demurral, saying softly “It’s not broken, there’s just a lot of blood.” Luke stared down at his bloodied hand and felt his stomach give a sickening lurch. 

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. Charlie cursed under his breath – Charlie, who seldom cursed. 

“What are you apologizing for?” Charlie asked him, his tone very careful. 

“I don’t know,” Luke replied, feeling miserable and in pain and tremendously guilty because his knuckles were bloody and his hand hurt and he remembered lashing out and now Kate was hurt and he was almost certainly the one who’d done it. “I’m sorry.” 

Suddenly Kate’s face was right in front of Luke’s, and sure enough her nose was bloody and her upper lip looked like it had been split. Her expression, however, wasn’t one of anger or disappointment. She was just calm and unfazed, pale eyes boring right into Luke’s own. 

“I forgive you,” she said simply. Not It’s okay, because it wasn’t – not if he’d actually been the one to hit her. Just I forgive you, because all three of them knew that if Luke had hit her it had been in the midst of panic, that he hadn’t meant to do it, and he most certainly hadn’t been aiming for her. He had just been desperate to get away from the source of the flames that were even now licking their way up and down his back, and Kate had somehow been in the way. Then Kate grinned at him, and the blood on her face made the expression especially ghastly, but she smiled in that broad way that she did when it was just the three of them and she didn’t care about her crooked teeth or her lopsided smile. “I’m fine. I’ve taken worse hits sparring.” 

That was true, but it didn’t make Luke feel a whole lot better. Still, she’d said she forgave him, and Kate didn’t lie. Not to him or Charlie. Not about things that mattered. 

“I’m going to touch your back now, okay, love?” Charlie said, and it took Luke a few heartbeats to realize Charlie was speaking to him. 

“Okay,” Luke said, then changed his mind. “No. No, it hurts.” He hated how weak and vulnerable he sounded, like a child in want of his parents instead of a thirty-something man who’d spent his entire life as a soldier and fighter. But his back did hurt, and moreover, it hurt in a way that was painfully, terrifyingly familiar, and he’d already lived through the agony of that torture once in his life. He didn’t want to go through it again, even with Charlie and Kate there alongside him to support him. 

What he didn’t understand was why it hurt. Had he been captured again? Had the Scions of the Unforgiven taken him a second time, and was their pet sorcerer using blood magic to try and tear his body apart all over again? Or maybe the past ten years or so had simply been a pleasant dream, and he’d never been rescued, and instead he was still there, trapped inside that musty barn with his only his enemies around him. Disavowed by his Order, disowned by his family, with no hope of rescue or escape save death. 

“Oh, darling,” Charlie said, and the tone of his voice was heartbreaking. 

“No,” Luke said again. He tried to push himself up, to get away, but there were gentle hands on his shoulders – well away from the lines of agony that raked their way across his flesh – guiding him down again. 

Charlie’s hands, Luke realized, because Kate was sprawling on the floor beneath the massage table, her face directly under Luke’s. She lay on her back, staring up at him, one hand coming up to wipe the blood away from her nose and mouth. Her dark auburn hair fanned out behind her like a ruddy halo. She stretched up and curled her hands around his wrists, drawing his arms down on either side of the headrest before threading her fingers carefully through his. One hand was slightly sticky with blood and her skin felt strangely cool against his. 

“I’m right here,” she said, gazing up at him. “Charlie’s going to use his magic to heal your back –” 

“As much as I can,” Charlie interrupted with a faint huff of frustration. “I don’t even know what this is.” 

“Charlie’s going to fix your back,” Kate continued with determination, forcefully overriding Charlie’s protests. “And I’m going to be right here.” She gave his fingers a light squeeze, her hands small and pale against his own larger, darker hands. “Squeeze and yell as much as you want. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Luke stared down at her hand, the one she’d used to wipe the blood from her face. It was, oddly enough, the one that held the hand he’d used to strike at her. The blood was a bright, vivid red across their skin, already going tacky and dry. He couldn’t tell which of it was his blood and which was hers, although he was certain the Knights of Oberon would have an opinion on the matter, what with him being descended from a line of Fae-blooded and blessed warriors, and she being the daughter of a demon. Demonic and fairy, their blood all looked the same in the end. 

“Okay?” Charlie asked warily. Luke couldn’t see him, but he could picture his boyfriend’s expression easily: limpid dark eyes narrowed with concentration, lips pressed in a thin line, angular jaw set hard and firm. He was the most beautiful man Luke had ever known, made all the more beautiful when he was focused on his magic, on healing. 

Kate lifted her head up enough to press a kiss to Luke’s fingers, interwoven with her own. “You got this. You’ll be all right.” 

Luke sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, a gentle fan that blew loose strands of hair away from Kate’s face. He nodded, chin pressed against the headrest, the fake leather cool against his skin. The room was cold – freezing, almost – and yet his skin felt sweaty and clammy. Aside from the pain of his back he felt achy, all over, but especially in his joints. It made him think of the few times in his life he had been ill – Knights were seldom sick by natural means, and he’d mostly outgrown colds by the time he was a teenager. But this was like the beginning stages of the flu, where his body was one general ache and the temperature kept fluctuating and all he wanted to do was nap until the worst of it subsided. Except that the worst of it was whatever had been done to his back, and as the pain flared out he realized he could feel each individual slash as its own separate agony. It still felt like searing flame, but also like someone had taken a razor or the tip of a knife and slashed it over him, again and again and again. What made it all the worse was the fact that he couldn’t remember what had happened or how he’d come to be in such a state, and based on Charlie’s frustration and worry Luke suspected that his partners didn’t know, either. 

Charlie stroked one hand through Luke’s hair, and if it weren’t for the knowledge that doing so would put strain on already-sore back muscles, Luke would’ve tried to arch into the caress. Instead he let out another shuddering breath and squeezed Kate’s fingers. She squeezed back again. Her hands were small but solid; he knew he could squeeze as much as he needed to and she wouldn’t flinch, even if it hurt. Not that he wanted to hurt her, but that was the thing about Kate: he wasn’t afraid to. All his life he’d been mindful of his size and strength relative to other humans – either unfavorably, when he’d been a child and at the mercy of the adults in his life, or as an adult he’d been aware of how fragile normal humans were compared to him. Not with her. Not with Kate. 

And not with Charlie, either. The two of them were so different from each other, but so strong in their own ways. Charlie was bright and warm and nurturing, and Kate was sharp and vivid and solid. He would never fathom what he’d done to be worthy of even one of them, much less the both of them.

 “Okay,” he said, the word coming out breathy and shuddering. “I’ll be all right. Let’s do this.” 

Charlie’s fingers carded through his hair a second time as Kate gave Luke another reassuring smile. Luke drew in another breath, and then Charlie’s magic washed over him and he let his partners carry the weight.

[lethe-distillery-blog]

Au Fait

“Come on, it’s time to wake up.” It took an impossible amount of effort but I managed to crawl my way out of the darkness and turn myself enough to get the sun out of my eyes and finally able to focus on my surroundings. Sensations filtered in, the intimate smell of shampoo, the memory of a perfume floating in the air as though the recipient had yet to apply some today but it was such a standard procedure that it was a permanent feature, and food. I smelled fruit, it was a fresh sweetness, eggs, and a few other things that I couldn’t quite place yet. Softness came next. The sheets. Silken things that rested comfortably against my skin, light and cool. I looked about the room slowly It took a long moment of staring blankly at the light turquoise edged in white for memory to start melting away the thick fog of slumber. Home, technically. I was in my master bedroom. Since I was blind in my dreams sight was often the last sensation for me to register and become aware of. “Come on sleepy head.” The voice was softness incarnate. If I could describe it as a song it would be a ballad, inherently musical, touching, and the bringer of comfort. There was a smile in that voice. There was a new sensation. Again, it was softness, but this was a different level of softness, a different level of comfort. This was skin, light and gentle on my cheek, and it moved, a delicate stroking motion that I couldn’t help but move into.

 Seconds ticked by with the slowness of hours as things started coming back, sensations searing themselves into my psyche in preparation for another day. My body came under the command of my own will with an agonizing slowness. Breathing started fading from conscious effort to the methodical background familiarity. I forced myself to swallow, testing minute motor functions in a standard test that brought me through to the land of consciousness. Still, it wouldn’t likely be fully up and functioning for another while, time, that was a thought. Time. Years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds. Time. That particular word slid into its definition a bit easier today. “Are you in there?” I turned to look at the voice, the sound.

 Her.

 It was the only word that seemed necessary. It was a title of the universe that was bequeathed to the last of the divine. Beautiful was another word. So many words could describe her and all would be true and yet not the whole truth. Kind. Giving. Loving. Sweet. All things that one could use in description of her character and yet the only thing that could hope to ever encompass it all was a simple word, often unnoticed by poets or by lovers and yet, selfishly, I had latched onto it. Her. “There you are.” Her voice came to me, sweet and warm. She had long ago accepted the lengthy process that came from me trying to redefine myself as something material. I was grateful. I was never quite myself if I had to rush through this process, and I knew from others that it was an unusual and time consuming ritual and yet, she had never condemned me for it, only seeking to understand what made me, me.

 She had listened with intrigue and fascination as I had done my best to explain that my thoughts were entirely made of letters latching onto one another. Forming words, definitions, explanations. These are what I thought in. Not pictures. And so, waking up was a process that for a person who pictures their thoughts would not be unlike waking up and immediately rolling over and having to read and encyclopedia to try and sort out the jumbled mess of pictures inside their head. It was an intriguing thing for us to discover, this difference between us. She helped me to my feet, my entire body screaming in sensation, the only way I could describe it is pain really but yet it wasn’t. It was, awareness, that my muscles moved, that my joints moved in a particular pattern and how my weight effected these things. It was all new, vivid, intense and so it felt like my brain practically exploded each morning. She helped me into the shower, her words providing a steady and soft comfort that though I did not deserve I selfishly gobbled up, telling me about the simplest of things. The cool tile, the warm water, what she had made for breakfast. All of it helped, associating words with the definition inside my head to what that particular item was.

 “Alright, you shower, I need to make sure breakfast doesn’t burn on you sleepy head.” Her voice was teasing and I reached out to touch her cheek. It felt like the petals of a flower, soft and silken, delicate. Her hand touched mine and her smile was tender. “I’ll be back soon.” She stepped away and I missed her immediately, bereft of comfort and sanity in this world that I had to learn yet again. The shower was hot, the tile cool. The dark room helped me from getting overwhelmed by colors and other input. One thing at a time. I focused on each sensation in turn. The temperature differences between water and tile, the way the water felt, how it rained down onto me but also slid over my skin, the way my hair matted down. Everything was carefully assessed and brought back into my version of reality.

 By the time I was shaved and showered, I felt about three quarters human. Which, counted for a lot. Having her here and willing to both understand and to do the small things she did without a second thought really did take a process that could take several hours and knock it down to less than a single hour. Food was still one of those hit and miss things, some days it worked, others it didn’t. I came up behind her at the counter, my own voice was slowly coming back. I had repeated small things in the shower. She would never believe if I told her that her name was foremost among them. I was so terrified of people leaving, especially her, that I wanted to make sure she was the one thing that made sense in my world. I could deal with everything else being wrong. Not her. Anything but her.

 Our lips met and I savored her like wine, my mind sorting through the sensations that provided like a connoisseur would pick up the delicate notes of a particularly pleasant vintage. Softness, like rain. Sweet like honey and yet savory, like salted caramel. There was the harsh taste of coffee, bitter notes, background. Things started slowly coming back, the very world coming into focus and sharpness as we stood there and I experienced all the world around me through her and with her. She truly was all I needed, with her I knew that I would always remember everything else. A cough sounded and though I ignored it she pulled away with a smile teasing those wonderful lips of hers and, without much choice it seemed, I turned to face the sound.

 My son.

 He sat at the table holding a mug of coffee, a smirk on his features as he shook his head though his eyes flashed his amusement. He had come home the other night from college, funny how small details slipped the mind. “Excuse me,” his voice was sarcastic and I could hear his amusement, “that is my mother you are molesting you know.” Yeah. It is your mother, and I would think I am allowed to in my own home. I behaved enough when you were at home young whippersnapper so be grateful you interrupted when you did. The words didn’t come out of course, but I did manage a smile; smiling, up until her that had been a strange and alien thing and yet because of her and through her, it had become regular and yet could never be commonplace. She drew my focus back to her. “Would you like coffee?” I shook my head, the motion causing the slightest tinges of vertigo, I didn’t think I needed it today. Her smile was tender and she kissed me, much to the chagrin and sardonic gagging of our audience. “Go sit, I’ll bring you something to drink. Hot?” I nodded, the movement making me feel muscles and tendons flex and bulge.

 I sat down, and let sensation wash over me. The smell of food, the sound of it cooking, their talking back and forth. Through time it had just been easier to explain that I was grumpy in the morning, it was easier than trying to explain what was actually going on. So I simply let the conversation happen around me, though I did pay attention to details as I nursed a proffered peppermint tea. School had been going well, though there was now a girl he was interested in. I shared a look with her, her smile was knowing. Fate had thrown us together, quite unexpectedly in fact, and we both knew exactly what he was talking about with the frustrations of not being able to separate his emotions from his rational thoughts. Weird that. Must be a universal thing or something. She brought breakfast to the table and I ate slowly, working things through my mouth as they shared and talked.

 Part of me wished I could join in on these early morning talks, it just seemed like the proper family thing to do. But not once had she ever judged me for my inability to be normal. Instead, she would sometimes tell me about her day and what she had planned, or she would sit with me in silence and just experience the incredible reality that was our life. Besides, I could always talk later, after everything had settled a little more. Right now, it took a large portion of my thoughts to focus on chewing and no biting my tongue. Harder than you might think I’ll have you know. Still though, it was a pleasant meal to share, even if I believed that waking up before seven am had to be some form of torture. Her fingers stroked mine from where she rested her hand on mine. I savored those small contacts. For too long I had not had any contact at all, and now; now that I had her, I made sure to savor and cherish each one.

 “I think your dad would be more that willing to help you change the oil in your car later.” I nodded my answer to her statement, not that it was needed but still, it felt like I was at least taking part of it all then. She squeezed my hand lightly and smiled. Yeah, that was why waking up so early was worth it. Her.

 I was putting the final dishes into the dishwasher when I felt her arms wrap around me from behind, I closed my eyes and savored it. I pulled her a little closer, feeling her breasts press to my back and the warm puffs of every exhale. I was coming back to myself, feeling more and more comfortable within my own skin as the morning moved on. Even by the end of breakfast I had started to bring myself around more, it had been nice. She squeezed me lightly, her voice a delicate little whisper that slid over me. “I love you.”

 Mine by comparison sounded harsh, cracked and rough. But I needed to say them. A desire deep inside me would not be denied that, I knew that she knew but I needed to tell her, to make sure that she knew. “I love you too.” Her hands tightened for a long moment and we stood there. In our small home, our little dream playing out before us in ways that neither of us could have ever imagined and yet it seemed to be perfectly what we both wanted. “Always.”

 “Always.”

[notsugarandspice]

get you out my mind

eeeeee, I love my Losers so much, and I love Beverly, and I love cute flirty boys playing nurse just AH ♡

Not Rated, Meet-Cute, Skater! Eddie, Richie is in a private school & is #miserable, pretty Cali life, playing nurse

Read it on AO3.

Eddie hasn’t been able to sleep for a whole week. It all fell on him like a vicious monsoon in the middle of an open field. No hopes for cover.

It was just another sunny day, dreamy and pleasant, like most Cali days. The ocean had a pretty glisten, it wasn’t too crowded at the skatepark because the weather was more chilly than usual, and Bill agreed to go out instead of playing video games, which had recently been his favourite occupation. Eddie couldn’t understand for the life of him why a teenage boy would want to stay indoors. Well, he kind of could.

He used to sit at home a lot in elementary school. That’s all he did, really. His mom was overbearing to the point of insanity, and she refused to admit she had a problem. She and his dad were teetering towards divorce when Sonia’s diabetes finally made itself known, giving her a heart attack she couldn’t recover from. She never went for check-ups but loved taking her son. Eddie was only ten back then, he couldn’t remember a lot, but he never missed his mother as much as he probably should. The only memories of her he had was a lock in his door and a bottle of cold medicine that he didn’t need on the bedside drawer. And their constant fighting. As much as he hated to think it, everything was better now.

He flips over to his side, watching the way the drying laundry flops outside his window, uneasy with the morning wind. The Sun just started peaking over the horizon, Eddie can tell by the slightly dim light in his room devoid of curtains. He’s been tossing in his bed for the last thirty minutes, trying to calm his mind enough to let him get another half an hour of sleep. It obviously wasn’t happening. Nada. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the dark-haired guy out of his head.

He could never understand the whole thing with crushes. Eddie doesn’t fall for random people. It just doesn’t happen. Until last Friday, that is. The guy really didn’t try to stand out at all, quite the contrary, he was in his uniform, with a book in hand, occasionally glancing at the beach, all forlorn and beautiful. But something about him exasperated Eddie as if Richie was placed on that beach to personally taunt and distract him, all plans of peacefully skating totally ruined. The moment he saw Bill talking to someone on the bench (Bill’s board always ran away from him because he never listened when Eddie said you need more practice before you go crazy) he couldn’t shake the image out of his head.

Richie’s curls sticking out of the hair tie, blue eyes that seemingly changed contrast mid-conversation, all the freckles on his nose and lips. It’s like the image of Richie’s face was permanently stuck behind his eyelids, and the sounds of his slightly croaky voice, and the way that blue polo shifted around his chest when he shimmied on the bench, embarrassed about every adorable thing he’s said. It’s been a week, and Eddie still can’t get him out of his head. They talked once. This is getting ridiculous.

Eddie sits up tapping his foot on the floor, lost in his head completely. He goes to the bathroom on autopilot, rubs his face with cold water and moves down the stairs. Everything is starting to take shape as sunlight slowly creeps upward, all pretty and golden, and Eddie smiles before turning into the kitchen, an image of that shade on Richie’s skin perfectly clear in his mind. Frank is already there, sipping his herbal tea, wetsuit covering the lower half of his body.

“Aren’t you running late?” asks Eddie kissing his dad’s cheek.

Frank puts down the tea smiling and ruffles Eddie’s hair fondly. “I gotta pick up Marcy from her house so we can go together.”

Eddie opens the fridge door and rolls his eyes. Sometimes, Frank Kaspbrak is a tad too generous. “Dad, she lives in Malibu.”

“So? It’s barely a forty minute drive.”

Eddie takes out orange juice and pours himself a glass. “Yeah, if you go at five in the morning. And it’s not anymore, so you’re already late.” Frank looks at his son for several seconds, and Eddie eventually meets his eyes. “What?”

“You’re fussy, is all. Like your mama.”

Eddie’s eyebrows instantly draw together. “I’m not fussy. And don’t compare me to her.”

Frank cocks his head to the side in that parental manner that indicates that he’s crossing the line. “You don’t need to get like that anytime I bring her up.”

“Then don’t.” Eddie finishes the glass and puts it into the sink.

“I made you avocado toast,” says Frank, pointing at two pieces neatly placed in the frying pan.

Eddie smiles fondly and hugs his dad from the back, burying his face in his back. “You didn’t have to.”

Frank laughs and taps Eddie’s hands around his belly. “Sure, kiddo. You can’t keep eating Clif bars for every meal.”

“They’re good.” Eddie lets go and grabs the plate, headed towards their cozy back porch. He hears Frank say good doesn’t mean healthy and opens the screen door, the scent of the ocean making his stomach flip with excitement. He can just see a sliver of the dark blue water between a couple of houses several streets down. He might be able to go skating early if Bill doesn’t come up with another elaborate plan to stay indoors. Not that Eddie needs the company that much, but it’s always fun to go with someone else. And Beverly usually works every day of the week. Her showing up last weekend was a goddamn miracle.

He’s halfway through the first toast when Frank pushes the door open, a bottle of water in hand. He places it in front of the plate just when Eddie gets the first hiccup. “Right on cue.” He kisses the top of his son’s head and grabs his sunglasses from the table. “I’m out. I’m going to stop by the store later. You need anything?”

Eddie hiccups again and irritably slams the fist on the table. “No, should be-“ hiccup “DAMN IT-  fine.”

Frank puts the fist out, and Eddie bumps him quickly before emptying half the water bottle. His throat calms by the time Frank leaves, but his mind drifts back to Richie and the irrational fear of never seeing him again. Don’t live that close. He might not ever come to that beach again. Eddie wallows in self-pity for ten more agonizing minutes before he decides to check the extent of his weekend homework. He might be able to finish everything before he goes out tonight.

—

Naturally, Eddie didn’t anticipate the amount of work that needs to be done by Monday, and since he has very serious plans for the rest of the weekend, he forces himself to complete most of it, excluding the reading that he could cram in before he goes to bed. By the time he finishes everything, it’s almost 5:00 PM and he picks up the phone to call Bill. He responds right before Eddie hangs up, already on the front porch to head out.

“Hello?”

“Bill? How long does it take to answer the phone?”

Eddie can hear the background music of a video game, and he knows the call is hopeless before he asks. “I’m buh-buh-busy.”

“Busy sitting on your ass? It’s Saturday. You really gonna stay home?”

“Did you call in t-t-to be my mom?”

Eddie drops the board to lock the front door. “Wow, mature. You really not going to show up?”

“Dude, I’m on the graveyard l-luh-level. I’ve been stu-uh-uck all day.”

Yeah, like your ass is stuck to that bean chair. “You really think it’s going to take you five more hours to finish it?” Eddie pushes the board forward and runs up to jump on it, swerving on an empty road.

“Have you ever played a v-v-video game, Eddie? -FUCK!”

“You know I have. Whatever, this is pointless. You know where I’ll be.”

“Sure. Have f-fun.”

“You too, Billy.” Eddie rolls his eyes and puts the phone in the pocket of his overall shorts, speeding up to grab a smoothie on his way to the skatepark.

He gets to the café across the street from the beach and orders the pineapple strawberry smoothie and asks to add kale, thinking that dad would be proud to see him trying. What he doesn’t need to know about is a mint chocolate Clif bar in one of Eddie’s pockets. The less you know…or something.

Eddie waits for the walking light to turn on while he sips on his smoothie, trying to make out the people at the skatepark across the road. He can’t see anyone he’s close with, just a couple of people from school he sees in the hallways. The light changes and Eddie is already halfway done with the drink, silently cursing himself for being a fast eater. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and by the time he makes it to the other side, he’s battling light waves of nausea. And somehow, he still feels hungry.

He rolls through the skatepark to the sidewalk that leads to the beach, the sun still bright and warm in that particular May-California way. Eddie stops the board right before the sand, throws out the nearly done smoothie, and quickly takes the yellow Vans off. He walks barefoot towards the lifeguard post, his beady ankle bracelet shifting pleasantly as he moves. Eddie remembers the time when he hated the beach when the feeling of the sand between his toes seemed foreign and disgusting. Then Frank took up surfing and took his son with him every day. Now it’s home. Venice is his little getaway, a small paradise a mere mile away.

He gets to the post and drops his shoes on the first step, carrying the board to the top to make sure no one nicks it. Eddie knocks on the door and smiles wide when Mike opens it almost immediately, chewing on an apple. He waves Eddie inside and sits back on the chair. Eddie immediately grabs the large binoculars and looks over to the ocean, noticing a young couple slashing in the waves, happy and drunk judging by the redness on their faces.

“You’re late today.”

“Yeah, I had so much shit to do.” Eddie puts down the binoculars and climbs up to sit on the table, turned sideways to Mike. “Exams are in a week, and they all collectively decided to fail us.”

Mike snorts and takes another bite, looking off at the water longingly. Eddie sees his strong want to just go and surf as soon as he’s off which should be in less than two hours. Eddie takes the Clif bar out of his pocket and bites off almost half of it at once, much to Mike’s delight. He stifles giggles and picks up his phone to take a photo of Eddie with a mouth full of chocolate oats. Eddie pretends to dislike the attention.

Eddie is kind of grateful he doesn’t have Bill with him today - Bill and Mike had a fling last year that ended in their collective inability to hold a serious relationship. As it turns out, neither was ready for it. And Mike was older anyway: if Eddie had zero patience with Bill, the other had even less. Fortunately, they didn’t act hostile towards each other, but there was still a grain of awkwardness anytime they hung out. So Eddie tries to stop by alone.

They talk for almost half an hour, completely lost in conversation since they haven’t seen one other for a solid month. Eddie invites Mike to tomorrow’s bonfire, and he happily agrees, doesn’t even ask if Bill’s going to be there.

Mike sees someone struggling to make it out of the raging waves, and he grabs a lifejacket, sprinting down the steps with alarming stability. Eddie huffs an incredulous laugh and hops down to his shoes, carrying them to that same spot Richie sat yesterday. He cleans off the sand from his feet, puts the shoes back on and smiles at the lowering sunlight, gradually moving towards the horizon. He has about an hour of light, and he intends on using it. Eddie runs with the board and lets it roll just before the bend, sliding down gracefully, feeling free and happy. A couple of guys who usually hang out there whoop him and he shoots them a thumbs up.

Eddie gets to the other end of the park and stands on top, fishing out his headphones. He plugs them in and turns on Feel It Still, tapping his foot on the board with the rhythm of the beat. He quickly shoots Bev a text hoping she’ll have a chance to stop by.

Eddie skates smoothy for about half an hour, warming up, feels his legs move with less effort now, feet gliding on the smooth surface when he pushes. He ollies onto the sidewalk, high and easy, his lower body moving on its own accord. Eddie rolls towards the clearing with the rails and practices his jumps, scaling them as he goes. There’s an especially long rail he’s had his eye on for a while now, taller than others and he has all the intentions to actually go through with it today. He practices on smaller ones for a while, long enough for the Sun to almost touch the horizon.

He takes a deep breath and finally collects the courage to attempt scaling it. He fails three solid times, skating away with zero to none contact before he manages to even go halfway. It takes him some time, but he finally does it right, feeling light and invincible. Eddie continues practicing as sunlight moves to hide behind the water, and more people start showing up at the park.

But he makes a small mistake when he’s on top of the rail for the nth time, thinking he’s confident enough to avoid looking at his feet even for a split second. He lifts his head to look out at the approaching pedestrians, hoping one of them is going to be Beverly jogging with her skateboard towards him. It would take him next to no time to register the red hair and look back down. But what he sees instead is a face he hasn’t been able to push out of his mind, haloed in loose black curls, same perfect black glasses. Eddie knows he’s not nearly confident enough on this rail do to shit like that, and that’s how he loses his balance, the board tipping too much on one side, the wheels catching on the metal, and his body somehow does a full 360 in the air before he smacks hard on his elbows and knees, miraculously holding his neck to avoid grazing the forehead.

Eddie doesn’t fall. Even the idea of it shocks him enough that there are several seconds of numbness and slight deafness before the world seems to resume and he flips over, groaning slightly. He starts feeling the blood pulsing in both of his elbows and one of the knees, on the heel of his hand, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes, still in a state of mild shock.

He’d laugh if this was a regular thing for him. If he fell every day, somehow landing perfectly well on the board, sliding away to other’s cheers. But this simply doesn’t happen to him, he’s too careful. He’s not scared of pain at all, not scared of falling, but rather the implications of open scratches, his blood mixing with the dirt on the sidewalk, the leftover sand from the beach mere feet away, all the ger-

“Fuck, Eddie, are you okay?”

Eddie opens his eyes, somehow only now realizing that he’s been wrapped in himself on the ground for fuck knows how long. Richie is bending down in front of him, eyes wide and black eyebrows drawn together, the pink and orange of the sunrise reflected on his skin. He looks so beautiful that Eddie momentarily forgets what happened mere seconds ago.

“N-no,” he chuckles because his heart is stuttering and his mind is too occupied with this stupidly attractive and caring boy next to him that the pulsing in his elbows is replaced by the nauseating feeling of great, my crush just saw me fall on my ass.

Richie’s face relaxes slightly, and he takes something out of Eddie’s hair. Richie’s wrist comes close to his face, and he smells some sort of cologne. His whole body is buzzing. “Where’s your board?”

It takes Eddie a second to force himself to cooperate with the real world, and he looks behind him, seeing it at the end of the sidewalk, on the very edge of the park. He points at it, his elbow stinging harshly when it bends.

Eddie hisses, and Richie looks panicked for a second. “Wait here.” Nah, I’m not moving until you carry me to the ER in your noodle arms. The only form of transportation I accept. Richie runs towards the end of the park, jumping a little when a girl almost comes crashing into him, swerving at the last second. Eddie chuckles and just notices that Richie isn’t wearing his uniform (obviously) and has on some blue shorts, an open white button down and some nonsensical white boy t-shirt underneath. He looks amazing, clothes fitted well and hugging him all right. Eddie’s heart jumps when he sees the same style Vans on him, but in white, slightly dirty and dusty. Richie stops by the board to tie some of the hair in half-up-half-down, smiling back at Eddie bashfully as he does so. Wow, you’re so far gone, Kaspbrak.

“So, you’re Eddie?” asks a guy standing on the same spot Richie was earlier, arms crossed, a blank expression on his face.

“Huh?” Who the fu-

“Richie hasn’t stopped talking about you for the last eight days. He never stops talking, but it’s been especially annoying this past week.” Eddie looks at him in pure confusion, and the other’s face still doesn’t change. “I’m Stan, Richie’s friend from school.”

Oh. At least he introduced himself as a friend. “Yeah, I’m Eddie.” He tries to get up, starting to realize it might be impolite to talk to people in this position and leans on the heel of his hand, forgetting about the scrape there. He hisses and tries to lean on the other one when he sees an arm extending in front of him, slightly softer expression on the boy’s face. Eddie takes it with a smile, and Stan lifts him up like he weighs nothing, wiping his hands on the khaki shorts after. Eddie represses a snort, and he’s saved from some awkward small talk by Richie, who finally stops in front of them.

“Your board looks alright, no dents or anything.”

Eddie takes it out of Richie’s hands without so much as a glance at its condition. “I mean, it’s a skateboard…it would be weird if it didn’t have some scratches.” Stan snorts and connects eyes with Richie whose cheeks are tinted pink. Eddie feels himself figuratively melting into the ground. “Well, thanks for helping me. I think I’m gonna uber to the ER.”

Eddie gives the two of them an awkward wave, his stomach tumbling from the unwavering gaze of his crush. He chastises himself for ruining possibly the only opportunity to hang out with Richie. But not thirty seconds later there’s a hand on his bare shoulder, and Eddie turns, smiling when he sees black eyebrows drawn together.

“Eds, you don’t need to go to the emergency room.”

Eddie is momentarily offended, and he steps back slightly, feeling judged and mocked. But none of those things are reflected on Richie’s face, nothing but concern, really. He thinks maybe he’s overreacting slightly, but he can’t stop his brain from making a thousand scenarios of how this fall could result in an auto-immune disease or something. Not that that would be Richie’s fault. Eddie’s eyes fall on Stan who’s casually strolling towards them, his eyes searching something in the palm trees.

“Hey, are you okay?” asks Richie, grabbing Eddie by the elbow in the most gentle manner but one that still results in an embarrassing whiny sound. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie can feel the heat on his cheeks, and his heartbeat is rising again, either from the touch or the stupid sounds that seem to escape his mouth around this guy. Either way, he can’t stop looking at the way Richie’s curls hug his ears, or how his blush spreads all the way to his chest, and Eddie forgets the pain for a while.

“Um…my friend works at this café across the street. They have a first aid kit and everything. I could help patch you up,” says Richie with a hand on his neck and the sweetest crooked smile Eddie has ever seen. He’s pretty sure having Richie’s hands on his knees would quite literally give him a heart attack, but he nods nonetheless, too enthralled by the possibility of spending a little more time with the guy.

Stan finally makes it to their awkward little bubble and reaches something out to Eddie in an outstretched hand. It’s Eddie’s phone, seemingly scratched but miraculously void of cracks. I really need to get myself a phone case. “Thank you.” Eddie puts it in the pocket of his overall shorts, and when he lifts his eyes Richie is staring, a dopey grin on his face. “What?”

Richie’s eyes lift, widening a little from being caught. “Nothing, just…love the outfit.” Eddie would think he is being mocked if not for the quiet way Richie said it, and the prompt roll of Stan’s eyes that Eddie wants to think signifies wow, you’re so far gone, man.

“Thanks.” Eddie puts down the board but thinks better of it and grabs it back up. He doesn’t want to tumble in the middle of the crosswalk because of the stinging throbbing in his knee, and embarrassing himself in front of Richie for a second time is definitely not going to make him more appealing in the boy’s eyes. So he silently walks in front of the guys, turning only once to see Stanley smack Richie on the shoulder, much to the other’s chagrin.

Eddie knows this café well but has never been inside before. They have a small to-go window on the side where he always gets his smoothies, mostly reserved for soaking wet surfers who aren’t allowed indoors. Eddie opens the door and holds it with his sneaker, letting Richie and Stan in. Stan nods his head, and Richie salutes him, making Eddie giggle. He then falls behind, following them to the register.

The whole place is full of the cutest pastel colors: pale blue counters, baby pink and white walls, canary yellow tables. The atmosphere is peaceful, and Eddie easily recognizes Alina Baraz coming through the speakers. Everything smells like vanilla and tropical fruit.

Richie beats his fingers on the counter, imitating bongos and Eddie just notices how much more relaxed he looks in the company of his friend. It makes Eddie long to know that side of Richie, carefree and happy. He hopes to see that someday.

A man comes out the backdoor, yellow apron on, and his face instantly lights up upon seeing his two friends. He extends a fist to Richie, but the other leans over the counter to clap the boy on the back. The guy laughs, and his cheeks redden slightly underneath a growing beard. Stan only raises a hand to him and smiles, crossing arms behind him. He catches Eddie staring and cocks an eyebrow. Eddie steps in front of the pastry display case to avoid having a conversation with Mr. Unapproachable.

“Haystack, let me introduce you, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Ben.” Richie gestures between them and they wave at each other awkwardly. “Hey, do you still have that first aid kit in the back?”

Ben furrows his brows, looking at the expanse of Richie’s bare limbs. “What’d you hit this time?”

Richie sends him a finger gun and then gently turns Eddie’s arm to show a nasty scrape on the elbow. “Not me, this time. Eds needs some help.”

“Not my name,” mutters Eddie under his breath, looking at Richie from under his lashes. The other merely smiles wide, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. Carefree and happy, huh?

“Looks bad, Eddie. Here, follow me.” Ben waves a hand and goes to the other side of the coffee bar, lifting the opening for the rest of them to pass through. Only Stan hasn’t moved an inch, curiously studying the menu as if he’s never seen it before.

Ben pushes the backdoor leading to a small kitchen and further down to the freezers. There’s an office table right behind an enormous industrial sink and Ben steps on his chair to retrieve the first aid kit from the shelf. He gives the box to Richie, probably out of habit, and points to Eddie’s skateboard.

“Ah, you skate. That explains the…” Ben walks around Eddie to assess the damage, “three bruises. Damn. Happens a lot?”

“Not really. I don’t fall.” Richie snorts, and Eddie shoots him a glare.

“You need my-“

“No! I’ll help him. You go on, Benny boy, you have customers waiting.” Richie clutches the box to his chest, smiling wide, eyes darting between Eddie and Ben. Weirdo.

Ben lifts his arms in defense and huffs a laugh. “Whatever you say. Holler if you need me.”

He disappears behind the service door, and Richie turns to Eddie, lips twitching a little. “Um…you should probably sit down.” Richie points to the chair, and Eddie puts the board underneath. He tries to get comfortable, folding the hands in front of him but then his elbows bump into the jean fabric and he suppresses a hiss, putting his palms on top of the thighs instead. Richie leans in front of him, his chin on the bony knee, ruffling through the contents of the box somewhere on the floor.

“You get hurt a lot?”

Richie lifts his head with wide ocean eyes as if he’s half-surprised Eddie is sitting in front of him. “More than I probably should.”

“Why, because you don’t skate?”

Richie chuckles and the sound makes Eddie’s heart beat faster. “No, because you’d think I’d be in control of my body by seventeen.” He gets up and walks towards the sink, washing his hands. Eddie watches his face intently, seeing it relax and then go back to a contemplative state, and he wants to ask what the boy is thinking. I wonder if I make him nervous as much as he makes me. Richie bends down to pick up some tissues from the box and goes to wet them, settling back in front of Eddie after.

“Oh, um…you might wanna…they’ll probably get dirty.” Richie points to the Vans, and before Eddie has time to react, Richie takes one off with his left hand and puts it on top of the board. He fidgets on the spot with a clean wet tissue and decides to put it in the box while he runs back to wash his hands. Eddie wonders if he’s this thorough when administering his own cuts but he’s grateful nonetheless. If Richie touched his knee after touching his shoes, he might yell loud enough to scare all the customers.

“You know, you don’t have to do all this for me. I know how.”

“Thought you don’t fall?” He cocks an eyebrow, but his face almost instantly changes to something wounded. “Do you not want me to help?”

“No, I- that’s not what I meant. I just- forget I said anything.”

Richie leans in front of him in the same manner, and their eyes connect, making Eddie’s skin tingle. “Are you sure you want me to continue?”

“Yeah.”

Richie smiles in relief and picks the tissue back up. “Okie-dokie.” He gently presses on the knee, then rubs around it cleaning the dirt and the dried up blood. Eddie’s breathing gets slightly ragged when Richie’s face gets closer, his hand on the back of the knee, inspecting for debris. Richie wipes the small dry stripe of blood that trickled down sometime after the fall.

“You’re really good at this.” He is but the main reason Eddie speaks is to distract himself from the hurricane of inappropriate thoughts.

Richie smiles and a blush tints his cheeks as he absentmindedly wipes Eddie’s calf. “I guess. My own fault for falling so much.”

“Right. Like a baby giraffe.” Eddie can’t help but grin. That image hasn’t left his mind since last week.

Richie bashfully pushes his glasses up and folds the tissue in half. He goes to the side of the chair, looking over the wound on Eddie’s elbow. There’s one running down the forearm too, a lot more mild but stinging nonetheless. He wipes there too careful and slow, and Eddie feels his arms cover in goosebumps anytime Richie’s fingers connect with the skin. Richie goes behind the chair to do the other arm, and Eddie tries to listen to the sound of plunking water drops in the sink instead of the boy’s breathing. He can feel his back cramming and ass numbing from sitting in the same position, but he doesn’t want to be rude by moving or doing anything to accidentally deprive himself of Richie’s touch. Eddie patiently waits for his wounds to get cleaned and for Richie to crawl back to the front to finally shift on the chair.  

Richie gently turns Eddie’s hand, wiping the scrape there. Eddie fights a smile when he sees the contrast of their skin and how small his hand looks in Richie’s. He spares a look at the boy’s face and the length of his lashes kind of takes Eddie’s breath away.

“Are you not gonna..?” Eddie points towards the small hydrogen peroxide spray in the corner of the box.

“Nah. I used to do it as a kid but I’ve heard it does nothing but irritates the skin, so…” Richie takes out a couple of bandaids from the box, assembling them on top of Eddie’s thigh. He smiles up and opens the first one, putting it on the upper half of the knee scrape.

“What’s up with Stan?”

Richie is so taken by the question that he loudly laughs, angling his face down to look at Eddie from above his glasses. “Is that a loaded question?”

“No, I just- He’s so…”

“Reserved? All don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-intimidating?”

Eddie cocks his head and huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know. He has strict parents.” Richie opens another band-aid and fits it under the first one. “He’s always been like that.”

“How long have you two known each other?”

Richie moves to the side to put a little cross on the elbow. “Here, keep it bent- Um…probably since sixth grade? I’ve been in that school since elementary but Stan the Man joined in middle.”

Eddie hums, and a question slips out before he can stop it. “Is he a friend?”

There’s a long stretch of silence afterward, and Eddie wants to either swivel the chair and aggressively demand answers, or run until he gets to the ocean. Either way, he’s near a death wish at the moment. He stares forward, avoiding eye contact.

“What are you asking?” Richie’s question is a lot more mature and calculated than Eddie expects, and it throws him off for a second. What does he want?

“I don’t know. Just curious.”

Richie chuckles but doesn’t say anything, moving behind the chair to do the other elbow.

“What?” Eddie is growing exasperated, either with himself or Richie, or Richie’s proximity, or how nice it feels to have Richie’s fingers on his bicep.

“Don’t get defensive.”

“I’m not.”

Richie finishes the work and collects the wrap in the ball, walking to throw it out by the sink. “It’s cute.”

Eddie can feel his eyes widen to a laughable degree. “What’s cute?”

“Not what, but who.” Richie turns and nods towards Eddie who’s just about to explode from the last minute of rollercoaster emotions.

“I’m not.”

Richie sits on the balls of his feet to close down the box. He puts it on the table and stays in the same position to look at Eddie. “Is this a scenario where you expect me to convince you you are?”

Eddie leans forward, their faces now so close together he can feel the spearmint on Richie’s breath. He didn’t notice him chewing so it must be Altoids. He suddenly has the strongest desire deep in his belly to crash their mouths together. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”

“Why did you ask about Stan?”

Eddie’s eyes dart towards Richie’s lips, pink and inviting. “Why did you ask why I asked?”

Richie laughs, and his head falls forward, so close to Eddie’s nose that he can smell the shampoo the boy used. “We’re doing this now, huh?”

“You didn’t answer.”

Richie lifts his head back up and stares at Eddie’s lips for a while before responding. “Stan’s just a friend.”

Eddie grins wider than is probably socially acceptable and slaps both hands on his thighs, making Richie laugh. “I knew it!”

“You seem excited.” Richie grabs the shoe from the board and puts it under Eddie’s foot. He slips it on, and Richie helps him with the heel. He doesn’t miss the ankle bracelet, and he moves it up and down before looking back up at Eddie.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Eddie doesn’t know if it’s their proximity or the knowledge that Richie’s single that does it, but he suddenly feels bold and hopeful.

Richie gets up and rubs the back of his neck, lost in thought. “Uh, nothing but homework, really. Why?”

“There’s a party on the beach tomorrow night. Well…more like a small bonfire.” Eddie gets up from the chair, and he suddenly feels awkward and small, his heart stuck in the middle of his throat. “Will you come? You can bring whoever you want.” Unless it’s a date. Then I’ll throw him into the fire.

Richie’s blush spreads down to the collar of the white shirt, and he smiles so wide it makes Eddie’s chest hurt. “Sure, I’ll be there. Can’t miss an opportunity when a cutie like you asks me out.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, right.” Richie rolls his eyes and walks towards the back door, basically escaping their awkward conversation. Which Eddie is infinitely grateful for because he might’ve jumped Richie in that sterile backroom.

He walks out after checking that they didn’t leave a mess and notices that the café is mostly deserted now. Most people would be at the bar at this time of night. The group is sitting at the large table closest to the register and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees a curly redhead standing by it, talking to Ben animatedly. “Bev?” She turns towards him and beams instantly. Her board is abandoned on the floor when her arms wrap around Eddie, slightly lifting him off the ground. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your location, dummy.” Her short hair tickles his ears, and he pulls away with a small squeal. She turns his arms to see the damage and gives him an adorable pout. “My boo got a boo-boo.”

“You wish I was your boo.”

She groans loud, throwing her hands towards the hypothetical sky. “God, I do!”

The boys at the table laugh, the entirety of Ben’s attention on all Beverly’s movements. Richie, on the other hand, doesn’t take his eyes off Eddie and it’s making him restless. He walks towards the table and touches Ben’s shoulder gently. “Hey, thank you for the kit.”

Ben puts a hand on top of his and smiles bashfully. “Don’t worry about it.” He gets up from the chair and moves in the direction of the register. “By the way, do you guys want anything? I’m closing soon.”

Eddie feels something tickling his fingers and looks down, seeing Richie’s hand hovering there, uncertain. “You want something Eddie-Spaghetti?”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call him?” Bev leans on the table and looks at Eddie with raised brows that translate to you better spill ALL the tea, immediately. Her eyes drift down to where their fingers helplessly gravitate towards one another, and she sticks the tongue between rows of white teeth, trying to be all playful and cute. Eddie hates and loves her all at once.

“He has a thing for nicknames, I think,” says Eddie and Stan hums in response, too enthralled in his book to actively participate in the conversation. Where he got it is a mystery to Eddie.

“Are we here to discuss me or your empty stomach?” Richie lifts himself off the seat and grabs Eddie by the hips, stubbornly leading him towards the display case. Eddie’s first instinct is to swat him away but it’s Richie, and his lower body is all tingly where long fingers sneak through the jean fabric, touching the barely covered skin of Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s brain doesn’t function enough to make a conscious food choice, so he picks the first thing he sees - tomato mozzarella panini and Richie gets the same, ordering himself some kind of a green bubble tea. Eddie asks for a bottle of water, and he almost flips shit when Richie takes out his wallet to pay for both of them. But then Ben shares his employee discount and Eddie doesn’t feel that bad. The whole thing makes his stomach feel all fuzzy as if they’re on a date. Which they’re not. But he wants it to be and daydreams about exactly that when they sit down to eat, surrounded by their friends.

Ben closes the café about half an hour later, and they hang out with him until he leaves. Bev is very enthusiastic to help, volunteering to wrap the plates with pastries and wipe the counters while Eddie and Richie flip all the chairs to go on top of the tables. Stanley locks all doors and documents the expired products and Ben repeats several times that he’s infinitely grateful and they’re all angels. Most of the words are directed towards Beverly though. He’s not fooling anyone.

The night is over quicker than it began and Eddie finds himself stalling, buying time to talk more, participate in some banter, maybe offer to teach someone how to skate. But as they file out the back door, he can see that all of his friends are yawning, and he feels the exhaustion push heavily on his shoulders. Eddie is usually asleep by ten, and he wants to make it back home to do some of the school reading. He knows he’s going to be too lazy to do any of that tomorrow.

Everyone walks towards the parking lot, and Richie falls slightly behind as if expecting Eddie to temporarily stop him. Which he does, grabbing the tall boy by the elbow, making him turn. “So, will you come tomorrow? Around eight?”

Richie grins and tugs on the strap of Eddie’s overall shorts. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the nickname but doesn’t say anything. This guy is really rubbing off on him. “Thanks for patching me up. You really don’t seem like a kid who’d know stuff like that.”

Richie lifts his shirt and Eddie sees a small Finding Nemo band-aid on his ribs, but it only takes him a second to notice that. He spends the rest of the time studying the outline of the dark trail of hair that leads to the silver button. “This is me successfully making it to my front door on Friday. There was one on my chin, but it wasn’t as bad.” He shrugs and lets the shirt go, smiling at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles and puts the board down, moving it back and forth with his right foot. He wants to say so much and so little at the same time, but nothing comes out. Eventually, Richie quickly bends down and kisses him on the cheek. It’s so soft and swift that Eddie doesn’t have enough time to register what happened until he sees Richie walking backwards towards the rest of the group congregated around the only two cars at the lot. Eddie touches the burning cheek, his abdomen tumbling violently. When Richie finally turns back, Eddie lets his hands drop and laughs stupidly at the ground, dazed with all the events of what he thought would be an average afternoon. He feels a crazy buzz running through him as if someone just kick-started his body. Everything seems bright and pretty, and he feels so happy he could scream. He will scream in his pillow when he gets home.

He pushes off in the opposite direction after waving everyone goodbye, skating fast with no care in the world. The bruises are a dumb reminder to be careful, but he can’t think of anything coherent right now. He got to see Richie again, got to spend time with him. He even got a kiss. He smiles like an idiot and halfway home he hears another board behind him. He stops and turns to see Beverly speeding towards him, all smiley and giddy. She halts to his side and gently punches his arm.

“Okay, that was the most interesting group of people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“Are you gonna tell me about the tall, mysterious guy?” She wiggles her eyebrows and makes a miming move of covering her face with a cape like a vampire.

Eddie giggles and pushes off again, down the empty street. “Are you gonna tell me about the cute coffee man?”

She laughs and goes after him, swerving from side to side. “Awh, dammit! How did you catch on to that?”

“I see everything.” Eddie puts two fingers to his eyes and directs them back to Beverly. “Wanna come over?”

“Duh! Why do you think I’m skating in the opposite direction of my house, dumbass?”

They come back to the Kaspbrak residence and see Frank sleeping on the chair outside, snoring so loud Eddie’s sure they’re going to get a noise complaint. They stifle giggles as they gently wake him, half-leading him down the hall towards his bedroom. They end up talking much longer than Eddie thought they would, running way past midnight. They’re so entranced in it that by the time Bev runs out of the bathroom half-naked, seemingly interrupted by something she remembered, Eddie knows what she’s going to say before he hears it. With all the talk about their crushes, he’s shocked he forgot about it himself.

“Oh my God, you’re a birthday boy! Happy Birthday!” She squeals when she bends down to hug him, and he laughs when the cold drops land on his face and pajamas.

They whisper more in the darkness of the room, the reading forgotten and Eddie falls asleep daydreaming about a birthday kiss, and blue eye lit up by the warm glow of the fire.

Perma Tag: @studpuffin @j0ys @its-stranger-than-you-think @tinyarmedtrex @d-nbroughs @aizeninlefox @constantreaderfool  (I’m removing some people who don’t interact - I’m not here to force my work on anyone, so no hard feelings. Let me know if you want to be removed/added to a perma list or a specific fic ♡)