#Maybe if I had more friends and more people hanging with ne more often and if i had family to talk to and do things with on holidays

[im-traumatised]

Is it wrong to consider trying to date if your pretty sure your aromantic / on the aro spectrum?

[agendabymooner]

the leclerc daycare || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

EXTENTION TO OF LONG LINES AND NAMES

Summary: Charles Leclerc was a father first and a driver second. So maybe being left alone with Hervé, Jules and PJ for the night wouldn't be much of an issue. OR Aimee Leclerc travelled with her sisters and Charles got a firsthand experience of watching his kids by himself (alongside his kids’ uncles Esteban and Pierre).

Content warning: dad!Charles centric, fatherhood, mentions of pregnancy, dad!F1 Drivers x OFCs appearance (Hearth sisters!OFCs), Uncle Estie and Uncle Pierre, doubts of being a good parent, shitty French translations by Apple, wtf is beta reading

Note: Dad Charles, Dad Charles, Dad Charles content enjoy xx

masterlist

Aimee and her sisters were known for being extroverts with introverted tendencies. They communicated with anyone who’d approach them and more often than not, would keep in contact with them in case of any business. 

They didn’t like hanging out with them, as much though. Not as much as they preferred being around their sisters. Aimee, especially, didn’t enjoy being around new people— not as often as any other person would. She would much rather be around her sisters or her husband and his mates. Having three kids, with another two on the way, did something about her interest in socializing with other people. It was fairly limited before until she began attending playdates or programs for toddlers that allowed her children to make friends with others — interacting with parents was common. 

Regardless, going out for two days was different — especially when her sister, Sylvie, was wanting to celebrate her engagement before she gets married in a month. Much like the other two sisters, they preferred a day out without any friends. Just the four of them, chatting each other’s ears off. Aimee Leclerc was alright with that.

“Je ne veux pas que maman parte!” I don’t want Mummy to leave. 

The littles, though, weren’t alright with that. Jules cried his eyes out the moment he saw Aimee dressed in some satin dress. She had a weekender bag next to her vanity, the boy picking up on the fact that his mother was leaving. 

It was Charles’ week off before the next race, and rather than going to Maranello, he deliberately made the choice to stay at home and do his sim practices instead. After all, Aimee had been at home for weeks rather than traveling with McLaren during the races due to her pregnancy. The wonders of having remote work, right? 

“J,” Charles shushed his son softly, playing with the soft curls of his mini’s hair. Jules continued to cry as he wrapped his arms around Charles’ neck. “Maman n'est pas sortie pour s'amuser. Ne pensez-vous pas qu'elle mérite de s'amuser?” Mummy hasn’t gone out to have fun. Don’t you think she deserved to have fun? 

Then another little babbling came along as Hervé clung to Charles’ leg. “Elle peut s'amuser ici. Papa dit à maman qu'elle peut s'amuser ici!” She can have fun here. Daddy, tell Mummy she can have fun here. Hervé cried too, sobbing as they stood in front of the shut bathroom door. 

Aimee put down her mascara and sighed quietly. How the heck was she going to go if her sons were crying like this? The only reason why she’d managed to be roped into nights off before was because Pascale Leclerc had managed to kick her and Charles out of the house before. The boys loved their Mamé and their uncles. 

Pascale wouldn’t see them until this afternoon and their uncles were definitely not going to go until they got back from work. It was only 6:45 in the morning. 

How the hell were Hervé and Jules awake at this time, anyway? They liked to sleep, so how they managed to get the hell out of their bedroom at this time of the day was a mystery.

Aimee then remembered what her sister said. Intuition. Aimee was the same back when her sister was eighteen and heading to university in the morning. Two year old Aimee would wake up just to say good morning then dash off to have breakfast with the other sisters. So maybe her twins had the kind of intuition when someone’s leaving. 

She didn’t think that their reaction would be like this in the morning. 

“Oui, but my littles,” Charles crouched down to speak to both his kids, “do you know how Papa’s been working a lot and Maman has been home to have fun with you?” 

Hervé and Jules sniffled, but nodded nonetheless. Charles continued, “Papa has fun at work, but it’s Papa’s time to have time with you. Maman deserves to see what’s out there that she can have fun with.”

“We can go out to have fun with Maman!” Hervé cried out, protesting against Charles’ proposal. 

“Maman will go somewhere littles can’t go,” Charles told the boys. “How about we have some breakfast and make sure the babies are eating too before Maman goes, hm? Make some breakfast so Maman will be happy and be full of your looove by making her food?” 

“Maman sera-t-elle heureuse si nous lui faisons à manger?” Will Mummy be happy if we make her food? Jules asked, the two of them no longer crying. Thank god for that otherwise PJ, their two year old brother, would see it and somehow make himself comfortable at the tear train. 

Charles grinned at his boys and nodded, “Oui. Maybe we can make her some chicken and waffles— last I heard, the babies want some chicken.” 

Jules wiped his tears away and exclaimed, “Okay! I help, Papa! Herb! Come!” Then ran off the couple’s bedroom, his twin brother hot on his heels as Hervé dashed off. 

Charles watched the boys run out and winced, hoping PJ wouldn’t wake up to the loud footsteps made by the older kids as he slumped against the wall by the bathroom. 

The door swung open next to him, making him look as Aimee stepped out with a sheepish smile. He approached her carefully and wrapped his arms around her, his hands trailing down the protrusion of her stomach as he sighed, “I hope these two wouldn’t be that much trouble to handle.” 

“Hmm,” Aimee hummed happily, taking his hand to kiss the palm of it. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” 

Charles scoffed as if Aimee was questioning his superman abilities to stay sane. “I’ve been driving a Ferrari for god knows how long,” he joked, kissing her temple as his other hand continued to caress her stomach. “I’ve gone way past my sanity line. Don’t worry about the three, oui?” 

“I’m not worried about your minis,” Aimee giggled, “I’m more worried about you. You’re most likely to go mad once you realize PJ likes a little bit of mischief with Herb and J.” 

“As I said,” Charles rolled his eyes, peering down at her as he continued, “I’m no longer sane. I think I’ll be able to find composure.” 

The breakfast definitely DID NOT show all of that. Because by the time Charles reached the kitchen, an egg was already cracked open on the floor. Not only that, but Hervé and Jules’ tanned faces (alongside their jammies) were covered in waffle mix after they’ve both dropped the bag of mix on the floor. 

But their breakfast wasn’t that much of a disaster, to say the least. In between Aimee’s cooking and the boys’ morning shower, they somehow managed to find some time to eat breakfast. PJ had already woken up when Charles’ voice turned loud enough at the shock just as he stepped into the kitchen. Trying to get him to eat his fruits wasn’t as difficult. He was angelic of all the Leclercs that both Pascale and Aimee had given birth to. 

“C’mon, mon chou, last one for Daddy,” Charles opened his mouth wide, trying to get PJ to mimic the action. PJ followed his father, his mouth opening as Charles made airplane noises, his hand twirling around while it held a slice of banana stabbed into a silicone fork. It didn’t take long for the food to land on the toddler’s mouth as he kicked his feet in enthusiasm. 

“Tu vois? C'est de la bonne nourriture, n'est-ce pas?” See? It’s good food, don’t you think so? Charles asked his youngest, making the boy nod. “Good boy, PJ.” 

Charles turned to look at his twins, who both stood on their two step stools next to their mother as they watched Aimee wash their dishes. Aimee was apparently teaching them how to do their dishes as she said, “Then when it’s clean, you just put it right here.” 

“What’s this called, Maman?” Hervé pointed at the display next to the sink. 

“It’s a dish rack,” Aimee replied.

“Rack? What does the rack do?” Jules asked, his curious voice making Charles grin to himself. His boys were quite inquisitive about anything. Whenever they’re out, Hervé could point at something and ask. Jules would often follow after Hervé asked. 

And it wasn’t anything worrying. Charles and Aimee loved it when they asked a lot, because they had a lot to answer. It’s always a joy to answer their children’s curiosities. 

“That’s where you leave the plates after cleaning them,” Aimee answered, now drying her hands on the towel. “It’s to make sure they dry. You don’t eat on wet plates do you?” 

“Yuck,” Hervé and Jules pulled a face. “No wet food!” 

“Exactly,” Aimee grinned, looking up to see Charles staring at her and their kids lovingly. She then asked, “Are you enjoying your time staring, love?” 

Charles shook himself out of his thoughts and said, “Yeah. Mr. Sacha is done with his breakfast too.” 

“Oh? He finished it?” Aimee peered down at PJ, “how did you like it, my little bug?” 

Aimee didn’t like that nickname at first. PJ had only earned that nickname after everyone learned that she’d gotten more sick with him than she did with the twins, and Esteban joked that her baby was a literal stomach bug. But after some convincing (with the help of Esteban and Mick, dressing PJ as a grasshopper for his first halloween), Aimee finally caved in. PJ was her little bug.

“Little bug loved it well,” Charles grinned, lifting PJ out of his high chair and grabbed the empty plate. He placed down the dirty dish into the sink as Hervé and Jules’ eyes gleamed in excitement. “Boys, let Papa do it later. Maman’s going soon. Who’s coming to pick you up again?” 

“All three of them, once that Tils’ picked up Stevie and Sylv.”

“Oh,” he replied, “so is anybody dropping off their car to use yours or…” 

“No,” Aimee scoffed. “No one’s touching any of my cars. You are using the SUV, no?”

“That’s kinda assumed already,” Charles replied, “I just thought you’d use your… actually never mind.”

While their family expanded largely over the past few years, their garage did too. Much like her sisters, Aimee had a collection of cats hidden away to avoid being burglarized. Everyone knew about Charles’ custom Pista and the family SUV that they had — an Aston Martin. But they didn’t seem as phased as they were when they found out that Aimee had a vintage Mini Cooper and a coated copper McLaren 765LT hidden somewhere in their family home.

So really… Charles assumed that they’d borrow either one of their hidden gems for the trip as Aimee’s Cooper was often used than Stevie’s military green LaFerrari or Sylvie’s orange Cadillac. 

“The poor Cooper’s been treated like a bus for the past few months,” Aimee snorted. “You know I wouldn’t allow them to drive it either.” 

The ring on the doorbell had woken up something within the twins as they both squealed and bolted to the door, leaving Charles to yell, “Boys, don’t open the door without— damn it!” 

“Charles!” “Sorry! No swearing!”

He then returned to the dining area with Hervé being carried by Aimee’s eldest sister Tilly and Jules with Sylvie. Stevie followed behind as they greeted Aimee, “Morning, Aims! Excited for a good two day vacation?” 

“Oh am I ever,” Aimee rolled her eyes, gesturing at her husband, “he’s a different story.” 

Sylvie raised a brow and spoke amusedly, “You having fun yet, Charles?”

“I am,” Charles waved off Sylvie’s joking tone, “I’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t worry you’ll be fine,” Stevie chuckled, “even Lewis is running a daycare at home.” 

“Aun’ ‘Teve,” PJ toddled his way towards Stevie and tugged on her trousers, “L’land?” 

Stevie peered down at her little nephew — who was the same age as her youngest, Leland, and cooed, “Leland is at home with Uncle Lew and Lotlot, little bug. Maybe you’ll see him sometime today.” 

“Ah speaking of,” Tilly started, looking at Charles now as she said, “I think Lewis and Toto are planning to take the kids out today for the… indoor playground cafe. I’m sure they’ll be happy to have more kids and an extra pair of hands to come along.” 

“Oh nice, more kids,” Charles’ face didn’t even show how nice the thought was. 

“Good luck taking care of eight kids lads,” Sylvie winked, huffing out a laugh after Aimee nudged her a little bit too hard. “I’d offer Max but he isn’t here. I’m sure Arthur and Lorenzo would be more than happy to help!” 

That was a lie. Maybe Lorenzo would help a lot, but Arthur… Now Arthur was a good uncle, but he often leaned more into the chill uncle side than the kind who would somehow watch his words around the kids.

And so when the Leclerc boys saw the matriarch off to Stevie’s Bentayga (while Charles continued to remind his wife’s sisters that she was pregnant — practically warning them not to be stupid about driving), he immediately pulled his phone out to text the only people who’d be more than willing to go less sane with the kids.

Charles: Are you up for some insanity? Aimee’s out for today to tomorrow afternoon.

Esteban: What’s in it for me?

Pierre: He just said insanity.

Pierre: I hope you have enough room in your AM.

Charles: Fuck. I guess I’m taking out the Cadillac.

Charles: Will anyone help me take them out of the garage and help me move the boys’ seats to the other SUV?

Esteban: 👍

Pierre: 👌

Esteban Ocon showed up an hour earlier than Pierre did. When he did, he brought along a small gym bag full of his overnight clothes. Alongside his clothes were boxes of Spider-Man figures. Not everyday Esteban got to share his love for Marvel to anyone, and he could help but jump at the chance to introduce No Way Home to the Leclerc boys.

Now, he was in the kitchen, teaching the Leclerc littles how to operate the oven as they baked some chocolate chip cookie dough that they found in the deep depths of the freezer. Perhaps it was a bad idea to have Esteban come over, because he was prone to ruining their diets with his love for pastries. 

It was quarter to ten when Pierre finally arrived, with his own overnight bag and… a pile of children’s books? Charles wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right, but then the Frenchman pulled up a pop-up book version of Dr. Seuss from the pile as Charles groaned quietly. 

“Ils ont déjà beaucoup de livres, Pierre,” they already have a lot of books, Pierre. Charles told the man when he raised a brow.

“It never hurts for more,” Pierre shrugged, “how did you think PJ learned to speak a lot at this age? He won’t be chatty if it wasn’t for his Oncle P.” 

“You only started to get them books because you don’t know how baby sizes work,” Charles told him with a roll of his eyes, shutting the door behind Pierre as they both walked towards the living room.

Charles raised his brow when Pierre settled his bag down on the couch, leaving Pierre to say, “I’d head up to the guest room but I want to see the boys first,” there was a moment of silence between the two of them and in the background played the boys’ daily phonics songs. “Sick beats, by the way.” 

The pair headed off to the kitchen, where they found Hervé, Jules and PJ chatting away with their Uncle Estie. The last conversation Charles heard was about the track in Canadian GP, with Hervé saying “The turn there— what is that? Pin? Papa says is pin! It’s wooooosh~ woah, it’s so small, Oncle E!” 

“Sharp,” Estie’s signature grin returned to his face as he corrected the boy gently, “the hairpin is sharp, Herb.”

“‘Airpin?” Jules’ head cocked to the side, “I hear my cousin Tia say that!” 

“Because that’s what they use for long hairs,” Esteban replied. 

“What? All talks, no love for Oncle P?” The three toddlers turned towards the direction of the voice as they grinned widely. PJ, thank god for Charles’ reflex, had jumped off the kitchen island and ran towards his namesake. Pierre Gasly nearly tipped over at the suddenly thud on his legs as he grunted, lifting PJ up to his arms as he hugged the boy tight. “Good morning, Little P! How’s my handsome boy doing?” 

“Good, Oncle P!” PJ grinned. “Maman est partie!” Mummy left!

The enthusiasm in his tone broke Charles out of his trance as he laughed. “Sacha, why do you sound happy about Maman leaving?”

“Because she has fun!” Jules reasoned out on behalf of his brother, making PJ nodded eagerly.

And while the two were celebrating the thought, Charles looked at Hervé as he began sobbing quietly. Esteban’s eyes widened, not knowing how to react as the boy began wailing. Tears endlessly flowed out of Hervé’s eyes as he covered them with his forearm. 

“Oh no,” Charles sighed quietly. Esteban quickly recovered from shock and immediately lifted Hervé off the counter, allowing the boy to soak his shirt with his tears. 

Out of the three boys, Hervé was the only one who took the information to heart. The Leclerc kids were loved by both Aimee and Charles — but Hervé, out of the three, loved Aimee more than anything. He often clung to her like a koala on a tree, and when they’re out and about — Hervé would often hold hands with her more than he would with his Papa. It wasn’t a shock that Charles would witness his eldest cry at the absence of his Maman. 

Jules, who was sitting on the counter, stood on the marble surface and reached up to pat his twin on the back carefully. He then said, “t’s okay, Herb!” He wasn’t even sure if Hervé could hear him, but all Jules seemed to care about was comforting his brother.

“Are you sad because Maman’s gone for the day?” Esteban asked, and all he got was a nod in his neck. That, and maybe a wet patch of tears on his neck now. “Okay, okay. Is there anything Papa or your uncles can help you with that can make you feel better.”

“Maman—“ Hervé stuttered, still crying in Estie’s arms.

“Yeah, but Maman’s not here, H,” Estie replied. “What if you show us what can help you feel better? Or do you want Oncle E to help?” 

Hervé’s reddened face looked up at Esteban and nodded. “Yeah? You want me to help? Or everyone?” 

“I know!” Jules jumped, making Charles reach close to his son with a mutter of ‘Careful, J.’ 

Hervé turned to his twin as Jules exclaimed, “Princess and Frog!” 

“T’ana!” PJ squealed aloud. Hervé’s eyes brightened, all thanks to the suggestion that his brothers proposed not to his tears. Hervé nodded before he wiped his tears away and asked Estie to put him down, to which the man obliged as Charles helped Jules hop off the counter and led the Leclerc littles to the family room. 

The adults look at each other. “There will be a lot of that,” Charles smiled meekly. 

“Not a bother,” Esteban waved off with a chuckle.

“I need to put my bags upstairs,” Pierre nudged Charles lightly. “Before craziness even begins.”

The oven goes off at the same time, leaving Esteban to turn away and return to the kitchen as he said, “I’ll leave this to cool off. You need help moving cars, you said?” 

“Yes please,” Charles replied, following his boys to the living room as they navigated through the Disney app. 

He then heard Estie say, “Can I drive her Mc—“

“I can’t let you drive the McLaren, sorry,” Charles interrupted Estie before he could continue on.

Charles: Hey! Are you and Toto still taking the kids out today? 

Lewis: Hey Charles! Yeah we’re taking them out today. If we’re gonna get heart attacks we can at least do it together. You in? 

Charles: Pierre and Estie would come along, if you don’t mind? 

Lewis: Five against eight? We’re still outnumbered. But yea, of course! 

Charles: Haha!

One of the joys of having children was the opportunity to dress them. The same could be said for Charles. They always said that it was hard having to dress boys, and while that remained true, it didn’t discourage the Ferrari driver from dressing his boys up whether they’re going out or heading to bed. 

He could admit that he couldn’t dress for shit, but it didn’t mean that he’d do the same to his kids. 

Neither he and Aimee believed that Jules and Hervé should be dressed the same whenever they’re out because they were twins. In fact, they thought that it would be a bit too confusing for them. At the very beginning of their lives, they were always dressed differently. 

The same could be said for today. Hervé was dressed in a Ralph Lauren denim button up and some denim shorts, his hair tied loosely to a bun to avoid his soft curls getting in the way of his face. 

Jules, however, was dressed in a white tee (with the infamous Burberry pattern sewn as a pocket) and khaki shorts while his hair was merely brushed back. Esteban Ocon was quite proud of his work of art. 

Sacha Leclerc, or PJ, had opted for a soft pink shirt with the Ralph Lauren polo logo on its left chest and some denim shorts with Mickey Mouse embroidered all over the place. He beamed at his Oncle P proudly, immensely proud of his decision to dress like this. Pierre Gasly merely high fived him, proud of his godchild for no reason. He was just proud. 

No one was prouder than Pascale Leclerc, though. Just as her hair salon opened and the boys (and the men) took a ten minute trip there, she gasped at the sight of her grandchildren. 

“Oh mon! Qui sont ces beaux garçons ? S'agit-il de mes petits-enfants?” Oh my! Who are these handsome boys? Are these my grandchildren? Pascale squealed, excusing herself from her receptionist as she knelt down to get on the level of the toddlers. “You three are always soooo handsome! Did Papa dress you?” 

Esteban and Pierre cackled on the side, leaving Charles to look at his mother with an unamused expression. Pascale giggled. It was a running joke in the family that Charles was shit at dressing himself, and when Aimee got married into the family it got even worse — with Arthur starting the chaos with, “Can you believe that, Charles? Two models for sisters-in-law and another who worked for Vogue and you’re still dressed like this?” 

“I sure hope not,” Pierre continued behind Charles, leaving the Monegasque to kick his best friend.

“I did!” Jules grinned proudly. “I dress up myself, Mamé!” 

“I did too!” Hervé raised his hand, catching the attention of his grandmother. PJ babbled along and told her that he too had dressed himself. 

“Wow! Such big boys, you are!” Pascale exclaimed, pulling out her phone to stand up. “Can you smile big for Mamé? Say cheese.”

“Cheeseeee~” the three grinned heavily as Pascale took a photo of the three. Typing for a good second, she finally put her phone away and looked at Charles and his fellow grid mates. 

“I sent it to Aimee’s mothers,” Pascale explained herself as the men nodded.

“What are you up to today?” Pascale asked. “I heard the girls are out for today and tomorrow?” 

“They’re going to stay in Cannes for the day,” Charles replied before leaning towards his mother and whispered, “Hervé cried twice today, Maman and I’m worried he’s not going to sleep tonight because Aimee’s not here.”

Pascale let out a quick snort and shrugged it off, “Yes he would,” she reassured him with a pat on the head. “He managed to sleep well when you two were out for the weekend.” 

“But that’s with you, Maman,” Charles looked back to find Esteban and Pierre preoccupied with the kids as he continued, “What if the three of them won’t settle because I haven’t been around them for too long and I haven’t put them to bed before? Hervé cried because of his Maman. He sees Aimee more than he does me so—“

“Charles, pause,” Pascale grabbed her son on both of his shoulders and shook him out of his thoughts. “Take a deep breath.” The middle Leclerc man obliged, heaving a deep sigh as his mother told him, “He won’t make things hard for you, Charles. He’s not crying because he likes Aimee more than you, but it’s only because he’s going to have to adjust for tonight. Kids, when they’re outside their routine, act differently when they have to follow a new one — so he’s not acting like that because you’re the one who’s with him tonight.” 

“Hervé loves you, Charles,” Pascale told him softly. “With how he proudly wears your number on his shirt and his jackets, and how he brags about his Papa in the red car, I think I can say that he loves you so much. He will never ever make things hard for you with Aimee not being here for today— or for all those times she wouldn’t be there. So, don’t worry about it. Just don’t make things hard for him either. Try to make sure he’s comfortable with adjusting his routine. Make sure that your children are feeling comfortable with the thought of doing things differently than usual.” 

Charles glanced back at his kids, the pressure on his shoulders long gone as he nodded at Pascale. “Merci, Maman.” 

“Yeah of course,” Pascale giggled quietly. “I’ve always wondered the same when your father was gone. Look where I am now. Look at where you are now. The boys just need to adjust a little, Charles. Just make sure you’re there to guide them if needed.” 

Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff were rarely at Monaco, these days. 

After Lewis retired, he thought of selling his house in Monaco. Being a father was what he wanted and clearly, while he was still fit for a celebrity lifestyle he resorted to being a quiet and reserved man. His 5-acre estate in Warwickshire showed something of serenity, their home surrounded by nothing but woods and a river nearby. He was content with being at home with his children while his wife Stevie continued to work as a model and Ferrari’s communications director. He preferred the quiet while he taught his daughter phonemes, and it was clear to everyone he abandoned his flat in Monaco. Now the flat served as his vacation home whenever his family would go on a holiday and see their cousins. 

The same goes to Toto. He hadn’t retired as a team principal yet, but his Monaco place no longer held the same value as his estate in Brackley. One of his kids was already eleven (already in year nine) and playing in his school’s association football team and the other (nine years old) had been entering karting tournaments around England almost every weekend. He once told Charles about his estate and how he had it purchased and renovated long before his eldest son with Tilly even existed — how well he valued his home there and wouldn’t exchange it for Monaco or Austria. Much like Lewis, he was content with his home there, and it didn’t help that the Mercedes factory was only a few minutes away from his home. Toto expressed his interest in selling his house in Monaco once that his vintage Mercedes was moved back to Brackley, but then his nephews were born (and were planned to be raised in Monaco). He then decided that it was a home to go to whenever his kids wanted to see the Leclerc kids — their cousins. 

So after everyone started talking about Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff no longer residing in Monaco and their rare appearance in the streets of the principality, it never came as a shock to anyone anymore. It was still rare, but it was expected. 

But the sight of the two, alongside the three current drivers that just sat along the older ones, would be considered hilarious and extra special for the fans. Because not everyday you get to see two Mercedes personnel casually hanging out with a Ferrari driver and two Alpine drivers. At least, not with the two Alpine drivers while they all sat on a cozy indoor playground and cafe in Monte-Carlo. It wasn’t everyday you get to see Toto Wolff and the drivers talk about the racing season while they all sip on some silly cat and animal-themed cups with their kids running amuck in the playing area. 

Toto’s two older kids were somewhere else, and Charles could only assume that they were at the football area. None of his kids were crying yet, and so he sat there relaxed as he listened to whatever Lewis was talking about. 

“Did you really allow Aimee to go with the girls?” Lewis asked Charles, making the Monegasque nod. “You could’ve said no, that way they’re just stuck here in Monaco.”

“She’ll be fine,” Charles was beginning to think that he was only saying those words to reassure himself, not others. “She hasn’t been out for a while.”

“They still could have found something here,” Lewis pointed out.

Charles rolled his eyes, “That’s true. But Aimee lives here, she knows every curb to avoid and I don’t think I don’t want to bore her to death.” 

“Besides,” Charles shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t want her to think I’m trying to lock her up by making her stay in Monaco all the time.”

“She’s your wife,” Pierre brought up.

“She’s my boys’ Maman, but she’s also been working her ass off trying to keep them happy while I’m gone someplace else,” Charles couldn’t find himself to argue, only telling them what the men needed to hear, “the least I can do is to let her travel the same way I do almost every week.”

“She loves the boys, that’s why her work in McLaren’s now remote,” Toto nodded, reaching on his pastel donut cat cup as he sipped on his tea, “I appreciate you for recognizing that.” 

“It’s the only thing I can do besides spend my time with the kids,” Charles replied, looking around to find his kids as Hervé came dashing and jumping into the ball pit of the soft play area. Hervé’s head popped up from the ball pit as he grinned, finding his father watching as he waved enthusiastically. Charles grinned and waved back before he turned back to the men, “I don’t think I’ll ever regret spending my time with them. If anything, I regret leaving Aimee behind while I go away to race. Lessens my time with the boys.” 

TWO MERCEDES, A FERRARI AND TWO ALPINES WALK INTO A CAFE: The Popular Fathers of F1 were seen on some Father-Children day out in Monte-Carlo.

“Hamilton, Leclerc and Wolff = Fathers of the Year? PLUS, a surprise appearance of Uncles Esteban Ocon and Pierre Gasly included in this article!” 

THE MONTE-CARLO DADDY DAYCARE: These might be the best photos taken of Lewis Hamilton, Toto Wolff and Charles Leclerc yet!

“Where’s Max Verstappen? Oh, and HI ESTIE BESTIE AND PEAR!” 

THE HEARTH HUSBANDS: How Toto Wolff, Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc made the best husband materials ever through these photos.

“Max Verstappen, maybe it’s your time to shine, too!”

Aimee: I’m gonna go to sleep now but omg those photos of you and the other two are so funny haha!!! I’ll talk to you more about it tomorrow, but the babies wanted to say goodnight my love :)

Charles: I’ll tell you so much about the boys’ playdate tomorrow. Sleep well, mon cœur ❤️

Aimee: Give them kisses for me?

Charles: Already did for you. Now sleep.

Aimee: Sleep well, my love 

“Papa?” At first, Charles wanted to fall back asleep at the sound. He thought that he was just dreaming. His dream was literally just about baking those cookies— and with the call of Papa he assumed that he was just being called by the boys from the living room. 

Then he felt a small soft hand on his cheek, making his eyes open slowly as he witnessed his three sons standing there. He sat himself up a little, stretching as he asked, “H, Jules? PJ? What’re you boys doing up?” 

“Nous ne pouvons pas dormir parce que maman ne nous a pas embrassés,” we can’t sleep because Mummy didn’t give us a hug. Jules said as quietly as he could, swinging his body back and forth while he clung onto his Lotso bear. 

PJ pulled his hand back from holding Charles’ face as he meekly stood there, still sucking on the pacifier. 

Hervé nodded at Jules’ comment and sheepishly asked, “Can we sleep here, Papa?”

PJ pulled the pacifier off and added, “Pwease?” 

Charles shook himself out of his thoughts. He was still feeling a bit hazy after being woken up by his kids at… two in the morning. These kids really have a bad habit of waking up in the most inconvenient time. 

But just as he was looking down at his kids, who still stood at his side of the bed, he couldn’t help but smile softly. He might not be Aimee to make them feel comfortable enough to go to sleep after being given a hug, but the least he could do was be there for them. 

Looking back at today’s events, he seemed to be content with the result of his plans and his kids’ reaction towards it. Sure, Hervé might’ve cried for the first three hours, but he soon got comfortable at the thought of spending time with his Papa while Aimee was somewhere else and away from them. PJ proudly dressed himself up and decided what to wear by himself. Jules comforted Hervé when his twin got sad. He was nothing but proud of his boys. He was hella proud of himself.

And he loved his boys so much that he couldn’t deny them anything. Now that he thought of it, it was even harder to deny them anything because Aimee wasn’t here. He was just happy they hadn’t asked for sugar before bed. 

He grinned at his boys and patted the empty spot next to him, hoisting PJ up while he said, “Alright. Up we go then, boys. Let’s go get some good sleep.”

It’s safe to say that the Leclerc daycare went well today. That was a major achievement for Charles. Thank god for his mother and other peer support, right?

[justrainandcoffee]

Non, je ne regrette nein (Eames x fem!oc) Part III

Masterlist. Part I - Part II

Summary: Flashback to 2003 when Eames was still dating Sophia Prince || In present times, 2010, Jasmine finally is ready to see Eames and talk to him after five years. || Eames tells her how he felt during his relationship with her twin. || Jasmine learns what an inception is.

Warnings: Toxic relationship. || Flashbacks. || For a reason I don't know, the fandom named Eames as Ian centuries ago and that's the name I'm using for him. ||

Words: 3k

2003.

Jasmine was studying in the living room. Around her, books and notebooks. Pens, sticky notes and a coffee next to a half eaten sandwich.

The twins shared an apartment that their parents rented to them while both girls were studying. Sometimes her friends were there too, but not so much as Eames. Sophia's boyfriend, when he wasn't travelling used to spend his days there. Often in Sophia's bedroom, others just in the living room, reading or resting. But when he had to leave the country it was, sometimes, for months. Sophia never could answer properly what his job was, because he never told her exactly "just business." So Sophia spread the rumour that his boyfriend was exactly that: a businessman. He wasn't, but the idea liked her and for the moment no one contradicted her. Eames never said the truth behind his trips, either.

Eames arrived at their apartment at night with two pizzas and beer. He knew that the sisters were studying but maybe they could rest a bit.

Everything started well, as always, until Sophia started to tease Jasmine about her new colour hair.

That day was the first time she dyed her hair although it was just her hair ends. It was dark purple and Jasmine was visible happy about her new look.

Her sister not so much.

"Oh, come on, Jasmine, you can't tell that you like it. What was you thinking?"

"What's your problem? It's my hair and my head. I'm already an adult, I can do whatever I want with my own body."

"And yet, we always hang out together. People will stare at us because of you. They will laugh at you, Jas. Jesus, can't you just be normal?"

Eames frowned, he knew his girlfriend could be harmful sometimes and he didn't like that at all "Sophia, just shut up. You're not being funny right now, you're being mean."

"You're on her side?"

"Yes, yes I am. Jas is right, it's her choice and as adult she can do whatever she wants. People always will stare, no matter if she dyes her hair or not. Maybe they could stare at her because they're admiring her, because they like her. Why everything has to be negative when you're talking about Jas, Sophia?"

"I'm just trying to protect her. People can be assholes."

"The only asshole right now is you," Eames replied.

Sophia grunted and lay down over the sofa "I'm fucking sorry then, Jasmine."

Her sister didn't reply but nodded looking at her brother-in-law. Eames smiled at her.

Jasmine put her headphones on when later that night, Eames and Sophia went to her bedroom. Last thing she wanted to hear was the noises those two were about to make. The exam she was studying for was difficult enough to got distracted by them. But what happened inside the bedroom wasn't what Jasmine thought.

For over an hour, they were focused on a movie starring Will Smith but the proximity between the two of them, was more desirable. On her bed, they both were kissing. Eames was embracing his girlfriend in his arms while she was on top of him.

"Are you fine?" Sophia asked, with her hands over his chest.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, I thought we were going to fuck. But you don't seem ready to it."

"Because I don't want to tonight. I'm enjoying kissing you. Is that bad?"

"How old are you? 14? Let's fuck, Eames."

"I said no, Sophie. I don't want to, not today. I'm tired and I just want to relax like we were doing right now."

"Are you fucking someone else?"

"What!?" Eames apart her from him. "No, I'm not!"

"Then, why don't you…?"

"Are you going to force me? I don't want to, I said! I'm tired! You know what? I better go. Good night, Sophia."

After putting his shoes again, Eames left Sophia's bedroom. Inside, she threw a pillow against the door when he closed it behind him. Eames first thought after crossing the hallway was that he needed to end that relationship. He was absolutely tired of her, despite that he tried, and failed, to fall in love with her again.

In the living room where his jacket was, also was Jasmine. The other twin had fallen asleep on the sofa with her books and notes around her. Eames grabbed a blanket that was there and covered her with it. He also removed her headphones and put them aside. But Eames also couldn't help himself and ran his fingers through her hair softly.

"Good night, princess," he whispered.

Princess was a pet name that he gave her soon after he knew her. Being Prince her last name and Jasmine her first name, Eames couldn't help but think that it was similar to Princess Jasmine, the one from Disney. So from that moment on, he started to call her like that.

Although, as the time passed, he started to use it only when he felt it. Like that moment.

"You like her," his mind told him and the thought scared him. He looked at Jasmine one last time that night and left the place but not without writing something on a piece of paper "Your hair is pretty." Jasmine only discovered the note the next morning when she woke up. She smiled and kept the paper in her book.

Jasmine found Eames two days later when she was walking back to her apartment after her last class of the day.

"Sophie is still studying," she informed him.

"Yes, I know. But I don't want to talk to her, I want to talk to you."

"Oh, okay… everything is fine?"

"Do you have time for a coffee, Jas?"

"Yes, sure. I'm freezing and a hot beverage is always welcomed."

Crossing the avenue, they found a cozy coffee shop that at those hours was almost empty. Inside, they sat next to the window and waited for the waitress.

"I'm going to break up with your sister," he said directly. "I'm tired, Jas. We argued constantly, the other night too."

"Oh, fuck. I- are you sure?"

"Yes. I wanted to tell you this first because we're friends. I like spending time with you but probably the best thing to do is to cut ties with you, too. I don't want to do that, but you're the strongest link between me and Sophia. And if we keep seeing each other, Sophia might find a reason to watch me again. And that's the last thing in my life."

"You're really upset, Ian."

"Yes, I am. I'm living in constant stress because of your sister and it's over. Probably I should have done this months ago, but I was ignoring some things that I can't ignore anymore."

"Sophie can be… difficult."

"Not just that, Jas. Sophia some times has bad attitudes that I can't tolerate anymore. The other day what she said to you. Fuck her," Eames looked through the window before putting his eyes in her again. "I'm sorry, she's your sister. I shouldn't speak about her like that."

"It's okay. You're not the first one who's is upset with her. Did you talk to Eva?"

"No. I didn't see her in a while."

Jasmine stopped talking for a moment when the waitress went to their table and took their order.

"What happened between your sister and Eva?"

"I wasn't there. That day I had a date, Holly gave my number to one of his classmates and I went out with him…"

Eames nodded although internally felt a pang of jealousy. Fucker, who was he?

"This was almost three weeks ago," Jasmine continued unaware of his thoughts "The girls went out to drink something and have fun. It happened that Sophie found a group of friends there, too. Another one. You know she's very outgoing and extrovert. She has friends everywhere. Well, it happens that Eva heard something…"

The coffee and croissants were already in front of them and Jasmine was stirring her mug.

"…when Eva told me, or confronted me, I was really ashamed of Sophia. I know the kind of person she is, Ian. I'm not an idiot, but it's easier to ignore some things. Long story short, Eva heard when Sophia was saying her other mates that she was friend with Eva because of her money. Uhm- basically she used these words 'Disgusting rich bitch'."

"Oh, well... fuck."

"Eva asked me if I thought the same. And of course not! What the hell! I love my friends!"

"Did she believe you?"

"Yeah. I have no reason to lie and she's quite perceptive. I didn't know Sophia had those thoughts. Not about Eva at least. But since then, Eva put distance between her and my sister. Holly didn't approve her words either but they still talk, although it is not the same. I totally agree, you know? But it is sad… and I hate it. The group is completely dissolved."

"Yeah, but it's not our fault." Eames smiled at her "or better, it's not your fault, Jas. The only thing you two have in common is your appearance. And as for me… I'm sure soon you will have a new brother-in-law."

"Not as cool as you," Jasmine chuckled. "Will you be fine? I'm going to miss you."

"I'll be fine. And I'm going to miss you too, princess."

That was the last time they saw each other until two years later when they found in that night club and kissed for the first time.

2010

Her last patient left her clinic just in time to go to the place where Eames was waiting for her.

She looked herself in the mirror of the little bathroom she had in her workplace and changed her clothes and also put some lipstick on.

"Why?"

Jasmine looked herself in the mirror and watched her own reflection.

"Why?" she asked again.

"Why not?" The Jasmine in the mirror seemed to ask.

Sophia could say to her that it was unnecessary. That Eames could never pay attention to it. Nor her makeup, nor her yellow dress. Maybe, Sophia could say, he could notice her perfume. And that, only if she was closed to him.

Like she always did. Paul wasn't really interested in Jasmine, Sophia said to her when they were 15 "he just wants to lose his virginity and is using you." So despite she liked him, Jas apart him from her life. But Paul really liked Jasmine. When they were 16; Maurice, the son of their new neighbour, according to Sophia just made a bet with his friends to see which of the twins was the easiest. She said it one afternoon when she saw Jasmine giggling with the boy. And if not Paul or Maurice, then it was Rick, Charles or Peter. All boys interested in Jasmine weren't good people. But if they paid attention to Sophia herself the story was always different. They loved her. Eventually, Jasmine learnt to be quiet and didn't tell her again about her love interest. Yet, Sophia still had something to say about those young men once they knew them. "I'm just trying to protect you, Jas. You're my twin and I love you."

"But Sophia isn't here," Jasmine said to herself and, after all, she was wearing makeup and that dress because she felt good doing it. Not just for a man. And after all, it was just Eames, her old friend.

But the spirit of Sophia couldn't be more wrong. Eames did notice the yellow dress. Impossible not to, when the sun seemed to made it shine. He kissed her cheek greeting her.

"I'm glad you came, Jas."

"I was unsure, I'm not going to lie. But, on the other hand, I'm really curious. Something is telling me, that I'm going to regret it, but I couldn't help myself. Curiosity killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought him back. It can't be that bad if I'm the one involved, Jas," Eames said with his cockiest smile "But we don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to. How are you?"

"Busy, stressed, tired… bored."

"Monotonous life?"

"Something like that, yes. How about you? Do you still travel a lot?"

"I do travel a lot, yes. I've been living in Mombasa for a while, too."

"Holy shit, Ian. That's really far away."

"Life is about experience, isn't it? I did good friends there."

"I'm glad to hear that, then."

"Thanks, princess."

Her hazel eyes opened wide when she heard that word again. Jasmine let out a soft chuckled "I can't believe you remember the way you used to call me. It's been ages! Sophia never liked that."

"How can I forget that? It's impossible not to associate your name with hers," he said and then snorted "there was a lot of things your sister didn't like back then. Did she grew up or is still behaving like a spoiled baby?"

"You still hate her."

"Nah. No, I don't hate her anymore. He made my life a living hell but I had to let it go. Time changes. Or maybe I now understand that I was inside a toxic relationship where the victim wasn't the woman but the man. Do you know how many of my friends knew I was dating her? None. I was ashamed to admit that I wasn't happy, that she controlled me. Especially because two of my best friends had healthy relationships. So, I remained in silence. Of course they knew I was seeing someone, but they thought it was just something unimportant. Two days ago I called one of them, Alice, and only then after 7 years I confessed that I knew her. And you . But she still doesn't know the kind of person Sophia is."

"Oh, shit, Eames… I didn't know it was that bad. Sophia, well, she talked tons of shit about you after you two broke up. I didn't believe her, by the way. Nor Holly. Eva never talked to her again, so... And after she moved back to Canada, that's where she's living since then, the only person she kept talking to it was me. Sophia said that her friends were shitty people because they didn't comfort her as she deserved."

"As she deserved?"

Jasmine shrugged. "Sophia controlled me too, a lot. I regret being so blind back then. I'm still learning to blame her for a lot of things. Part of why I am here it's because I can be free, yet the B-side of being a twin is that I saw her in every mirror. If this year I don't return to USA to my parents house for Christmas, then it will be the fourth Christmas in a row that I don't see her. We still talk… but you know."

"Does she know that you and me…?" Eames looked at her. The first time after five years that both of them saw each other and the topic was still awkward as the next morning.

"No."

"Fine, then."

Jasmine didn't want to think about that. Not the dance, not his hands on her, his lips on her neck. Not the soft words he whispered in her ears, so she cleared her throat and asked him about the real reason that brought them together that afternoon.

"Oh. Well, okay. It's difficult to explain. This is something I never told your sister and I'm glad I never did but I trust you, Jas. And I need you, too. Listen to me before judging me."

It'd be easier to her mind process all what Eames was saying if she imagine that like a sci-fi movie.

"You play with people's mind?"

"No. Well, yes. But it's always for a good cause, Jas. And we choose our cases very carefully, we're professionals. I've been doing this for 12 years. That's why I travel a lot. Sometimes the target is in London, other in Berlin, New York or here."

"Mombasa."

"Yes. Mombasa is different, Cobb screw up a bit there. He's the leader, a good man but still human. All of them are good people in fact, him, Yusuf, the girls… even Arthur and his lack of imagination."

"And what do I have to do with all this?"

"You know our new target. Arthur investigated and he's your patient."

"You want to implant an idea in one of my patients?! The hell no, Eames! That people trust me. I'm not going to let you! The trust between doctor and patient must be one of the most important things for any people. Especially dentists, do you know how many people are terrified of dentists to the point that put their lives in risk for a horrible dental care? Trustworthy is something basic."

"I know. There's a moral thing that you can't ignore, but this is also good for society."

"Good for society? Who's my patient?"

"The judge Pierre Durant."

"No, absolutely not. That man is an incorruptible soul, thank god. He sent to prison several politi…" Jasmine stopped talking when she saw Eames' facial expressions. "Who hired you?"

"Léon Fortier."

"Oh, god. That bastard?! And that's how you choose your cases carefully?! Are you kidding me?"

"Jas. It's not black and white. It's complex. Fortier can fuck with people but not us, because we can screw up his life completely. When he gave us his money he also gave us the consent to destroy him."

"And why do you want me?"

"Cobb thinks we can use that appointment to make this inception. The group agreed."

"And you?"

Eames shook his head "No, I don't. But for now it seems to be the only way."

Jasmine sighed "How this thing called PASIV works? It has any side effects? Can it be mixed with anesthesia? Life, somehow, can be in danger?"

"I- I don't know. We have a chemist in our team. He can make the experiment necessary to see if anesthesia and our chemicals can be mixed. It never had side effects."

"Everything in medicine has side effects, Eames. I'm a professional, don't bullshit me."

"Why don't you come with me to know the team? Part of it at least, one of them is living in Sidney right now, but she will come soon. You can talk to Yusuf about chemicals and those things I'm not really sure about how they work, although I saw incredible things in Africa. But, again you two are the ones who know, not me."

"I'm not accepting to do this yet. Are we clear, Eames?"

"Crystal clear, princess."

Eames and Jasmine left the café and went to the warehouse where Cobb and the rest were. He looked at her sideways. Her beautiful yellow dress and her even more beautiful face seemed to shine.

"I like your hair, Jas."

She couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Ian."

[chloe-spade]

Thorned Love Chapter 4: Tale as old as Time

Vil grumbled as Leona took another chess piece from Vil's side. They were back in the library and Vil found an old chess set that Leona owned as a kid, so for old good time sake, Leona challenged Vil to a game. Leona, as he boasted previously, has been winning, which made Vil determined to win at least one game.

"I never thought that you would be this good at chess," Vil muttered.

"As I said, I played for so long, Princess, and all that chess means I've become an expert at this sport. Especially when you are often alone with maids and servants while your parents tend to fawn over Falena almost all day everyday."

"All day?" Vil asked, "How unforunate."

"I'm used to it now. Rook was typically my partner for these events and he, through all of his annoying snick, has been someone I can call a friend, maybe."

Vil laughs, "Rook and I have been friends since we met at the village at a younger age. I didn't know his parents worked at the palace, and he never spoke of it to me. I just thought they were so busy."

"Understandable, Rook's parents were the Royal Hunters of the palace. That's why Rook's here ever so often," Leona yawned.

"Getting sleepy, kitten? You might lose if you fall asleep," Vil teased.

"Never."

Leona looks at Vil, "What about you and your brother? You two seem close, but that's what I heard from Rook."

"Yeah, very…" Vil sighs, "I just miss him that's all. I know Epel is very strong and he can take care of himself, but as an older brother, I can't help but worry about him and my father. I have never been away from them for so long and then there's Alderic,"

"Who…"

"Some stupid prick who believes that just because he's attractive, he deserves so much, like marry me."

"Marry? Is he that bad of a prick?"

"Yes! He went up to my door and proclaimed that since I was beautiful, or more specifically the only beautiful person in my entire village, I am the only person he would marry. It's stupid and absurd and he's so self-centered that he thinks that I would fawn over him," Vil ranted, "not after what he said to my brother, I will never touch that man, and his disgusting face."

Leona's ears twitched as Vil ranted, his eyes slightly looking up at him. Vil noticed how Leona's tail was swaying back and forth as he huffed softly, but he chose not to acknowledge it.

"If it were me, I would've sent him to the dungeon."

"That would be heavenly," Vil grins, "seeing him trapped and sob that he doesn't deserve this," Vil mocked with a laugh.

"I can see that now. But now I'm curious, what did that bastard say to your brother."

Vil stayed silent before taking the king and the queen in his hands, staring at them. He puts the queen down as he begins to speak.

"I never told anyone else this after what happened. My father told me this when I was about 8 years old, after that incident."

"And why tell me? Your captor?"

"Because, unlike the people of the village, you actually listen to what I said or just take your time out of your day to hang out with me. You've become someone I can trust, along with the others here. I don't feel like a freak here."

"Again, you are talking to a beast, so if anyone's a freak, it'd be me."

Vil lets out a chuckle before starting the story.

🥀

Vil's mother, Lorelei, was well known for her beauty. Oliver always said that Vil got his features from his mother when he turned 18, which was not surprising from the portraits he saw of her as a child.

Many fawned over Lorelei, mostly for her beauty. She adores the attention, though she was never vain about it. She was married to Oliver and had Vil. This was the time when Oliver's inventions became more well-known and was commissioned to make new inventions for the country of France, which meant Oliver was traveling more often. Vil was only 2 years old when Oliver began his traveling, so he didn't remember much and due to his young mind, he never figured out how miserable Lorelei became after Oliver's many departures.

Lorelei never showed it but it was clear to the town that she was miserable.

It did not help matters that many people would start to believe that those "commissions" were ways to get away from his family and to be with another woman, due to claims that Oliver is a crummy inventor and that no one would ever commission that cooky man.

One day, a traveling merchant came over and began selling local apples from Germany. Lorelei and the merchant talked often, mainly about his region and reminiscing about old German cultures. It has unfortunately become a small-time affair, only for a week before the merchant left to travel once more, not returning.

After Oliver's return, Lorelei has fallen pregnant. Due to Oliver's return, the town had assumed that it was a child of Oliver's. That was until the child, now named Epel was born. The town talked about the new child and reminded them of the merchant who traveled there. But no one has spoken up about it due to some believing it to be cruel rumors about Lorelei.

Lorelei tried to laugh them off. But deep down, she was becoming guilty and resentful towards her new son. With all the rumors surrounding them and with Oliver being the type that figured out lies and deceptions, she knew she would get caught and lose the happy life she worked so hard for.

After a few months of this, Oliver took note of the rumors and asked Lorelei about them, mostly to keep his headspace clear after months of inventing and falling unconscious. She denies these allegations, which helps Oliver, but afterward, he notices her dodgy attitude towards him and Epel.

But Oliver couldn't continue his investigation without the fear of her leaving their children, angry at his snooping.

One day, as if the gods planned it, a note was sent while Lorelei was out with both Vil and Epel. Oliver received the letter and read it, shocked at what he had read.

It was a note from an unknown merchant, who wrote that he misses Lorelei and her soft lips and how he daydreams of her whenever he is not occupied with his work. He planned to visit her again once he had to best travel requirements.

Oliver was of course upset and confronted his wife, ashamed of her actions and how could she do that not to Oliver, but to Vil and the new baby.

Lorelei tried to deny it, even though she was slowly becoming panicky. Then she accused Oliver of meeting with the other women while he was on his travels, which Oliver stammered about. They started to argue afterward, leaving Vil to hide with Epel in his room, trying to protect him, it was one of the memories Vil still has of the event.

Night fell and Lorelei was sleeping on the couch after the argument, but the cries of Epel were waking her up every single time. It was driving her insane, but she tried to ignore it, hoping Oliver would've dealt with it, which he had done for the majority of the night, but he was so tired that he slept through the newest cry.

Lorelei was blank as she walked towards Epel's crib, her sleeping pillow gripped tightly in her hands as she raised the pillow up and towards Epel.

The saving grace was when Vil noticed and unknowingly stopped her. Which made Lorelei retreat for the night.

The next moment, Vil asked Oliver if it was normal for Lorelei to raise a pillow over Epel at night, which caught Oliver off guard, and he rushed into Epel's room to witness the same that Vil had described. Oliver took her away, demanding what she was doing. Lorelei's screams of how Epel ruined her happy life always repeated in Vil's head, and how she was trying to set things right, after Oliver's disgusting cheating, but everyone in the town knows it was her.

Lorelei's sobs and screams attract the attention of villagers and tell the works of a nearby asylum about a crazed woman who is about to murder her child. The asylum offered to take her away from Oliver. But Oliver refused until Lorelei spewed more hatred against him and Epel as if her words were now daggers as she stabbed Oliver's heart with her words.

The beautiful and thoughtful woman in town has become ugly and vile to everyone in the town.

🥀

"Since that night I never saw her again. I was allowed visitation but I humbly refused as the asylum scared even to this day. That's why, even now, I fear for Epel's safety. Who knows if that damned escape or not…I wish I knew."

Vil looked back and saw the most concerned look on Leona's face, which looking at it more, was more mortified than concerned. Leona's eyes were slit at the story and his tail was frozen solid.

"…what?"

The Lion was too baffled to speak, as his hand holding the chess piece did not move an inch. Leona has become a statue of bafflement, which Vil was debating on soothing or laughing at him. But Vil carefully took the chess piece and with a smirk on his face, said:

"Checkmate."

🥀

Epel was trying to keep a smile as days went by and has continued to tend to his father as he always did. But with new sets of bouquets by Epel's doorway with stupid and disgusting poems attached to them made him sick to his stomach. It was hard to keep it from strangers, his father, and even Jack, someone Epel actually trusts with his life if needed, which made Epel feel guilty.

It made Epel bake for the majority of his morning, trying to see if he could avoid Alderic or even Cederic walking up to his cottage. It was making him so anxious that he wasn't paying attention to the pie that was still in his hands.

"Careful," Jack spoke up, taking the pie from Epel, "if you stand there long enough, you might as well hallucinate."

Epel quickly looks back and gulps, "S-sorry, I just…having some thoughts."

"About?"

"It's nothing," Epel answered, "I should rest up more."

"Epel," Jack took his hand, "I know something is wrong. What happened last week? Is it because of Vil being gone or because of Alderic? With you being distracted and jumpy, I would assume it's Alderic. What did he do?"

Epel gulped and looked up at Jack.

"I don't need to explain myself," Epel huffed, "It's not any of your business. And I do not need help…"

"Epel, I get it. You don't want to seem weak but you need to tell me what happened. Alderic may be a force to be reckon with but you can't deal with him alone." Jack reassured, "You have me remember?"

"I know I do! But with that asshole thinking that he can control me and that if I marry him, Father won't be stuck in a stupid asylum! And I can't object because I know it's something that Vil would do but I'm scared."

"Marry…Alderic?" Jack repeated.

"He threatened me! And I would rather marry someone else than that stupid, narcissistic ass!" Epel ranted, "If I was given a choice, I would-"

"Epel!"

Epel looks at Jack and huffs.

"Let me recall what you just said to me," Jack started, "Alderic is forcing you to marry him so he wouldn't take Oliver to an asylum. Am I correct in that assumption?"

"Yes, that's true," Epel admitted, "and because Vil isn't around for Alderic to bother. And I hate that I know if this doesn't happen, not only I lose Vil, but Father as well. I hate being weak!"

Jack took Epel in a hug, trying to calm Epel down.

"You aren't weak, Epel," Jack acknowledged, "you are the strongest person I know. I wish he would just leave you alone, you and Vil."

"Thanks, Jack," Epel sighs.

Epel moves away from Jack, face blushing. He quickly took the pie and started to wrap and store it for later, trying to look out for Alderic once again. Jack sighs, as even he wouldn't calm Epel's nerves.

"Who would you marry if it wasn't Alderic?" Jack joked.

"That's private information," Epel smiles.

"I should've know," Jack laughs, "but I know it isn't Alderic."

"We both damn know I would never marry Alderic or even Cedric," Epel gagged, "Ew. I would..marry someone who has always been there for me. Though the thought of marriage is gross enough with the expectations. I wouldn't even imagining marrying someone."

"Then, what if I said that I want to marry you?"

Epel looked over at Jack and felt his face heat up. It didn't help the situation that he was pinned to his counter, and Jack looked so flustered with his question.

"Well, if you said that…would you be surprised if I would say yes?" Epel gulped.

Jack's ears perked and his tail wagged slightly as he carefully put his hand on Epel's cheek.

"What…would happen if I kissed you?"

"I would just say do it."

Jack hesitated, still nervous. Epel huffed and pulled Jack by his collar and kissed him, surprising Jack. But it felt like Epel was finally able to get his mind at ease, especially with Jack's arms around him, promising protection which was something Epel longed for. He didn't even acknowledge the noise outside of the cottage, just focusing on Jack.

"I…wow," Jack chuckles as he pulls away.

"You hesitated," Epel teased.

"Sorry about that.."

🥀

"We still need them together," Rook moped towards Trey, "They have tried everything and they've seen them getting along, but we need something more. More, like getting them in a secluded location with a romantic flare!"

"Romantic flare? Perhaps you have ideas?" Trey asked, "Rook, you have to remember, I am not the romantic type."

"You are married, Chaviler of Roses," Rook grins, "with a beautiful boy, no less."

"I did small stuff, sure, but Jade ultimately made the move. I have no idea what I did to create romantic feelings but it must be something, like a mutual connection, it just happens, Rook." Trey explained. "They have a mutual connection, Rook, the most likely step is to set up a date. A place where all the romantic stuff can happen slowly but surely. Something that maybe should be approved by Leona firsthand."

"Ah, of course. Roi de Lion can be such a hackle when it comes to family events. Balls…wait! A personal ball. No one else but him and Roi de Poison." Rook grins, "that's perfect! Let me go to Roi de Lion!"

"Rook! And he's gone. I swear once romance enters his head, he does not let go of it."

"What did you expect?" Floyd spoke up, startling Trey, "Seagull loves romantic endeavors. I mean, he did set you and Jade together after all, so I believe he can get that date going."

"I know," Trey sighs.

Floyd smirks and takes a pastry from Trey's plate and takes a bite, eating with victory.

"No, you will not give some to Johnnie, we both know that'll spoil his dinner, and I don't want that for my son." Trey spoke without speaking up from chopping the vegetables.

"You are no fun."

🥀

"A ball?" Leona spoke up, "That's too sudden and big. No way."

"Roi de Leon, I understand, but I know Roi de Poison and I know he'll enjoy such a romantic gesture and he often reads of those in books and I think we all know this will be perfect for him. He adored those as a child, and I remember speaking of those times quite fondly when he grabbed a book from the library."

"Look, I just don't want to seem forward," Leona stated, "If he found out why I am seeking his love, I don't think I would've forgiven myself, he'll think I'm using him to save myself, but…"

"I'm surprised," Falena spoke up, "but I see this as a big chance for you, Leona. These past few weeks, you and Vil have gotten along splendidly, and this can be the greatest gesture of love you can ever give someone."

Leona thought for a moment and sat down on the bed. Imagining a grand ball was already making Leona feel nervous, but considering it was only him and Vil..it made him even more nervous. He didn't even consider doing balls mainly because what was the point? Now, he has a point, but how will he go with it?

"I need time." Leona spoke up, "If I were to plan, what should I start? How should I start?"

"Oh, I have a few things up my sleeves," Rook chuckled.

"Oh boy."

🥀

Vil came back from his bath to see an envelope in his drawer by his bed. It was placed neatly and sealed with the royal seal of the land.

Strange, but it could be a way for Leona to communicate if Vil was busy with something, something that they had discussed previously. Vil took the envelope, carefully opened it, took the letter out of it, and began to read it.

Dear Vil,

I hereby declare that I will be hosting a small event and I request your presence. Be dressed in formal clothing as this is a formal occasion and be there at 7:15.

Vil smiles and puts the letter down. Never thought he'd be invited to a fancy ball, though it was odd and he was living within the castle that gave him the invite, but he thought it was sweet nonetheless.

🥀

Vil stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting his gloves and necklace. It was the night of the royal ball, and Vil was excited but nervous at the same time. He had never been to a ball before, and he wanted to make a good impression.

He wore a purple dress with golden accents with a white gloves, paired with a small golden bow at the back of his hair and golden shoes. His hair was braided, and he had a hint of perfume on his neck. He, of course, added makeup to his look, he felt empty without it.

He also had a set of golden jewelry, courtesy of Jade. Matching necklace and earrings helped finalize his appearance.

Vil took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror once more. He knew that his brother, Epel, would have teased him for spending so much time getting ready, but Vil wanted to look his best.

As he made his way to the ballroom, Vil couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. He felt like he didn't belong. But he pushed those thoughts aside and reminded himself that he was there to have fun and enjoy the night.

As soon as Vil entered the ballroom, he was greeted by the sound of music. The room was decorated with beautiful flowers, and there was a grand staircase leading down to the ballroom dance floor.

Vil took a deep breath and made his way to the dance floor. He looked around, trying to find someone to dance with. His eyes met with Leona's, who was standing by the refreshment table.

Seeing Leona nice and clean made Vil want to laugh, but he didn't. He was just staring, at how handsome Leona is, with the blue suit with golden accents. He saw not a beast, but an actual prince, a prince he wanted to dance with.

"Would you like to dance?" Vil asked, trying to hide his nerves.

Leona smiled and took Vil's hand, leading him to the dance floor. As they swayed to the music, Vil felt his nerves melt away. He looked around the ballroom, taking in the sights and sounds of the night.

The music made things even better for them.

"We need something," Rook realizes, "To set a better mood."

"Like what exactly?" Trey questioned, "They looked happy enough. What else do we need?"

"A song," Rook hummed, "something that they can dance to, and what can describe their beautiful relationship."

"But you know that I hate singing," Trey spoke up, "especially with the romantic energy that's here."

Jade and Floyd came out from the kitchen, holding a new plate of food for dinner. Trey and Rook looked at each other and back at Jade and knew who to ask.

"Monsior Mastermind," Rook called over, "we need you to do a small favor for us."

"What for?" Jade asked.

"We need you to sing for this lovely event," Rook announced with a smile.

"No."

"Come on, Jade! Sing something for us," Floyd urged, nudging him playfully.

"I don't know," Jade sighs, "I'm not comfortable singing in front of people," Jade pointed out.

"Oh, come on, you have an amazing voice! I know you can do it," Trey grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"And it'll be amazing for this beautiful for tonight," Rook added, "and your voice will do perfectly."

After a few moments of hesitation, Jade finally gave in and decided to sing a song.

🥀

Tale as old as time

True as it can be

Barely even friends

Then somebody bends

Unexpectedly

Just a little change

Small to say the least

Both a little scared

Neither one prepared

Beauty and the Beast

🥀

"You are such a good dancer," Vil laughs, "have you ever dance before?"

"Not as often as I like," Leona whispered, "but I never danced with the intent of actually dance with a person. I mean the last time I danced was when I was young. How about you?"

Vil looks up and holds his hands. "Well, I never danced before."

"That explains your nervous movement," Leona joked.

"Hey," Vil pouted, "no one has ever asked me to dance with them, nor invited me to a royal ball. Remember, I was the black sheep of my town, despite being fawned over by that same exact town. I refused to wed to Alderic, which everyone wanted, and now I'm here. Dancing with you, even thiugh I never danced in my life."

"That's a dream come."

Vil felt his face blush as he thought about it.

"Yeah," Vil grinned, "It's most definitely a dream come true,"

The duo gazed at each other as they swayed on the dance floor, and the music boomed around them, making them feel alone in the ballroom.

🥀

Ever just the same

Ever a surprise

Ever as before

And ever just as sure

As the sun will rise

Tale as old as time

Tune as old as song

Bittersweet and strange

Finding you can change

Learning you were wrong

Certain as the sun

Rising in the east

Tale as old as time

Song as old as rhyme

Beauty and the Beast

Tale as old as time

Song as old as rhyme

Beauty and the Beast

🥀

They continued dancing, lost in their thoughts and feelings. Leona felt like he was on top of the world, dancing with the person he loved.

As the song ended, they pulled away from each other, smiling shyly. They both knew that their relationship was just beginning, but they were excited about what the future held.

They took a bow.

"I heard the stars are beautiful this time of year," Leona spoke, holding his arm out for Vil.

"You don't mind showing me, dear kitten?"

Vil takes Leona's arm and they walk into the balcony, watching the stars above them. They walked over and sat down by the stone bench, watching the stars.

"It's so beautiful out here," Vil gasps, "makes me think of home."

Leona looks back and looks back at the stars again. "I can understand why. Makes me think of my old home as well."

"Why did you leave?"

"I…I felt invisible in my own family," Leona explained, "Sure, I'd have my fair share of achievements but they were almost nothing compared to Falena's. I mean, he got married and has a kid now, while I got transformed into a beast. Seems more funny if it wasn't also unfair."

"Not really," Vil sighs, "but hanging out with you these past months made me see that you are just someone who just needs someone…to sympathize with, to talk to. Have similar hobbies and conversations."

"Would that also applied to you?"

"You won't tell on me, would you?"

Leona laughs and looks away for a moment before sighing.

"I got a gift for you," Leona spoke up, "something for you."

Leona coughed before handing Vil a beautiful silver mirror, embroidered with roses and thorns. The glass felt like it was made of pure crystal, especially as it was reflecting both him and Leona. He didn't want to touch it but it was so beautiful that he had to, even for a small while.

"It's beautiful," Vil muttered, "I mean, it's extremely beautiful. How.."

"I found it along with the rose. Like the rose, it has magical properties, one that I only dabbled in. But it can show the person you wish to see, even from the confines of the castle."

"…uh," Vil stammered a little, before looking at the mirror and said, "Show me my father."

The mirror swirled in a green mist. The image of his father sleeping in a bed made Vil feel relief, seeing him safe in the cottage. However, he felt something was off, due to the noise of horses and people cheering in the mirror.

"…what is that?"

"A celebration of sorts?" Leona questioned, "though, it seems off."

"..Maybe it's Epel?"

As soon as Epel was mentioned, the mirror began to swirl and show a new sight. The sight of Epel in front of his house, with Alderic of all people, surprisingly all dressed up, with flowers and lights making up a scenery.

"What's…" Vil was speechless, worried for his younger brother.

"….I'm only doing this for my father," he heard Epel speak, "if you weren't threatening his life, I wouldn't even be here."

"Aw, don't be like that," Alderic grinned, "you are marrying me, after all, a natural treasure."

"Marry!?" Vil almost screamed.

"What did he do?" Leona asked, also annoyed.

"Something about my father…I knew Alderic would stoop this low! Forcing marriage…" Vil got up and looked at Leona, "I have to go. I have to save my brother, and I know this breaks our agreement but Epel's…"

"Then go," Leona spoke up, "You have a family to save, and it's better to be over there than to be trapped in this.."

"Don't." Vil hissed, "I am not leaving for long." Vil takes Leona's hand and looks up at him, " I promise that I will be back, with Father and Epel too. You have become someone I can consider a friend and maybe…" Vil gulped, "I'll be back, ok?"

Leona smiles and nods his head at Vil.

"Go, don't let me stop you."

Vil begins to walk away but he looks back with a look that says "I promise," before bolting out of the balcony and onto the staples and taking Appletart. He jumped onto her and looked back at the castle, within the silence, he could hear Leona once again.

🥀

No spell has been broken

No words have been spoken

No point anymore if he can't love me

No hope she would do so

No dream to pursue, so

I looked at myself, despise all the things I see

For I know that she

Cannot set me free

Let the world be done with me

🥀

Vil was saddened at Leona's hope fading as he began to ride away. He knew he had to go but he knew why he wanted to stay. His heart was telling him to, telling him to scream his love to Leona before he left, but his throat squeezed when he thought of trying.

But knowing his time at the castle made him happy.

🥀

There's been a change in me

A kind of moving on

Though what I used to be

I still depend upon

For now, I realize

That good can come from bad

That may not make me wise

But oh it makes me glad

And I, I never thought I'd leave behind

My childhood dreams

But I don't mind

For now, I love the world I see

No change of heart

A change in me

🥀

He thought of the days he and Leona either played chess, played in the snow for the kids or just comfortably read by the fireplace for hours on end or until they passed and cuddled against each other afterward.

He thought he couldn't love someone like Leona, but with just time, he didn't see a beast, no. A prince who needed compassion and love in his life.

Vil knew that now.

🥀

For in my dark despair

I slowly understood

My perfect world out there

Had disappeared for good

But in it's place I feel

A truer life begin

And it's so good and real

It must come from within

🥀

Vil knew he had a reason to come back, even just for a small moment, a moment he never wanted to end, a moment that made him feel what love was. Not just the meaning from the books he reads, but from the love he felt by just being with Leona, and the many things that they had done for the past months.

🥀

And I, I never thought I'd leave bеhind

My childhood dreams

But I don't mind

I'm where and who I want to be

No change of heart

A change in me

No change of heart

A change in me

🥀

Vil loves Leona, and he knows that Leona loves him back.

In that moment as he saw an opening to his town, Vil knew. Vil knew why he wanted to come back.

[santalsaburablog]

The adventures of Santal. Chapter 18. Tea party in the house 500 on Republican Street

Be close to your friends, but keep your enemies even closer.

Temporary respite! Santal Sabura, who has passed the difficult trials of the younglings with honor, can finally relax a little. She plans to spend time usefully and have a good rest. However, not everything is going according to plan…

For the first time Sabura felt herself on top, boundless happiness. For the first time since Master Dooku left. Now that she is relatively free, she can do what her hands did not reach. In short, she had a lot of plans.

Firstly, she had long dreamed of walking outside the Temple. She hasn't done this in a long time. Since that fateful day. And then she was punished. Forced to wash the floors. And the girl really didn't want history to repeat itself.

So this time she decided to act smarter and asked for permission. Considering she's almost a Padawan, we should let her. In light of the fact that she behaved well and passed the tests, she was still allowed, but with conditions. Do not go far and be sure to have an accompanying person.

Santal frowned. It was undesirable for her to go with an escort. She was going to wander the streets in case anyone needed Jedi help. And then to the bar where she met Jango. What if she meets him again? Then can I ask where Dooku is, or more information about Aurra? That's right, she forgot something about her completely.

Since Santal found out about her existence, she still hasn't met her and hasn't even looked for information about her. Where is she now? She couldn't fly to another planet, she had to scour Coruscant. But how do you know that she's here? According to rumors. But the rumors are silent.

Only a year ago there were rumors that Aurra had visited Coruscant. Santal was biting her elbows that she overlooked. And then I thought: or maybe it's good? On that day, a mountain of the mutilated, suspended and dismembered was discovered. It was the handwriting of a mercenary. How many people died in a short period of time! Three Jedi were sent to investigate. Two of them were killed.

It's just a nightmare! And if she had gone to meet then, maybe she would have got into a hot hand too? Maybe this Aurra wouldn't even listen to her. I'd just see another victim and disembowel him by hanging him on the wall. Or, on the contrary, I was in a good mood, but still not the fact that I would be in the mood for communication.

Santal was most scared that so many brutal murders were committed by a woman. A woman! Santal was in shock. She would never have thought that a woman could be a villain. And not just a villain, but a cruel villain.

But time is passing. We must hurry. We need to find her urgently and talk to her. The investigation into the disappearance of the parents has not moved forward for many years.

I had to think of something. But the girl couldn't think of anything. And she decided to take a little rest and do something else. For example, the promised communication.

While Santal and some of her companions had already passed the trials, the rest of her clan were just starting out. And they needed support. In addition, this is a unique opportunity to get to know each other better. Especially those with whom I rarely communicated before.

A month later, an excursion to the cosmodrome was arranged for the Younglings. They were promised to introduce them live to different starships. And those who wish can try to pilot under the supervision of an experienced instructor. Before that, they were taught how to control a speeder, and also introduced to the Delta-7B light interceptor of the "Ethereal Fairy" type. It was also called the Jedi fighter, because the Jedi often used it if they had a solo mission.

Santal didn't really like to drive transport, but eventually learned how to drive a speeder. It turned out that the trips on it were very pleasant. And how many models he has! Santal even wanted to get a personal one. It is only necessary to search in the catalog and to be inexpensive.

The guys went on the tour on foot. Firstly, it was not very far away, and secondly, it was necessary to train endurance.

Santal was in the rear. One. It just happened that way. There are fifteen of them. It is worth noting that many people wanted to be paired with the girl, but they never came to an agreement. As a result, Santal went to the rear.

The girl was happy. She got out into the street and for this she did not have to dodge.

At first, the campaign was successful. Until we reached one seemingly unremarkable store. Santal thought he was exactly like that until she saw what was there.

There were hats in the window, among which there was one black one with a large brim and a bow. The girl was walking, and when she turned her head to the right and saw her, she froze in surprise. How she liked it! Santal just couldn't tear herself away.

Suddenly remembering that she was actually going on an excursion, the girl seemed to wake up from a dream and jumped. There was no one around. The curator and the guys instantly disappeared.

Santal wanted to hit herself on the head. What the hell! She's lost. And very stupid. Small children usually get into this situation.

And how did they not notice her absence? Okay, it doesn't matter. It is important now to think and make the right decision.

It's useless to go looking. You'll only get more lost. It is better to stay in place and take a walk around the store, which probably has a lot of interesting things.

The first thing Santal did was find a hat and took it. And, of course, the seller noticed it:

— Good choice. Fifty credits.

The girl rummaged in her pockets. It's good that she guessed to take the money that Obi-Wan borrowed. I couldn't resist and bought it — especially since the hat is good. So what if it's still too big. The head will eventually get bigger and will be just right.

Suddenly, someone bumped into the girl. Santal turned around and saw the boy from the dream. In his hands was a datapad. He was looking at it enthusiastically and, apparently, that's why he didn't notice.

— What are you looking at?

The boy tore his eyes away from the datapad, looked at her and lowered his head again. The girl decided that he was either shy or just wary. Then she decided to take the first step.

— I'm Youngling. Name is Santal Sabura. What about you?

— I'm Bob! I'm Jango Fett's son!

Santal's eyes widened. Wow! So he had cloned himself after all. And she also wondered who he reminded her of.

— Wow! If you are Fett's son, then you are a future tracker and hunter. You play hide-and-seek really well. Shall we play, Boba? Then it won't be boring. - The girl decided that the game is the best way to defuse the situation.

— And how to play?

— Very simple. You hide, and I'll look for you.

— That is, to track down?

Santal was confused, but answered:

- yes. Something like that.

The girl turned to the wall and closed her eyes. The boy quickly hid behind the shelves and shouted:

— Done!

Naturally, Santal found him quickly.

— And now you look for me. Come on, turn your back to the wall and wait a minute.

Boba did everything that was asked. Santal started to step aside as she felt that she was being watched. And indeed: the boy carefully tried to peek.

— Don't peek! Otherwise it's not fair.

Fett Jr. made guilty eyes.

— Okay. Let's start over.

If someone saw all this, they would be very surprised. What miracles! The hunter's son and the Jedi's daughter play together.

I really enjoyed playing with Boba Santal. Although she saw that the boy was not at all experienced in games, she wanted to show him childhood, that it was necessary to have enough time to play in time. Because then it will be too late.

— Well, well, well. What do we have here? Santal heard a familiar voice and turned around.

It was Jango Fett. And it was unclear from his tone whether he was glad to see her or not.

— Dad, meet me. This is Santal. We played with her.

— I see. Boba, give us a minute. I'll talk to her.

The man took the girl deep into the store into a dark corner, which greatly alarmed the latter. She was about to activate the sword when she was stopped.

— Don't be afraid. No one will kill you. I just want to know. What are you doing here?

— I saw a thing in the window and decided to buy it. And what?

— And why did you get acquainted with my son?

"Can't you?" Santal asked a little brazenly.

— I asked "why"?

— We accidentally ran into each other, — the girl realized that it was better not to anger him, and slowed down. — And the idea to play belongs to me. Or are you implying that I shouldn't have done that?

— Why not? May. But don't get too carried away.

"Is that all?" Santal put her hands behind her back and rolled from heel to toe.

— That's it.

— Then I have my own questions. First, I need more information about Aurra Sing. Because I won't catch her that way. Secondly, how is my teacher? Is he all right? Third, about that Cad Bane or whatever his name is. Who is he? And where does he live?

— What do you mean?

— I mean, give me the address. Street, house, apartment… By the way, this also applies to Aurra.

Jango looked at Santal like she was crazy.

"There's nothing wrong with your teacher. Alive and well.

Well, at least some good news. The girl's mood improved a little.

— And everything else?

— I won't say that.

- why? Because it is forbidden?

— First of all, yes. This is confidential information. Secondly, no one ever asks such things. Hunters do not have a permanent place of residence.

— And we have everything in one place and everyone knows who lives where.

Jango chuckled and continued:

— In general, I won't tell you anything more and I'm not going to help you anymore, — He was just about to leave, but Santal wouldn't let him.

— Well, no. I saved your friend. I think his name was Silas. By the way, how is he there?

— I'm fine.

"Exactly. And it might not have been if it wasn't for me! So you owe me!

"You forgot something. I calmly endured your company in a secret discussion of the deal with your teacher. Although, in a good way, I should have thrown you out by the scruff of the neck for lying. And I also told you about the existence of Aurra. So we've been even for a long time.

The man quietly pushed her into the wall and left with his son.

***

Jango, being a bounty hunter, always liked everything to go according to plan. But, unfortunately, this did not always happen. In such cases, improvisation helped well. So on that fateful day three years ago, when an unknown girl fell on him like a snow on his head, he decided to act on the situation.

When she began to ask him for help, the man was very surprised. A little girl fearlessly begs a stranger for help. You can see in her eyes that she's desperate. And when he refused, she did not retreat immediately, but continued to advance. Boldly. And then I compared it with a duros in a hat.

Jango immediately understood who he was talking about. He knew this duros well and even taught him for a short time. He knew his principles, or rather, almost the complete absence of them. Therefore, the girl's statement that he was no better was considered a personal insult. And, apparently, that's why he agreed to help.

And what was his surprise that the girl was a student of Tyranus! The way she protected him... Then a blind man will guess. He even gave her advice about shooting. And some information about Aurra. Why? He hoped that she would go looking for her, and he would not see this girl again. However, three years later, she is still alive. The same arrogant, fearless and stubborn. But also deceitful.

When Santal said that Count Dooku had saved Silas, he didn't believe it right away. The Jedi have always been the enemies of the Mandalorians. And jango didn't like being lied to. But the thought that the friend who once saved his life, with whom they had gone through so much, was alive, warmed his soul. While flying, I wrote a message to the customer that if Silas was harmed, the deal would be terminated, and the Mandalorian's revenge would be merciless. And after the "part-time taxi driver" there was a long-awaited reunion.

The friend was in far from the best condition, but he was alive. After taking his friend to the hospital, the hunter again remembered about Dooku's student, which is not as simple as it seems. That question about the two Jedi that Django really didn't kill. Here he told the truth. But he knew exactly who did it. Aurra boasted at a meeting many years ago how she and Cad Bane, Robonino, some kind of vikway hunted very successfully.

In general, as an orphan, jango understood the orphan girl. And when she said that Dooku was her Juster, he fully felt her so-called cry of the soul. Maybe that's why I decided to help. A little bit. In the hope that he won't see her again.

But suddenly she showed up again. Three years later. And where? In the shop. Yes, I also met my son. No, never set foot on Coruscant again. At least with Boba. This girl will have a bad influence on him otherwise.

***

Five minutes later, Santal herself was found. As punishment, they were forced to meditate for several hours to develop concentration, so they also arranged an individual piloting lesson.

But Santal was worried about something else. She has a new friend. And he's not from the Order. And I wanted to see him again. But how? Most likely, they live on Kamino, and this planet is very far away. Public transport does not go there. You won't be able to fly very often. She does not know how and she will not be able to secretly escape all the time. If she constantly leaves the Temple, many will have a lot of questions, and she does not really want to answer them. And how do you explain why you're going away?

The easiest thing is to tell the truth, because there is nothing wrong with what she is doing. But is it possible for a Jedi to visit friends outside the Order?

But she's still glad to meet you. Such a fateful meeting. But the oddities did not end there.

After a while, something else happened. A curator approached Santal and said that someone wanted to see her. Realizing that the meeting was going to be serious, she went to the shower and put on clean clothes.

The curator and Youngling flew to the Senate building. With each step, the girl became more and more anxious. Who called her? And why?

Here the chancellor's office appeared. Only then did it begin to dawn on her who was behind all this. The girl hoped that she was in the wrong place, but all in vain.

— Santal Sabura! It's good to see you. Thank you for taking the time. I know how exhausting Jedi training is.

— Santal Sabura has recently achieved great success, — said Tera Saynube.

— Of course. It can't be otherwise.

— What do you want from me?  Santal asked, hoping it wasn't too rude. — Do you have a task for me?

— Not really. Just a modest tea party.

— Are you serious? — Even the curator fell into a precipitate. And the girl understood him very well.

— Absolutely not. As you said, Santal Sabura is a very capable Jedi with great potential. And I'd like to get to know her better. It won't take long, don't worry. You won't have time to blink an eye, as I will return her to the Temple in one piece. I understand that training is waiting for her. And she still has a lot to learn," the Chancellor approached Santal with a friendly smile.

Then the curator left them alone. So the girl was left alone with the head of the Republic. Because of this, she became very uncomfortable. She's not alone with anyone, but with the chancellor! And then there's that oppressive silence again.

— Honey, please follow me, — the chancellor beckoned her with his finger.

The girl suddenly felt like a dog, which the owner commanded: "To me!". But she went.

The Chancellor led Santal into a rather cozy room with a large white sofa with a golden pattern. There was a glass oval table near it, on which there was a teapot, two white cups with a beautiful but simple ornament and a curved handle, and even large plates with a bunch of sweets and fruits. A few slices of cake with a jogan fruit. A large vase with ice cream balls made of blue milk. Cupcakes with muja fruits, chocolate. Juicy purple kree-kree berries. Mailurans that Santal adored. Even the grapes were, despite the fact that they were rare. It was mostly eaten by the rich.

"If there were more mushrooms with mold and ricrit meat, it would be quite a paradise," Santal thought.

She was also very uncomfortable. She was even ashamed of it. It seemed to her that she did not deserve this. Doesn't stand out in any particular way, or does the chancellor know something about her that she doesn't know? Was he spying on her? Hardly. Why would he do that?

— Oh, don't be shy. You deserve it. Have a seat. Don't be shy.

"How does he manage to see through people? Or was it written on my forehead?" — Santal obeyed and sat down to the left of the chancellor and took a couple of grapes. Once offered, you should not refuse.

— But for what? I didn't do anything wrong.

— I rewarded you. After all, you've come a long way. Withstood so many trials.

"Others have passed no less tests," Santal objected, scooping up some ice cream with a spoon..

The Chancellor smiled kindly, shook his head and said:

— Okay, you got me. In fact, I started this to make friends with you.

It was the most startling confession Santal had heard at the time.

— Why? — the girl was in shock.

— Does friendship need a reason? In our age, it is very difficult when there are no close friends to rely on. Friendship is a very rare phenomenon. Now there are betrayals, lies, deception all around. Believe me, I have lived a long life and have the right to advise.

— I have no such problems. There are friends around and I trust everyone.

"It was not enough for him to find out about the failed teacher. Here's another one! Will I still discuss my classmates with an old man whom I don't know so well"

— I believe it willingly. I'm just warning you that you might run into it. And it's very unpleasant.

— You say that as if you have repeatedly encountered this.

"Alas, my dear, it is so. You see, I've been involved in politics all my life. Dirty business, as they call it. And for a reason. I know the Jedi don't like politicians, and you probably don't either. We are considered corrupt egoists who think only of themselves. But they don't understand that our life is a continuous series of difficult decisions. That's why, to some extent, I envy the Jedi. Your life is predetermined from birth. You are spared the need to choose. Your path is straight. My path is a fork.

"What words. Straight philosophy"

Palpatine paused, and then asked:

— Tell me, how do you like studying at the Temple? Do you like it?

Santal foresaw such a "control" question and gave a cliched answer:

- yes. This is the best thing that happened to me in my life. I'm perfectly happy," the girl replied sternly and firmly.

She had been told in class more than once that every action of a Jedi reflected on the entire Order. Good deeds improve the reputation of the Order, bad ones sometimes cause irreparable damage. Every being they meet can see a Jedi for the first time, and the actions of just one Jedi will affect the perception of the entire Jedi Order. So she did exactly that. In accordance with the instructions.

The Chancellor nodded. The girl poured herself some tea again, shifting slightly on the sofa, which seemed uncomfortable to her. Despite the fact that the chancellor was the epitome of friendliness, she was uncomfortable being in the same room with him. She was embarrassed because the head of the Republic invited her to visit, sits and drinks tea with her.

According to Santal, her fellow clansmen also deserve such an honor. Therefore, it seemed to her that everything that was happening to her was wrong.

But it was worth paying tribute: the chancellor organized a chic table. When the treat was eaten and the tea was drunk, the girl leaned back on the sofa. She had never eaten so many delicious things at once. Santal, during the meal, took, for example, a kree-kree berry in her mouth and held it there for about a minute, enjoying the moment, and then calmly swallowed. She even envied the Chancellor. He probably eats like this almost every day. How she would like to live the same way! In a luxurious apartment, a plate of fruit every day, chic expensive clothes.

And she? A Jedi to whom prophesying is contraindicated. They cannot have many things, only the most necessary. And the interior of her private room should not be rich.

The Chancellor stood up and wiped his mouth with a napkin. His piercing blue eyes widened, as if he remembered something important. The girl was worried that something serious was about to happen. And suddenly I got a surprise.

— By the way, I suddenly remembered that I had planned a kind of small trip for today. And I thought you could accompany me.

Santal choked and jumped up.

— Chancellor, are you serious?

"No way," the old man said calmly.

— Oh, no, no… Are you serious? What kind of escort am I? I'm just a youngling.

—A very talented youngling," the chancellor reminded, raising his index finger up with an intelligent look.

— It doesn't matter!  Santal waved it away. — Let me better call the Temple, they will send you an experienced knight or a master who could go with you instead of me. After all, the Jedi are responsible for your safety. And I still have a lot to learn.

— It's nothing. I'm quite capable of standing up for myself. You probably think that because I'm a politician, I can't defend myself. But this is not the case. I'm not as defenseless as you think. Yes, and in any case, nothing will threaten us. You won't have time to blink an eye, as you will return to the Temple, safe and sound. I understand that training is waiting for you. Like you said, you still have a lot to learn.

Santal still agreed to go. She and the Chancellor put on cloaks with a hood, and then the head of the Republic took her to the lower level 2685. The girl's stomach turned cold.

— Why did you need to go down so deep? What business can you have there? I was told it wasn't safe to go down to the lower levels.

— Ah... they told you. And, of course, you've never been this low yourself, have you, Santal?

—Of course not," Santal lied. It was not necessary for the chancellor to know about her adventures. Even padawans are rarely allowed to leave the Temple unaccompanied. What can we say about the younglings. They are kept under strict control even in the Temple.

"Is that okay with you?"

— Absolutely. Adults know better what is best for us. And our right is to obey.

Santal thought for a second that disappointment flashed across the chancellor's face.

— Well, I visit the lower levels all the time. I feel like it's my duty. Despite the fact that padawans almost never come down here, I'm sure that few locals come to the surface. Do you know what is most valued on Coruscant?

— Nature? A clean neighborhood? An apartment with all amenities? Water? Clean air?

— The sky. Down here, the sun is a myth. My predecessor, the unfortunate Valorum, was happy to pretend that these depths did not exist for him. But I can't. It's the darkness that needs light the most.

Long live Chancellor Valorum! Santal shouted in her mind.

She liked the previous chancellor much more. Serious, as she thought, responsible, focused only on the case. He definitely wouldn't be having tea with a jungling girl!

And the Chancellor continued:

— When I have free time, I visit places like this. I hide my identity, just like we are now, and then secretly try to do something good.

The chancellor led the girl into a dim room. Santal immediately wanted to cover her ears with her hands because of the loud music. There were a lot of people. Someone was drinking, someone was laughing, someone was talking loudly. There was a bar with a huge selection of drinks, tables for games. Two people [even worse! we sat down on a long red sofa, next to which there was a round white table.

"Don't take off your hood, Santal. That way we can stay here incognito.

A blue twi'lek approached them. The girl immediately caught the eye of her outfit. She had never seen anyone dressed so openly before. The girl had a gold-embroidered bra with a fabric sewn to the bottom of the bodice, and a skirt, as they say, one name. A wide belt to which two pieces of fabric are attached in front and back. It seems that the girl stayed on the beach, realized that she was late, and ran in what she had. Lots of sequins, ropes and open spaces. The head was decorated with a wide black rim with gold sequins.

Some kind of swimsuit, not normal clothes! And some fancy jewelry. Especially the strange necklace around her neck. That's how shameless you have to be to dress like that. After all, it is still visible, especially what should be hidden as much as possible in a decent society. And here… A bra with such a deep neckline, then look, the chest will fall out and everyone will see everything. It is already as visible as possible.

While the girl was reasoning, the chancellor politely replied that he would not make an order, and the twi'lek turned around and left. So Santal saw other candid places. For example, the lower back. How it attracts attention!

Suddenly someone whistled. The girl looked around, and Santal too. A man was waving his hand, almost slipping. Apparently, the legs did not hold. But the look was like that of a hungry predator who saw his prey and began to think about how to catch it and eat it.

The girl felt unwell. The Chancellor noticed this and started a conversation:

"Just look at this place. Terrible things happen here every day. Debauchery, violence, robberies. Complete impunity, crime. Moreover, anyone can be bought here. Absolutely anyone. This club sells lives every day. It's disgusting. Especially twi'lechki…

Suddenly the old man started up and hurried to say:

— Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I know you came from the planet Ryloth. This is your home planet, right? I must have caused unpleasant associations or memories.

— Yes, I'm from Ryloth, but I don't understand. What associations?

"Ryloth is the home planet of the Twi'lek, whose culture is deeply rooted in slavery. Any individual, thinking about a slave, immediately imagines a twi'lechka in a revealing outfit. Twi'lechki are the most favorite object of the slave trade, and sometimes a status symbol that creates the appearance of wealth in society.

— What a horror ... — although Santal had already heard about it, she pretended that it was a surprise for her. "Does that suit the Twi'leks?" Do they really like to live like this?

— Do you like it? I'm begging you, it's part of their life. Twi'leks often trade with their own kind. Although there are more and more marriages where a man and a woman love each other, respect and consider each other equal, there are still dominant men who love to dominate in the Twi'lek society, who head clans and control the economy, while they consider women as an ornament and addition to a man. Such men do not take women seriously, considering them to be nothing more than a thing whose only duty is to serve men and fulfill their whims, so the twi'lek occupation was usually limited solely to this purpose: while their husbands or masters were engaged in politics and trade, they acted as dancers, masseuses and concubines. But, as I said, it's not that bad. Those I have described are in the minority.

— And yet they are.

— Yes, and they are quite dangerous. For example, the famous gangster Jabba the Hutt, he has a whole harem of twi'lechs, which he easily changes. Or Chom Frey Kaa, the senator of your planet, also did not put women in anything. Fortunately, thanks to the efforts of one of the Jedi, Quinlan Vos, he was arrested for distributing the drug glitterill. But, alas, not always so lucky. Look here.

The Chancellor talked and talked, and Santal listened, but at the same time carefully studied everything around her. So she noticed another twi'lechka who had light purple skin and similar clothes. Only the bottom was different. This lady had a very short skirt. The rest is similar.

— What a nightmare!  Santal said. — Where does the owner of the establishment look?

— And here's where, — the Chancellor pointed with his gaze at an obese man who came out of the door near the bar. This guy looked around his "possessions", noticed his acquaintances, among whom there was a whistler, and approached them. They began to tell him something. Then the fat man shouted something, and apparently it was the name of the blue twi'lek. The waitress came up, and a real shower of abuse fell on her.

The whole conversation took place in a language Santal did not know. At the end, the boss barked so that the girl dropped the tray. The man could not stand it and slapped her, so much so that the girl's ass kissed the table. The fat man's friends laughed together.

The girl couldn 't stand it and exclaimed:

— This is an outrage! Not only do his waitresses wear inappropriate uniforms, but also... this!

— Calm down, dear. These girls are his property. Alas, natural beauty played a cruel joke on them. Therefore, most often they were only slaves," the chancellor finished sadly. — That's why I was scared, afraid to upset you, to remind you that your people are too... or do you know this firsthand?

"Nothing like that," Santal replied, glancing at the boss out of the corner of her eye.

— good. So I didn't reopen old wounds by mentioning slavery.

— Of course. I learned about this phenomenon for the first time in books.

— Well, you're lucky.

Suddenly, a woman screamed. The girl raised her head and saw how the already familiar whistler was holding the blue twi'lek by the waist, and with the other hand he was squeezing her chest hard. The girl screamed and called in Twi'lek for help. The boss stood and looked calmly.

Santal could not calmly look at the suffering of a representative of her people, and therefore she felt her pain especially strongly. She felt she had to do something. Is she a future Jedi or not?

The girl had already decided to get up, as the chancellor took her hand, hinting that there was no need to interfere. Then she crawled under the table.

Who would have thought, a man wants to drag a girl into the back room to do his dirty work there, and suddenly his belt unbuttons. As a result, the "connoisseur of female beauty" turns out to be in front of everyone in underpants, and then without them at all.

The whole place just exploded with laughter:

— Just look at it! What a tiny dick! — the men were laughing.

"I'd have to look for him under a microscope!" — one girl almost fell with laughter.

The whistler, out of anger, quickly corrected the "misunderstanding", began to look with his eyes for the one who humiliated him. Looking around the room, he noticed a man in black clothes, who was laughing almost the loudest, throwing his head back. Someone else in a raincoat was sitting next to him, but the victim was less interested in him. In a rage, the humiliated man went to him:

— Hey, you freak, what exactly amused you so much? Oh, no, I know, you did it! You! You've made a fool of me! Am I right? Answer me immediately! Why are you silent? I asked you a question!

Santal was scared, thinking that a fight was about to start, but on the other hand, it was funny to her, because this man does not know who he is dealing with. Oh, if he knew, he would have started apologizing himself.

The Chancellor, oddly enough, apparently had the same opinion, thought there was no threat, and calmly replied:

— My niece was joking. I laughed. That's all. Now, if we've sorted it out, we'll go. We were just about to leave.

"And quickly," the disgraced one added.

Santal initially doubted whether to leave now, she wanted to make sure that the girls would be all right. When she saw those waitresses smiling out of the corner of her eye, she calmed down a little and followed the chancellor.

But she was still worried, afraid that when she left, the girls would have problems, and she would not be able to help them. We need to think about what to do.

"Can I ask you a question, Santal?"

- of course.

"Your Jedi abilities allow you to manipulate objects with the Force, don't they?"

- yes. We have been learning this since childhood.

— Could these abilities affect the location of, say... underwear?

— What I can do, everyone can do. I'm not special and I didn't do anything special. I acted according to my conscience," the girl answered seriously, looking the head of the Republic in the eyes.

They didn't talk the rest of the way back.

Entering the Chancellor's office, the duo took off their raincoats. Finally. Santal breathed a sigh of relief.

— How do you like our little adventure? Did you like it?

— I liked it. It was very interesting. I learned a lot of new things. And you too. I hope you will not ignore this.

"What do you mean?"

— Well, the head of that institution… When you have seen everything with your own eyes, you will be able to press him," the girl clenched her fist with a wide smile.

— I'll try. But this scoundrel is a small cog compared to large criminal organizations. His arrest will not greatly correct the picture of the world. The victory will be imperceptible and will change little.

— And I remember you said that you like to do good deeds in secret, — Santal reminded.

— That's right. But honestly, I'm sorry I dragged you into all this. You're still so young. It was completely inappropriate.

"You just realized about it now?" the girl was surprised, but she did not speak out loud.

— I have already said that there are many masters and knights who have three times more experience than me. You can ask them to do it for you. You're a busy person yourself.

"The Jedi don't belong to me. They are in the power of the Senate. It's quite possible to ask them to arrest that scoundrel, but I can't send them all the time on minor issues. If they were obliged to obey my commands, I would be nothing but a dictator. I don't want that.

— Then call the police.

— The police at the lower levels are not as effective as at the top. He often proves his incompetence, or even shows inaction at all.

"So she can't either?" You're the head of the Republic, I thought you could control everything.

— Not all of them. Although I am the chancellor, I am limited in my powers. Otherwise, it would not be a democracy, but a dictatorship. Which I can't allow.

— If you can't… And the Jedi can't… Then who can?

— This, my dear, is a question that haunts me even at night. Please do an elderly man a favor and don't tell your Jedi masters anything about it... I'm not sure they would approve…

- yes. I suppose it is," Santal agreed here. The curator wouldn't like a walk to the hangout.

— Santal... it's none of my business... but let me ask, are you happy in the Temple?

- of course. Becoming a Jedi is all I've ever wanted. This is my destiny. And I am glad that she brought me to the Temple," Santal also answered the standard question firmly, without hesitation, looking the old man in the eyes.

— I see. Now go home. You must be tired after everything that happened. I've exhausted you. But I want you to know: you will always be welcome here, and if you need help, I will help you.

***

As soon as Santal left, the chancellor was lost in his thoughts. Well, the psychological experiment went well. But worse than planned. I learned quite a bit about the subject. But, nevertheless, it was interesting to watch her.

Obviously, the girl is the complete opposite of Anakin. Very obedient, unwavering loyalty to the Order (you can see it even in your eyes), strict to yourself and others, too... Jedi. You can't make anything out of such clay, it's too hard. No matter how your hands crumple it, you will not make the necessary dishes.

Although what she did to that idiot is amusing. According to the chancellor, the girl acted quite harshly and very thoughtfully. I hit a sore spot, but it was still a pretty childish act. Besides, she wasn't at all proud of what she had done.

Unlike the same Skywalker. He is more emotionally unstable, plus childhood injuries have done their job. And most importantly, the old Sith saw that the boy trusted him completely. And he's very talented. Single-handedly destroyed an entire station only with the help of his pilot skills. The power flows powerfully in him. Darth Sidious felt it well. Incredible potential. When he met this boy, he immediately realized that he must definitely become his disciple.

In the case of Santal, Sidious met her before Skywalker purely by chance. Then he didn't pay much attention to her. And yet there was something about her that he couldn't explain. While. And that case at the Tournament… The girl accidentally found herself in the thick of things and successfully got away with it. Not bad. Very good.

Perhaps I'll have to ask Dooku. Maybe he knew her personally and would tell her something useful about her.

The bad thing was that the Chancellor had a very busy schedule. Sometimes there was so much to do that there was no time to sleep. If he didn't have a special bed, he wouldn't get enough sleep.

And it was not by chance that Sidious dragged the girl to the "Excitement and Erotica" club. He was still able to find out some information about Santal Sabur. It turned out a little and almost nothing significant. An ordinary-looking human girl. From Rylot. A planet rich in the drug rill and women.

It's worth noting that Palpatine wasn't even lying when he talked about how men and women on Santal's home planet treat each other differently. The man expected that a seemingly smart girl would be aware of this. And that she, realizing the injustice of this world, seeing how much her people suffer, with her own eyes, will give free rein to inner darkness.

He thought Santal would try to make the tormentor of a representative of her people really hurt. Somehow it will give itself away. However, his expectations were not met. To the fullest extent.

Sidious also felt distrust from the girl, which he managed to dispel a little. This is progress.

And yet Skywalker was more preferable to the Sith. And older, more independent and more "dark". Santal could also become his student, but it is harder and longer to process her. And one of the reasons is distrust. But Anakin fully believes him.

And Santal is too Jedi. At the moment. However, even she can be turned to her side. It's only a matter of time. In the meantime, it remains only to observe. Sometimes.

***

— Wow!  Barriss exclaimed, surrounded by a bunch of datapads in the library.

"I know you don't believe it, but it's the truth.

Santal has just told her best friend about her adventures with the chancellor. Yes, he asked not to tell the teachers, but he didn't say that you can't tell your friends. And she chose Barriss as a listener. She is quiet, understanding and there is no risk that she can condemn somewhere like Green. And she won't be too emotional, like Max and Dasha.

— What do you think about this? — the girl was eager to know the opinion of mirialanka.

— Honestly, I don't even know what to think. It's all so weird.

— I completely agree with you. I was shocked when I found out that the chancellor wanted to have tea with me.

— And then he dragged you to the club "Excitement and Erotica", where all the conditions for sabacca, pazaak and other games. Where you can play, enjoy a drink and admire the available girls.

— How do you know?

— I'm always reading something. And I train my memory. For example, I can already remember a small maze of streets.

— Those who read a lot know a lot.

"Exactly.

— You know, I'm doing the same thing. We're great.

— And about the chancellor, most likely, he just wanted to make friends with you. After all, you are special.

"Are you going there too?" I'm not special at all. The most common youngling. Well, smart, well, I know how to swing a sword a little, I read books, but nothing else.

Barriss chuckled. The girls also studied the files. Santal decided to find out more about the club.

— Can we chew? I've been sitting here for a long time," Mirialanka suggested.

A slight rumbling in her stomach made Santal realize that eating was a good idea.

In the dining room, the friends gathered full trays and continued the conversation:

— I keep thinking about your words. Like, I'm special. And what is my peculiarity?  Santal asked, cutting off a piece of meat and putting it in her mouth. Simple food again. Less than a day has passed, and she already misses the fruits and ice cream from the chancellor's office.

"The Jedi teach that each of us is unique in our own way. The Temple has always strictly adhered to the belief that no student was better than another. Everyone has their own gift. For example, it's interesting to communicate with you. Something happens to you all the time. And every time you come out the winner. I wonder how you do it.

"I don't know. I'm not looking for adventures. They're the ones who find me. If I had my way, I would generally sit quieter than a mouse. You're unique, too. Quiet, well-read, calm, with whom you can discuss a lot. Maybe that's why we became friends. Both are disciplined, respectful of their elders, loving new knowledge.

Santal sincerely believed that there was a perfect friendship between her and Barriss. They are so similar, complete harmony and balance, peace and harmony. No quarrels. The girl hoped that it would always be like this. True, they do not see each other often, but perhaps in the future everything will change.

Then the friends separated. Santal went to her room, continuing to reflect on everything that had happened to her. The story is really very strange from the very beginning. There were questions in my head that urgently needed answers. Why did the Chancellor invite her to tea? Why did you take me to this creepy place? Probably, the chancellor is a busy man, and he is very bored alone in a huge office. He's a grandfather by age. He would like to babysit his grandchildren, but he doesn't seem to have them. Otherwise he wouldn't have called her.

Santal also concluded that the chancellor is very self-confident, since he went to the lower levels, taking a child as an escort.

"I'm not as defenseless as you think," the old man's words echoed in his head.

Maybe the chancellor studied martial arts in his youth? Perhaps. If so, that explains a lot. For example, his calmness in any situation.

Santal was so lost in thought that she didn't notice how she bumped into someone.

"Look where you're going, yunling," This voice is not to be confused with any other.

"I'm sorry, Master Windu.

— Santal Sabura, and I'm just looking for you.

"Is something wrong?"

— I have a question for you.

[kerykomo]

been having just a smidge of a hard time recently. (semi-vent post under the break, if you wish to read.)

i just got done with my university semester, technically end of my sophomore year, technically start of my freshman year? its complicated, i transferred. and despite spending all of it with the lovely light of my life, i don’t think i’d ever felt so lonely in my life, perhaps save for the pandemic. it was a different kind of lonely- not some longing for love or companionship- i had that already. i just didn’t make any friends of my own- i kind of got swept into a group that was my partner’s, and not my own. i didn’t bond with these people like my partner did, and i didn’t fit in with them really either. i enjoyed spending time with them and we got along well enough, and i have a lot of happy memories and funny videos to look back on now, but every time i went to hang out with them it was similar to trying to shove a puzzle peice where it didn’t belong. i was an outsider- literally, having transferred and moved from across the country- and i wasn’t used to the region or the demeanor of people from the area. and most of my classes had this same group in them- all being from the same major, go figure- but it didn’t give me many opportunities to branch out and interact with people aside from this group.

i felt like i was kinda floating on an ice sheet with these same people, and even though i didnt really like it on this platform, branching out to another one would take swimming through the freezing water.

only one person, maybe two of the roughly 8 of us were any form of inclusive or inviting to me, to my recollection. and we got along pretty good, but it just felt like every invitation to go hang out with the group was an inconvenience. like “oh we’re gonna go hang out, i guess we should invite komo to come along.” and there were some hangouts that didnt involve me, which i was fine with. again, i was an outsider they had known for maybe a month or two when they’d all known each other for the whole semester previous. im lucky my partner doubles as my best friend and we never mind hanging out with each other, because otherwise i think i wouldve just left mid-semester and went home. i did meet a few people on my own, but because i rarely saw them and they had little interest in hanging out outside of class, their status to me has remained more of “aquaintances” or classmates than actual friends.

secondary to the friend problem, it was recently brought to my attention by my partner that i pretty much have art block or art burnout all? the time?? and have for years??? so. im not sure what that says about my rickety roller-coaster of a mental state but i know it isnt good. i just brought up how i feel like i can’t draw most of the time, or when i want to what i make isnt satisfactory or doesnt look good. at first i thought it was just a style crisis- since i tend to have those pretty frequently and change up the way i draw or try something new cause i get bored of the last thing. but every now and then its like im blessed by the art gods and i can draw exactlly what i want the way i want to. it used to happen more frequently in previous years but its become less and less frequent now, no matter how much of my time dedicate to drawing.

im trying to refresh myself by drawing on paper more often but its still incredibly difficult to come up with anything or even want to draw most days. of course i want to- i have fun with it and i like drawing and its more often than not an outlet for me. but i just feel… stuck. similar to my friends, i dont like where i am and i want to leave it but im not going to like the process to get there and i might not like the outcome. some of its my own personal anxieties, i know, but its hard to move past those.

anyways, i just remembered yesterday that its mermay and i want to make at least a few pieces for the summer season. maybe thinking of the ocean will keep me going for a little longer.

until next time, i hope everyone takes care of themselves. remember to hydrate and drink water even if its not hot outside; your body still needs it. :)

if youve read to all the way down here, thanks for hearing out the problems of a rando on the internet. i appreciate you taking the time to do that.

[manheeiim]

the beginning - rafe cameron

summary: you didn't expect to finally meet rafe after going to your best friend, sarah's house after school || warnings: alcohol, mentions of a toxic relationship at the end || genre: best friend's brother, fluff?, mention of angst at the end || word count: approximately 780

I walked onto Tannyhill, I was shocked at how big it was. I shouldn't have been though, the Cameron's were probably the richest people on Figure 8, so it's no shock their house was this bag and this nice.

My best friend, Sarah, and I were hanging out again after school, just as we always did. Thing was, usually we'd either go out or hang out at my place but my mom was going to be home early today and she was already in a bad mood lately, so Sarah said we could just go to her place for a change.

We walked inside and she led me up to her bedroom. I put my backpack in there before she led me downstairs to the kitchen to get a snack.

I sat at the kitchen island, scrolling on my phone as Sarah got some chips and put it out in front of us before sitting down next to me. I took a chip and ate it as I put my phone down.

"Sorry that we couldn't just go to my place. My mom has been so annoying lately." I complained.

"Ugh, I get that. But, either way, it's fine. No one's home." Sarah told me and I just nodded, eating another chip.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, I expected her dad to be out working, since he often was, Wheezie was likely still at school, and I didn't expect Rafe to be here either since he was never home when we were, but usually at least Rose was around.

"Dad's at work, Wheezie's at school, Rose is at the country club, and Rafe... I don't know where he is and I'd rather not know." Sarah told me, giggling a little, making me giggle as well.

We continued eating our chips and just talking about the most random stuff, as best friends do, but I couldn't stop thinking about Rafe Cameron. I'd seen him in family photos and maybe from the distance, and of course, I'd heard a lot about him, but I'd never formally met him before. From what Sarah had told me, along with other people as well, he was cool- according to other people, not including Sarah- but he was also kind of an asshole.

One of the French doors that led into the kitchen was suddenly opened and Sarah and I both looked over to see Rafe. Looking past him, I could see Kelce and Topper on the patio, sitting down on the outdoor couch and getting comfortable as Rafe came inside.

Rafe didn't pay much mind to me at first, seemingly not even noticing me and definitely not even acknowledging Sarah as he went straight to the fridge, opening it up and looking through it.

Sarah let out an annoyed groan at the sight of her older brother before she looked over at me, rolling her eyes at him being here. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

Rafe took some beers out of the fridge before closing it. He looked over at her, glancing at me for a moment, before looking back at Sarah. "This is my house too." He told his sister before looking at me again. "Who's this?" He then asked her.

"This is Y/n. Leave her alone." Sarah told him harshly.

"Calm down, Sarah." Rafe groaned. "I don't even know how anyone's friends with you." He then told her.

Sarah scoffed, "You're one to talk!" She defensively said back.

Rafe just looked at me once more before walking off, going outside to his friends and pretty much slamming the door shut behind him.

"Well, that's Rafe." Sarah said once he was outside again.

I looked outside the windows of the French door, seeing Rafe manspreading on the couch with his friends. "He seems..." I trail off, not really knowing what to say.

"Like a dick? I know." Sarah finished my sentence.

I glance at her for a moment, the both of smiling a little at what she said before glancing back outside again, this time, seeing Rafe looking at me. I quickly looked away, looking back at my best friend as she grabbed the bag of chips.

"Let's go up to my room. I don't want to be down here near him." Sarah told me and I just nodded, going along with her as I walked off with her, not knowing that Rafe was watching me leave.

Little did I know, that little interaction between Rafe and I would be the start of something much bigger. A relationship. A relationship that'd change my friendship with Sarah, a relationship that'd change me. A relationship that'd be so toxic and unhealthy, but a relationship that I'd never want to leave.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[littlefishbigsea]

Siren’s Umbra | Chapter 1

Author’s Note: This took far longer than I was expecting, but here it is. This story is an extension of a small scene I wrote a while ago (which will make a reappearance within the context of the story once I get there). I hope you enjoy. If you’d like to be tagged in future updates, let me know. 

Story Summary: Azriel finds it increasingly harder to stay afloat adrift in his own darkness. As tensions rise between himself and his found family, an unlikely but welcome distraction takes the form of a young priestess. Eager to prove her worth, to learn, and empower herself, Gwyn aligns herself with the aloof spymaster. With the continent scrambling to avoid yet another conflict, Gwyn and Azriel must work closely to unravel the secrets of Mount Ramiel.

Trope: Friends to lovers

Word Count (so far): 3.2k

Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Smut

Additional links: AO3

Chapter 1 - On Leathery Wings

It was early spring in Velaris. The sky was a weighty blue velvet drooping over rooftops. Ironically, since the attack, the dawns had been breathtaking. As Azriel stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the townhouse his shadows all but disappeared.

“Well,” his brother said in way of greeting, smirking up at him from the street. “Don’t you look like shit? I thought moving to the townhouse was meant to give you peace?”

“I don’t know the meaning of the word,” Azriel grumbled, voice flat. “Why are you here?” And grinning, but he didn’t need to ask that to understand why Cassian wore such a look.

He’d been wearing it for weeks now. Azriel had been attempting to remove it during practice but the general was more resilient than Az gave him credit for. Cassian’s happiness was decidedly infectious.

“I’m here,” Cass answered, “Because Rhys would like to see us. He’s up at the House.”

“Why didn’t he-“

“Look,” Cass interrupted with a shrug. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you - I mean you almost killed one another at the cabin - but you need to work it out.” He waved a hand back and forth at the spymaster who scoffed and stepped past him. “I’m serious,” Cass went on to explain. “I could use a night out. Just us. It’s been a while.”

Good luck with that, Azriel mused to himself. Rhysand hadn’t left the River House since Nyx was born.

“Married life chaffing, Cass?” Azriel teased, biting back a smile.

“We’re not married. Yet,” Cassian corrected. “Emerie and Gwyn have been over almost every night this week. As much as I love-“

This is where Azriel tuned his brother out. Call it cruel, but this was the same one sided conversation he’d had with Cass, oh, three times now. Was it really conversation if only one of them were speaking? Azriel didn’t personally believe head nods and hmphs counted as conversing but he’d mastered the art form.

He sympathized. He really did. Cassian recounted being kicked out of his own bed, finding a small Pegasus in his boot and how one of the girls had, once again, inked something inappropriate on his forehead while he’d been sleeping. Azriel couldn’t help but smile at that, though he erased it quickly.

Cassian might complain but Azriel knew his brother adored his mate and her friends. Even he had to admit that the girls brought an abundance of laughter and joy to the House whenever the trio graced it’s halls. A rare and intoxicating sound that had even roused him from his room multiple times only to catch Cass peeking curiously at them from around a dark corner.

Though if he was being honest with himself, which he rarely was, Azriel was beginning to find the townhouse, comparatively, suffocatingly quiet. Too far removed from his family and friends. Late at night Azriel felt the creeping dark closing in, a sinister umbra spreading through him like venom. It was with great mental effort that he stayed his darker thoughts, but he was finding it more challenging of late. His ongoing feud with Rhys wasn’t helping.

Shadows dashed, darting from his shoulders to comfort the spymaster only to reel back in the morning light. Azriel focused his attentions away from the dark corners of his mind to beat of his footsteps. The last thing he needed to dwell on was what happened during Solstice.

It was still early morning in Valeris. The war-torn homeless still slept against the walls of buildings and the ice carts weren’t even out making deliveries. He preferred this time of day, just before the spring heat shimmered against the streets and curled the ends of his hair.

Aside from Cass, who was waving his arms, going on about the amount of women’s underthings he’d found in all sorts of strange places, it was mostly quiet. There was no one to stare or utter harsh whispers as Azriel passed.

Normally he flew or called shadows to him and winnowed within their comfort but this was a rare moment when Valeris was tolerable. He’d once described the city as the loneliest place in Prythian and he’d meant it. Tens of thousands of people flocked these streets and not a single one looked him in the eye. Very few did.

With one brother mated and the other in the process of being so, Azriel hadn’t felt more alone in his life. He had no stories to share with Cass on their morning walk. None that would make the general laugh or smile. No, his stories were best kept to himself - locked away were Rhys could extract what he needed and not question his shadowsinger’s techniques.

“You’re not listening,” Cassian suddenly accused, huffing a sigh. His arms dropped. The courts greatest general defeated.

“I’m always listening,” Azriel corrected. “You’re frustrated you don’t have your mate all to yourself anymore.”

“You-“ Cassian gave him a glare worthy of Amren. “And when have I had her to myself exactly? Every time-“

Again, Azriel tuned his brother out.

The House of Wind came into view, a great gleaming crown atop the mountains. His gaze lingered on the lower levels that housed the library. Not that most would know to look there as the windows were magically kept from view. The dozens of priestesses that worked in those stacks were kept hidden and protected. Just as Rhys had promised them.

Light flickered as shadow danced across his wings and over his shoulders. Braving the soft, dewy light to whisper in his ear, their chilling touch reached up his neck before spilling secrets.

She was at morning service.

A flash of color, heated cheeks and bright teal eyes - it wasn’t clear to him, still, this obsession his shadows had taken on. Over centuries he’d gathered unmeasurable amounts of information on his kingdoms allies and rivals. Yet, he couldn’t speak to what his friends had for breakfast this morning. He was painfully aware, however, that a certain priestess had sipped honeyed tea and eaten a single slice of rye smattered with butter and cinnamon and that her nose scrunched when she-

“Nesta wants you over for dinner,” Cassian commanded, ever the general.

“All right.”

“I have to go by the River House. Elain made a bundt. Nesta will likely murder me if I forget to bring it back,” Cass huffed. “Bundt? Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“It’s cake.”

“Why not just call it cake then? Why be confusing?”

“It’s a type of cake.”

“No, chocolate is a type of cake.”

“Cass, chocolate is a flavor.”

As they approached the thousand steps that led up to the House, Cassian and Azriel kicked off in tandem aiming for the open balcony above. The air was cool as it passed over their skin, heated from the walk over. Matching the steady beat of his heart, Azriel’s enormous wings cut through the mornings low hanging clouds.

Rhysand, their High Lord, waited for them. Once he caught their approach he turned, heading inside. Azriel’s gut tightened. Their fights didn’t often escalate to this level. On a single hand he could count the times they’d fought to the point of not speaking.

His boots touched down upon stone before Cassian’s. He held, waiting for his brother. His hesitation to follow Rhys inside didn’t go unnoticed.

“Azriel-“

“He ordered me to stay away from Elain,” emotionless and flat, the words left his mouth before he could think better of it.

Silence settled between them. The rare outburst had Cassian’s eyes growing round and Az couldn’t tell if he was going to yell or laugh. Maybe both.

“Why,” Cass drawled so slowly Azriel almost missed what he was asking. “What have you-“

“I haven’t,” Azriel stopped him.

“How did you know what I was going to say?”

“I didn’t, I just know it wouldn’t be good.”

“Point,” Cassian admitted with a tilt of his head, “but why would Rhys ask you stay away if nothing was happening?”

“Something almost happened.”

“Something? Almost happened?”

Azriel sighed.

“Lucien-“ Cassian hissed.

“I know.”

“Feyre and Nes would have your balls.”

“Would they?”

“Yes!”

“Glad to know just how unworthy everyone thinks-“

A strong grip on his upper arm had Azriel turning, eyes flashing gold. Cassian’s gaze was hard, unapologetic. His hand dropped, fully aware of the rising shadows that now threatened to gobble his brother whole. The Night Courts general understood danger.

“It has nothing to do with worth,” he grumbled angrily in a rare sign of lost temper. “Everyone is overly protective of that girl, how are you surprised?” Azriel blinked down at him. “She has a mate, Az. Regardless of how either of you feel - which I really don’t want to know about, by the way, please leave me out of that shit - but like I was saying,” Cassian blew a breath from between his lips before going on in an even tone. “whether she wants it or not, she has a mate. She has a decision to make regardless of you.”

He had a point, one that Azriel laid awake at night thinking of.

“Besides,” Cass continued, turning to walk into the House. Azriel followed reluctantly. “You’ve been around each other all of what, 6 times? I mean, how involved are you that Rhys had to - you know what, I said I didn’t want to know.”

He almost smiled at Cassian’s bluster. Azriel was grateful for both his brothers and their never ending, often un-needed advice, but conversations like this if had with Rhys often descended into quick-tempered arguments.

The High Lord of the Night Court waited for them just inside. He held himself casually, pouring another mug of hot tea. The top buttons of his crisp shirt were undone but the stiffness in his shoulders told Azriel that Rhys was prepared for a fight at most, and at best he had news they wouldn’t like.

“Morning,” Rhysand greeted, lifting his face to them. Bright, amethyst eyes regarded each of the Illyrians, looking for anything amiss.

“Morning,” they answered in unison.

“How’s my boy?” Cass asked greedily, boyish grin in place at the thought of his nephew.

“Well, as is his mother,” Rhys replied eyes warming at their mention. That warmth didn’t last when his purple gaze met Azriel’s.

“I have something for you,” Rhys stated without so much as a lead up. Straight to business then.

“The queens are no longer a threat,” Cassian mused, dropping into a nearby sofa with no desire to confront Rhy’s straightforwardness.

“I need Azriel at Mount Ramiel,” Rhys corrected, tone leaving no room for discussion.

Cassian’s eyes darted between his brothers as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Leaning against the far wall, shadows coiled and snapped at the spymasters shoulders. His lips parted, an argument rising from his throat.

“The outside interests surrounding Ramiel concern me. Given Nesta’s vision, I believe it’s something we should look into with haste. If there is something of interest there, Azriel will find it,” Rhysand offered, cutting off the shadowsinger.

None of this came as a surprise to Az other than being kept out of the decision making. Ever since the Blood Rite, the war camps had been acting suspiciously and he knew it bothered Rhys to the point of keeping the high lord awake at night.

“You’re sending Azriel to the war camps,” Cassian barked. “Are we cutting them loose? Razzing them to the ground, then?”

“I’m not sending you to deal with the Illyrians,” Rhys corrected, eyes on his spymaster, and shook his head.

“He’s sending me to sneak around in the dark,” Azriel offered.

“You are quite good at it,” his brother smirked, violet eyes flashing in reply. “I’ve had the priestesses pull everything from the library, including my own personal collection. Lore, histories, whatever they could find.” Rhys took a long, slow sip of tea, eyes closing only briefly. “Gwyn has offered to assist in translations. Her command of ancient language is rather impressive.”

“Should you really be dragging the priestess into this,” Azriel accused.

“She volunteered,” Rhys countered with a shrug. “Besides, I think she’s proven herself to be capable, don’t you? She’s identified some areas of interest around the eastern slope. A good place to start.”

Seething, Azriel attempted to put a damper on his temper. He couldn’t help but feel that Rhys had gone behind his back. It was one thing to order him about, but what was he thinking involving Gwyn? The priestesses were never a part of this side of the kingdoms business. Icy rage spilled, drip by drip, down Azriel’s spine.

“Cassian,” Rhys observed, turning to their brother, “Elain was waiting for you at the River House this morning. Something about a cake needing to be retrieved? If you go now you might catch Nyx before his mid-morning nap.”

There was no argument from their brother. Carefully his gaze met Azriel’s, a gentle warning in their depths. He often found himself in the middle of their conflicts and Azriel had to respect that he didn’t complain about it. Much.

“I’ll let Nes know you won’t be at dinner,” he said. With a heavy sigh Cass lifted from the couch. He nodded his dark head at Rhys and then Az before sauntering back out into the light.

“What is this really about,” Azriel asked, voice as cold as his stare.

“I beg your pardon?” Rhys cooed with a raised brow.

“Why wasn’t I included in the planning?”

“I didn’t need you for it.”

The declaration hit Azriel in the chest like a fist. Air rushed out between his lips in a shocked gasp. He stepped forward, dragging shadow with him.

“Rhys-“

“It’s nothing personal, Az,” Rhys pleaded.

“Personal,” Azriel growled, voice low. “I’m your spymaster and brother.”

“Az-“

“You’re overstepping,” Azriel went on, the words flowing like the Sidrah - cold and unstoppable. “Again, you’re taking everything on yourself.”

“I’m only doing what I can to keep everyone safe.”

“Safe,” Azriel accused, “Is that what you were doing keeping Feyre in that bubble? Honestly, how do you find that any different than how Tam-“

“Enough!”

Beneath them the mountain shook, rattling glass and sending a few stray books to the floor. Rhys was on his feet, wings snapped open behind him. On opposite sides of the room, one bathed in shadow the other night incarnate, they regarded one another.

“Brother,” Rhys once again pleaded with his spymaster. “I know you’re angry with me. I admit, I have not been myself. Between Feyre and Nyx, you and Koschei - the fucking Dread Trove,” he trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair. “We’re spread thin, you know that. We need our allies. Old and new.”

He’d all but said the same on Solstice. After all these years did Rhys not see him? See beyond the courts infamous torturer? To the male that lurked inside his own shadows? A long, tense silence labored between them. As always, an impasse.

“Azriel, let yourself feel something for once. I don’t care who-“

“Is that all,” Azriel grunted, moving his gaze away from the high lord’s. If Rhys opened his mouth with more shit to give he was sure he’d lose what was left of his shredded control.

“Dismissed,” Rhys conceded, shoulders dropping.

Azriel was outside and shooting off the balcony into the sky before Rhys could utter another word. His wings churned the air with each vicious beat. Burning agitation flooded through him. HE could feel it in his very bones. Attempting to soothe, his shadows coiled close, whispering.

Rhys had a lot of nerve. Of anyone, he knew Azriel best. Mor always accused them of being too similar and its why they didn’t always see eye to eye. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that assessment. Rhys was level headed and controlled. Azriel felt as if he were unraveling. Control wasn’t the way he’d describe it, rather an effort to hide it all away so it didn’t need to be dealt with.

The training rings came into view as he rose but he didn’t linger, swinging wide so that he’d remain unseen. Dots of color milled about. The priestesses were gathering for training. He could sense Nesta below with Emerie. And her.

He would have to send word to Gwyn about postponing their lessons. Meeting with her had become something of a guilty pleasure. He found he enjoyed teaching the doe eyed priestess more than he thought he might. Training was Cassian’s thing. Az found he didn’t often have the patience or care for it.

Shadows hissed, warning not to rely on Clotho for this. Azriel would be better served sending a note himself. The thought of those large, sea glass eyes darkening with disappointment made his chest ache.

Let yourself feel something.

Rhys’ words replayed in his ear as Azriel made the descent to the townhouse. He’d moved his things over months ago though Cassian always seemed to find some excuse to get him back to the House of Wind. Despite living there for years it no longer felt like home to him.

It hadn’t come as a surprise when Rhys had asked him to chaperone his brother and future mate. Neither himself nor Rhys actually expected Azriel to have to step in between the two. Rhys had simply wanted a backup in the event Nesta lost control which was likely to happen given how often her and Cassian argued.

So, Az had let them battle things out on their own. And they had. All over the House in fact. Repeatedly.

Though he had to admit, interrupting them at the most awkward times had become a game to him. But, he had, in all the ways one would being around a newly mated pair, grew incredibly frustrated. In a way it had become a torture of its own.

That frustration was likely what fueled his blunder the night of Solstice. One look at Elain and he’d been as hard as the mountainside the House of Wind was carved from. Azriel hadn’t been able to help himself. She was beautiful and everything he forbid himself. She wanted him, it was obvious, which made the entire situation all the more confusing.

In the end, he wasn’t sure where he stood with the girl. Cassian’s hadn’t been wrong in his assessment. They’d barely spoken to one another, let alone discussed her intentions with Lucien… Azriel would rather not think on the male who’d sat idly by while his high lady’d been tormented.

Landing at one of the terraces, Az made his way into the townhouse. He’d taken the largest room upstairs. It had the most wall space for his blade collection.

Azriel threw daggers and maps into his pack with such force, they almost went through the bottom of the bag. Rhys was right to send him on this mission. He needed space. A couple months in the mountains would do good to clear his head.

Before he locked up after himself, Azriel grabbed some paper from his desk and wrote a quick note to Gwyn. His careful words sounded clipped and overly formal as he reread the hastily scratched message, but shrugged off the concern with indifference.

Without goodbyes, the shadowsinger quietly left the city of Velaris. His wings carried him away, further into the mountains. He tucked all thought of his brothers and the priestess with molten hair from his mind. Wrapping himself in shadow, Azriel became the cold, unfeeling monster his reputation afforded him.

He felt nothing. Was nothing. His Illyrian wings carried him further away until he was nothing but a bruise against an otherwise perfect sky.

[artzychic27]

To Save a Friend

TRIGGER warning: This story contains a physical, verbal, and emotionally abusive relationship. (Thank you @unmaskedagain for reminding me to put trigger warnings)

It was a fine morning at Dupont. Students waited in the courtyard for classes to start, teachers were setting up their lesson plans, and Marinette was actually early.

There haven’t been many Akuma attacks lately, and she got small commissions, so she was able to get some rest, something she desperately needed.

Ever since Lie-la came back, she became exhausted. Her friends became wary around her, and often shunned her when she tried to call out the Italian’s lies. She still had some allies who caught onto her lies, but the rest were lost causes. And out of all of them, Alya was Lila’s most loyal follower. If anyone pointed out a hole in Lila’s lies, Alya would be quick to attack. And if she was following Lila, Nino had to follow her too.

The two childhood friends haven’t really been talking much. ‘Probably Alya’s fault.’ Marinette thought, but then she realized Nino hasn’t really talked to anyone, not even Adrien. She recalled a rumor about Alya nearly attacking Aurore when she saw the blonde girl talking to Nino, but that was just a rumor... Right? They may not be best friends, but she knew Alya was not the jealous type.

But some other things confused Marinette. For example, she knows that Nino never goes without his signature red cap, she’s never seen him wear long-sleeved shirts, and he’s be fidgeting a lot lately- Something he hasn’t done since they were five years old.

She’s also noticed a change in his personality. Nino was always so chill and laid back, but now he’s just so nervous, and jumpy, and wouldn’t really talk to anyone... Except for Alya

“Nino!”

Marinette noticed the way he flinched when Alya yelled his name. He seemed so content, just talking to Adrien until her voice rang out. He cut his conversation short and ran over to his girlfriend, who was listening to Lila ramble on and on about her “grand adventures”. Something was clearly wrong, Nino never flinched... Was he slouching? He only does that when he’s nervous

“Có chuyện gì vậy?”

Hearing the familiar voice, Marinette turned to around to find her other childhood friend, Kim, leaning against a wall. Because of their play dates when they were younger, she understood some Vietnamese and responded, “I’m just a little worried about Nino.”

Kim nods “Same. He just seems... Out of it.”

“I know!” She exclaims “And have you noticed that he’s been fidgeting? He hasn’t done that since we were kids.”

Kim recalls how he’s only seen Nino fidget whenever he was around Alya, if anyone talked about her, or if anyone just mentioned her name “Do you think they got into a fight?”

Marinette was taken aback at such a question “Nino and Alya? No way. They always seem so happy together.”

“I guess,” He looks back over to Alya and Nino. He notices the latter has a strained smile as he listens to Lila’s tales “but I still think something’s going on between them.”

Marinette had to talk to Nino and get the full story on this, ‘Something Alya needs to do when she posts content on her blog’ she thought.

But Alya would never let her talk to her boyfriend, so they couldn’t talk during school hours, and her parents needed help at the bakery, so they couldn’t really talk after school. Looking back over to Kim, she gets an idea

“Could you try talking to him after school? I would, but I gotta help my parents at the bakery.”

Kim nods “I can do that! Gotta make sure my best friend is okay.” Marinette mock scoffs and flips her hair in a Chloé-like fashion “He was my best friend first.”

Kim chuckles and plays along “Sorry, Mari. First is the worst, second’s the best. And second, would be me.” He states smugly

Marinette pouts and pulls out the big guns “Alright. No macarons for a week. Bye!” She walks away, nonchalantly. Kim realizes what he’s just done and runs after her “Wait! You are his best friend! You’re the best best friend! Don’t do this to me, Mari!”

Classes were finally over, and students were heading home. Kim walks into the locker room, and find Nino putting books into his backpack. He remembers the plan, takes a deep breath, and approaches him with a comforting smile. Kim speaks “Hey, Nino.” He looks up from his bag and smiles when he sees his friend “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to talk.” He takes a look at Nino’s demeanor. The bags under his eyes, how he’s refusing to make eye contact, and his hand is wrapped tightly around his wrist “Are you okay?” ‘Smooth.’ He thought

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He says quickly then shuts his locker “I-I gotta go. Alya’s been upset for a while, so I’m gonna head down to the bakery and get those macarons she likes for our date later.”

Kim seems confused “Don’t you usually go out on the weekend?”

“She just wants to hang out more. I-I mean we’ve both been pretty busy, with the Ladyblog and my gigs, they’re just cutting into our time together. Heh, she actually suggested I stop deejaying so I’ll have more time for her.” He tries to walk away, but Kim continues asking questions

“She suggested it?” He asks, now getting suspicious

“Yeah...” He sees that Kim isn’t buying it “Well, it was more like she told me to.” Kim notices him tightening his grip around his wrist “She’s not wrong, though.”

Kim places a hand on his shoulder “Well if you need help with anything, Mari and I have your back. Alright?” Without responding, Nino walks out of the room

“... That could’ve gone better.”

Kim nearly jumps out of his skin when he heard the familiar voice of a certain redhead cut through the silence. He turns around and finds Nathaniel walking out of the bathroom.

“Don't...” He pants “... do that!” He should’ve been used to that by now. Not many know this, but Kim and Nathaniel used to hang out when they were six. The redhead artist would always sneak up behind Kim and scare him

He just shrugs “Sorry.” He tilts his head slightly “Is Nino okay?”

“I don’t know, Nate.”

“... Before you walked in, I heard him on the phone with Alya. She was screaming a lot.”

“Did you hear what she said?”

“I did hear ‘Or else’ a few times, but there was mostly just angry shouting.” He grimaces at the memory “I really think something is wrong.”

“Well, he’s on his way to the bakery.” Kim reminds himself “Maybe Mari can talk to him, she’s good at this stuff.”

—

“I’m really worried, Tikki.” Marinette said while pulling a tray of croissants out of the oven “I’ve never seen him like this. He was shy as a kid, but he grew out of that.”

“Well, maybe you could ask Alya if something’s wrong.” The tiny goddess suggested, making Marinette frown

“Alya and I aren’t really speaking right now. So, I doubt she’ll talk to me about her and Nino.” She places the try on the counter and starts placing the pastries in the display case “Y’know, ever since Lila came back, their relationship has been a little... Not great.”

“I know what you mean. They don’t seem compatible anymore.” She places a croissant in the display case “I just hope Alya isn’t hurting him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... Nino normally wears short sleeves, right?”

Marinette freezes, and thinks about what Tikki is insinuating “Tikki, y-you can’t be serious. Alya would never hurt him!”

“It is possible, Marinette.” She continues “Alya hasn’t been the same ever since Lila returned to school. She’s risking her life going after Akumas, demanding interviews with Ladybug and Chat Noir, and she’s been expecting you to do stuff for her but you don’t get anything in return.”

“Yeah, but that’s just Lila feeding her lies. I know Lila is terrible and is just a flat out liar, but even she’d be against any form of abuse!” She exclaimed “... Right?”

The two hear the bell ring, and Tikki quickly hides behind Marinette. Marinette looks up to see Nino “Hey, Nino. What can I get you?”

“Hey, Mari. Do you guys still have those caramel macarons?”

She thinks and remembers they’re not in stock “Nope. Sorry.” She notices Nino squeezing his wrist “Is everything okay?”

“A-are you sure? Could you check?” He asks nervously “I-I don’t care how many, just-“

“Maman ordered ingredients yesterday, they’ll be here next week. What’s the rush?” She steps from behind the counter “You don’t even like caramel.”

“They’re for Alya.” He explains “She’s just been really upset lately, I-I figured they might ease her up a bit.”

“Well, is she okay?”

“Yeah, totally. I’m usually the one who puts her in a mood. Honestly, it’s my fault.” He notices the look of concern on Marinette’s face and looks away “I just figured-“

“Nino, you’d tell me if Alya was hurting you, right?” She places a hand on his shoulder

Nino frowns “Dude! She’s not hurting me!” He exclaims “What gave you that idea? She’s my girlfriend.”

“I’m not saying that she is hurting you!” She says in defense “But, you haven’t been acting like yourself lately, and Alya’s been kinda... Irritable.”

“She's fine. Alya’s just been a little upset that Ladybug stopped giving her interviews, I-I haven’t exactly been that supportive.” He mutters the last part, but Marinette heard it clearly

“Excuse me?”

“Uh... Ne-nevermind!” He stammers “I’ll go see if that other bakery is open. Thanks again, Mari!” He runs out before Marinette can say anything else.

Tikki flies out of her hiding place with a concerned look on her face

“I really think Alya is hurting him.” Marinette still doesn’t wanna believe what the tiny goddess is saying, but it’s starting to seem like that now.

“I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.”

—

Being unnoticed by people has its advantages. Nathaniel can see what others don’t, and learn new things about them. For instance, Lila seems to be giving Alya a lot of “advice” on her relationship. ‘You need to be the one in control’, ‘If he doesn’t listen, make him regret it’, ‘So what if he says no? He’s your boyfriend.’ ‘This is how a healthy relationship works’ Bullshit. That is not a healthy relationship. It also works well in the locker room when you see your friend’s girlfriend yelling at him and gripping his arm tightly

“I don’t want you talking to that... That BITCH! Got it?!” He nods quickly “Good.” She lets go of his arm, and storms out the room. Nino sits on the bench and cries to himself. Nathaniel quickly texted Marinette and Kim to let them know what he had seen.

—

Chloe was a lot of things. A sneak, tyrant, and a bully. But at least she had the guts to admit her flaws, unlike that Italian bitch, and that trashy tabloid girl. And Chloe understood abusive relationships. Sabrina told her stories she heard from her dad, and right now, Césaire and Lahiffe’s relationship is looking worse than those.

She was blonde, but she wasn’t dumb. There were signs of abuse, and it all was traced back to Lie-la. She didn’t mind the Italian at first. She let her have her fifteen minutes of fame, then go back to being nobody, but that didn’t happen. That girl had climbed her way up the social ladder, and she lied to do it.

She saw how the liar constantly bragged, made herself look better than others, fed people’s egos, and threatened others to get what she wanted, mainly Marinette. She even somehow managed to get the Eurasian expelled, something Chloe had never done.

But now she was encouraging an abusive relationship. This was something the blonde would not tolerate. She disliked everyone in that class, but even she isn’t that cruel.

When she saw Nino walking out the locker room with a visible bruise on his arm, she took a quick picture before he could pull his sleeve down, then went to find Sabrina. They had to get the word out.

—

Marinette considers herself a pacifist (When in her civilian form). But she has never wanted to hurt someone so much right now. When she saw the text Nathaniel had sent her an Kim on the group chat ‘Nino Protection Squad’, she was livid

“How could Alya do this?!” She screeched “This isn’t right! She doesn’t even care what she’s doing to him!” Tikki tries to calm her down so no Akumas are attracted

“It’ll be okay, Marinette. You can help him!”

“How can I do that when barely anyone in class will talk to me? They all believe that liar!” Her phone buzzes again. She checks and sees that Chloe has created a group chat. Everyone in the class, but Nino, Alya, and Lila was on. Marc, Nathaniel’s boyfriend, was included as well

QueenB

Meet me at the hotel at 4:00

Sk8r Gal

What’s going on??

VogueBoy

Is everything okay, Chloe?

RoseBud

Why aren’t Alya, Nino, and Lila on here?

QueenB

Don’t add them on

Sabrina and I will tell you everything. Just hurry!!!

Not thinking too much about the strange text, Marinette headed over to the hotel and met with her class, plus Marc, in Chloe’s suite

“Okay, we’re here.” Ivan says “What’s going on? And why aren’t Alya, Nino, and Lila here?”

“This is about them.” She notices the worried looks on Kim, Marinette, and Nathaniel’s faces “I’m sure some of you have noticed that Alya and Nino’s relationship seems a little off.”

While everyone looks confused, Marinette, Kim, and Nathaniel nod. Chloe notices Alix looking down solemnly

“And I’m sure you guys have noticed that Nino hasn’t been acting like himself lately.” This grabs their attention “... I think Alya might be abusing Nino, and Lila is causing it.” That statement causes outrage. Everyone on Lila’s side tries to defender her and Alya

“No way!”

“Alya would never do that!”

“You’re just jealous!”

“SHUT UP!” They’re all silenced by Marinette’s outburst “I believe her!” Before they can retort, Kim speaks up

“So do I.”

“... Same.” They turn to Nathaniel. Marc holds his hand “I... I saw Alya yelling at him. She was holding his arm tight, a-and he was crying after she left.” The class is stunned. No one says anything, but after a few more seconds of silence, Alix speaks up.

“I was skating by the park, and I saw them.” She frowns at the memory “Alya was yelling at him, saying he brought the wrong macaroons or something, and I just... I saw her slap him across the face.” She removes her cap and sits on the white couch “I didn’t know what to do or say, I just froze.” Juleka sits down next to her and hugs her

“I believe you guys.” She sighs “I know Chloe isn’t exactly the nicest person, but even she wouldn’t lie about something this serious. The more I think about it, the more I see Alya is hurting Nino.”

“But, why would Lila be the one who started this?” Max brings up

“Because she’s a psychotic liar!” Chloe screeches “For God’s sake, do you honestly believe someone could fall down the stairs and not get hurt, or that a napkin could gouge your eye out when you’re wearing glasses?!” Max cringes at the memory

Mylène speaks up “I believe that Nino is being hurt, but I don’t think it was caused by Lila.”

“You don’t notice how she keeps giving Alya ‘relationship advice’?” Marinette asks, putting air quotes around relationship advice. “Or how she’s been feeding Alya’s ego just a little too much? This is why she keeps putting herself in danger during Akuma attacks! And Ladybug won’t even talk to her anymore!”

“Yeah, but-“

Adrien finally speaks up “Guys, Marinette’s right. Lila’s a liar.” He feels Plagg nudging him in his pocket and comes clean “One day, Lila tried to lie and say that she was the descendant of a fox superhero. But Ladybug called her out, and well... That’s how I knew.”

“So, you knew Lila was lying and didn’t tell us?!” Alix shouts

“Could you blame him?” Chloe replies “You all turned on Dupain-Cheng when she tried to warn you!”

Everyone realizes she’s right. They’re starting to see that Lila isn’t the amazing person that thought she was. She was a manipulative liar, and they fell for every single story she told. They felt like idiots. They remembered Marinette, how she warned them, tried to point out Lila’s lies, but they didn’t listen. A few were about to apologize, but Marinette stopped them.

“You can apologize later.” She says “Now we need to help Nino, expose Lila for the liar she is, and keep Alya away from Nino for good.”

—

Marinette and Chloé used their connections to contact all the famous people Lila lies about. From Jagged Stone to Clara Nightingale, Audrey Bourgeois, XY, Prince Ali, everyone.

Adrien had informed his father of how uncomfortable Lila made him during photo shoots. Constantly touching him, being so unprofessional, and trying to kiss him every chance she could get.

Gabriel Agreste reconsidered his decision on making Lila his new model and decided to give his lawyers a call.

Sabrina told her dad about how Nino was being abused by Alya, and how Lila was causing it. She showed him the picture Chloé took of the bruise on Nino’s arm, and he was on board with the plan.

Kim, Marc, Nathaniel, and Alix gathered more evidence, such as Nino’s bruises, audio recordings of his and Alya’s conversations. They even recorded a few of Lila’s lies, and the advice she was giving Alya on how a “healthy relationship” works. This would be what they showed principal Damocles.

Mylène, Ivan, Rose, Juleka, and Max worked to find Mme. Rossi’s contact info. They eventually found the Embassy homepage where they found her phone number and email address. This information would also be brought to the principal.

—

Alya was pissed. First, her lousy boyfriend didn’t get the right macarons for their date, then she caught him talking to that jealous bitch, and now everyone was avoiding her and Lila for no damn reason! She bet Marinette got to them. That girl was taking her jealousy way too far! She was just so mad... And her boyfriend talking to Rose wasn’t helping one damn bit.

“Nino, please let us help you.“

“Rose, I told you. Alya and I are fine. I-I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.” Before Rose could say more, Nino felt the recurring pain in his arm again. He turned around and saw Alya, a furious look on her face

“Leave him alone, Rose.” Alya sneered as she dragged Nino away.

Nino was hoping she would see this wasn’t his fault, and let him off easy this time. It was Rose who approached him, not the other way around. Alya didn’t believe him for a second. She dragged him into a broom closet, making sure no one saw them and shut the door behind her.

“Babe, please, I-I didn’t say any-“

Alya grabbed Nino by his head and slammed his faces into the wall, and three more times for good measure

“You idiot! You think you can just go behind my back and talk to some bitch?!” She smacked him across the face “This isn’t even half the pain I feel when you betray me!”

“I’m sorry!” This earned Nino a punch to the face, and a hard punch to the ribs, making him cough up some blood. “Stop! Please!” He was crying now

“Shut up!” She slapped him across the face one more time, then she reached into her pocket, pulled out some concealer, and threw it at Nino “Put that on!” Once she leaves, Nino slides down into the floor and continues crying

—

Alya could feel all eyes on her as she walked into the classroom. They weren’t friendly, though. She took her seat by Lila and waited for Mme. Bustier to start her lesson, but to her confusion, she wasn’t there. She turns to Lila “Where’s Mme. Bustier?” The Italian just shrugged

“So, Alya.” She turned around to see Adrien giving her a hate-filled look. Why? She didn’t know “You see Nino around?”

Alya just rolled her eyes “He said he’s gonna be a little late.” ‘He better get here soon.’ Adrien just slumped into his seat, his arms folded

“Sure.”

—

Irene Rossi was beyond livid. She was just filing a few papers and sending some emails to some fellow diplomats when she suddenly received a very disturbing email from her daughter’s principal. When she got to the end, she ran right outside, got in her car, and drove to the school. She was going to have a few words with her daughter

—

Mme. Bustier stepped into the classroom with Damocles and officer Raincomprix. The teacher looked horrified and so pale. But that all changed when she saw Alya and Lila. She glared at the two girls. She had never felt like this towards any of her students. She didn’t want to feel this way, but after hearing what had been going on behind her back, she felt those girls deserved the most severe punishment

“Alya Césaire and Lila Rossi?” Roger asked. The two girls nodded, and at that, he pulled out two sets of handcuffs “You two are coming with me.” He proceeded to place the cuffs on their wrists

“What?!” The two girls screamed

“But we didn’t do anything!” Alya yelled

Chloé rolled her eyes “Oh, so hitting your boyfriend is nothing?”

Alya was speechless at the accusation “You... Shut up, you bitch!

Lila started crying crocodile tears “Marinette, how could you?!”

“Cram it, Rossi!” Kim yelled, “We know you’ve been lying about everything!”

Lila was taken aback “I-I didn’t lie! I swear! Did Marinette-“

“Shut the fuck up Lila!” The students' mouths hung open when they heard Adrien curse “I have dealt with your shit before, but this is way too far! You are an enabler of abusive relationships!”

Lila continued to cry, trying to gain some sympathy, but no one except Alya came to her defense “How could you say that?!”

Marinette stood from her chair “Because it’s the truth, Alya! I saw the bruises on Nino’s arms! Nathaniel saw you yelling at him and squeezing his arm, Alix saw you at the park! You hit him!” Alya was about to retort, until-

“Hey, Mme. Bustier, sorry I’m late. I-“ Nino notices the handcuffs on Lila and Alya’s wrists and the angry looks on his classmates' face. He is about to ask what’s wrong until he sees that look on Alya’s face that says ‘Get the fuck out.’ “I... I’m gonna go.” He’s about to walk out the room until he feels his teacher’s hand on his shoulder

“Nino. I want you to be honest with me.” She says in a caring voice “Is Alya hurting you?” The room goes silent as they await his answer. When he says nothing, she places a hand on his cheek but notices something off about the texture of his skin

“...”

Bustier rubs her thumb over his cheek, revealing a purple mark. She’s close to tears “Nino...” She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipes the concealer off, revealing multiple bruises and cuts all over his face.

The students gasp at the sight. Marinette, Rose, and Adrien start crying. Ivan, Juleka, Alix, and Kim look ready to murder Alya.

Bustier turns to Roger. “Please, take them away.” The two girls are horrified when she allows Roger to take them out of the classroom, but then...

“Not so fast.”

They were about to thank God for sending them this woman dressed in a red power suit, until “Alya Césaire and Lila Rossi. You’ve been served.” She opens up her briefcase, revealing a stack of papers “Jagged Stone, Clare Nightingale, XY, Prince Ali, and Audrey Bourgeois are suing both of you for defamation.”

“WHAT?!” Alya screeched “But Lila knows them, they’ll vouch for her! They wouldn’t sue her!”

“I beg to differ. According to a few of your classmates, Miss Rossi has been lying about the following...” She pulls a sheet of paper out of the briefcase

“Claiming she saved Jagged Stone’s cat, that he wrote a song about her, Clara stole her dance moves, she visits the Prince multiple times, XY cheated on her, and Audrey begged her to model. And Miss Césaire, they’re demanding that your tabloid blog be taken down.”

Alya looked dumbstruck “B-but it’s all true!”

“No. It. Isn’t.”

Another woman stepped in. Lila immediately paled

“Lila Diabla Rossi, I can’t believe you!” She began to yell in Italian, Lila retorted, also in Italian. It was very confusing for the Parisian citizens, but the two women went back to speaking French

“You lied to me about school being shut down, about Ladybug and Chat Noir! About everything!”

“But, mama-“

“DON’T!” She yelled “You need to learn your lesson. That is why I’m wavering your diplomatic immunity.”

“What?!” Lila was livid. There was no way out of it. Where the hell was an Akuma when you needed one?!

“There’s also the matter of her partnership with the Agreste brand.” Nathalie stepped in, and a small stack of papers in her hand “Lila Rossi, you are fired. Mr. Agreste has also placed a restraining order on you. You are not to get within twenty feet of Adrien.”

Irene looked confused “Fired?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Nathalie asked “Your daughter is Gabriel’s newest model, and muse apparently. Her words, not his.”

Once again, the Italian woman shouted profanities in a language no one in the room, except for Lila understood. Many were wondering where the Akuma was, but Nathalie knew. It would be here in 3... 2...

“AKUMA!”

Now. She hid a smirk when she saw Lila pull out of Roger’s hold, and run for the Akuma. It went into her handcuffs, and she laughed like a maniac as the butterfly symbol appeared over her face

“YOU IDIOTS SHOULD’VE KEPT YOUR MOUTHS SHUT!”

Everyone waited for the black smoke to surround her, and for an Akuma to be in her place. Marinette and Adrien were about to get out of their seats and run somewhere private to transform... But nothing.

“What?!” She yelled “You need me! I was so damn close to getting that stupid jewelry! I almost killed Ladybug! You’d be nothing without me!”

The students were horrified. She was working with a terrorist! She admitted to almost killing Ladybug, their hero! The butterfly flew out of her handcuffs and became white again, much to their shock. Hawkmoth just revoked an Akuma.

“NO! YOU’RE USELESS HAWKMOTH! USELE-“ A black book was thrown at her head, and she passed out onto the floor, much to everyone’s shock and relief. They turn around and see Marc standing at the doorway with his arm outstretched

“Rainbow, did you throw that?” Nathaniel asks as he walks over to his boyfriend

“She was so annoying!” He exasperated. Nathaniel kisses him on the cheek, calming him down

“She... She was lying?” Alya asked herself “She was working with Hawkmoth...”

Marinette sighed, got up from her seat, and walked down the stairs, then walked over to Alya. The bespectacled girl looked to her former friend, hoping she’ll say it wasn’t her fault, and that she didn’t know, but instead, all the bluenette said was

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU THAT FROM THE START!” She yelled, making Alya flinch and look down in shame “But, nooo! I’m a jealous bitch! Well how are you any better?! You abused Nino, attacked Aurore, and spread lies about people I know!”

“But-“

“Save it. You hurt my friend. I don’t ever want to see your face again!” She feels Adrien take her hand in his. She sends him a smile, then heads back to her desk

Alya looks to Nino, hoping he’ll forgive her and see that she was wrong for listening to Lila “Babe, please help me! I didn’t know! I’m sorry!”

Nino just looks her dead in the eye and frowns “Why would I help you?”

—

Alya and Lila’s trials took place a few weeks later. Along with defamation, Lila had also been sued for bullying, sexual harassment, aiding a terrorist, destruction of property, and forging signatures. Nino, Marinette, and Adrien testified against them and showed no mercy. Lila tried to lie her way out once again, but the judge, a no-nonsense woman, was having none of it. They were found guilty of their actions. Alya received twenty years in prison with no bail. Lila received thirty-five, also with no bail.

As for Nino, he was getting better. His bruises healed after a few months, and his friends were there for him. A year passed and Nino found a new girlfriend, Alisha. An American girl who enjoyed painting, and musicals. When she heard about Nino’s previous relationship, she smothered him with hugs and words of comfort.

Marinette got her apologies from the class, and she accepted them. However, it would be a while before she could truly forgive them. They didn’t blame her.

Taglist:

@heaven428 @aestheticnpoetic @marinetteagrestelove @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj @wannajointhecrabcult @starpony999 @its-salty-bug @saltymiraculer

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Señorita

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: S.M.U.T., language.

Synopsis: You finally get out of the city to spend a week in a beachside paradise - you’re entitled to a little getaway, you think, with your birthday coming up. When a handsome stranger hits on you at the bar, along with your birthday, some other things might come as well.   A/N: This was random? Came out of nowhere. Enjoy & let me know what you think x

Gif not mine

Timid waves crushed softly against the shoreline, white sand turning concrete gray at their touch. The warm breeze carried around a song you thought you recognised, but couldn’t remember from where. The beach-side bar basked in a gentle blush glow, so typical for the evenings here at Mallorca… You’d only arrived a couple of days ago, but already you couldn’t picture yourself anywhere else - just sitting here, at the bar by the turquoise sea, sipping on your Pina Colada in the shadow of the palm-branched roof. The wind brushed through your salt-stained hair from the entire day spent rolling around on the beach; mindful sun caressing your thighs, peaking from behind the slit in your deep emerald dress.

Tonight was relatively calm, you thought, twirling the straw in your cocktail absentmindedly. Ever since the English rugby team packed up their balls and other attributes and set out to sea, the place became peaceful.

You were glad. The entire point of this trip was to get out of the busy city for a while, enjoy the calm. If you wanted a testosterone-filled party for your birthday, you would have stayed in New York - Karen would throw a rave that would make Coachella look like a kindergarten gathering.

But that is exactly what drove you out of America and into this seaside paradise. If there was one thing you had trouble doing, it was working a crowd of people you barely saw in your everyday life, who only came for booze and dancing. Karen said she understood, and that the party would have been a small yet tasteful affair… you still fled.

Here’s to hoping that Karen wasn’t pissed at you for bailing, you silently prayed, throwing the straw on the bar and taking a gulp directly from the glass. Judging from the text Karen sent you earlier today, saying something about getting together for a celebratory meal when you got back to the city, you figured she wasn’t mad. She did say something about introducing her to a friend of Frank’s again, and having thrown the Karen plan for the party out of the window, you had to budge.

It’d been so long it had become a running joke between you two - Karen wanting to introduce you to that “handsome hunk”, with whom Frank had served. She was especially lyrical about his manners, his big heart and his beautiful smile.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Karen was head over heels for the guy.

Every time Karen made plans for a Sunday brunch or Saturday night drinks at Castle’s place with the sole purpose of introducing you to the Hunk, you always found an excuse to ditch. Sometimes it was an urgency at work, sometimes it was about something funny you ate the night before… You must have been dodging these “introductory date” attempts for at least five months now - and it all looked like after this get-away vacation, you’d have to face the music.

Well, it was worth it. A week of doing nothing, reading sappy novels and drinking high-end cocktails, that was what you craved for, and if you had to pretend to be interested in some nonsense a guy was trying to charm you with for a couple of hours, it was a small price to pay. With that thought, you finished off your Pina Colada and motioned for the sunburnt brown bartender to get you another one.

“Hola señorita.”

The voice was unexpected. Low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a hint of power.

“Disculpe, ¿este asiento está ocupado?”

Slightly frowning, you turned your head to the right.  

Ever since the English rugby team settled in one of the villas, the women in the hotel found themselves outnumbered. It just so happened - what a coincidence - that you turned out to be their neighbour, your villa closest to theirs. Everytime you’d walk out of your temporary home to hit the bar or the beach, you’d spot at least three young men hanging outside of their quarters, their faces illuminating the minute they saw you. You’d give them a cursory smile back - you weren’t that cruel - but everytime one of them tried to approach you, you shot him down - often with a look, rarely with a verbal warning. Ever since they left, you was relishing the feeling of tranquillity - until he decided to burst your happy little bubble.

The first thing you noticed about him is that he wasn’t Spanish, despite the lack of accent. He had beautiful dark, almost black eyes, the colour of a freshly brewed espresso, that myriad of black and chocolate tones swirling in a whirlpool of tender curiosity. They held your depreciating stare well. The sun obviously loved him - those razor-sharp cheekbones glowed bronze as he tilted his head to the side a little bit. The wind caressed his dark hair, playing with the longer strands at the top.

Something about him was so familiar. Maybe you’d seen him on the beach before? You did stay at the same hotel after all…

Not in a slightest bit confused at your lack of answer, the man smiled.

His smile held a sort of a gentle surprise in it, like a summer day in a middle of October.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Je suis désolée,” you finally uttered, forcing your eyes to focus on his eyes again instead of his lips. “Je ne parle pas espagnol”.

His smile grew wider, much to your surprise. Instead of getting red in the face, stammering out some random apology as you expected him to, he nodded and motioned to the chair next to you with one hand, sliding the other one across the surface of the bar.

Despite your better judgement and against your utter dislike of aimless flirting, you found herself shrugging as you accepted her second drink from the bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks, please.”

Ah-ha. He’s from New York.

You sipped on your cocktail directly from the glass, ignoring the brand-new straw the bartender supplied you with in order to hide your smirk. As the man held two aristocratic, impossibly long fingers in the air, making his order, you took the time to study him.

He was tall, much taller than you. The plain white t-shirt that he wore betrayed the solid stomach muscles hidden under the cotton - the short sleeves strained as he gripped the back of the chair and slowly lowered himself onto it.

“Thank you,” he finally said to the bartender with a nod, gripping his glass with those downright pornographic fingers. Slightly pursuing his lips, the man turned his full attention back to you. When you arched an eyebrow at his antics, he flashed you a mischievous yet understanding look. “Ça tombe bien. Je me sens plus à l’aise en parlant français”.

That cheeky bastard.

Your first reaction was that of a sincere surprise. You were pretty sure that for a second there, your eyebrows almost reached your hairline. Upon catching the satisfied glint in these already all too familiar eyes, you wanted to feel irritated at the nerve of him, at the fact that he just happened to beat you at your own game. But you didn’t.

Biting hard on your bottom lip in order not to laugh, you took your glass and sipped, hard.

“While I’d love to know how many more languages the lady speaks, I would much rather learn her name”, he dropped nonchalantly, whirling his whiskey gently, the ice cubes cluttering against the glass.

The first comeback that crossed your mind was so filthy you couldn’t possibly go with it. The second one, however, was efficient and succinct.

“Diana, here’s a lady’s name.”

With a low chuckle, he let his head drop down for a moment. When he raised his eyes to face you again, your chest felt a little too tight and a little too fragile under his poignant stare - that of amusement, want and a clean cut awe.

His eyes had told you that this was more than a drifting attraction, that he was interested in so much more than your name…

You saw it, and for some nonsensical reason, chose to believe it.

“I don’t care about names,” there was such a determination to your voice that it surprised you. It didn’t startle him, though - he caught your every word as his eyes travelled from your fluttering eyelashes to the soft curve of your lips. “When there are so many more interesting things to talk about. Don’t you agree?”

As you turned away from him and took another sip of your drink, you heard him chuckle yet again, and saw him press a hesitant finger against his lips.

This was obviously new to him. This small treacherous gesture led you to believe that maybe he wasn’t one to pick women at bars, that, just like you, he felt that thrill of surrendering to the strange sort of attraction encircling you both.

“In fact, enough talking. Let’s focus on doing.”

What was it so special about him that made you decide? It’s not like there’s been no men before him, very much willing to break through your iron-clad facade, wanting you to take a leap of faith. Some of them had the potential to make you feel good, you were aware of that. Still, you didn’t want them.

What made him so different? A certain familiarity of his voice, his features, maybe? Or maybe you should just slow down, cut down on the alcohol, drink a glass of water and go back to your villa, alone.

The way his eyes skimmed your naked shoulders, a barely there sigh leaving his half-open lips sealed the deal.

You didn’t want to slow down.

Not with him.

“Here’s to doing then”, his Adam apple bobbed as he gulped down, his eyes darkening. He raised his glass towards you - a figurative shake of hands on the deal they just made.

“Here’s to doing”, you agreed, clinking your glass to his.

His villa was located at the outskirts of the hotel beach, backed by the rocks. It was a ten-minute walk from the bar, feet in the warm sand, the star-sprangled night sky over your heads.

Despite the silence surrounding you, save for the occasional gust of breeze carrying on the sound of music from the bar you just left, you didn’t feel awkward. A soft smile ghosted over your lips as you felt his careful touch at the small of your back - those fingers sliding down to the base of your spine, feather-like. He strode forward, adapting his pace so you could keep up - you weren’t even sure he was aware of that, the change in him so spontaneous, as if it were a force of habit. Like this wasn’t the first time you walked side by side.

You would blame it on the booze, but you drank a total of two cocktails.

He only had one whiskey before they took off.

The villa he chose to stay in was slightly more spacious than yours, and provided a lot more privacy - this told you a lot about the man you were about to sleep with. He was most certainly well off, for starters. He also came here to get his share of peace and quiet, much like yourself.

Guiding you through the doors, he turned the lights on behind you, his other hand never leaving your back.

The best way to describe the interior would be neat or crisp, with a large, perfectly made bed in the center of the space, surrounded by a bar, a hanging chair, a shuttered armoire, and a desk, that could be used both as a kitchen table and a bureau. It smelled faintly of vanilla and musk, with a sea-salt aftertaste.

“Make yourself at home”, he murmured into your ear, still standing behind you, his hand gripping your hip hard for a fleeting second. When the realization of his touch had settled in, and you were finally able to react, he was already at the bar, serving himself a whiskey.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He busied himself with the bottle for a moment; then he produced another glass from behind the bar, waiting on your answer. When you didn’t speak, he turned to face you again.

You did as you were told - kicking off your shoes, you stepped onto the soft wool rug. With your back to him, you slowly made your way to his bed. One you reached it, you couldn’t resist trailing your fingertips along its surface - the sheets were creamy and silk, smooth to the touch.

You stopped short of the head of the bed, throwing a look over your shoulder. He caught your gaze, frozen in place, wetting his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.  

“Why don’t you choose for me?” you offered, slowly lowering yourself on the bed, crossing your legs. “What do you usually serve them?”

The way his eyes narrowed at you ever so slightly almost made you smile. It looked like you’d struck a nerve.

Good.

“I wouldn’t know how to answer that question”, he said, his voice levelled, his stare unblinking. “I’ve never had an urge like that before”.

Well, fuck.

How many more times this man was going to run counter to your expectations?

And on top of everything, damn, he was good. A quick-thinker or a natural good-talker? Would you remain clear-headed for long enough to find out?

“What else would you like to know?” his voice grew huskier as he pushed the glass away from himself. He left it at the bar as he started your way, his pupils blown to hell.

“That all I’ve been thinking about ever since I saw you at the bar is how soft your breasts would feel pressed against my chest? That I’ve been hard ever since you opened that sassy mouth of yours? Or that I would have jerked off to the memory of you for weeks if you hadn’t come here with me?”

God.

The tightness that had long since made home in your chest moved lower, lower, lower, until it sank into the pit of your stomach. At his words, involuntary, your thighs clenched together, restless energy buzzing in between your legs, your toes curling.

“Stand up”.

When your eyes focused back on your surroundings, you saw him standing a couple of steps away, his strong jaw clenching as he gazed at you, his arms folded on his chest. Breath catching in your throat, you pushed off the bed. Feeling dizzy all of the sudden, you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me, beautiful.”

Again, you did as you were told - you met his gaze head-on, and almost instantly regretted it. He was staring down at you with those black bottomless eyes, raw emotion flowing through him, filling the air around them, charging it to the brim. His hands fell down his sides now - so tense, the veins budged on his forearms.

It’s like he was pacing himself, keeping himself from touching you.

“Take off your dress,” he requested after a moment, watching you like a hawk.

Slowly, squeezing your thighs harder, harder still, you brought your hands to the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, before pushing them off completely.

The dress landed in a heap on the floor, leaving you in nothing but lacy panties - almost utterly naked under his stare.

You heard the softest groan escape his mouth as his hand snaked across his thighs and up to that bulge in his pants. When he squeezed his hand around it, his abdominal muscles flexing as he exhaled, you felt the moisture spread down your inner thighs.

With your heart pounding in your throat, you made a step towards him with your hand stretched out. Almost immediately you heard a low strangled noise, and saw the nah shining bright in his dark eyes.

“Not yet, beautiful,” he growled, taking his t-shirt off in one elegant motion. He then undid the belt on his pants, his eyes savouring every inch of your naked skin. “Play with your tits for me. With both hands.”

Your own touch burned as you carefully squeezed your nipples with your fingers. Throwing your head back, you moaned loud, unwillingly pushing your hips forward.

“That’s it, beautiful, just like that.”

His words seemed to lift some sort of barrier, as you started to tug and pull harder at the nipples, alternating the movements with firm grasps around the swell of your breasts.

You were going to come.

You were going to come and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Now slide one of those hands down those panties. Rub that pretty pussy. Tell me how wet you are”.

You made peace with the fact that he was a talker - but now he had surely sat out to break her. His voice washed all over your body, sending goosebumps down your spine as you slid one of your hands under the underwear.

“I’m so fucking wet”, you gasped, staring at him. “Fucking dripping”.

His moan made your thighs tremble, your fingers slowly circling around your clit. Before you let your eyes roll to the back of your head, you saw him with one of his hands hidden in his pants, slowly jerking himself off, with slow, aborted motions.

“That’s it, caress that pussy for me. But go slow - tease it”.

You nearly growled at that. You knew you were close - there was a bundle of sensation, like a ball of electricity, building inside of you - two quick flicks of your index finger, and you’d be done for.  

“Jesus, please”, you stuttered out before you could realize you were actually begging. “I’m so fucking close, please…”

You rubbed slowly over the nerves, your fingers wet and slippery. Panting, you realized his name would have come in handy just now - if he had some sort of a praise kink, you could maybe easily get the release you yearned for.

“You are so beautiful, fucking yourself like that. Wish those were my hands. Or my mouth”.

Something flared at the very end of your clit, softly spreading all over her pussy. You moaned loud and unapologetic, your fingers moving faster as you tried to chase that sensation. You needed to grasp it, to ride it out, you fucking needed it!…

“Put a finger inside, beautiful”.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Pumping fast and hard, you could feel your knees bending, your flesh begging for release.

“Come for me. Now.”

As if by command, the orgasm finally hit you - everywhere at once. It made your entire body shake as you screamed out, pussy clenching around your fingers. You barely registered you were falling down on your knees, when strong hands caught you at your hipbones, pushing you upright.

He was on you before you could come down from your high. His mouth hot and bruising against yours, you moaned, instinctively jumping onto him and wrapping your legs around his feverish body.

His scent assaulted you - a clean, musky scent made your inside muscles clench, so you wiggled against him, wanting more.

He was so painfully hard against your core, you whimpered, pushing your hips against his, needing more friction, like an addict craving for a dose.

Sensing your need, feeling you, he grabbed your ass with his large hands and stepped onto the bed, setting you down on that same wooden headboard of the bed you’d almost stroke with your fingers.

Pushing your legs apart, he settled in between them. Before you knew it, his tongue lapped at your wetness, sliding up the length of your slit. Whimpering and moaning, you arched your back, burying your fingers in his hair, tugging hard. That made him growl, adding a slight vibration as he sucked on the bundle of nerves. He slammed his fingers - those fucking fingers - into you, and it took exactly two pumps for your second orgasm to roll over you. With your eyes squeezed shut, you moaned into the ceiling with everything you had.

Helping you slide down onto the bed with his hands guiding your hips, he gave you a piercing stare. The one that made you whimper, even though your eye-side was still fuzzy at the edges.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before he distanced himself from you - to take off his pants.

“I’m going to fuck you now - I’ll be gentle next time, right now… Right now I just need to bury myself in that pretty pussy of yours”.

“Fuck”, you moaned, propping yourself on the elbows, closing your eyes as you threw your head back. You didn’t know if you could handle more, but Jesus, did you want it. His cock stretching you wide.

You would not have been able to tell where he took a condom from - you didn’t even have time to contemplate on it. All you registered was a slight discomfort in between your legs before his huge cock pushed inside of you, inch by glorious inch. The stretch was almost too much, and you coughed out half a breath, half a moan as you tried to adjust to his size. Whatever sound you were about to let out next, as he slid out of you and pushed back in, to the hilt this time, it got lost in between your lips, as he captured your mouth in a bruising kiss.

Your nails scratched on his ripped back as he fucked into you shallowly, your teeth biting into the skin on his neck. As if not getting enough of you, he grabbed one of your thighs, flexing it, so he could thrust deeper.

The change of the angle had you swearing under your breath, and his mouth was there to silence you again, his teeth biting down on your bottom lip.

The third orgasm snuck up on you out of nowhere - there was no gradual built, no buzzing feeling in your lower stomach - it crashed on you like a bucket full of ice, having you arching your back, clenching around his cock so fiercely, it snatched an orgasm out of him, as well.

“Fuuuuuck”, he breathed out, his hips slamming sloppily into yours. “So fucking good, fucking…”

Before he could continue, you rolled forward and put your mouth on him, swallowing his words. With his palm cupping your cheek, he deepened the kiss as his cock drained itself into the latex.

The kiss grew soft, your noses touching ever so slightly as you both slowed down, a mess of tangled limbs. Smearing his wet mouth against your nipples, he pushed up from you, sliding his cock out.

“I’d take that drink now if you don’t mind”, you told him, a lazy smile illuminating your features.

A low chuckle he let out echoed in your lower stomach.

“Sure, beautiful. How does a whiskey sound?” he offered, standing up in all his naked glory.

You hummed in approval as you leaned higher against the headboard. Biting your lip, you checked out his ass unashamedly, as he made his way to the bar, throwing the used condom into the garbage bin.

“I know there are some things that we’ve agreed on, but I’d much appreciate calling you by your name instead of beautiful when going down on you next time. What do you say?”

You heard whiskey splash against the walls of your soon-to-be glass. Your inner muscles clenched at the sight of him, naked, serving you a drink.

“It’s Y/N”, you said with a small smile.

“Billy”, he responded, making his way to you. As you reached out to take your glass of whiskey from him, he pulled his hands backwards, using your position to land his lips on yours in a stinging kiss instead. You responded hungrily, grabbing his head with both of your hands.

The night was still young, after all.

“Okay, so would you rather spent your life partying with rich assholes you barely know, still seeing your family and friends, or get stuck on a desert island with no opportunity to see anyone at all?”

You turned your head ever so slightly, feeling his muscles clench as Billy huffed out a breath.

You both laid naked on his bed, him propped against the headboard, you - with your head settled comfortably on his stomach. A half empty bottle of whiskey was getting warm against your bare thigh, both of your glasses laying empty next to it.

You had lost count of the times you came with his name a word of ecstasy on your lips. You were surely going to sport some hickeys on your neck tomorrow, but you didn’t care.

You had never felt so at ease with a man before. Granted, no man had ever managed to make you come three times in a row, but that wasn’t the point. Billy made you question your “no dating” rule, and not just because he fucked like his life depended on it. He just got you - whether it was your discomfort in big crowds, fear of subway, weird addiction to macarons or love-hate relationship with Paris. You just clicked - it was hard to believe you met mere hours ago.

Or maybe the fact that you only just met was the reason why you clicked. It certainly wouldn’t be the same in the long run. The rose-goggles period only lasted so long. When routine kicked in, it tended to crash everything in its wake.

“That’s a tough one”, he said, biting on the inside of his cheeks. “If I could invite people on my desert island, I’d definitely go with the second option.”

“Well, you can’t”, you smirked at him, and then stared back into the ceiling. “It’s either being constantly surrounded, or seeing no one at all”.

He hummed, considering the options.

“I can’t imagine being alone 24/7, even though you might have guessed already, I love being alone sometimes”, his fingers slowly caressed the soft skin under your breasts, as he voiced his thoughts out loud. “It’s funny how your mind works though”, you could hear a smile in his tone now. “With you, it’s either all or nothing.”

You thought for a moment, interlacing your fingers with his. Then you shrugged:

“Sometimes, I just want to get away, you know? See no one, speak to no one… I sometimes push people away, thinking it would do me good. But it doesn’t always have that desirable effect.”

When you stole a glance at Billy again, you saw him nod.

“I know what you mean”, he spoke quietly. “And I’m glad you didn’t push me away tonight”.

“Oh, I tried,” you assured him with a smirk. “You’re hard to shake off”, you let go of his fingers and pushed yourself up on your hands, so that your eyes were on the same level.

Billy chuckled, his lips stretching in that warm and wonderful smile.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll be hard. Again. Point blank.”

You laughed quietly, dropping your gaze, your eyes traveling down his stomach and to that massive cock between his legs.

He was getting hard again alright.  

“What time is it?” you suddenly remembered, snapping your gaze around, searching for a clock.

“Quarter to four, why would you ask?” he told you, after checking his wristwatch.

You closed her eyes.

“It’s my birthday”, you said before you blinked at him in surprise.

In between all that dirty sex and orgasms, you lost track of time and completely forgot. Were you coming when the clock struck midnight? The thought made you giggle.

“Really?” Billy stared at you in disbelief before his dark cocoa eyes softened, and his voice dropped an octave. “Come here”.

Warmth spread all over your body at his words, your core the center of the growing tingling sensation. Billy used his hot hands to pull you closer, help you settle in his lap, your legs on each side of his hips. With his left hand he reached for the bedside table, pulling out yet another condom out.

“Would you like to put it on?” He whispered against the skin behind your ear, making your pussy tense. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, taking the foil packet from his hand. Tearing it up with your teeth, you slid the latex onto his throbbing cock, pumping him a couple of times for a good mesure. The noises Billy made were downright pornographic. You licked your lips.

With both of your hands on his naked shoulders, you slowly lowered yourself all the way down onto him, the sensation making you both moan this time.

“Just like that, beautiful”, he whispered softly in your ear, thrusting up into you.

You rode him slowly, arching your back, leveraging yourself on his shoulders. The position was so damn intense, and not only because that way Billy could thrust deeper, up to his balls. There was a strange sort of intimacy as he gripped your hips, helping you bounce slowly on his rock-hard cock - his cocoa eyes held a sort of intensity as he fucked into you. It made your heart ache.

“I fucking can’t get enough of you”, he confessed hoarsely. “Of that tight, wet, perfect pussy. Of your beautiful, smart mouth. All of you. Every fucking inch of you.”

His revelation combined with his soft, yet methodic thrusts was what toppled you over the edge. You came hard, your body protesting against all those orgasms Billy’s cock had already wrestled out of it. Speaking of him, he wasn’t too far behind either, gripping your hips and holding you down as he came.

His lips seemed to hold some kind of a promise as he kissed you gently.

“Happy Birthday, beautiful”, he whispered against your lips, his hot and ragged breath fanning over your skin.

You managed a tired smile, surging up to kiss him again, relishing the feeling of him inside of you still….

Surprisingly, New York welcomed you back with cloudless sky. It was still as busy as you remembered it, but something had changed. People seemed friendlier, streets - sunnier, summer - hotter. You caught yourself enjoying the city again now that you had come back well-rested from your week-long vacation.

Well-rested might have been a wrong word for it. More like satisfied. And taken care of.

After that night, you spent the two remaining days of her getaway at Billy’s villa - no strings attached. You two barely left the place. Never had you enjoyed a man’s company this much. You cooked together, swam together, made love together… Until it was over and done, and you had to go back to the real life again, tiptoeing on your way out so he wouldn’t wake up.

You stopped cold for a moment, a plat of appetisers freezing in your hands.

Did you just think made love? Well that was a slip of epic proportions…

“Daydreaming about your boy-toy again?” Karen teased her with a smirk, walking into the kitchen. “He must have been quite something”.

Oh that, he was. You couldn’t help but sigh as you put the plate on the table.

How many people Karen was expecting for the dinner exactly? It looked like Frank and her had cooked enough for the entire goddamn naval infantry.

“It’s been a week,” you said, shaking your head as if trying to make the thoughts about him fall out. “I guess I need some time to turn that page”.

“Who said that page needs turning?” Karen reasoned, putting two bottles of champagne on the table. “Didn’t you say he was from New York? You could keep on seeing each other?”

You didn’t even take a moment to think it over.

“Nah,” you shook your head, tugging at your silk top. “We didn’t talk much about our respective jobs, but he made it obvious he travels a lot, so…”

Catching Karen’s sceptic stare, you threw both of your hands into the air, waving them.

“I’ll see him when I’ll see him, and if I don’t…” you shrugged. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be then”.

You turned to face Karen again only to find out that her expression hadn’t changed.

“Uh huh,” the noise she made was her other way of saying bullshit. “Well, you do what you gotta do, but please play nice with Russo. I swear he is a perfect guy for you”.

You let out a chuckle.

“You know, I heard it so many times I’m actually starting to believe it”, you said.

As if on cue, you heard men’s voices in the corridor.

“So how was your getaway, then?” Frank asked casually, stepping first into the kitchen. “Wow, that looks amazing, ladies,” he commented on the table, winking at Karen.

Page blushed in response, making you roll your eyes.

You was about to make a side comment to your best friend, when your mind suddenly went blank upon hearing the stranger’s voice.

“It was great, perfect actually…”

A designer-shoes-clad foot appeared in the room.

“I just feel like I left a part of me there, I’m going to need some time to rea…”

…djust, your mind supplied as you stared at Billy, her Billy, standing across the room from you - fully dressed this time.

“Oh my God,” you barely whispered, your eyes big in your face, your chest feeling like it was going to collapse on itself.

Billy’s lips slowly parted in the widest smile you’d ever seen - he just stood there, like a man on whom the greatest happiness had been bestowed, and it rendered him speechless.

Karen looked at them both in confusion, until…

Until realisation dawned on her, and she chortled, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her mouth.

“What’s… What’s going on?” Frank frowned, looking back and forth between Billy and you. “You guys know each other?”

“Hell yeah,” Billy finally spoke, his eyes never quitting yours as he closed the distance between you in four decisive strides.

Before you could even speak, he gripped your cheeks and dropped his lips on yours, as hot and burning as the sun back in Mallorca.

You moaned like you didn’t have a care in the world, pushing onto your toes, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you, beautiful”, Billy uttered between the kisses, his forehead pressed to yours. “You ain’t getting away so easily this time”.

You let out a soft laugh, inhaling his scent, and moved to kiss his lips again. 

[kketilin]

Three Pieces — Chapter 1

Three different hearts, all missing a piece.

This is the story of how three different people fumble through love, all the while they try to fix and connect the pieces of their hearts.

[Chapter 1 of 5]

Collab Together with @pikashadow​! Cheating and Heavy angst warning !!

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32867374/chapters/81562753

Pairing(s): Miyuki Kazuya x Sawamura Eijun | Narumiya Mei x Sawamura Eijun

Tags: Angst / Angst and Hurt/Comfort / Unhealthy relationships / Cheating / Eventual Happy Ending / Introspection / Multiple Endings

SAWAMURA EIJUN

Eijun was loved. 

 Eijun grew up in a loving family, one that cherished him like he was the most precious gem in existence

 he was surrounded by supportive friends that believed in him and helped push him to achieve greater heights

 he was sociable and was often told that he was as bright as the sun, people loved him 

 Never had he felt lonely  yet... 

 Eijun felt empty.  

 He didn't really understand the feeling either

 It wasn't the empty like he didn't receive enough attention from the ones he loved

 He felt a void in his heart that remained wide open no matter how much he was showered with affection and care 

 But it was the empty that felt like something was just missing.

 A part of him felt incomplete, like it needs something more

 He eventually discovered baseball after playing Pawapuro when he was hanging out at Nobu's place.

 The game was very... complex, but he felt an odd feeling of satisfaction when he watched his character pitch from the mound

 (He can't help but be curious, would pitching be that satisfying in real life?)

 It was on his 10th birthday when his family had gifted him with a pitcher's mitt, starting his dream of making it to Koshien and become the best pitcher there is

 Every single pitch he threw was just so satisfying and he felt felt a feeling of contentment after every single ball

 The joy of standing on the mound gave him a feeling of fullness he never felt before

 It was after the first strike he threw towards Nobu's mitt that he knew

 He knew he fell in love with baseball

 But... 

 He failed to realize, rather, he chose to ignore it...

 ..The still empty void in his heart remaining in his heart

 A gap that not even baseball could fulfill

---

“Ne, Harucchi” Eijun asked as he took a sip from his bottle, wiping the sweat off his face during the process “What is love?” 

 “L-Love?! Why are you suddenly asking something like that?” The petite teen stuttered in embarrassment, his entire face tinted pink that matched his hair. 

 Eijun only gave a smile in response before turning back to face the field, his gaze immediately falling on a certain bespectacled catcher crouched behind the home plate wearing his trademark wide annoying grin  

 “Because I don’t know if this is love” he whispered underneath his breath 

 He’d seen it in his Shoujo mangas before

 How a person’s significant other came into their life and completed the empty pieces in their hearts

 How the protagonist's heart always goes doki doki whenever the other's person is around

 How they felt as if their dull life became full of colors the moment their partner came 

 They called it love. 

 It was different from the love he felt for baseball

 (Even he won't kiss a baseball to show affection, that's just gross)

 And while he found it cheesy at first, he couldn't help but wonder

  Was this love he was feeling?

 He was slightly stupid (just slightly) but even he knew it wasn't normal

 Ever since the day Miyuki Kazuya told him that the best pitches are works of art produced by a battery working as one

 Ever since the day he called him ‘partner’ 

 He felt complete. 

 His heart would always start beating like crazy whenever the catcher slung his arm around his neck

 He felt like there were butterflies in his stomach every time the catcher would praise him and his pitches

 He would feel his face reddening as blood rush up to it whenever the catcher teased him with that grin he found so oddly endearing 

 And while he thought (or he was trying to convince himself) that it was solely due to his admiration and respect for the bespectacled catcher, Eijun knew it was something more than that 

 Eijun loved baseball more than anything else, every single ball he pitched slowly filled up the emptiness in him

 It's no exaggeration to say his world revolved around baseball and he left no room for anything else 

 Yet Miyuki Kazuya came and filled the empty gap he thought he had closed

 Miyuki Kazuya completed baseball for him. 

 Was this love?  

  Was he in love with Miyuki Kazuya?  

---

It was the night after he had just been promoted to the first string and most players have already retreated to their beds or practicing inside, leaving him and Miyuki alone in the bullpen 

 He windup and threw his pitch, the ball landing in Miyuki’s mitt with a satisfying smack.

 The older teen stood up and threw the ball back, calling out “that was a nice ball! Last one then we’re done” with a charming boyish grin that made his heart skip a beat 

 He can't help but think it should be illegal to be that handsome

 Eijun watched him crouch back down and he felt his face burning up

 (Thank god it was dark or else Miyuki Kazuya would make fun of his red face right now)

 “Miyuki-senpai” his lips opened without thinking and the words he’d been keeping hidden deep inside slipped off his lips “I think I love you—” 

 Ah crap— he didn't mean to—

 “Alright” 

 Eijun blinked, caught off guard.

 Did he just... accept his confession?

 While he didn’t mean to confess especially when he should be focusing on training even more now that he made it the first string, he was expecting to be turned down or worse, ignored. 

 Never did he expect his confession to be accepted,

 Or for his feelings to even be mutual for that matter

 (Miyuki Kazuya never really showed any signs of interest towards him and he thought the catcher only saw him as a obnoxiously loud kouhai so can you really blame him for being surprised?)

 “H-huh?” 

 “Let’s go out.” 

 Everything that happened afterwards left Eijun in a daze

 Without a moment's notice the older teen was already standing in front of him and he audibly gulped when catcher had closed the distance between the two of them, invading his personal space

 He felt a hand lift his chin and his breath hitched the moment he realized the catcher's lips was only a hair's breadth away 

 (His mind immediately registered how it looked so soft and so kissable)

 Miyuki Kazuya leaned in forward and it didn't take long before he felt warm, soft lips against his own

 Eijun gave up his first kiss that night

  Eijun was happy.

 Really happy.

 He still couldn't believe Miyuki Kazuya agreed to go out with him.

 And honestly?

 He felt like pinching himself or slapping his cheeks, hoping this wasn't a dream.

 (He actually did pinch himself one time during a game, causing his teammates to give him weird looks. But he somehow managed to laugh it off, giving them a bright smile and reassuring them he was alright. Thankfully, they didn't seem to think much of it, calling him an idiot before watching the game again.)

 Even right now...

 He and Miyuki Kazuya (or Miyuki-senpai as he had started calling him (much to his amusement)) sat on top of his bed, talking to each other.

 They weren't doing anything but talking, but he felt so happy.

  So complete.

 He suddenly felt the urge to tell him how happy he was.

 He looked at him, feeling his heart race as he (once again) realized how good-looking he was. And that he was his boyfriend. "Miyuki-senpa—"

 "Kazuya."

 He blinked a few times. "Eh?"

 Why did Miyuki-senpai just say his given name?

 He wasn't that stupid.

 He knew his boyfriend's given name.

 "Call me Kazuya, Eijun." Miyuki-senpai gave him an unreadable look.

 It certainly wasn't the first time, but he couldn't help but wonder what Miyuki-senpai was thinking. It was difficult to tell a lot of the time, especially with his poker face.

 But Miyuki-senpai was his boyfriend.

 And he wanted him to call him by his given name.

 Was it possible to feel happy, excited, and nervous at the same time?

 (Even he didn't know why he felt nervous. It could be because his boyfriend was his senpai. Or maybe it was because he knew (or at least hoped) their relationship will change once he started calling him by his given name.)

 For some reason, his hands felt sweaty. "A-alright K-kazuya-senpai."

 "Pfft. You always say my full name, but you're having trouble saying my given name? Drop the senpai." Kazuya-senpai... Kazuya snickered, giving him an amused grin.

 He wasn't sure whether to feel irritated or relieved. "R-right."

 "Say it, Ei~jun~" Kazuya reached out, pulling him close, causing him to gasp once he realized only a few centimeters separated their lips. He cupped his chin, fingers rubbing his chin, causing him to almost shiver at feeling those fingers so close to his lips.

 Being this close to him was so distracting.

 All he wanted was to lean in and kiss him.

 "K-Kazuya..." He somehow managed not to look at those tempting lips, meeting Kazuya's eyes instead.

 (Would Kazuya even let him if he gave in to the temptation?)

 Kazuya gave him a smug grin. "Louder~ I can't hear you."

 It was obvious Kazuya was enjoying this.

 ... If he were honest, though, a part of him was enjoying it, too.

 (Not the teasing part. But he was definitely enjoying getting to call him by his given name.)

 And he didn't know why.

 Maybe it was because of the teasing.

 Or maybe it was because Kazuya wanted him to say his given name louder.

 But he found himself saying his name much louder than he had intended to. "KAZUYA!"

  "Eijun-kun! it's time for lunch!" Haruichi walked in to their classroom with Furuya and Toujo in tow.

 Eijun put his hands together and bowed down apologetically "Harucchi! Gomen! I'm eating with Kazuya today!"

As much as he wanted to eat lunch with his best friend, he had already promised to eat with Kazuya

 And of course his boyfriend took priority.

 He liked Harucchi, the pink haired batter had always supported him since the beginning,

 But Harucchi can't give him the same kind of joy Kazuya can,

 He can't make him feel so complete,

  So full,

 It was something only his boyfriend could do.

 "Kazuya? You mean Miyuki-senpai?"

 "Since when were you on a first-name basis with Miyuki-senpai, Bakamura?"

 Oh. right.

 They haven't told anyone about their relationship yet,

 Both of them have agreed on keeping quiet for now,

 Kazuya was the starting catcher for the team after all.

 (It was really hard to hold back from yelling to the team during breakfast the day after his confession that they were dating though, he had to pinch his arms in order to not say anything causing him to receive concerned looks from Haruichi and Furuya but he just laughed it off saying he was just still sleepy)

 "I-I uhhh..." he managed to stutter out.

 Eijun wasn't exactly the best with keeping secrets,

 (It's really a surprised no one still found out they were dating after all this time)

 And he didn't really like to keep them.

 Especially from Harucchi of all people.

 But he can't betray Kazuya's trust on him..

 The thought of Kazuya being upset at him made his heart clench.

  He loves Kazuya far too much and he doesn't think he'll be able to handle it.

 Should he just lie instead?

  Lie to Harucchi and his friends?

 That doesn't seem to sit right with Eijun either.

 "Eijun!" a familiar voice called out, interrupting Eijun's thoughts

 A voice that made his chest feel warm,

 He turned to see Kazuya waiting for him out in the hall.

 His heart immediately skips a beat.

 "Ah! Hold on!" Eijun called back, a felt his lips curl into a soft smile reserved only for his boyfriend.

 He turned back to his friends and put his hands together again, repeating his actions from earlier "Sorry guys, I have to go"

  Eijun was so happy.

 Sure, he didn't like having to hide his relationship with Kazuya from his teammates, especially his friends like Harucchi.

 (And he understood why they had to hide it, of course.)

 But other than that, he felt so happy with how his relationship with Kazuya was going.

 "What are you thinking about?"

 Eijun blinked a few times, Kazuya's voice bringing him out of his thoughts, causing him to look over at him.

 To his surprise, Kazuya was... a lot closer than he had been before, causing him to flush.

 They weren't doing anything besides cuddling in his bed, but with the covers over them and how close they were...

 Someone could easily get the wrong idea (or the right idea).

 Remembering belatedly that Kazuya had asked him something, he furrowed his eyebrows. "Sorry. I wasn't listening. What were you saying?"

 "Oh, really?" Kazuya drawled, causing him to blink at the almost... dark look in his eyes.

 (It was probably just his imagination, right?)

 Before he could even think of responding to that, though, Kazuya moved on top of him, hovering above him, causing him to gasp despite himself.

 "And what were you thinking about when I'm here with you?" Kazuya narrowed his eyes.

 Eijun almost gulped.

 Somehow, he had made him... angry?

 Eijun felt tempted to touch Kazuya, but he didn't know if he would let him, especially if Kazuya was angry with him. "I... I was thinking about you, Kazuya."

 Kazuya blinked a few times, his familiar (but also irritatingly good-looking) smirk returning to his face, almost causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh? And what about me?"

 "I was..." Eijun took a deep breath before reaching out and touching Kazuya's cheek with one hand. "I was thinking about how happy I am with you. You make me so happy, Kazuya."

 To his relief (and delight), Kazuya allowed his touch. He even seemed to... enjoy it, briefly touching his hand and leaning into it. "You're so sappy," he teased.

 Eijun flushed, shooting him a dirty look when he snickered. "Shut up. It's the truth."

 Kazuya snickered one more time before looking at him with almost... soft eyes, taking his breath away. "I'm happy to hear that. Really, Eijun."

 Eijun wasn't imagining things, right?

 Was that almost... soft look just for him?

 He tried to keep his attention on Kazuya's eyes, not wanting to look away from those almost soft eyes.

 (Really, he did.)

 But Kazuya being this close to him was so distracting.

 His eyes had a mind of their own, looking at Kazuya's lips.

 He cleared his throat, looking up at Kazuya's eyes again. But from the knowing smirk on his face, he knew Kazuya had noticed his reaction. "Kazuya, I..."

 "I know."

 He blinked a few times. "Eh?"

 "I know." Kazuya gave him a grin before leaning in and kissing him, causing his eyes to widen.

 Did Kazuya know him that well?

 Deciding to think about it later, Eijun wrapped his arms around him, responding eagerly to the kiss.

 Kazuya grinned into the kiss, obviously finding his reaction funny, almost causing him to huff.

 But any thoughts of huffing or Kazuya finding his reaction funny disappeared at Kazuya licking his lower lip, causing him to let out a surprised sound despite himself.

 When Kazuya did it again, he parted his lips, allowing his tongue inside his mouth.

 Kazuya's tongue darted forward into his mouth, exploring it for a couple of moments before touching his tongue, causing him to moan.

 Kazuya obviously liked his reaction, as he touched his tongue again, tightening his grip around him when he moaned louder.

 Someone could walk in at any moment and find them kissing.

 But Eijun didn't care.

 He didn't want Kazuya to stop kissing him.

 All he could concentrate on were his soft lips and the warm body above his own.

 And of course, the feeling of being so complete.

 He enjoyed it so much that when Kazuya pulled away a few moments later, he pulled him back in, almost grinning at Kazuya's surprised sound as their lips met again.

 He tightened his grip around him, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip.

 Much to his disappointment, Kazuya didn't let him in, causing him to whine.

 Eijun whined again, licking his lower lip again, belatedly registering a familiar sound.

 Not that the sound was as important as kissing Kazuya.

 And he probably would've ignored it and continued kissing him.

 If it weren't for a familiar voice.

 "What the hell?"

 They froze, Kazuya quickly pulling away and looking in the direction where the voice came from.

 To Eijun's horror, Kuramochi-senpai stood next to his bed, his eyes narrowed.

 "K-Kuramochi-senpai, this is..."

 Kazuya grinned at Kuramochi-senpai, not looking worried. Or maybe his poker face was hiding it? "Kuramochi, I didn't hear you come in. I was too busy giving Eijun here attention." He leaned in, kissing Eijun's cheek while keeping his eyes on Kuramochi, causing Eijun's cheeks to flush. "He missed me a lot today."

 Kuramochi-senpai clicked his tongue, looking irritated. "Seriously, Miyuki? You were kissing him while the door was unlocked? What if someone else had come in?"

 "But that's what makes it fun." Kazuya's grin widened. He laughed as Kuramochi-senpai glowered at him. "You're right, of course. We'll do better next time." He looked at Eijun, a teasing grin on his face. "Won't we, Eijun?"

 Eijun's cheeks turned pinker. "N-Next time?"

 Was Kazuya not worried at all about Kuramochi-senpai finding out about them?

 Kuramochi-senpai huffed, still glowering at Kazuya. "There won't be a next time if I have any say about it."

 Kazuya laughed again, kissing Eijun's cheek one more time before moving off him and out of bed. "So scary. I didn't know you cared this much," he teased.

 "Shut up!"

 Kazuya shook his head, looking amused before looking at Eijun. "Well, since Kuramochi's back, I'll get going. Good night." He winked at Eijun and at Kuramochi-senpai, causing Kuramochi-senpai to click his tongue again.

 And then, Kazuya left, closing the door behind him with one last wink.

 Eijun sat up on his bed, looking nervously at Kuramochi-senpai.

 What was he supposed to do now?

 "Are you sure about this?"

 Eijun blinked a few times. "Eh?"

 To his surprise, Kuramochi-senpai... didn't look angry with him.

 "Are you sure about this relationship with Miyuki, Sawamura?" Kuramochi-senpai gave him a serious look.

 He furrowed his eyebrows. "Do you mean because he's the main catcher?"

 Kuramochi-senpai rolled his eyes. "That's not what I mean. I just..." He huffed. "You know as well as I do what kind of person Miyuki can be. I just want to make sure you've thought this through."

 ... Not only was Kuramochi-senpai not angry with him, but he... was also looking out for him?

 Was something wrong with him?

 But even if something wasn't wrong with him, he...

 Eijun felt warmth in his chest at the thought of Kuramochi-senpai looking out for him. "I'm sure, Kuramochi-senpai." He gave him a bright smile. "I love Kazuya, and I'm willing to do anything for him."

 Kuramochi-senpai stared at him, as if he were trying to see how serious he was.

 He hoped Kuramochi-senpai could tell he was serious about this.

 Serious about Kazuya.

 "I see. Then that's alright."

 Eijun blinked a few times before beaming. "Eh? It is? You're... alright with us being together?"

 "I wouldn't say I'm entirely pleased you two are together." Kuramochi-senpai huffed before sighing. "But you seem serious about this." He clicked his tongue. "About him."

 Eijun nodded, feeling relieved. "I am! Thank you very much, Kuramochi-senpai!"

 "But..." Kuramochi-senpai glowered at him, causing him to almost gulp. "Don't do anything on my bed. Or you and Miyuki will regret it."

 He nodded a few times. "We won't, senpai, I promise!"

 Kuramochi-senpai huffed again before turning around and walking to his desk, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief.

 Kuramochi-senpai was so scary sometimes.

 But he felt relieved Kuramochi-senpai realized how serious he was about Kazuya and their relationship.

 (Did that mean Kuramochi-senpai wouldn't tell anyone about their relationship?)

 He furrowed his eyebrows.

 What did Kuramochi-senpai mean when he wanted to know if he had thought this relationship with Kazuya through?

 Well, he supposed Kuramochi-senpai had a point, especially if he remembered how love could affect people in his shoujo manga.

 But he would be alright.

 He loved Kazuya.

 And he was willing to do anything for him.

 As long as it meant they were still together.

  He's been dating Kazuya for several weeks now and every moment of it was pure bliss

 He was in euphoria and was savoring the feeling of completeness

 The fullness Kazuya makes him feel

 But it somehow felt wrong. 

 He didn't know when it started to feel this way

 Eijun gave and gave everything and anything to Kazuya but Kazuya never gave anything in return

 No.. Kazuya did give back, but it always felt like it wasn't for him

 It felt like Kazuya's heart belonged to someone else

 Even when he was settled on his bed with his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around his waist as he gets peppered with light kisses, it just felt so wrong

 So different 

 It felt like it was meant for someone else

 Someone who wasn’t him. 

 Of course, he just shrugged it off

 After all, he was Kazuya's boyfriend

 He was the one who Kazuya was dating

 Kazuya did accept his confession that night

 (It felt like a dream and even now Eijun still can't believe his accidental confession was accepted)

 Thinking about that night made Eijun's blood rush to his face

 “Kazuya,” Eijun turned his face to look at the catcher 

 “Hm?”  

 “I love you” 

 “...Yeah, thanks” Was all the catcher replied before returning his lips to his neck

 Come to think of it... Kazuya has never told him he likes him in return, has he?

 Even when he confessed, Kazuya never said he liked him back did he?

 Does Kazuya really feel the same way?

 Of course he does,

 They were dating after all.

 Kazuya does love him

 His boyfriend just needs... time before he could be honest

 Kazuya was a very private person after all

 He's just being ridiculously insecure  

  ...Right?

---

From: Kazuya💕✨

Subject: I can't make it

Sorry Eijun, something came up again and I can't make it. I'll make it up to you next time

 Eijun reread the message displayed on his phone screen again and sighed for the nth time in a row.  

 Kazuya couldn't make it to their date, again.

 It was already the third time he had seen the exact same mail from his boyfriend,

 And it's always "something came up" so he can't make it.

 Which was weird, really weird, considering how much of a planner Kazuya is.

 What could possibly happen for him to lay off his plans?

   Their plans? 

  Not that he was doubting Kazuya, of course. 

  Maybe a team member really just needed his help, or starting catcher duties, 

  Or it might even be family matters. 

  But he'd been really looking forward to this date with Kazuya. 

  While they do see each other on a daily basis in practice, lately Eijun could feel like there was... something in between them,

  Something he can't quite put a finger on.

  (Their relationship hasn't changed at all though, Eijun knew he was just probably being uselessly paranoid) 

  So, he had hoped this date would clear whatever was between them, or, at least, rid of his unfounded insecurities.

  But it looks like that wasn't possible now.

  Unconsciously, he let out another sigh. 

  "Seriously, can you stop sighing already?" A voice he barely registered familiar grumbled from his side. 

  Eijun turned his head and his eyes immediately widened at seeing familiar platinum blonde hair and icy blue eyes staring right back at him.  

  "N-NARUMYA MEI!" He pointed a finger at the said ace pitcher as his jaw dropped, stuttering in surprised. 

  "You're that brat from Seidou, and it's Narumiya-senpai to you." He paused for a moment and looked at Eijun as if he were... studying him?  

 Narumiya was studying him? Why? 

  "So? What are you doing here?" The blonde gave him an awfully familiar unreadable look "Waiting for a date?" 

  "No, I'm just about to lea— why the hell do you even care?!?" 

  Seriously, what was with this guy? Prying into someone else's business like that...

 And technically he was about to leave, seeing his date couldn't make it

  He turned away, about to leave when Narumiya opened his lips again, about to speak

  "Hmm” He hummed and placed a finger on his chin as if trying to assess the situation “Kazuya bailed on your date, didn’t he?" 

  Eijun whipped his head towards the blonde and immediately tried to defend his boyfriend by reflex "Something just came up! He didn't bail on anything!" 

  How did Narumiya even know it was Kazuya he was waiting for? 

  Even his own teammates (save for Kuramochi-senpai) and friends didn't even know 

  So how did an outsider of all people know— 

  "So It is Kazuya you were waiting for!"  

 For a split second he thought saw Narumiya scowl at him before it was quickly replaced by a triumphant smirk 

 Was he seeing things...? 

 He scanned the blonde’s face again, seeing no signs of a scowl on the latter’s face 

 He was sure he saw Narumiya scowl 

 Why would he though? 

 (He was sure he didn’t say anything rude or unusual (not that he was planning to though, he’s just aware he has a history of doing so) to receive such a thing) 

 Eijun decided to shrug it off, thinking it was just his eyes playing tricks on him and returned his attention back to what Narumiya was saying 

 “You guys are dating, aren’t you?” 

 “N-No! I mean—” He immediately tried to defend again 

 Wait— Narumiya didn't know?

 But he just said—

  Oh.

 The blonde had tricked him into admitting it.

 He can’t believe he fell for that and gave it away 

 Mentally scolding himself, he tried to come up with some sort of excuse but the blonde waved a finger, eyes glinting mischievously “No use making excuses, You're a terrible liar.”  

 Eijun reluctantly nodded with a sigh to which Narumiya grinned triumphantly, eyeing him once again

 “You’re free now though, right?”  

 “Huh? Well yeah I guess... wait why are you even—” 

 Eijun raised a brow at the question 

 Why was he asking? 

 It’s none of his business anyways whether or not he was free 

 “Let’s go on a date then! ♡” the blonde grinned 

 He looked at Narumiya in disbelief “Excuse me?” 

 Was he... serious? 

 A date? 

 With him, an enemy?

 Even after he just found out he was dating Kazuya? 

 What was this guy thinking? 

 “I said, let’s go on a date right now” Narumiya repeated, pronouncing each syllable slowly “If you still didn't understand that then there must be something wrong with your ears” 

 No, he heard that, alright.

 (His ears are perfectly fine, thank you very much.)

 But a date?

 He remained staring at the blonde agape

 He suddenly felt his arm getting tugged and looked down to see Narumiya's arm curled around his, trying to pull him  

 “Well, you’re paying for your own food though!” 

 “Haah?! I didn’t even say yes—” 

 “Kidding! C’mon I’ll pay for your food!” 

 The blonde suddenly pulled him with so much force that Eijun nearly lost balance and fall but Narumiya proceeded to tug on his arm and pull him wherever

 “Hold on!” 

 Despite his protests the blonde didn’t listen but weirdly enough, he found himself letting Narumiya drag him around 

 Well, a single ‘date’ wouldn’t hurt, would it? 

 There's nothing between them anyways,

 Just a friendly date

---

Eijun didn't know how he got into these situations.

 ... Okay, so he knew a little bit.

 As he wouldn't be out here in the first place if Kazuya didn't promise to go out on a date with him.

 But Kazuya texted him, letting him know he couldn't make it.

 And that something came up.

 (That had been happening a lot lately.)

 But hanging out with Narumiya Mei (of all people) just because Kazuya couldn't make it?

 Narumiya was the enemy.

 Was he that starved for attention?

 (He didn't think he was, but he was hanging out with him. And if he were honest, the last time they had a... 'date', it wasn't that unpleasant.)

 They were at the same café Narumiya had taken him to for their last 'date'.

 It seemed Narumiya was a regular here.

 Narumiya had joked it was a perfect spot for dates, and he had even winked at him.

 Which he didn't understand.

 Was Narumiya saying he should take Kazuya here?

 Or was he saying something else?

 (And why did he wink at him? Was something wrong with him?)

 "What do you like about Kazuya, Ei-chan?"

 Eijun almost choked on his drink, although he wasn't sure if it was because of the question about Kazuya or the nickname. "Eh?"

 Narumiya gave him an amused look. "What do you like about Kazuya?"

 "No... I heard that." Eijun furrowed his eyebrows, causing Narumiya to raise an eyebrow. "Why are you calling me 'Ei-chan'?"

 Narumiya grinned cheekily at him. "It's a cute nickname, isn't it?"

 "That's not the point! We're not that close!"

 Narumiya sipped his drink. "It's just a nickname." He smirked. "Unless you'd rather me call you 'Eijun'? Does Kazuya do that?"

 Eijun huffed. "Fine, whatever! You can keep calling me 'Ei-chan'! It's a nickname I'm used to anyway!"

 "I'm happy to hear that, Ei-chan. It's really the perfect nickname for a cute guy like you." Narumiya winked at him.

 (Again with the winking. Seriously, was something wrong with him?)

 Eijun resisted the urge to huff again. "Why are you asking me about my relationship with Kazuya?"

 Narumiya gave him an unreadable look, causing him to stare as it resembled the one Kazuya gave him sometimes. "I'm just curious." He shrugged, sipping his drink again. "You must really like him to put up with his treatment of you. That or you're just stupid."

 "What did you say? Don't call me stupid!"

 Narumiya gave him a scrutinizing look. "Do you really like Kazuya that much? He didn't even show up to you guys' date."

 He wasn't sure why, but he almost gulped at the way Narumiya looked at him, as if Narumiya was trying to figure out all his secrets. "I... I told you! Something came up! Who are you to judge my relationship—"

 "I'm not judging you or your relationship with Kazuya." Narumiya rolled his eyes at his huff. "And I am older than you. You should treat me with more respect."

 Narumiya was so annoying sometimes.

 And yet, sometimes, he reminded him of Kazuya.

 Eijun didn't know what it was exactly.

 But both enjoyed teasing him.

 And both had amazing poker faces at times.

 And while Kazuya had stopped annoying him about showing him respect ever since they started dating (at least in private), the way Narumiya tried to get him to show him respect was just like what Kazuya used to do.

 Eijun scowled, tempted to cross his arms in front of his chest. "My relationship with Kazuya has nothing to do with you! I'm happy with him!"

 "You are, huh?" Narumiya's eyebrows furrowed. "Why do you stay with him when you could be with someone who will treat you better?" He winked again, gesturing to himself.

 Why did Narumiya gesture toward himself?

 It wasn't as if he were ignoring him.

 Narumiya didn't need to tell him to look at him while they were talking.

 This guy was so weird sometimes.

 Eijun's scowl remained on his face. "You wouldn't understand."

 "Oh, really?" Narumiya drawled, leaning in closer and raising an eyebrow, causing him to stare as he remembered multiple times when Kazuya had done the same exact thing. "Try me."

 Eijun tried to speak.

 (Really, he did.)

 But for some reason, he found it difficult to speak with those dark blue eyes watching him, an almost dangerous gleam in them.

 He cleared his throat, tempted to look away. "I..." He looked down at his cup, his eyes softening, missing the way those dark blue eyes seemed to darken even more. "I love him." He looked up at him, smiling softly. "Kazuya may have let me down a lot, but I know something important must have come up."

 "And you're going to forgive him? Just like that?" Narumiya scoffed.

 He furrowed his eyebrows. "Kazuya can't help it if something important came up. He's busy."

 Narumiya clicked his tongue. "Busy enough not to meet up with you? You're his boyfriend!"

 ... It hurt.

 Narumiya's words hurt him.

 Not because Narumiya was insulting Kazuya, although that was part of the reason.

 But because... it was the truth.

 What could be more important than one of their dates?

 And yet, Kazuya was the main catcher.

 Or maybe something happened with his family?

 "I don't like it either. But I can't be selfish if he's busy." Eijun smiled softly again, causing Narumiya to make a face. "I'm willing to do anything for him. I love him."

 Narumiya pursed his lips, scowling for some reason. "He really doesn't deserve you." When Eijun glared at him, he grinned cheekily, gesturing toward himself. "I could probably treat you better than Kazuya ever could."

 Eijun blinked a few times. "But I'm not dating you. I'm dating Kazuya."

 Why would Narumiya even say something like that?

 Sure, Kazuya wasn't the best boyfriend.

 But he still loved him.

 They were making their relationship work.

 And he... was happy.

 Narumiya pouted for some reason before giving him another cheeky grin. "Maybe I should give you my number in case this kind of thing happens again."

 "It won't. And I wouldn't call you even if you did give me your number." Eijun huffed.

 Narumiya's grin remained on his face. "You know you want to see me again, Ei-chan." He puffed his chest out. "Especially someone as handsome as me."

 Eijun furrowed his eyebrows. "What does that have to do with anything? You're still the enemy."

 "But we can become friends." Narumiya leaned closer, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Or more."

 Eijun snorted, picking up his drink. "You becoming one of my best friends? Like that will ever happen."

 Narumiya leaned back in his seat, pouting.

 He could've sworn he had seen a frustrated look on his face at one point.

 But that was probably just his imagination.

 He didn't know Narumiya that well.

 And why would Narumiya feel frustrated?

 It made no sense.

---

Eijun tried not to think about any negative thoughts when he was with Kazuya.

 He was enjoying his relationship with him so much.

 He didn't want to let those thoughts overshadow his relationship with him.

 The only thing he wanted was to enjoy his current relationship with him.

 He wasn't good when it came to thinking deeply about something anyway.

 So what if Kazuya hadn't told him his feelings for him yet?

 So what if it felt wrong somehow?

 He loved Kazuya, and he was willing to wait for him.

 Kazuya was still dating him after all.

 He could be patient.

 And maybe he was being selfish, but he wanted... more with Kazuya.

 So he leaned in, kissing Kazuya on the lips, Kazuya responding a moment later.

 He kissed him with his lips for a few moments before licking his lower lip, almost grinning when Kazuya parted his lips.

 His tongue darted into his mouth, Kazuya moaning and tightening his grip around him when their tongues touched.

 They pulled away several moments later, breathing heavily.

 Not wanting to stop, Eijun pulled him back in, letting out a pleased sound as Kazuya pulled him closer.

 This time, Kazuya's tongue darted into his mouth, Eijun moaning and tightening his grip around him when their tongues touched.

 Eijun pulled away a few moments later, peppering Kazuya's face with kisses, causing Kazuya to laugh.

 "I want to see you." Kazuya tugged on the bottom of his shirt, as if letting him know what he was trying to say.

 Eijun flushed, but he pulled away, taking his shirt off, not missing the way Kazuya's eyes lit up.

 Was that reaction really for him?

 He mentally shook his head, pushing that thought away.

 Of course it was for him.

 What was he thinking?

 Kazuya didn't touch him again, studying his bare chest and stomach, as if he had never seen it before.

 It wasn't... bad.

 The way Kazuya was staring at him.

 (Maybe even liking what he saw?)

 Kazuya wrapped his arms around his waist again, his warm fingers touching his bare skin almost making him gasp.

 "You look good. Really good."

 Before he could reply, Kazuya leaned in, kissing his neck, causing him to gasp despite himself.

 He moaned as Kazuya started placing kisses up and down his neck, Kazuya's laugh against his skin making goosebumps form.

 He gasped again as Kazuya touched his nipples, moaning when Kazuya started pinching it. "Kazuya!"

 "Does that feel good?" Kazuya pulled away, his eyes darkened with lust.

 Eijun didn't want to admit that it did feel good.

 And that he didn't want Kazuya to stop.

 So instead of admitting it, he leaned in, kissing him, almost grinning when Kazuya responded eagerly to it.

 Eijun pulled away a few moments later, grinning at Kazuya's protesting sound before leaning back in, giving him such a long and hard kiss that it made Kazuya moan.

 This time, Kazuya pulled away a few moments later, letting go of him to take his shirt off.

 It certainly wasn't his first time seeing Kazuya shirtless.

 But usually, other people were around.

 And they were usually bathing or changing clothes.

 Having a shirtless Kazuya this close to him in his room without any other people around...

 It made him want more.

 Eijun leaned in, kissing his neck, causing Kazuya to hum and tilt his head, giving him better access.

 He grinned against his neck, loving how Kazuya was letting him do this, placing kisses up and down his neck.

 Kazuya moaned when he touched his nipples, tightening his grip around him.

 Eijun pinched his nipples, starting to place gentle kisses up and down his chest, gasping when Kazuya pulled him on top of him.

 He pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, grinning devilishly. "Does that feel good, Kazuya?" Keeping his eyes on him, he leaned back in, nipping his ear, causing Kazuya to cry out.

 "Hiro!"

 Eijun froze, feeling Kazuya tense under him, causing him to pull away and look at him.

 He looked at Kazuya for an explanation, but Kazuya wasn't looking at him. "'Hiro'? Who's that?"

 Because he wasn't that stupid.

 He knew this 'Hiro-san' had to be a person.

 Why did Kazuya call their name out?

 (Instead of his.)

 Kazuya finally looked back at him several moments later, giving him an almost... apologetic look. "I didn't mean to..."

 Kazuya was dating him.

 He should be calling out his name.

 Not this 'Hiro-san'.

 Eijun remembered what he had been thinking about earlier.

 How he had felt like Kazuya's touches were for someone else.

 How... it had felt wrong.

 "Kazuya, who's that?" His heart raced as he waited for Kazuya's answer.

 What was he supposed to do if Kazuya told him he was going to break up with him for this 'Hiro-san'?

 He didn't want that!

 This feeling of being complete...

 It would go away if Kazuya broke up with him.

 Kazuya's almost apologetic look disappeared, leaving a cool one in its place. "That's none of your business."

 Eijun almost winced at his cool look.

 Maybe he shouldn't have asked?

 But he didn't care about that.

 He wanted to make sure Kazuya wouldn't break up with him.

 That came first.

 "Then I don't have to know."

 Kazuya blinked a few times, clearly not expecting that. "What do you...?"

 "You can think of me as this 'Hiro-san'." Eijun tried to smile at him, hoping Kazuya couldn't tell how scared he was.

 But instead of looking reassured, Kazuya furrowed his eyebrows. "But you..."

 Eijun smiled, and this time it was more genuine. "I really don't mind. You can think of me as your 'Hiro-san'."

 Kazuya gave him an unreadable look. "Are you sure? Because we can end this—"

 "No!"

 Kazuya winced at his loud voice, furrowing his eyebrows again. "No?"

 "We don't have to break up." Eijun tried not to sound scared or desperate. "It's alright with me. As long as..." He took a deep breath. "As long as I'm yours."

 Kazuya gave him another unreadable look. "And you're alright with this?" he asked slowly.

 Eijun nodded a few times. "I'm happy with our current relationship. So you can..." He tried to smile again. "You can think of me as your 'Hiro-san'."

 "I see. Then if you're alright with it, I guess we don't have to break up."

 Eijun almost breathed a sigh of relief.

 They weren't going to break up.

 Kazuya would still be his.

 He'll still be able to feel complete.

 Sure, he wanted Kazuya to look at him and only him.

 But he couldn't force Kazuya to return his feelings.

 (Especially when Kazuya was thinking of someone else.)

 And he was still dating Kazuya.

 As long as Kazuya was his, that was enough.

 That was enough for him.

 Because he didn't want to think about Kazuya leaving him and having to feel so incomplete.

---

It was wrong. 

 Eijun knew it was all so wrong.  

 Agreeing to let his boyfriend think of him as someone else, 

 As this “Hiro-san’, and not as him, Sawamura Eijun, his lover  

 It was wrong. 

 He knew he shouldn’t be doing this; He was Kazuya’s boyfriend, his lover, his partner.  

 He wanted Kazuya to look only at him,  

 To think only about him 

 But the moment he heard Kazuya call out someone else’s name, he felt his entire world get shaken up 

 All this time... Kazuya had loved someone else 

 Someone who isn’t him.  

 Kazuya’s heart didn’t belong to him 

 It was never his. 

 Why did Kazuya even accept his confession? Agree to go out with him? 

 Did Kazuya ever truly... like him? 

 Was this why not once he had told Eijun those three words he’d been dying to hear? 

 What about the times when he teased Eijun with those tempting lips? 

 Those soft, loving looks he would give Eijun from time to time? 

 The times he told Eijun he was really glad to hear Eijun admit he made him happy? 

 Was all of those a lie...? 

 (Deep inside he had hoped those were truly for him and him only even when he knew it was all for someone else) 

 Maybe this was why he had been feeling there was something different between their relationship, 

 Why he had felt that all those kisses were not for him 

 Because it really wasn’t, 

 It was all for this ‘Hiro-san’ Kazuya had called out. 

 It was wrong but... 

 The feeling of completeness... 

 He didn’t want to lose it; he didn’t want it to go away. 

 And he loved Kazuya, 

 He was willing to do anything and everything just for him. 

 Even when his boyfriend breathily whispered “Hiro” in between their kisses, 

 Even when he would watch how his boyfriend closed his eyes as he kissed down his neck, softly moaning “Hiro” over and over again, 

 It was fine, 

 Eijun was just fine.  

 (Sure, he spent several sleepless nights at first but he eventually got over it and learned to accept reality) 

 They were still dating, and the feeling of being so complete was still there, 

 Kazuya was still his, 

 And that was enough for him 

 He suddenly felt warm lips against his own, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

 He immediately responded to the kiss yet all his doubts were still lingering at the back of his mind. 

 “What’s got you distracted?” Kazuya breathed out once their lips separated 

 Eijun shook his head in response “It’s nothing, sorry.” 

 Eijun didn’t want to lie to Kazuya, 

 But he can’t tell him either that he was thinking about how wrong it all is,  

 How unfair it feels. 

 But he was the one who suggested it in the first place, he had no right to complain. 

 Kazuya stared at him for what felt like hours and Eijun thought he’d try to get him tell the truth, which, thankfully, he didn’t and proceeded to connect their lips together once again 

 The catcher licked his bottom lip, asking for access which Eijun granted. He felt Kazuya’s tongue explore the inside of his mouth for a while before it touched his own, making him moan. 

 Their tongues danced with other and while Eijun would normally give in to pleasure, 

 He couldn’t. 

 Not when thoughts of how Kazuya called out someone else’s name instead of his flooded his mind 

 Was this how ‘Hiro-san’ would kiss him? 

 Was this how ‘Hiro-san’ would act? 

 Was he doing it right? 

 Being ‘Hiro-san’ for Kazuya... 

  Was he doing it all right? 

---

From: Narumiya Mei

Subject: Let’s go on another date!

Are you free tomorrow, Ei-chan? Let’s go on another date if you are! ♡

  To: Narumiya Mei

Subject: Sure

Sure, it’s our off day tomorrow. What time?

  From: Narumiya Mei

Subject: Are you serious?

Eh? Wait really?

  To: Narumiya Mei

Subject: None

Do you want to go or not?

  From: Narumiya Mei

Subject: Let’s go!

I do I do!!! I was just surprised you agreed so easily. 10:30 at the bus stop near Seidou.

 He didn’t know what he was thinking when he found himself agreeing when Narumiya had asked if they could go on another one of their ‘dates’ again 

 Narumiya was their enemy   

 And he really shouldn’t be hanging out with him especially right before the start of the summer tournament 

 (If Kazuya had showed up to their dates in the first place, he wouldn’t have been dragged into 'dates’ by the blonde more than twice and wouldn’t have even exchanged contacts with the ace pitcher) 

 But even so... if he was being honest, hanging out with Narumiya had been fun 

 And really, it served as a good distraction, especially with all that’s going on with Kazuya... 

 Sure, he was too arrogant and haughty, 

 He kept asking Eijun about his relationship with Kazuya which he found irritating, 

  He'd often gesture to himself and try to touch him, or his hand at least, which was really weird, 

 (And there was all that random winking. Seriously, were his eyelids alright ?) 

 And there were moments where he’d remind Eijun of Kazuya, 

 But after spending a bit more time with him ever since their first ‘date’ 

 He found Narumiya... slightly likable, just slightly. 

 There would be moments were Narumiya was actually... sweet 

 Caring even. 

 Which, weirded him out every time, 

 He never expected that the Narumiya Mei had such a soft side to him, especially with how much he declares himself as the king. 

 “Ei-chan!”  

 He turned to see Narumiya making his way to him. The blonde was wearing a black top over a black and red gingham shirt paired with ripped denim jeans and maroon red sneakers. 

  "Sorry, were you waiting long?" He panted, trying to catch his breath after rushing all the way to him 

  Did Narumiya just... apologize?  

  He didn't even think the word 'sorry' existed in the blonde's dictionary 

  And why was he even in a rush? He's exactly right on time. 

  Was this even the real Narumiya Mei?  

  Maybe it's just an imposter trying to trick him... 

  The Mei he knows, or at least, have heard about was not someone who would not apologize at all 

   (Maybe even say he should be grateful he gave some of his precious time to him) 

  Eijun suddenly realized he'd been lost in thought and hadn't answered when he noticed the concerned look Narumiya had 

  "It's fine, I just got here myself" he smiled. 

  For some reason Narumiya turned away and Eijun noticed his ears were red, probably from all the running 

 “A-anyways!”Narumiya turned back to him again, clearing his throat in the process, “There’s this new café not too far from here! Let’s go!” 

 “A new café?” He tilted his head slightly as he asked 

 “Mhm” Narumiya hummed agreeingly “I heard it has a great romantic atmosphere as well” He turned his head to wink at him 

 A romantic atmosphere? 

 Why did Narumiya tell him that? 

 (And there’s that wink again! Why does he keep doing that?) 

 They made their way to the café, holding small talk along the way 

 At some point Narumiya had even joked about how “There’s other guys who can treat you much better than Kazuya does!! Just look around you!” as he gestured to himself for some weird reason he doesn’t know 

 Seriously, what was Narumiya even trying to say? 

 He doesn’t get it. 

 Before he knew it, they’d already arrive at the café. It wasn’t that far from Seidou and was only a few minutes' walk from the bus stop. 

 Narumiya eagerly walked ahead him, opening the door first only to freeze on the spot. 

 ...What happened to him? 

 Why did he suddenly stop? 

 Curiously, he glanced over the blonde’s shoulder, following Narumiya’s eyes to the counter where an eerily familiar bespectacled brunette had his lips interlocked with the barista over the counter 

 That hair... that pair of glasses... 

 Eijun felt his heart stop as realization hit him 

 Was... was that Kazuya...? 

 Narumiya turned to him, eyes widened with emotions he couldn’t understand “Isn’t that Kazuya...?” 

 “Oh.” he stared blanky “It is Kazuya.” 

 His eyes drifted downwards to the barista’s chest, his nametag hanging from the straps of his apron 

 ‘Nakamura Hiro’ 

  Ah.  

 So that’s it, 

 He’s ‘Hiro-san’. 

 The guy who Kazuya loves. 

 The guy his boyfriend loves. 

 He turned around, about to leave when a hand suddenly grabbed his arm 

 “You’re just going to leave?!” Narumiya hissed; his blue eyes frighteningly dark “Your boyfriend is literally kissing someone else and you’re just going to leave?” 

 Why was Narumiya so upset...? 

 Sure, to others, it might be pretty alarming. 

 But it’s Kazuya and his ‘Hiro-san’ 

 He had no right to interfere. 

 He placed his hand on top of the blonde’s, trying to calm him down, and gave him a reassuring smile “Yeah? It’s fine y’know.”  

 “Fine?! How is that fine?!” 

 “...Because it is, Kazuya loves ‘Hiro-san’, I knew that already.” Eijun hoped Narumiya wouldn’t notice how his voice slightly trembled  

 Narumiya gaped at him for a moment as he tried to process what he had just said “You knew Kazuya liked someone else and you’re still dating him?!?” He suddenly felt the grip around his arm tightening and for a moment Eijun thought it might leave a bruise “How are you fine with that?!?” 

 “Because I love him.” 

 It wasn’t a lie. 

 It hurt, but it wasn’t a lie. 

 He loved Kazuya. 

 As long as they’re together then he’s fine, 

 He’s fine even if Kazuya loved someone else. 

 “I love him so it’s fine—”     

Narumiya suddenly pulled his arm causing Eijun to yelp in surprise, and proceeded to drag them somewhere more private, away from the café. 

 “Stop lying to yourself!” Narumiya roared making him wince at the sudden volume “You’re not fine! There’s no way you’re just fine!”  

 “I’m not—” He felt something wet dripping down his cheek. 

 Was these... tears?  

 “See?” Narumiya’s voice sounded so pained and so full of pity “You’re not okay...” 

 In a blink of an eye, he felt strong, slender hands around him, hugging him comfortingly. His vision blurred with tears. 

 He felt his throat tighten as tears streamed down his face but even so, Eijun still tried to convince himself with the same lie over and over again,

  That he was just fine.

 “Leave him.” Narumiya suddenly spoke in a demanding tone “Leave him already.” 

 Eijun immediately pushed the blonde way “NO!” 

 “Why?! You’re just hurting yourself!”     

Narumiya’s dark eyes darkened even more 

 “Because it’ll hurt more if Kazuya leaves me” 

 The feeling of completeness, 

 It’ll be gone if Kazuya leaves him. 

 And never did Eijun want to feel empty ever again. 

 It was wrong, 

 But he was fine with that. 

 It was like a rose with thorns, 

 Loving Kazuya was beautiful... 

 ...Even if it hurts. 

 “As long as Kazuya’s still mine, it’s fine.” Eijun answered sharply 

---

Eijun... wasn't doing well.

 The summer tournament finals loss was a bitter pill to swallow.

 Especially when he knew it was his fault they lost.

 No one outwardly blamed him or even looked at him as if they did, but he could tell they did.

 It was in the way everyone made pointed comments about the loss, especially around him...

 Especially the comments about how they had gotten so close...

 And they had.

 They were one out away from Koushien.

 One out away from getting their revenge against Inashiro.

 And he had blown it.

 None of his senpai had scolded him, but they also didn't tell him it wasn't his fault.

 And while that was a bitter pill to swallow, he had accepted that it was his fault they lost.

 And felt determined to learn from it.

 (As far as he was concerned, everyone blaming him for the loss was a good thing. They easily could've tried to reassure him and tell him it wasn't his fault. That he was only a first year and couldn't help it. And that would've made him feel worse. Like... they didn't trust him enough.)

 His pitching wasn't the best after the summer tournament finals, but he could still pitch.

 And that was the most important thing.

 Unlike now.

 He had the yips.

 He understood everyone wanted to get stronger and join the first string.

 He really did.

 But his baseball career could be ending, and it seemed like none of them... cared.

 His teammates hadn't approached him.

 Or said any kind words.

 As if they were... enjoying his rare silence.

 (Was he really that annoying?)

 It was at times like this when he felt grateful for his relationship with Kazuya.

 Sure, it still wasn't the most ideal relationship.

 (The image of Kazuya kissing Hiro-san never seemed to leave his mind no matter how many times he tried not to think about it.)

 But they were still together.

 And even if Kazuya didn't love him back, he still cared about him.

 Of course, he didn't know how much Kazuya cared about him.

 But at least they were still together.

 That was what was important.

 ... Or so he thought.

 Even since he had gotten the yips, he started doubting everything.

 His worth as a pitcher.

 (Which wasn't much right now. He was painfully aware of that.)

 His standing on the team.

 If he could pitch again.

 If he could pitch to the inside again.

 And... his relationship with Kazuya.

 He didn't mean to, of course.

 He loved that Kazuya was still his.

 Loved that they were still together even though Kazuya loved someone else.

 He still felt complete.

 But lately, he couldn't help but wonder why Kazuya was with him.

 Baseball was important to both of them.

 But he hadn't pitched in a while.

 Kazuya hadn't caught his pitches in a while.

 And he understood Kazuya was busy with his captain and main catcher duties.

 But he was an useless pitcher.

 Before, he could somewhat pitch.

 But now...

 Why was Kazuya still with him?

 Was Kazuya still dating him because he... felt sorry for him?

 He shook his head.

 He was the one who told Kazuya that he could think of him as Hiro-san.

 That wasn't Kazuya feeling sorry for him.

 But that was before he had the yips.

 He didn't know what Hiro-san was like.

 (Even though he had been trying to act like him whenever they were together.)

 But he didn't think Hiro-san was this... gloomy.

 This quiet.

 He had tried to apologize to Kazuya, but Kazuya (for some reason) told him it was alright.

 If this were before he had learned Kazuya loved someone else, he might've felt relieved.

 And his chest would've felt warm.

 But that soft look Kazuya gave him...

 That was for Hiro-san.

 Not him.

 Why was Kazuya still with him when he wasn't acting like Hiro-san anymore?

 He hated the thought of it, but...

 Why hadn't Kazuya dumped him for Hiro-san yet?

 (He never wanted Kazuya to dump him. He loved feeling complete. But...)

 Hiro-san seemed to feel the same as him.

 So why?

 Of course, he felt relieved and happy Kazuya hadn't dumped him for Hiro-san yet.

 But moments like this made him wonder.

 He sighed, clenching his fists.

 "What's wrong?"

 He gasped, eyes widening.

 He had completely forgotten he was currently with Kazuya, hanging out with him in his room.

 They had been cuddling on his bed.

 But from the way Kazuya sat up, frowning at him, he didn't think Kazuya wanted to cuddle anymore.

 (Again, it was his fault. Hiro-san would never pass up an opportunity to cuddle with Kazuya.)

 Eijun sat up, looking down at his hands.

 He wasn't sure what to say.

 (Something that had been occurring more often ever since he had gotten the yips.)

 "I..." He clenched his fists before relaxing his grip. He looked up at Kazuya, noticing his furrowed eyebrows. "It's... nothing. Sorry."

 Kazuya narrowed his eyes. "Don't lie to me. I know something's wrong. Tell me."

 "Why do you care?" he blurted.

 He froze, eyes widening as he belatedly realized what he said, noticing as Kazuya's eyes widened.

 What...?

 Why had he said that for?

 Before he could say anything, though, Kazuya furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you...? Of course I care."

 And it should've been alright after that.

 Maybe he could've gotten away with it by coming up with an excuse.

 If it weren't for him and his big mouth.

 "Why? I'm an useless pitcher."

 Kazuya gave him a warning look, but he didn't try to reassure him or protest it wasn't true.

 Eijun got up, standing next to his bed and looking down at Kazuya. "I haven't pitched in days. And you don't even care."

 "That's not true, and you know it," Kazuya protested. "I know it's frustrating not being able to pitch, but you should listen to Kantoku."

 Again.

 He had lost track of how many times he had tried to bring up his fears, doubts, and worries to Kazuya.

 And Kazuya... didn't even seem to listen.

 As if his fears, doubts, and worries... weren't important to Kazuya.

 He had thought Kazuya cared for him.

 (Even a little bit would be alright. He was still dating him after all.)

 But did Kazuya care at all?

 He clenched his fists. "I know I'm not Hiro-san even though I said you can think of me as him."

 Kazuya gave him that warning look from earlier.

 "And I'm alright with that. But I'm still your teammate." Eijun hated the way his voice sounded soft and hurt.

 Kazuya got up, standing next to him and raising his eyebrows. "What, so you think I don't care about you at all?"

 "It's the truth, isn't it?" Eijun clenched his fists even tighter. "You don't listen to me at all, and you don't seem to care whether I pitch again."

 Kazuya narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. "That's not true, and you know it. I—"

 "Then why won't you listen to me?" He closed his eyes briefly before giving him a pained look. "Would you listen to me if I were Hiro-san?"

 Kazuya glared at him. "Stop bringing up Hiro. That's none of your business."

 Eijun gave him another pained look. "Kazuya, I'm happy we're still together. But there's more to a relationship than kissing."

 "What do you...?"

 Kazuya wasn't the type to talk about his feelings.

 But Kazuya knew what kind of person he was.

 And he had hoped he could share his feelings with Kazuya.

 But Kazuya didn't care.

 Kazuya only cared about touching him and talking to him about baseball.

 (And Kazuya had barely talked to him about baseball ever since he had gotten the yips.)

 He sighed. "Feelings, Kazuya. You don't care about my feelings at all."

 "But you said you're alright with our relationship."

 He almost sighed again. "I am happy with our relationship. But you never want to listen to my feelings. Is this what you do with Hiro-san?"

 Kazuya glowered at him. "I told you not to bring up Hiro."

 Eijun wanted to reach out and touch his hand, but he wasn't sure if Kazuya would let him. "I'm not asking you to share your feelings with me. Although I would like it if you did. But..." He struggled to keep eye contact, especially with the way Kazuya glowered at him. "Is something wrong with telling you my feelings? Why can't you just listen to me silently? Hiro-san—"

 "Shut up! Stop bringing up Hiro!"

 But Eijun found he... couldn't stop speaking. "Do you even love Hiro-san? You don't care about his feelings at all? Hiro-san—"

 "I said shut up!" Kazuya roared, causing him to flinch. "Stop talking about Hiro like you know him!"

 He hated that Kazuya was getting this angry.

 And... he hated how Kazuya wasn't listening.

 He took a deep breath before reaching out for Kazuya's hand. "Kazuya, I..."

 But Kazuya stepped away from him, eyes cold. "You're not him."

 He froze, hand still outstretched. "Eh?"

 What did he just...?

 "You're not him."

 His heart dropped.

 It couldn't be...?

 He stepped closer, almost flinching again as Kazuya's eyes darkened. "K-Kazu—"

 "Shut up! You're not him, and you'll never be him!" Kazuya roared, causing him to flinch.

 Eijun's eyes widened in horror.

 What... had he done?

 Sure, he didn't like it how Kazuya loved Hiro-san.

 And sure, he didn't like it how he pretended to be someone he wasn't.

 (All for Kazuya. He loved Kazuya.)

 But he was... alright with their relationship.

 Because it meant Kazuya was still his.

 Because it meant... he still felt complete.

 His tongue felt like it was glued to his mouth.

 He couldn't say anything.

 "Forget it. We should've done this a long time ago."

 His eyes widened even more (if it were possible).

  Oh no.

 That did not sound good.

 Eijun stepped closer, his heart clenching at the way Kazuya's eyes darkened. "Kazuya, wait. I... didn't mean it. I'm—"

 To his horror, Kazuya stepped around him, making his way toward his door. "No. Clearly, I was the stupid one for believing this would work." He shook his head, stopping in front of the door. "What was I thinking?"

 ... Why did he say that in past tense?

 It was as if...

 His heart dropped at the realization.

 "Kazuya, wait! I'm sorry!" If Kuramochi-senpai were in the room, his jaw would've dropped as he practically flew across the room, clinging to Kazuya's shirt sleeve. "We can... We can still make this work!"

 Kazuya turned his head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "How? You'd still be with someone who doesn't love you. And I'd still be with someone who isn't Hiro."

 His heart...

 His heart felt as if it were breaking.

 "I'll do better next time! I..." He hated the thought of it, but if it meant Kazuya wouldn't leave him... "Please, Kazuya! I'll... I'll be a better Hiro-san for you! Give me another chance!"

 But Kazuya shook his head, his eyes dark. "You're not him, and you'll never be him."

 Eijun felt tempted to grab the spot where his heart was. "Please, Kazuya! I—"

 "Shut up!" Kazuya roared, causing him to flinch and let go of him. "It's over! Why can't you realize that!"

 Kazuya opened the door, looking back at him. "I'll see you at practice, Sawamura."

 It was as if Kazuya had slapped him.

 Kazuya... Kazuya called him Sawamura...

 His family name...

 As if... they were back to the relationship they had before they started dating.

 "K-Kazu—"

 Kazuya glowered at him, and somehow, he looked angrier than before, causing him to shiver. "Don't call me Kazuya anymore! You have no right to call me that!" He gave him a warning look, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "And you better not call me that tomorrow at practice or if we somehow see each other at school."

 And then, Kazuya left, not looking behind him even once.

 Eijun quickly chased after him, but he found himself... freezing right outside his door.

 So that was it?

 Kazuya... broke up with him?

 (Did Kazuya think he was annoying, too?)

 He really hadn't meant to say any of that.

 Sure, he wasn't totally happy with his relationship with Kazuya.

 But at least they were still together.

 Unlike now.

 Why had he let his doubts, fears, and worries bubble up like that?

 Kazuya...

 Kazuya had broken up with him.

 (And for good reason. Maybe Kazuya had gotten tired of him.)

 He trudged away from his dorm room, feeling numb.

 It was strange.

 He thought if Kazuya ever broke up with him, he would feel indescribable pain.

 Thought his life would be over.

 Thought feeling empty would hurt more than this.

 But he wasn't even crying.

 Sure, his heart was screaming in pain.

 But he wasn't crying.

 Was something wrong with him?

 He made his way out of Seidou, trudging over to the bus stop, not even realizing where he was at first.

 Had... Had Kazuya cared about him at all?

 If someone else (like Furuya) had confessed to Kazuya, would Kazuya have accepted them as easily as he did him?

 Would... Would Kazuya have at least listened to their feelings?

 He blinked a few times, not sure if he were trying to stop himself from crying or because he finally realized where he was.

 This...

 This was the bus stop where he would wait for Kazuya.

 Where Kazuya had promised to meet him for their dates.

 Dates he never showed up to because he was too busy kissing Hiro-san, his traitorous mind whispered.

 He shook his head, sitting down despite himself.

 While it was true he and Narumiya had caught Kazuya kissing Hiro-san that one time, that didn't mean Kazuya had bailed on all their dates.

 ... Right?

 But if Kazuya had cared about him even a little bit, he would've shown up for their dates instead of bailing on him.

 Kazuya had tried kissing him and making him feel good, as if the pleasure could make up for what Kazuya had done.

 And while it did feel good, it had felt wrong.

 If Kazuya had cared about him, he would've apologized and actually showed up to their next date.

 But he hadn't.

 He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head.

 Of course he hadn't.

 Kazuya hadn't cared about him or his feelings.

 Eijun sniffed, not even realizing he was crying until he looked down at his lap and the bus stop bench, watching as his tears wet his pants and the bench.

 He wiped away the tears, sniffing again.

 Why was he crying now?

 Why didn't he cry earlier?

 (Something was wrong with him.)

 He didn't know why.

 It was as if all the pain he had been holding in just... bubbled up.

 Kazuya didn't care about him.

 Would never care about him.

 Kazuya only loved Hiro-san.

 He let out a choked sob, wrapping his arms around his legs.

 He had felt complete not too long ago.

 But he felt... empty now.

 As if... he had never met Kazuya.

 Or Kazuya had taken his other half with him.

 He sobbed, tightening his arms around his legs, knowing no one would come check on him.

 (Why would they? It wasn't as if anyone cared.)

 Tears coursed down his cheeks, the tears not stopping as he continued thinking about Kazuya.

 And how empty he felt

.

An hour ago...

 No, maybe even thirty minutes ago...

 He was still dating Kazuya.

 They were still together.

 But now...

 All their moments they shared together...

 They were starting to blur.

 And he didn't want that!

 Sure, his heart felt as if it had broke.

 But he would rather cry and feel this pain than forget about his memories with Kazuya.

 Kazuya...

 Kazuya probably didn't even care that he had broken his heart.

 That he was here by himself, crying his heart out.

 And that was what hurt the most.

 ---

NARUMIYA MEI

Mei didn’t know why, 

 But he felt a strong urge telling him that he had to go to the bus stop right now. 

 It was by chance, or should he say, a twist of fate, that he had run across Sawamura Eijun, or Ei-chan, on his way back to the campus 

 (...It was a pure coincidence, he swears, it's not like he had been waiting at the bus stop the moment he heard they were meeting up there for their date)

 And it was mainly curiosity that was fueled from the fact he was dating Kazuya that Mei had dragged him to his favorite café in the area 

 He found the fellow southpaw... interesting, and really cute. 

 Not the kind of person Kazuya deserves. 

 Which what led him to often visiting that very same bus stop on his off days to see if the brunette was there (In other words, to see if Kazuya had stupidly bailed on their date again) 

 He knew the reason why he felt such a strong urge to go there right now was probably because of Ei-chan 

 It probably wasn’t a good idea, especially when after the loss he had just experienced in Koshien,  

 But he felt... no, he knew he would regret it later if he didn’t listen to his instincts. 

 He suddenly recalled their last date before the summer tournament started 

 How he and Ei-chan had caught Kazuya cheating with someone else, 

 How Ei-chan‘s voice trembled as he told him how he knew Kazuya had loved someone else the entire time, 

 How Ei-chan painfully convinced his own self that it was fine. 

 He knew Ei-chan wasn’t fine, 

  It was terrible, 

 Seeing Ei-chan cry... seeing him hurt himself just for the sake of someone who didn’t even deserve it, 

 Seeing his usually lustrous golden orbs so pained and dark. 

 If he were Kazuya, he would have cherished him like no other, 

 He would have given him all his hours when he had the chance. 

 He would never let him cry.

 He rushed to the bus stop where he always finds Ei-chan as fast as possible.

 He knew he had to get there quick.

 He didn't really know why... He just knew.

 When he arrived, he noticed a figure sitting alone at the stop, curled up in a ball and... crying to himself.

 He stepped closer quietly to get a proper look and felt himself holding his breath as he recognized the mop of brown hair the person had

 “...Ei-chan?” Mei asked carefully, hoping it wasn't the brunette who was crying to himself

 It didn't take long before misty golden eyes looked back at him

 He lookes so lifeless, so... empty,

  So broken.

 "Ei-chan... what's wrong?" tried to ask carefully but it only led to the brunette crying even more, shaking his head as he did so.

 Mei was at lost, he didn't know what to do to help and the sight of Eijun crying tore his heart.

 He made his way beside the brunette quietly and gently placed his hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles to help and comfort him. "I'm right here. Just cry it all out, i won't leave your side" He whispered softly, surprised at how tender his own voice sounds

 Seconds became minutes and those minutes felt like hours as he stayed by Eijun's side, patiently rubbing his back as he tried to speak warm, reassuring words of comfort.

 Mei noticed how the sobbing stopped "are you alright now?"

 Ei-chan nodded weakly and Mei breathed in relief, glad the brunette was slightly better now. 

 Deciding it's better to ask sooner than later, he inhaled deeply as he opened his mouth to speak yet Eijun beat him to it.

 He turned to face Mei, eyes still foggy from confusion and pain, hesitantly, he spoke

 "Kazuya... He broke up with me.." 

[bonyarishitafuan]

A lot of people probably are gonna hate me for this, and if you disagree with what I’m about to say, please don't bother to respond, just ignore me completely and move on, go make yourself happy.

It’s just that I honestly don't see how this:

can be the same as this:

Personally, I don't care for Dick-lite Pre-Crisis Jason at all, because he’s never seemed to me a real character with any real personality of his own, and I just really don’t buy the idea of a teenager, with still very recently murdered parents that might as well be every bit as the same kind of loving parents and positive influences to their kid as the Flying Graysons, getting over the loss of their old parents’ and accepting someone they’ve only just met around the time their parents died as his true new parent in practically no time at all...especially when it’s happened in a world where a preteen could end up spending the rest of his adulthood fighting crimes in a bat suit after witnessing his parents being gunned down by a mugger.

The only thing Pre-Crisis/Earth 1 Jason Robin seemed to have going on was being a son to Batman/Bruce (and a son to Nocturna, because clearly if he could’ve gotten over his real dad so easily, why wouldn’t he have also gotten over his real mom and come to think of this mysterious criminal lady as his true new mom when she had wanted so much for him to be her son and they had lived together for like a week)--and I feel that if the executives at the time had really wanted Bruce to become a dad, they'd probably just let him settle down and give him a biological child as in the Golden Age, but instead they gave him a second Robin; and the way they laid themselves out to make the relationship between him and this second Robin to be exactly father-and-son despite the fact that Bruce would’ve had to be real stupid to actively endangering a young person whom he consider his own little boy by bringing him to fight crimes just never sits right with me.

It always seems to me like they’re just trying to retcon the original Batman and Robin relationship without actually retconning Bruce and Dick, who hadn’t really been Bruce’s adopted kid just then and had often regarded his mentor Bruce as more of his older brother/closest friend rather than just plain old “dad”--It’s like they’re just trying to remove every implication that there's ever anything gay/creepy in the original Batman and Robin dynamic, simply by bringing in another Robin character, one with the exact same backstory as Dick and nothing that could actually differentiate him from Dick (except him being originally blond-haired and himself outright telling people that he’s “not Dick” in one of his few featurings in the New Titans where he’s portrayed as every bit as much as a smart, decent, capable young person equipped to be a successful young hero just as Dick Robin or Tim Robin would’ve easily been portrayed), and making his relationship with Batman to be plainly, unequivocally father-and-son, then with there being no actual difference between Robin II and Robin I and the two Robins being virtually the same, sure the viewers would see that the relationship between Batman and Robin II and the relationship between Batman and Robin I are very much the same too, and no one could say if there’s any resemblance of a gay couple with a creepy age difference in the original Batman and Robin’s dynamic ever again since they’ve always been father and son.

It just feels so manipulative to me and I hate it, but that’s just how I feel and I’m not saying that it’s truly the case. I’m sorry if this offends anyone who loves Earth 1 Jason. If you love him, that’s great. There’s nothing wrong to love a wholesome Robin and his altogether wholesome relationship with Batman, nor there’s anything wrong to love Red Hood Jason but prefer his softer New52 version which would’ve certainly seemed to be a less drastic change from his Pre52 version if he’s more like his Earth 1 counterpart to begin with.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong to prefer one version of a character to another, to just say fuck canon and recreate a character you love into the way you could enjoy them most and have all the fun you want with them.

What gets to me and drives me bonkers, is when people couldn’t just be happy with their headcanon, but have to go out of their way to tell other people that it’s fact that Pre-Crsis/Earth 1 Jason and Post-Crisis/New Earth Jason are the same character, while in actuality, they weren’t even meant to be the same in the first place.

If DC had ever wanted to just keep using Pre-Crisis Jason but give him a new backstory, they would just follow up on whatever he had been doing with Bruce as his pre-crisis self while casually throwing in his new backstory at some point, just as they did with a lot of other characters such as Donna post-crisis, not give him a full reintroduction in Batman #408 and rewrite his relationship with Bruce from the ground up.

It just makes me want to scream, when people, who never seems to have a lot of problems with Under the Hood and maybe also Lost Days, have to go out and call every portrayal of Pre-52 Jason and some of the more recent Red Hood Jason that shares a resemblance to him wrong for not portraying Jason as that sweet little bookworm he really truly was, and that an entire different life experience just cannot change a character in any substantial way, and Jason being an angry kid with aggressive and violent tendencies is just something that had never been established until the more recent retcon/the OOC work of Jim Starlin, while in truth Pre-Crisis Jason with the exact same backstory as Dick just simply cannot be the same as Crime Alley Kid Jason, who doesn’t even have the same biological parents as Pre-Crisis Jason to provide him with the same gene that the Flying Todds, which were Joe and Trina Todd, had created their son with. 

If Pre-Crisis Jason and Post-Crisis Jason are one and the same, then it’d mean Dick is also very much the same as Jason is the same as Tim is the same as Damian is the same as Bruce and no one character is truly unique and special because every character ever made is just an alternate version of another character.

It had been shown most clearly since his first appearance that Post-Crisis/New Earth Jason, other than literally being a different kid with the same name, was nothing like his pre-crisis counterpart, but rather a bold, outspoken, confrontational, fully independent and proactive ghetto kid, who had got some serious stones to rob Batman’s gear, actually succeed in taking the tire off the freaking Batmobile and getting away originally, and had only run into Batman when he had come back to steal more, and called Batman a “big boob” after he had given him a good hit right in his Bat stomach.

This precious cupcake here↓

↑...that was often used as a proof that the NE Angry Robin Jason is a later retcon/ mere misconception had actually only ever existed in Detective Comics #569-573 during the earlier part of the writer Mike Barr’s run. These 5 issues from Barr are all notably 60s-ish, and while they’re published after CoIE and Batman Year one, it’s clear that they’re Earth 1 stories, seeing that they’re written with characters such as Earth 1 Catwoman. It was only in #574 that Jason’s New Earth origin was first introduced in Detective Comics, right before Batman Year Two; and although the issue was still written by Mike Barr and it did seem to have followed directly after #573, the previous issue was ended with the caption of “The New Origin of Batman”, and the tone of #574 as well as the writer’s latter issues and his portrayal of Jason Robin were no longer the same.

↑Detective Comics #574↑

It was stated by Bruce repeatedly, in both his own title and Detective Comics, that the reason he had taken in NE Jason as his new Robin was to save him from walking down the wrong path and to provide an outlet for his rage.

While no doubt Jim Starlin’s NE Jason Robin (that everyone hates) was the most aggressive and violent, it had never contradicted how the character was initially written by Max Allen Collins, the writer of Batman #408.

↑Batman #410 by Collins↑

↑ Batman #411 by Collins, after Jason had found out that Willis was murdered by Two-Face and Bruce had been hiding the information from him ↑

Although in the end of Batman #411, Jason did seem to have gotten over his anger and saved Two-Face’s life, judging by the way he’d talked about his dad Willis in his first introduction and the fact that he’d never before bothered to find out what had happened to the man the whole time while he’s in the manor where he had all the resources to acquire the information, it was doubtful that he and Willis had had a good relationship, and what he’d felt for his crook dad then could hardly be the same as what he felt later in “The Diplomat’s Son” story.

NE Jason had always been consistent in being a fearless, proactive, feisty individual with a hot temper, even in the hand of a writer with a much mellower sense of writing like Mike Barr.

↑ Jason and Bruce encountered Two-Face again in Detective Comics #580-581 by Barrs ↑

It had been established from the get-go that NE Jason Robin was the type of kid who would challenge Batman and go out handling a criminal on his own without consulting him or anyone else first, and was morally questionable with tendencies to aggression and violence, which was perfectly understandable for someone with his background--Only at the beginning it’s easy to brush these things off, because there's never any real consequence to his behavior and so Bruce was okay when he’d behaved this way at the beginning, and since Jason’d still got a lot to learn and was eager to learn from Bruce at the beginning, it would only be right that he’s more agreeable and willing to obey Bruce, but once he had completed his training and been allowed on the field, it would also only be right for him to feel like he had learnt enough and gotten the hang of the business already, and so just easily slipped into his old habit of handling things on his own, just as he had always been while he had been surviving in the Crime Alley on his own before Bruce came along.

NE Jason Robin wasn’t suddenly turned from 0-100 in The Diplomat’s Son story (though I really doubt that it’d be impossible for someone, especially someone around Jason’s age, to go from 0-100 if they have to deal with what Jason had dealt with in the story)--

↓ This didn’t happen until after the diplomat’s son was let go by the police due to his status, and on his way out of the police station where he’d been initially brought in by Jason and Bruce for raping and kidnapping an innocent woman, the mofo called his victim right in front of Jason and Bruce and threatened her on the phone, which led the woman to immediately commit suicide. 

I’ve always thought it’s a good story and a lot more tasteful than it’s usually given credit for. It wouldn’t even have been the first time a “teenage superhero” has killed in the DCU (whether it was accidental or intentional); it’s certainly not something so dark and controversial that DC wouldn’t go for it, they could’ve easily just gone for it and had Jason Robin murder a criminal then, except they never really showed that he did. The audience just naturally assumed that he did because the whole scene was shown through Bruce’s view, and Bruce could see that even if Jason didn’t really kill the rapist then, he might very well be capable of it, and it makes the whole Under the Hood storyline as well as the continuation of Red Hood Jason possible.

The concept of Under the Hood and the continuing existence of Red Hood Jason works, instead of just being a complete character assassination like One-Year-Later Cass, only with Jason being his post-crisis version with all of his very established traits and his very established problems with Bruce.

If Under the Hood Jason is indeed Earth 1 Jason or similar to him, he would really need to be under some outside influence for him to do the things he had done, for there’s just no other justification for his action.

He would really have to be driven mad by the effect of the Lazarus Pit (which has only ever been showed to exist momentarily on other characters), he would have to be incapacitated the whole time, unable to control his own action or even form any conscious decision--and it would only make it extremely possible for him to do something truly awful such as killing some innocent or other heroes or even someone in the Batfam, since he wouldn’t be able to stop himself even if he wanted to, or be able to tell if that’s wrong; that’s what being incapacitated means, that’s why people who’s committed crimes, even as bad as murders, cannot be held legally accountable when they’re proven to be mentally ill--and if that’s truly the case, then Bruce as well as Dick (who had a pretty amicable relationship with Earth 1 Jason) and everybody else who has any knowledge about the matter would all have to be some real awful persons to not lift a finger to help him, by making it a point to stop him from committing any more murder that he wouldn’t have committed if he could help it, and figuring out a way to relieve him from the influence by means of the various science and magic overflowing in their world, like they’ve repeatedly done for many others who’ve been in the similar position, and eventually getting him the hell out of this altogether traumatic crime-fighting life, so he could finally begin to heal from his extensive traumas, including being forced to kill which has always been a very common cause of PTSD for soldiers at war; and even if Jason doesn’t leave the crime-fighting life forever, he could no longer continue operating as the Red Hood; it’d just make no sense for him to keep up the identity previously belonged to his murderer, and have it constantly remind him of how he didn’t just get brutally murdered, he was also forced into becoming a murderer himself, which.he never would’ve become if he wasn’t literally out of his mind.

Moreover, there could never have been a Tim Robin (even if Tim didn’t go by Robin but something else), if the Jason who died in A Death in the Family had the same disposition as Earth 1 Jason and none of his NE traits which was the one and only justification Bruce had for taking in Tim as his third teenage partner, seeing that Tim is patient and careful and cooperative with all the qualities to become the same kind of hero like Dick, and not at all “reckless” and “rebellious” like NE Jason, and so he’s likely to turn out like Dick and not get himself killed like Jason (that’s the only true significant retcon Pre52 Jason had. Although NE Jason Robin could be rather reckless and rebellious, that’s certainly not why he had gotten killed. They just made Bruce and everyone pretend that that’s what killed him, so it wouldn’t seem so utterly horrible for Bruce to endanger another teenage kid with no superpower or any previous fighting training by bringing them in the business that had already gotten one kid killed, and also for Dick and everyone else to just let him).

It’s a complete disregard of facts and logic to call Earth 1 Jason and Red Hood Jason the same character, which doesn’t really matter as long as it’s only headcanon; but when people push it as a fact, it really just sound to me like they’re saying that it’s wrong to like Pre 52 Jason/Post-Crisis Jason Robin, which I very much do because I actually think he’s an interesting character with an interesting and more coherent story than a lot of other DC characters.

It’s like they’re saying that it’s just plain wrong and unnatural for a person to have aggressive and violent tendencies and be inclined to criminal behavior simply because they had grown up in a most crime-infested place and had to rely on themselves and learned to do what it takes to survive since before twelve, or become more and more violent simply because they’ve been made to work in an extremely violent environment and have never been provided with any kind of actual aid for their mental health the entire time.

It’s like that if a person, after being brutally murdered and then coming back to find that their mentor/guardian who was the closest thing they had to a family and was also responsible for their death in a major way just didn’t seem to be giving any shit about that at all, is filled with such murderous rage that they could very well just go out and kill a bunch of criminals, but they aren’t actually a smol whump baby with no absolutely agency of their own that must be protected at all times all along, then they’re just no good at all and don’t deserve any love or respect or understanding.

...I don’t like myself for ranting about this. I hope I could just not give any shit about this dumb thing, but it’d been driving me crazy and I’d just got to let it out.

[shoichee]

Star-crossed

[Midorima x Reader]

[Hanahaki!au]

Word Count: 8840

Warning: attempted angst, death

Note: This is my first time writing angst, oh dear. Even after years of bawling over other people’s works, I still have no solid idea on how to create heart-wrenching writing. Here goes though.

»»—————　☼　—————««

“I’m really excited!”

“Ne, ne, I honestly can’t wait to bloom…”

“What kind of flowers would my body grow do you think?...”

You only drone out the incessant bustlings of chattering from your classmates as special health education class ended as you sat there patiently waiting for the next teacher to walk into class to start the next period.

Next is… ah, math…

You sigh, heaving out the bulky textbook out of your bag and drop it on the desk with a thump, making a few students flinch at the near proximity. You lay your elbow on the hardcover, allowing your thoughts to drift away as your fingers gently thrum. This teacher, you knew, was the type to start class unceremoniously late.

It was boring. Everyone already knew about the stage of blooming. It had been incanted incessantly to you by adults around you ever since grade school. Yet, Shūtōku high was one of the many high schools that still insisted in “teaching” the basic knowledge of what’s to come soon.

Maybe these classes don’t teach, but rather, serve as a reminder of the inevitable that all growing teenagers will face sooner or later: blooming.

Some people have already experienced it as soon as they graduated out of middle school; they were called the “early bloomers.” That was one of your closer friends.

So what’s it like? you once asked, turning to your new friend at the time. You said you bloomed…

And you recall her nodding her head fervently.

Yeah! she eagerly replied. While it may be painful at first, it went away after a few weeks for me… it’s not so different like getting a period, you know?... I heard it’s different for everyone, but for me, my heart thumped super loudly! And I get these tingly sensations!...

… It’s just like a sign that you’ve become totally mature!

A frantic clang from the doorway interrupts your train of thought as you eye the expectant teacher, completely out of breath as he tries to arrive on time but completely failing miserably.

Unlike in special health ed, most of the students groan at the thought of continuing the onslaught of derivative lessons. You don’t really care either way and promptly open your textbook to the appropriate page.

As class slowly ticks by, your mind wanders off from the subject of class again, drifting to the constant destination of your recent curiosity of bloomings.

You are what everyone calls a “late bloomer.”

You aren’t the only late bloomer, obviously, but it does make you quite anxious at the fact of potentially being the “last one” in your class, or perhaps out of the entire school.

No one wants to really hang out with a late bloomer; they were often stereotyped as “immature” or “abnormal.” After all, this was a normal stage of life, a sign of growing up out of childhood. No one wants to hang around with someone seen as a “kid.”

A soft cough pulls you from your daydreaming as you subtly glance at the desk to your left. It was a classmate of yours, as well as an acquaintance.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying to not bring attention to yourself. “... Are you okay?”

She gives a quiet clearing of her throat before she nods, hand still pressed against her lips. She then shakes her head side to side, her long hair swaying slightly with the motion.

“Ah, don’t worry about me getting sick,” you quietly reassure. “But you should really go to the nurse’s after. Have you tried tying your hair up? I heard doing so can help cool off and keep a clearer head…”

She cautiously drops her hand back to her desk before giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“Thank you, (l/n-san). I’ll be fine.”

“(l/n).”

“Yes!” You stand up from your desk the moment the teacher calls on you, relieved at the fact that he didn’t seem to notice your hushed conversation.

“Could you please come up to the board to solve this problem…?”

---------

Lunch time is always the time you come out of class to search for Takao. As you walk briskly in the hallways, you try to avoid staring at everyone’s floral tattoos located at the side of their necks, imprinted underneath the canopies of their jaws. Each individual’s flower mark showcased what their bodies grew during their stages of blooming.

And each plant was unique to the individual. They could represent their personality, their prospective future, what their future soulmate would be like… anything goes, and every student constantly gossips about what the other’s marks would exactly mean.

You, markless, walk faster, hoping that no one would spot you and flit their eyes to your blank neck… although everyone at school already knows those who have still yet to bloom.

You envy them.

“(y/n)-chan!!” Takao waves you over when you enter the cafeteria. “Over here!”

You briefly scan the tables before you spot him, begrudgingly noticing his pink hyacinth at the crook of his neck, even though you’re happy for him that he passed that stage of his life.

Pink hyacinths… they symbolized playfulness.

You would know; not only did special health classes painstakingly educate students since young for the anticipation of blooming, you took the extra effort of researching many more flowers on your own time, patiently abiding your time to have a striking plant engraved onto you one day.

As you carry your tray and slide into your seat, you finally notice a grumbling greenhead besides Takao.

“Shin-chan! So you do care about having a flower mark after all, eh?”

That’s right, huh. Midorima, too, was markless.

Just like you.

“Your assumptions are getting ridiculous, Takao.”

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that when your eyes always land on people’s necks when you talk to them—pfffft—” He breaks out into guffaws as he clutches his stomach helplessly, which cued Midorima into reaching for the point-guard in an attempt to strangle him.

Pink hyacinths are perfect for someone like Takao. You couldn’t help but let a smile slip from your lips.

“Whoaa!!” Takao peers over to you, ignoring his predicament of being restrained to death by Midorima. “(y/n)-chan! You should smile more!—ow!”

“Worry about yourself first,” he scowls, before tentatively letting him go with a defeated sigh. He opts to hold his lucky charm for the day (a terracotta pot).

“Shintarou-san,” you call out to him, after several minutes of comfortable silence as all three of you ate your lunches. “What do you think your flower would be?”

“Man proposes, God disposes. As long as I always provide everything to maximize my opportunities and follow the order of fate, I do not need to worry about such baseless things.”

You mildly snicker at his typical response. “Is that so, horoscope man.”

“Why waste time worrying about something that’s not in your hands?” He pushes up his glasses with his taped hand. “You should be focusing on what you can do as of now, nanodayo.” When he finishes, he looks up from his lunch to glance at you, noticing your widened eyes.

“Ah…” you stare at him at a loss for words, caught off guard at the fact that he sounded… almost concerned for you. “I’ll keep it in mind, Shintarou.”

“There’s no way that’s our Shin-chan!” Takao rushes to try to feel Midorima’s forehead. “That’s way too good of an advice to be you—”

“Shut up—get off of me—!”

As the two basketball players struggle in each other’s vice grips, they fail to notice the ruddy color having its own moment of blooming onto your cheeks.

---------

“... and what this means, class, is that having your first love is a monumental sign of blooming. That being said, having to experience love for the first time does not automatically guarantee blooming. This natural phenomena is still being studied by scientists around the world. What’s also interesting is that we humans are the only ones with this unique…”

More basic information? You yawn, covering your mouth in hopes no one notices, but as you look around you, your classmates are too engrossed in the lecture to even pay attention to anything else.

Of course they’d pay attention. It’s a special event that will happen to everyone at some point; even though you were sure they all already knew the information to heart, you knew they would take any opportunity to learn more about themselves in any way. You don’t blame them, however. You’re curious about your own body’s idiosyncrasies of not blooming yet.

“... Lies.” You snap your head to the source of the quiet remark to see your classmate on your left, arms crossed on the desk with a minimal scowl on her face.

Noticing your piercing stare, she turns to you before widening her eyes at realizing that she was heard. She abruptly turns her face to the front of the class, trying to pass off the act of suddenly paying attention to the teacher.

You turn your head to face the front as well but you still glance to your left from time to time.

“Are you feeling better?...” you hesitantly whisper.

Not expecting you to show concern, she jumps in her seat before eyeing you warily. As soon as she decides that you were merely concerned, she gives a polite nod and a smile.

“It was just a little flu I caught… Thank you for worrying about me. I’m just a sickly person but I thankfully recover very quickly.”

And with that, she ends the conversation with you to finally genuinely pay attention for the rest of class.

You try to do the same, but you feel knots of lead settling in your stomach.

… Lies?

What was that about?

---------

“(y/n)-chan! Wanna come and watch our practices today?”

You were stopped in the hallways by a grinning Takao, with a trailing Midorima not too far behind with a bundle of faux peacock feathers.

You’re not too sure if you should be concerned with a clinging Takao on your arm and attempting to kidnap you or a stoic Midorima displaying around a ridiculous souvenir.

“Huh? W-why?”

“You’re obviously free right now, obviously.”

“That doesn’t make sense—wah!”

Before you can put any further word in, Takao is dragging you to the gym, with an exasperated Midorima being figuratively pulled along with you two as well.

“Here we are, (y/n)-chan!” Takao ushers you beyond the gym doors and indicates the bleachers for you to sit and watch.

“You really think I’m going along with all of this, Kazu?”

“I know you better than anyone.”

“No you don’t,” you frown, turning away from him with a huff.

“Takao.”

Takao immediately gulps at the call of his name from Midorima and both you and him turn around to see a particularly hostile green-haired person.

“Sorry, sorry! Please don’t hit me!” And Takao races to the lockers in an attempt to escape from his fury.

Midorima relaxes his stance after he leaves and turns to you.

“Thanks, Shintarou.”

“I wasn’t doing it for you,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “He was just being more troublesome than usual.” But the way he clumsily handled his frames told a different story to you.

You laugh at him. “If you insist, Shintarou-san.”

“R-right…”

“Hey! Shin-chan!” Takao yells from the opposite side of the gym. Get over here! Captain is coming!”

At the captain being mentioned, Midorima straightens up before jogging over to warm up.

You suppose you can watch their practice this evening.

---------

You’ve never seen anyone handle a basketball like that.

What the hell? His range was damn near impossible.

You were thankful that you allowed Takao to drag you over to the gym to watch. Otherwise, you would’ve never learned about this side of Midorima.

Wait… Midorima?

No, you shake your head. It’s only because it was a lot more interesting than all of your classes, that’s all.

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra, yet every time your eyes land on Midorima’s shooting form, your mind goes blank.

You were absolutely captivated… not that you would ever admit it though.

---------

“... scientists are still doing social experiments on the blooming stage of humans. You may be wondering, if it’s been a part of societies for thousands of years, why are we studying it? Well, during old times, they were often explained using myths and folk stories…”

It really sucked that special health ed class was a mandatory requirement for all first-years. All of this was old news to you still.

“... new recent findings came out that answered the everlong question of whether the bloomings can actually be dangerous for humans, and how dangerous.”

Oh? That was new. But you suppose there was no way they’d tell little kids about the possibilities and risks with bloomings.

“Obviously, we know it can be fatal, just like pregnancies going awry and such. While we don’t know the exact mortality rate, researchers are trying to develop new medicines to curb away the potential amount of deaths associated with bloomings. But other scholars suggest not to drain precious resources into medicine development when they can use it for more pressing medical issues, and I know many of you believe this as well. Their take on this issue is that ‘blooming is something that should not be tampered with and the success of bloomings rely solely on the individual’s abilities and willpower to come of age since it’s unique to every person’...”

Unique… He was right. Even the signs and symptoms of a blooming vary greatly for everyone. The only thing everyone had in common was that their bodies grew plants. Even the way plants grow vary from person to person. That’s what they taught since the very beginning.

“... since blooming is unique to every individual, creating a standard medicine and procedure for all would be impossible, or at the very least inaccessible due to high expenses in accommodating medicine for every patient.”

Most of the students in the room nod in fervent agreement, and pretty soon, the room was filled with chattering at the new information they took in.

You glance to your classmate on your left again but you were surprised to see that her seat was empty.

Was she not here from the start?

You sigh and chide yourself for not noticing at the beginning of homeroom, but quickly dismiss the casual thought for more immediate problems like your upcoming exam for chemistry in a few periods.

Ah, oh well.

---------

“If you’re looking for Takao, forget it. He’s in detention for causing a disruption for one of the teachers last period.”

“Sh-shintarou?!” You whirl around to find Midorima alone with his bear plush. “You’re not at practice?”

“We practice tomorrow.”

“I see,” you say, not knowing how to continue the conversation from here.

“I guess I’ll be going home early then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you try to walk past Midorima, he sidesteps quickly to block your pathway, and you walk right into him before stepping back out of embarrassment.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—!”

“(y/n).” He averts his eyes while sliding up his glasses. “You’re walking home alone?”

Still in a state of flusters, you promptly nod your head as you stare down at your shoes.

“Come. We better get going before it gets too late. Cancers will have unlucky encounters after dusk.” Midorima jerks his head to the direction of the exit, motioning for you to follow before he turns on his heel and walks away.

“Sh-shintarou?”

“I-it’ll only be… troublesome if something were to happen.” He stops walking and looks back at you. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up.”

“R-right. Coming!”

---------

It wasn’t completely unexpected that the walk home would have an awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Usually, Takao would be the social “buffer” and the proxy between you two, but now that he was out of the picture, neither of you knew how to strike up a casual conversation. That was more of Takao’s specialty.

“... I’ve thought about what you said.” At his voice, you turn to look up at his contemplative face. You give him an inquisitive look to encourage him to continue his thought. “... Although I’m not so certain what kind of plant I would grow. Not even the Oha Asa could predict it.”

“Ah, I see…” You turn your face to face the front as you gaze at the sunset ahead. “Are you afraid of the uncertainty?” At your question, he falls silent, giving you the confirmation that he was, indeed, scared.

“Shintarou,” you murmur. “You’re not alone in feeling the uneasiness of blooming.”

“Wha—I never said anything about blooming, nanodayo—”

“Sure,” you interject. “Well, for me, I really hope I’d get a gorgeous flower, a flower so breathtaking that would make everyone stop in their tracks to admire the mark. I want to change those stares of pity and disdain into those of admiration and envy…” You can tell he’s hanging onto your every word despite the fact that he wasn’t facing you, his steps slowing down ever so slightly to be as close to you to hear what you had to say without deeming it suspicious.

“I envy Takao… a lot,” you sigh, and Midorima turns his head slightly to you at the mention of Takao’s name. “He already has a flower mark and he’s so put-together despite his cheerfulness… He’s really reliable.”

“I see.”

“... and the truth is, I’m really scared. I feel like I’m going to be the last person to ever get a mark. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, with my body—”

He stops in his tracks.

“That’s a foolish line of thought.”

You turn to face him, ready to glare at him, but you stop when you make eye contact, startled at the intensity of his gaze. You swear you can see your figure reflected in his viridian irises. A few seconds of suffocating silence crawl by, and you break away eye contact, intimidated by his gaze and the possible implication of his words.

“Sorry about that.”

He says nothing in return.

The rest of the walk home became even more uncomfortable, with Midorima walking slightly ahead and you making a wordless effort to constantly match his stride.

You don’t know why, but seeing his taut back to you squeezes your heart ever so slightly, the mute badumps ever feeling like a constant dull sore.

“Shintarou…” you softly call out after you arrive at your house. The sun had left the horizon shortly before you arrived at your destination. “Thank you for walking me home, and… sorry, it looks like it’s past dusk now, but will you be able to get home safely?”

“Fool,” he huffs. “I have my lucky charm to compensate for my misfortune today.”

You smile at him, relieved at the thought that maybe that moment before was all just your overthinking.

“Of course, Shintarou.”

---------

It was hard looking at Midorima without losing your cool from that point on. It wasn’t like the two of you did anything out of the ordinary yesterday, excluding the fact that he volunteered to walk you home. But you knew he just cared for you in his own way, as a friend.

As a friend.

“(y/n)-chan!” Takao tries to pounce on you, pulling your cheeks apart. “What’s with the nasty frown on your face? Didn’t I tell you that you should smile more?”

“Shtop—pawling—Takow—!”

As he laughs at your stretched face from his pulling, you manage to pry his hands off of your cheeks and take refuge behind the sour-faced shooting guard. “Shintarou! Save me from Takao!”

“Takao, come here.” He gave a harsher punch to his head than usual, and Takao did not fail to comment on it.

“Sheesh, that hurt even more, Shin-chan? What did I do?—oh, ohhhhhhh.” His grimace lit up to an expression of realization and mischievousness. “I see.”

“Your antics are getting more and more preposterous. If you have that much energy, you should expend it during practice, nanodayo.”

“Right, right, Shin-chan!” He waves Midorima off before slinging his arm around your shoulder. “But (y/n)-chan, don’t think you're off the hook just yet!”

You can only sigh as he dramatically waggles his finger at you while Midorima clicks his tongue, opting to walk to his classroom instead.

“H-hey! Don’t leave me behind!”

And with that, the duo disappeared right before the warning bell rang.

---------

You sense an uncharacteristic aura of hostility directed at you right when you entered class, but you shake your head before plopping at your designated seat. As much as you try to mind your own business, the hostility you felt peaked even more. You glance around before your eyes fall on your classmate to your usual left.

She was silently seething, but particularly at you.

“Is… something the matter?” You shot her a worried look. “You were gone yesterday, right? Did your flu kick up again?”

“What’s with you?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do you care so much for me? I never asked for it.”

“Wh-what? I’m just worried? Did I say something wrong?”

“You are—”

“I am?”

And the bell rang with such convenient timing to interrupt the two of you.

“It’s nothing. Forget it.”

And class started without a further word from her, and as lectures progress, you peek over to her desk to see her never looking your way. The least you do, you decide, is to try to apologize and talk to her afterschool.

“... a revolutionary finding was published all over the news yesterday regarding bloomings. He proposed the most controversial proposition yet: bloomings neither affect the human body’s growth and maturity physiologically nor psychologically and that these ‘effects’ from blooming are merely all placebo. His conclusions have caused an uproar in the world of scholarship, but what I want for you students to do is to write an in-class paper about your reaction to these potential revelations…”

You sit up straight, and for the first time, you listen to his lessons with utmost attention. Your mind racing, you rush to grab a suitable pencil before you start to write your thoughts for the assignment. You peer over to your classmate to see her already writing furiously. You do the same.

She was the first student to screech the chair as she stood up, daintily holding the paper to bring it to the front desk.

All you could discern from her paper, even despite the neat writing, was:

I am ultimately relieved.

---------

“W-wait! Please!” You dash out of the classroom, trailing after your classmate who hightailed it out as soon as possible.

“Leave me alone already!” she heaves over her shoulder, willing her legs to run even faster.

“Your… homework! I have to give… work that you… missed!” And you had relatively no problem speeding up to match her pace.

“Can you just stop following me?! I can just get it from my teachers! What’s your deal?!”

“I want to apologize—!” But before you can finish your sentence, your classmate drops onto her knees, clasping her mouth in complete desperation. “H-hey! What’s wrong?!”

She wheezed into her palms before she got up and ran again before you could completely catch up to her.

She busted open the main doors and ran into the secluded areas of the school courtyard, hoping to lose your trail of her, but as soon as she turned from looking behind her shoulder to the front again, you managed to cut her way off.

“Your… homework…” you gasp for air, shakily handing her the papers that were clenched in your hand.

The next thing you register are splatters of blood on the sheets. And your classmate desperately holding her coughs in.

“Hey!...” You hold her frame, slowly dropping the two of you onto the ground in kneeling positions to try to ease the burden on her body, soiled papers already discarded to the side.

Cough. “Don’t—” Cough. “Fucking—” Cough. “Touch me…”

As she spoke, her hands loosen up their grip against her mouth, but as soon as she did, petals and buds cascaded from her lips. Which were all soaked in blood.

“I…” You dumbly look at the pile of flowers in front of her. You couldn’t even tell what type of flowers they were from all the blood. “You’re blooming?” You always thought she already did.

She slaps your hand, which was on her shoulder the entire time, before tucking her strands behind her ear to prevent them from being further drenched in crimson.

Her neck, being exposed for the first time, was blank.

“C-congratulations!” You say, holding both her shoulders this time with excitement. “You’re—!”

Slap.

The sound resonated through the area, which luckily was mostly empty. Your face pulsates with a stinging heat.

“I’m fucking dying!” She stands up shakily from her kneeling position. “How could you say such an awful thing—I’m dying, I’m fucking dying…”

You can only stare at her in shock from her being so volatile for the first time since you met her, or the fact that she said such a morbid thing.

“I don’t… I don’t understand—?”

“I’m sick!” she seethes, her throat struggling to choke out words. Tears run silently down her agonized face, diluting the thick blood smeared across her face.

“I’m so sorry…! I didn’t know your flu was this ba—”

“You’re the reason why I’m dying,” she hoarsely spat.

The silence was so palpable that even the labored breathing from her was unnaturally loud.

“What? Why me?”

“I…” she hesitates, before dropping to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to—it’s not your fault, I…

… I’m so scared.” Hiccup. “There isn’t any medicine to help me…”

You hand her a tissue from your bag to try to clean up the bloody mess off of her, but before you can dab the tissue to her face, she gingerly grabs your wrist.

“I… love Takao.”

What? You held your breath, anticipating to hear what she’d say next.

“But he rejected me not too long ago. I thought I could get over him and be done with blooming relatively quickly but…” She pointedly looks at you. “Whenever he’s so close to you, especially as of late… my heart hurts. It hurts, it hurts so badly and I don’t know, and then I just start coughing more, and more, and more.”

“It’s just a stage of life,” you insist. “Maybe your case is the most extreme, but—”

“Oh, stop it already,” she snarls. “You still believe in whatever they feed you about this ‘blooming’? It’s a disease, for fuck’s sake.” She tries to get up again. “I thought… I could be friends with you because you were the only one who wasn’t being sucked into their rhetorics… guess I was wrong.”

You were still on your knees when you tried to stretch out your hand to her, but retracted it after seeing her stumble away from you. But as she did so, she hacked out a new bouquet of flowers, but this time, you could see tiny white flowers rimmed with pale blue.

Morning glories…

They meant unrequited love.

“(y/n)...?” she softly asked, for the first time using her usual mild-mannered tone of voice with you today. She disregarded the mess of petals she made around her, appearing to be accustomed to the unsettling sight.

“... yes?”

“Do you love Takao?”

“I would never see him that way.”

“That’s… good to hear…” She gives you a defeated close-eyed smile.

“Wait… you still need to get cleaned up.”

You got up on your feet to try to guide her face your way to wipe off, and as you try to scrub the dried clots of blood away, she manages to croak a laugh.

“I thought that you were trying to rub it in my face about Takao the entire time whenever you talked to me… I was so wary of you, I was so blinded…” You silently listen as you pour your water bottle over the next tissue.

“Do you know why teens in particular have to pay attention to when they’ll bloom?”

“No…” You furrow your brows, already reevaluating about everything you supposedly already knew about blooming. “I don’t.”

“Teens are more likely to have their first love than any other person. If they can overcome their first unrequited love… that would mean… they are ready to apparently to survive and carry on with their lives…

… tell me… am I not good enough to be alive? I can’t even get over—”

You only hush her as you scrub away the last remnants of blood from her skin. Her clothes were unfortunately already stained.

“That’s the best I could do,” you quietly say. “Please get home as soon as possible. And take care of yourself.”

“The paper we had today in class… When our teacher talked about the new findings of blooming research, I was so happy. But looking around class, no one seemed to share the same sentiments. Even still, I am glad about the possibility that one day, we’d stop emphasizing so much on these marks…

“Although I wish I made the attempt to become closer friends with you sooner, I have no regrets now… I’m so glad you’re here…

 “I feel so relieved…”

---------

The next day of school, you had an ominous feeling settled within the pits of your stomach. You come to school early, deciding to sit at your desk the entire time and reading to pass the time. You did not feel like talking to your happy-go-lucky friend and his grumpy pet, as much as you usually enjoy their company.

Ever so often, you would glance at the clock and wish for it to come faster.

The bell eventually rings and most of the students crowd into the classroom into their seats. The homeroom teacher promptly follows after and puts her bag onto the front desk. But the seat to your left… was empty.

“Everyone… I have some unfortunate news to share,” she solemnly says. No, no, no… it can’t be.

Your mind goes blank as you stare at the teacher, vaguely reading her lips as one thing went in and out the other ear.

“... she unfortunately passed away. She wasn’t able to bloom.”

Your heart, already struggling to keep afloat on the last shreds of optimism, sank.

“Wha…? She’s gone?”

“That’s such a pity…”

“She was in our class? Since when?”

“Yikes, she wasn’t even able to bloom? That sucks for her, honestly.”

You stare blankly at your desk, not registering the fact that the special health ed class teacher took over the class after homeroom.

The whispers around the gossiping students only serve as a cruel reminder that late bloomers did not get any sympathy from others.

You needed to bloom, and fast.

---------

You only manage to exit out of class and find the cafeteria out of pure muscle memory, but your mind constantly goes back to yesterday evening with her. Were you the last person she got to speak with before she died? Was she scared? Did she truly die happy? You will never get to know.

You stop before the cafeteria doorway, inhaling and exhaling to bring your conscience back into the present day, and slowly stroll in. Takao and Midorima were already deep in conversation, so you stop, waiting for the perfect opportunity to join them.

“Shin-chan, have you heard?” Takao says, holding up his fork. “A student our year died from blooming.”

“It’s not in my matters to worry about, although I would like to give her family my condolences.” Midorima takes his time to cut his patty cleanly with a knife.

“It must suck though, to think this would happen… isn’t it a bit sad, Shin-chan?”

“It’s easily preventable, nanodayo.” He chews a small piece before continuing. “I would’ve never made the foolish mistake of falling in love. I’d rather be markless than fall in love.”

He would’ve never made the foolish mistake of falling in love…

He would’ve never made such a mistake…

He would’ve never fallen in love.

And certainly not with you.

Your heavy heart spikes in a pulse. Your heart was now racing for the wrong reasons. Those dull sores were now nothing compared to the incessant squeezing on your heart. And it won’t let up. You try to steady your breathing to calm yourself but your intake of air almost feels as if it’s being cut off.

You feel as if you can’t breathe.

You step back a couple steps before you dash to the nearest restroom, ignoring the stares of a few students around you.

“Speaking of the girl, wasn’t she in (y/n)-chan’s classroom? I actually haven’t seen her around today.”

“Takao, let me eat in peace.”

“Sheesh, you’re such a downer, Shin-chan.”

---------

You not being able to breathe was not just figuratively.

You ran to the restroom up on the 3rd floor, where you knew it was always mostly empty. You opened the door of the furthest stall and locked yourself in before you tried to heave whatever was blocking your airway.

1… 4… 7… 8 fern leaves—fronds—were choked out in a string of forced wheezes. They all floated seemingly innocently on the water of the toilet bowl.

Your body trembles, not able to take the sudden physical burden on it.

You should be happy, you really should. This was what you wished and prayed for all these years. But whatever you coughed out wasn’t even pretty-looking; hell, it wasn’t even a flower.

“I’d rather be markless…”

With Midorima’s words playing back to back in your head like a broken record, your lungs had the visceral reaction to gasp for more air before throwing up the rest of the leaves. It took the rest of lunch for you to stand up properly and collect yourself before you headed back to class.

You wished and you wished for your blooming to come, but now that your signs became apparent, you suddenly don’t want to bloom.

---------

Classes became harder to focus on, especially with the persistent dull stabs echoing in your heart. You feel that this pain was being constantly amplified and spread to the rest of your body.

You’re tired already, and it was only the initial stages.

School finished before you even knew it. Maybe it was because of the constant distraction your pain provided. A benefit from this new situation, if you were trying to be hopelessly optimistic, is that you wouldn’t be bored anymore at least.

You walk out of class in a slight daze, loosely scanning your surroundings until your eyes land on Takao and Midorima, although your gaze lingered on Midorima longer than you want to admit.

You hate this. The moment you figured that you fell in love with him was also the moment you learned that it was unrequited. If that wasn’t the unluckiest thing that ever happened to you, you don’t know what else is.

As you walk towards them, you toy with the idea of carrying around lucky items and taking Midorima’s advice in doing whatever you can to make your life easier (especially as of late), but you decide against it, trying not to dig your own grave by purposely doing things that reminded you of the green-haired boy even more.

“Kazu! Shintarou!” You casually wave over to them, masking the pain you felt at the sharp jabs you felt every so often in your chest.

“Oh? There you are,” Takao walks to your side to drop his arm on your shoulder. “Where you been, (y/n)-chan?”

“Been busy with… assignments and school.”

“Ah, well that can’t be helped. Speaking of busy, our captain is upping our practices, so we’re going to be gone a lot of the times.”

“No, no, don’t worry about me, just focus on basketball,” you say. “After all, that’s what you’re most passionate about. Don’t let me stop you.”

“You sure are understanding,” he laughs as he ruffles your hair. “But so—wah? Shin-chan, where are you going? Don’t leave me behind, damn it!”

Midorima won’t even speak with you…

“Seeyah! Nice seeing you!”

“Yeah… bye, Takao and… Shintarou…” By the time you spoke Midorima’s name, it barely came out as an audible whisper.

Somewhere within your heart, you hoped to be able to speak with Midorima but you wonder if he’s avoiding you on purpose.

As you walk home, alone, you think about the conversation you and Midorima had when he walked with you.

Had you misinterpreted Midorima in thinking that he wanted to bloom?

Was Midorima not the type to even want a mark?

In the end, were you just projecting your own desires and insecurities onto him?

The more you think, the more you realize how little you truly know about him. Right on cue, your windpipe constricts and spasms, signalling for you to find something to throw up in.

The nearest trash can was sufficient, and besides, no one was out in the streets to see a pitiful you hacking out with atrocious noises in an attempt to coax the leaves out. You pant in an attempt to calm your breathing, noticing the small spots of blood already staining dots on the vibrant fronds. Viscous blood mixed with your saliva hangs precariously from your lips, waiting to separate and fall into the bin with the leaves.

Your hands, grasping the trash can’s rims, shake in trying to hold your body up. And they tremble harder when you squint your eyes to start sobbing.

Your thick tears managed to fall into the bin before the ropy strands of blood dangling from your lips.

---------

You decide to spend most of your free time, at home and at school, researching about blooming beyond what your education system fed you. At school, you properly utilize the library, scouring every book on the subject you could find. But you weren’t surprised to see only books that talked about topics that were already covered in class.

Your fervid research took your mind off of Midorima, which subsequently stalled your stage of blooming.

You were going to start at the foundation of blooming: what exactly was it?

While the question is still being debated among the top scientists in the country, you took it upon yourself to try to come with an answer for yourself. For all you were concerned with, everything you thought you knew about blooming felt like an intricately-woven lie.

All the theorizing in your mind halted when you coincidentally found Midorima in one of the library sections.

“Sh-shintarou…?”

At your voice, he jumps out of his skin and then freezes. “What are you doing here?... Don’t you have practice?”

“Obviously I do, nanodayo…” he mutters, sliding his glasses up. You hate that you’ve noticed his habits even before you fell for him, but now that you did, you were even more hyper aware of everything he does. “But they insisted I rest for the actual games.”

“... while the others continue practice like normal?”

He ignores your question as he turns around to walk away. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll be going.”

“W-wait!” You unconsciously grab the back of his uniform shirt. Shit.

He turns around, eyeing you and waiting what you had to say.

“Well, I… I have to go home—right now! And well, since Takao is at practice I was wondering if you—”

He frowns before calmly replying. “No.”

No?

He leaves.

You stand there completely devastated. You don’t know whether to be furious at him and hate him to get over your pain or to do nothing but collapse against the bookshelf and silently cry your heart out.

You did the latter.

---------

The more you think about your unrequited love, the faster you will bloom. The faster you overcome and mature, the faster your blooming will pass. That’s what the books say.

But if you think about them more, isn’t that just a first-row ticket to accelerating to your death? Perhaps your late classmate was right in which blooming wasn’t something to boast about.

Your eyes have been puffy for days, although you mask it quite well with skincare and a dab of concealer. Nonetheless, you still look unwell and unnaturally pale at other parts of your face.

Your other classmates don’t pay attention to you, and for once, you’re grateful that your markless status helped you in flying under everyone’s radar.

You think you’re getting delusional. To ease your own pain during class, you now make it a little hobby to come up with different scenarios in how you would be saved from this.

What if you stop coming to school for a few weeks to see if anyone notices that you went missing?

What if you collapse in the hallway while walking with your friends and then Midorima panics and confesses his undying love for you?

What if an earthquake hit the bustlings of Tokyo and you were one of the only students who couldn’t be rescued by professionals and you were trapped because of your blooming body—and then maybe perhaps Midorima—

“(y/n).”

“Y-y-yes?” You immediately stand up without missing a beat.

“Could you read the passage from lines 37 to 49?...”

“Yes!...”

This was stupid. What were you even thinking at this point?

Honestly, your best option was to do everything in your power to get over Midorima and get your long-deserved mark.

---------

It’s been a couple of days.

While you still fantasize a few “damsel in distress” scenarios sometimes, you feel numb in a good way; your body was accustomed to the dull thuds, so you don’t even feel them as much anymore, and your mind has been clearer ever since the passing of your acquaintance, but at this point, you’re more inclined to call her your friend. You still hacked up a few ferns, though.

You decide to visit her grave on the weekend, which was freshly dug and cemented; it’s been a few weeks since her passing after all. As stupid as it sounded, you got her morning glories. Her spirit might hate you for constantly reminding her the cause of her death, but it’s the only flower that truly reminds you of her, and the only flower that made such an impact on you.

You pay your respects and spend the afternoon with her, murmuring how she was right after all and now it was your turn to finally go what she went through. You also talk about how Takao was doing, and how Shūtōku was competing right now against the big schools. You affectionately rub her gravestone before you leave.

You happen to pass by the stadium of where the esteemed Winter Cup was being held. That was where your team was competing wasn’t it?

You stop, however, when you see a particular greenhead near, with an unfamiliar blonde… and a pink-haired girl, a gorgeous one at that.

Thump… thump… thump…

You were supposed to be over him. You weren’t supposed to care about his affairs. But you saw him being so casual with her while she was holding a baby husky, you suddenly felt as helpless as the you back in the cafeteria, at the doorway, when you heard what Midorima said.

You already told your late friend that you got over Midorima. The last thing you wanted to do now was to end up lying to her that you never did.

You tear your eyes away and bolt, tears blurring your vision as you run in the general direction to where you thought was your home. You hoped that your parents were still at work, because you did not have the courage to tell them that you were a disappointment because you couldn’t even do the bare minimum of blooming. And you certainly hoped her spirit wasn’t following you somehow, because you didn’t want to be the reason for her suffering again, as unreasonable as it sounded.

By the time you arrived at your gates, you couldn’t control the resurfacing of ferns from your lungs as you felt the blood spilling in bursts with the leaves, along with the loud hiccups and desperate wails that escaped from your body. You had left a visible trail of complementary colors of red and green. But you didn’t care. Guilt and rejection wracked your body to the point beyond properly functioning.

Despite the muddy colors that fill your vision, you manage to clumsily use the keys to enter into your house, but walking beyond those gates proved to be more troublesome as those muddy colors soon became even hazier and your legs wobbled weaker. You stumbled and tripped and slipped yet you made the effort to get back up again. You knew you were going to have to hide the dark bruises that formed from you constantly crashing… and probably come up with excuses if you couldn’t obscure all of them. You beg your body to make it to your room at the very least.

I’ll… just sleep it off… it’ll all be okay… I’ll wake up, and everything will just be a dream… a dream…

You collapse onto the floor of the living room, your house door still completely open from moments before.

It must be your room’s bed, right? How else would it explain why you felt so at ease right now?

You feebly choke, too lethargic to even hold up a hand to stop the contents of your blooming from spilling all over the floor.

Ah… won’t they be mad when they’d get back from home?... Maybe you should clean up your bed.

But a short nap sounds heavenly at the moment, and your body has the same idea, your heart relaxing and easing up on the painful thuds for the first time in a while.

You peacefully flutter your eyes, registering amongst the haze the brilliant shade of greens the fern exhibited, which truly reminded you of the person who ultimately could not return your love back… a true sight for sore eyes like yours.

“Sh… ta… rou…”

You vaguely felt your throat tickling from the inside before you lost complete consciousness.

The fern that represented eternal youth… new life… new beginnings… even until the end, you could not comprehend why your body decided to grow ferns.

The sight on the floor was eerily ethereal. Your face was completely serene as your lips were parted by long, elegant ferns emerging from your esophagus, watered by fresh crimson. Your body looked like it was made to be a delicate, asymmetrical vase for the newly-sprouted foliage. There was nothing but silence, save for the wall clock’s ticking that signaled your death.

---------

“Midorin? What’s wrong?” Momoi tilted her head up at Midorima, who started to palpitate. “Did the games pump you up?”

“Obviously not.” He glanced at her pointedly before he excused himself.

“H-uh? Hold up—Midorin!”

At her voice, he took longer strides to outpace, even lose, her, and he sharply made a turn to a deserted area behind the stadiums. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe—

A cough. Two coughs. Then his floodgates bursted, with a yellow petal fluttering into his hand before he coughed up the rest of the hyacinth flower, its scent steeped in the headache-inducing odor of metal.

The yellow hyacinth… while the pink hyacinth tattooed on Takao meant playfulness, his own flower meant jealousy.

The first time he felt it was when Takao dragged you to the gym and proclaimed that he knew you better than anyone. His own heart thrashed in its place at the sight of Takao being so confident and easygoing around you. While beating Takao managed to subdue his inner pain, a seed of doubt was still inevitably planted within.

The second time he felt a stronger wave of envy was when he saw you patiently waiting for Takao to come out of his class.

The third time he felt his heart do an awful kick in his upper rib cage was when he heard you spoke so highly of Takao as he walked you home. No matter how much he tried to get close to you, he knew he could never outdo Takao socially. The fact that he could only get as close as he did to you was indirectly thanks to Takao. He was silent that evening, his mind swirling from the self-hatred and jealousy of his innate friendliness to everyone… especially you.

You both ironically envied Takao for different reasons.

As soon as he waited for you to safely enter your house, he widened his eyes as his throat started to twitch. Clasping his lucky item, he bolted to the nearest grass area outside a fence to barf up his umpteenth whole hyacinth flower, with crushed petals and stems.

That’s when he knew that not even the Oha Asa could not save him from this, not unless he took a different approach.

He hated it. He could not emphasize it any further than that. The way you allowed Takao to get so close to you, the way he saw how Takao knew what was going on inside his head. He hated yet envied his natural ability to read people.

 So what did he do? He only did what he only knew how to do in social situations: walk away.

He’d never admit that he was in love. Certainly not to Takao. He’ll keep denying it to him to the bitter end. He told himself that he would show Takao someday, that he was, without a doubt, more suitable to be by your side.

He wanted to get over his love for you as soon as possible so he could adorn a flower tattoo…

If he did… would you notice him too?

Would he be a man worthy of your love?

Avoiding you broke him in many ways. Every time he did, he kept rethinking about his plan. Was this a good idea?

But being the stubborn person he was, he decided to not budge. He’d figure that the Oha Asa would give him the ultimate blessings for Cancer someday soon, and he could act accordingly then. For now, he figured he should lay low.

He’ll never breathe a word of his blooming to Takao. He didn’t want to be the next person making that same mistake as your classmate, yet here he was, a perfect example of falling for the exact same trap, despite knowing the consequences.

He couldn’t help it. Not if it was you.

Yet, Takao being the sharp point-guard that he was, noticed how Midorima had trouble keeping up during practices. Midorima didn’t know what Takao told the captain, but the next thing he knew, he wasn’t allowed to practice under the pretense of “saving his strength before the games.” As much as he wanted to argue, he couldn’t do much when the captain’s glare pierced through him, daring him to defy the captain’s order. He couldn’t even play basketball anymore in order to distract himself from thoughts of you.

As he continued to think back about all the failed interactions he tried to initiate with you, his lips leaked petal after soaked petal onto the concrete as he propped his forearms and head against the wall.

“Damn it… damn it… damn it…”

He slowly slid his down, his fisted arms and head still against the wall, until he dropped his knees onto the hard floor. He tried to regain his composure, but it was difficult with his knees mushing the bloodied flowers already on the concrete and the fresher flowers ever so continuing to fall on his lap.

He kept hacking up hyacinths blossoms, hoping he could clear his throat and stabilize his breathing again before he could go back into the stadium. Even after nonstop regurgitation, its glaring yellow color kept mocking at his macabre predicament, taunting him to try to stop the flow of its fatal petals.

He slammed his fist against the wall. He had to tough it out… how else could he ever face you?

But the strength of his wall pounding told a different story. It lacked physical strength even with his unwavering conviction. Midorima was dying. He was dying and he wasn’t even able to have a single thing in his favor.

For the first time, he cursed his fate, cursed the horoscopes, cursed astrology and all the unseen deities in the cosmos for concocting up such a horrible thing for only humans.

“... It’s really frustrating… being like this…”

Midorima gave a final, painful rasp before his body completely slumped, his raised arms going limp at his sides. His body eventually fell onto his side, unable to hold up its own weight without support.

His viscid blood slowly soaked his verdant hair, his orange jersey jacket and sweats, and his golden hyacinths. Warm colors ironically encompassed his ever-growing cold corpse, illustrating a striking yet haunting still-life painting, lying in wait for the next person to discover at the back of the stadium…

[croatian-nt]

Domo podcast

Alright, I am posting my podcast translations here. Idk how often I’ll be able to post them, but I’ll make sure all 26 of them eventually end up here. So first one had Domagoj Vida and  Ndermin Redžaj (who will be refered as Deki through the text) as first guests. Translation below the cut bc this will be long

Tomislav Pacak, one of two hosts, does an introduction of the podcast and says it will feature each day one player and one member of the staff for 26 days.

Host: Or goal here was to introduce or get to know the players and members of the staff who are part of the team better. I see our first episode, with Domagoj with a physiotherapist Ndermin Redžaj will be fun. Although very challenging for me, a host

 Domo was asked about the end of his season in Beskitas. His was talking about it and at one point he said "of course, we over complicated things for ourselves, the way croatian nt does usually"

Then, Domo and Deki(who is a Domo's physiotherapist) talk about how they know each other for a very long time.

Domo: Yeah Deki is a very good friend and colleague. Along with massaging me, he also cooks very well

Deki: oh Vida cooks even better. He puts us all in the car and takes us to the nearest restaurant

 Host: How does your wife handles the fact that you are in mostly men's company?

Domo: oh, she handles it well. We can also always leave them to handle David for a few hours and we go out alone

 Host: What memories do you associate with your time in Russia in 2018?(directed at Deki)

Domo, cutting in: Bunga, bunga!

Deki, trying not laugh: Well, I definetly remember the atmosphere

 Host: What about you Domagoj?

Domo: Well, for me, I mostly remember what we did in our free time. How we had fun, and most fond memories come from massage room where the whole team often spent a lot of time

 Host: During doček you were hanging from the bus few times right? Who kept you up again?

Domo: oh yeah, I hanged like a ceiling lamp. Suba and coach held me up. But generally, that whole day is one of my most fond memories. Whenever I am at hard point in my life, I turn on doček on youtube and I instantly feel better

Domo: It's weird you know? People still tell me „Thank you" even today as they did on doček

 Host: How was it with all the mixed feelings after the final? Were you all proud immediately after or was there some bitterness at first?

Domo: well, it all depends on people individually. For me, it hit ne hard. We were so close to winning and I was crushed. Everyone kept telling me "keep your head high, we should be proud". It was only after we came back to hotel and started celebrating that the good feelings started to come back

 Host: Alright, first card break. These are which one would you choose

Domo, under his breath: pancakes

Deki: *laughs *

Domo: don't laugh at me dragi! Don't. Oh *looks at first card * you should have pulled out this one. Beer or wine?

Deki: depends on a moment

Host: okay what about...after the win against England? Deki: beer. Definitely beer

Deki, to Domo: sand or pebbles(on a beach)

Domo: sand. I don't like pebbles. They hurt my-

*He cuts himself off, everyone laughs*

Domo: ...my feet

 Deki: Batman or Superman? Domo: what was the first again?

Deki: Batman

Domo: *burts out laughing * there are cameras here!

*both laughing *

Domo: inaudible from laughter in the mouth

Domo, finally stops laughing, makes a straight face: Superman

Domo: just because of...you know *laughs again *

Deki: okay, okay, yeah

 Deki: burek or ćevapi

Domo: ooof. ćevapi. I am sick of burek from Istambul, I eat it every third day.

 Host: Pick three cards in which you'll choose one of your teammate

Domo: Livaković *pointing at something off camera *

Host, turning around: I see he came to watch since it's turn tomorrow

Domo: yeah, he came to watch me break the ice. Watch and learn son, watch and learn

Domo, to Deki: which teammate would you let change your tire

Deki: Livakovic

*all laugh *

Livi, off the camera: you won't go far!

Domo: it's because you have golden hands

 Deki: which teammate would you choose for a partner in show potjera(hunt)?

(So in the show, there are 4 people who signed up to be there and they form a team. They need to go through three challenges to leave with money, and "the hunter", has to try and catch them by answering more questions than them. It's a bit more complicated than that but that's the gist of it)

Domo: Badelj

Deki: which teammate would you let cook you dinner?

Domo: ufff. I don't think anyone here know how to. Hmmm *thinking for thirty seconds *

Deki: Kale, maybe?(Kalinic in case someone doesn't understand our dumb nicknames)

Domo: no, he has good prosciutto, but that isn't cooking

Deki: Sluga?

Domo: Sluga! Yes, he is good!

 Domo: who would you trust with a secret?

Deki: Domagoj Vida

Domo: that-that's. Well. I guess you don't have many of them

 Deki: who would you choose for business partner

*they make eye contact and burst out laughing *

Deki: he isn't here!

Domo, still laughing: Lovren then!

 Host: one of the players you worked with privately, even outside of national team is Mario Mandzukic. He is very popular but he has this sort of untouchable image. How is he in his private life?

Deki: he is only like that in public. He is like the rest of the team. For me, they are firstly good people, and only then good players

Deki: we all know what Mario is like. He seems like he is no good but he is actually a very good man(direct translation is he is a soul of a man which is a term used in croatian)

Domo, in a bit silly voice: soul

Domo: a good man but...no I am kidding. He is a good man and we miss him here in nt. I think he retired too early but it was his choice and we respect it. The two of us(he and Deki he means) used to spend time with him more than the others and he is truly a great man. And he is always ready to help, not just those he is on good terms with but everyone

 Host: you said yourself massage room is very important in national team. Is it the same in your club as well?

Domo: well no, not as far as I noticed. People from foreign countries have different rituals, but I noticed this is very important to people from balkan. It's very important for atmosphere. After training and all the activities for the day are done, 10 or so of us guys will gather there for massage and since you go in one by one as you wait there will be fun and joking around and stuff like that. So that's very important for atmosphere, which we saw in Russia how important that can be

 Host: round three of cards with questions

Deki: what's your favorite part of a training

Host, jokingly: it isn't the breaks?

Domo: ufff. So, I like the most when a day before the actual game, older play against younger and it's the very end of the game. With centre shots between two people

 Deki: Favorite jersey?

Host: That isn't Croatian

Domo: Beskitas. Of course

 Deki: favorite club when you were a child?

Domo: Barcelona

 Host: Domo, you are nt's dj from what I heard

Domo: I suppose-

Host: so, what music do you play before and after games and what in the bus?

Domo: well, mostly narodni radio. But I mostly gave up that role to others now. To Šime Vrsaljko, and there was Jedvaj before, too

Domo: and I think during this time we'll get Livaković to do it too. He is young and he will have a long career in nt, so we should teach him how it's done

Host: you already answered this for UEFA, but I was wondering if you could repeat it. Who is the best dancer, singer etc of the team?

Domo: I am not sure I remember what I said

Host: I can remind you. You said Livakovic is the best dancer

Domo: oh, yes, true! He is the best dance he has these moves *moves side to side with hands and body * and does everything with his hips

Host: And the best singer?

Domo: there is no best singer. We sing the best all together

 Host: Do you still watches Osijek games? Since it was your first club

Domo: yeah, of course. I am glad to see they are doing well. I also watch Dinamo games since I have friend-

Host, half laughing: Livakovic?

Domo, grinning: Livakovic, our dear octopus, and Bruno and Orša...

Domo: but I'd like them to slow down a bit, leave something for Osijek you guys. Although they have been very good this year too

 Host: Last card break. It's „who in the national team...“

Deki: Who gets mad the fastest?

Domo: Broz. But he also stop being angry the fastest

 Deki: Who is the best at public speaking?

Domo: oh, coach, definitely. But from players, Badelj

 Host: so which clubs and players do you love to watch and some maybe that you used to love to watch before?

Deki: well I used to love watching Milan during Boban's time. Today, I love watching Real Madrid. And for players Luka of course. Benzema-

Domo: oh god

 Host: so how is now with Corluka being a coach when he was your teammate only a short while ago?

Domo: well, it's only the first day so we didn't have much time to talk. It's a bit weird with Carli being a joker and a gentlmen both in one. We are used to joking around but during training now that isn't the case because he is the coach and he should be treated as such. After it though, we can relax a bit more and talk

 Host: that's all guys, thank you for this and thank you for breaking the ice in this show. Although you put the bar pretty high, I guess we'll see tomorrow if Livakovic can outdo you

Domo: I am sure he will, you'll have two goalies tomorrow

[snelbz]

The Ranch {7}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: We are absolutely blown away by how much y’all enjoy this story. We’ve loved writing it for you and we get just as excited for a new chapter as y’all do! Enjoy. xx

The Ranch Masterlist

Nesta hated going to school.

She felt so overwhelmed, so crowded, so completely lost in the sea of people that filled the halls of Velaris High School. Elain and Feyre had always found their place within those halls fairly quickly, absolutely, but Nesta floated. She went from one class to the next, sticking her nose in a book every chance she got. She didn’t make friends. Didn’t have acquaintances.

She did have one go-to, but he didn’t go to VHS. He was in the next town over. 

Tomas Mandray.

As soon as she sat down at her desk in algebra, she pulled out her phone. She had three missed messages.

10:31 - Hey. I’m planning on picking you up later. 

10:42 - We could stay in, if you want. (;

10:56 - I’ll be out of town this weekend, so spend time with me now.

At first, Nesta almost didn’t reply, but then she typed back, I’ll be ready at 7.

She hated that she loved Tomas Mandray. 

———

At seven o’clock on the dot, there was a knock on the front door of the house.

“That's Tomas, I’ll be home later!” Nesta hollered, trying to get out of the house before her father could drag her boyfriend into another conversation about the merits of a lightweight rope versus one with more snap.

“Hold on just a minute!” Isaac called, coming from the kitchen. “That boy is headed to Guthrie this weekend.” Nesta groaned as she pulled open the door and her father practically yanked him through the threshold. “You planning on bringing home a buckle?”

“Yes, sir,” Tomas smiled, shaking his hand. “Always.”

Isaac nodded and said, “Damn straight, I remember my trip to the National Championship, granted, I rode Broncs, mind you, but-.”

“Dad, we have to go. We have reservations,” Nesta coolly lied. “I’ll be home around 10:30.”

Her father waved her comments off. “Nah, don’t worry about a curfew tonight.” He rested his hands on Tomas’ shoulders. “It’s not everyday your future son-in-law makes it to the National Junior Rodeo Championship.”

Nesta’s cheeks burned. “Right. Well, we really have to go.”

She was hurrying out the door, dragging Tomas by the hand as she did so.

“Good to see you, Mr. Archeron!” Tomas called, as Nesta shut the front door behind them. “I like talking to your dad.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” Nesta said. She hated when Isaac talked to Tomas. He was so certain that he and Nesta would be together forever, and the thought often made her sick to her stomach yet hopeful at the same time. It was a strange combination. 

She climbed up into the passenger side of Tomas’s truck and leaned back as he took off. 

“I missed you.”

Nesta nodded. “You, too.”

He reached across the middle of the seat and took her hand. “So, will you be coming to watch me this weekend? It’s the National-”

“-Junior Rodeo Championship, yeah, I know,” she finished.

“Damn, what’s stuck up your ass?” he muttered.

“Nothing,” Nesta sighed. “I wish we could, but dad says we have two couples staying the whole weekend.”

As much as she hated to admit it, she was almost relieved when her father told her that a group of friends had booked the weekend last minute. The last thing she wanted to deal were the buckle bunnies in training that followed the rodeos around. She wouldn’t have to deal with the cheap beer and the greasy food and tobacco spit and the blood and sweat and (usually) tears.

His thumb rubbed a circle into the back of her hand. “Well, maybe just you could come. You could leave with me after lunch tomorrow. You know your dad would sign you out.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, they need me to cook for the guests.”

It was true. No one else in the house had an ounce of culinary ability, and it just so happened to be Nesta’s favorite thing in the world.

Tomas frowned. “No one else can cook for the guests?”

Nesta shook her head. “None as good as me. Besides, I love cooking.”

“Cooking is a stupid thing to love,” Tomas said, and Nesta stilled. “Why cook when you can come watch me win a national title?” 

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have an answer that would please him. 

“Besides, after we graduate, you’ll be coming with me on the road all the time,” he went on. “May as well get used to it now.”

“I’m not sure I want to go on the road all the time,” Nesta said. “You know it’s my dream to open my own restaurant, I can’t really do that if I’m travelling with you.”

Tomas shook his head, laughing quietly. “Come on, Nes.”

“Come on, what?” She asked, turning to look at him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Is my dream not as important as yours?”

“Of course not, that’s not what I’m trying to say, babe. It’s just,” he reached over and skimmed his knuckles across her cheekbone. “If you stay here and open a restaurant, and I go pro, we’re never going to see each other.” They came to a stop at a red light. He turned to her. “I love you. Don’t you love me?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, I do.”

“Then you need to come with me. So we can be together. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

Nesta only nodded, agreeing that yes, she would think about it, but she already knew it wouldn’t happen. She wasn’t made for the rodeo life.

Just like her mother hadn’t been.

It was because of her mother that they even had the ranch, because she loved Nesta’s father, but didn’t love the city to city, night to night lifestyle he lived in the professional rodeo circuit. So after they got married, and Nesta was on her way, her mother had convinced Isaac to hang up his ropes and buy the ranch. And he’d loved it.

And it worked for them, Nesta’s parents. Isaac found his love in ranching, they got to be together and raise their girls. But Tomas would never be that. He was too hard headed, too stuck in the rodeo life. He loved it, and Nesta had to admire that, but she didn’t have to give up her dreams for that admiration. 

She was going to become a chef.

She was going to stay put, in the city, or maybe go somewhere like Paris or Barcelona or Tokyo. All she knew was that the last place she wanted to be was stuck in a truck, driving from city to city for the fucking rodeo.

She just didn’t know how to tell Tomas that, because Tomas never accepted an answer that wasn’t the one he wanted to hear.

Nesta was so caught up in her own thoughts that it took her nearly fifteen minutes to realize they weren’t on the way to the restaurant. But it took her only a few seconds later to realize where they were going. “Tomas, please, not tonight. We can’t have one night without it?”

He gestured to the arena. “It’s a round robin, babe. I’ll run eight head max and walk out of here seven hundred dollars richer.” Nesta only rolled her eyes and looked out the window. He went on, “Plus, I heard from Beron there will be sponsors here tonight. Granted, they’re here for some big headed jock from VHS, but once they see me, he won’t matter.”

Nesta stopped listening, but subconsciously, she knew that Tomas talked until they parked.

“You don’t even have your horse,” she said, as a last ditch effort. She knew this fact hadn’t somehow escaped him, but she didn’t understand what he was hoping to accomplish by being here without Rain.

“Oh, I’m buying one,” he laughed, as if that was such a minor thing to forget. “Yeah, that’s the whole reason we’re here. So, I can test out this horse. If she’s got some crack to her, I’m not putting a national championship on the line.”

Nesta couldn’t believe him. He’d taken their last night home together and hijacked it.

Pulling into the dirt lot, Nesta breathed a heavy sigh. Tomas hopped out of the truck and reached into the backseat, grabbing a beer out of the cooler and popping the top. She laughed  incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you something, too,” he smirked, lifting the wine coolers out of the ice. She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t that she was looking to drink, too. It was that, once again, she’d been overshadowed by roping. “Come on, I gotta go warm that horse up.”

“I’ll be right there,” Nesta said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing her sister’s number. “I need to ask Elain something real quick.”

“Alright, well, hurry up,” he said, smacking the roof of the truck. “I want you to get some video of me I can post.”

Grinding her teeth, she nodded, and put the phone to her ear. Tomas shut the door and Nesta lowered the phone back to her lap, never even having pressed the call button. She looked out the truck window, out over the fields, that rolled on and on, and just saw...nothingness.

Without thinking about it, Nesta hopped out of the truck, threw her purse over her shoulder and began walking towards the road.

The rustic back roads of Velaris weren’t lit with street lamps, so she pulled her phone out and used it as a flashlight. After about fifteen minutes of walking, her phone died and she was left in the dark.

An older truck, heading in the direction of the arena, stopped when they saw her walking along the side of the road. An unfamiliar voice called out, “Hey, are you okay?”

She didn’t answer.

“Miss? Do you need a ride?”

She kept walking and ignored the  truck, passing it and disappearing into the darkness.

———— 

At quarter after midnight, Nesta finally walked up the worn wooden steps of the ranch house. Her phone had been dead for hours and by the time she reached the city, she knew her family would be asleep.

She wondered if Tomas had noticed her absence. She wondered if he’d tried to call her.

She unlocked the front door and crept in, trying to miss the creaking board by the living room doorway.

“That you, Nes?”

She sighed, hoping he wouldn’t come into the foyer, where she stood with one door already on the first step. “Yeah, dad.”

He groaned as he sat up on the couch. “Tomas with you?”

She swallowed heavily. “No, sir.” She started to ascend the steps. She looked like shit, he couldn’t see her like this, covered in dust and who knows what else. She didn’t want to tell him what happened, didn’t want to deal with him telling her that Tomas was the best thing to ever happen to her. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

She hurried up the stairs and shut her door with a soft click.

Begging herself not to cry, she slipped off her clothes and slipped into a cozy pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She should take a shower, but she didn’t want to wake her sisters by turning it on. So, instead, she trudged across the hall, into the bathroom, and wiped herself off with a wet cloth.

All she had wanted was one thing: to go to a nice dinner with her boyfriend. Instead, she was left alone for the night in a place that she hated, expected to cheer Tomas on in a sport, in an environment, she couldn’t care less for. 

And Tomas didn’t even seem to care or notice. At least now she would get a weekend alone, a weekend spent in the kitchen, a weekend creating dishes that people would praise her for. And it wasn’t that Nesta needed the praise, but when her world revolved around Tomas’s accomplishments, it was nice to be the one appreciated for once.

When her phone finally booted up, she didn’t have a single text from Tomas.

—————

Friday went by pretty uneventfully. She was exhausted, yes, but she was mostly distracted by the fact that Tomas hadn’t responded to her text message that morning.

She had bumped into someone in the halls, between economics and chemistry, and after she’d apologized, he’d stopped her and asked if she was alright. His hazel eyes were bright and his voice was kind. She’d given him a quick nod and gone on her way.

After school, she went straight to the store, gathering ingredients for delicious baked goods and savory recipes she’d been dying to try. Just as she was getting into a good mood, excited to bake for hours on end, she got home, and that mood went straight to hell.

“We’re going to surprise Tomas.”

She had just set her bags down on the kitchen counter when she froze, her father’s words making her smile fade into nothingness. “What?”

“I’ll drive you down, go pack,” he said, waiting for her to be grateful. “Tomas wanted you to go so badly, and I know you want to be there to support him. So, I worked it out, bought tickets, booked a room….Come on, Nesta, take a little roadtrip with your dear old dad to support your boyfriend.” 

Nesta frowned. “I- I can’t. I just bought all of this to make for the guests-.”

“I called your aunt to come stay with your sisters and take care of the guests,” Isaac replied, beaming. “Come on, Nesta. This could be life changing for him, which means it could be life changing for you. You want to be there, don’t you?”

No, she thought, she absolutely did not want to be there.

She was fairly sure, if Tomas lack of communication was any indication, that he didn’t want her there either.

“I can’t, dad,” she said, grasping for any chance to get out of this. “I’ve got a final paper due on Monday and I haven’t even started it.”

“You can work on it in the truck,” he replied, packing a cooler with the essentials - beer, of course - and patting the top of it when he flipped the lid closed. “Now, go pack. If we want to see the numbers ceremony, we have to leave before four.” He hefted the cooler up, and was out the backdoor, going to load it in the back of the truck.

Nesta sighed, knowing that her father was just as hard headed as she was. She wasn’t going to win this battle.

She dialed Tomas number one more time, seeing the other three times she’d tried to call him, unsuccessfully, and listened to it ring. When the voicemail started, she said, “Hey, it’s me. We need to talk about last night and I- I need to talk to you. Can you call me, please? I love you.”

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

It was a four hour drive to Guthrie, Oklahoma. Four hours to sit on her phone and scroll through her timeline. Four hours for her dad to listen to shitty music and act like this was a fun, little trip they were taking. Four hours to flip through recipe boards and save things she wanted to try next. Four hours to call Tomas with no answer on the other line.

Nesta couldn’t even lie to herself and pretend something had happened, couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t getting her texts or calls. He was still posting on Facebook, still sharing pictures he found funny, still going about like nothing was wrong.

And then, with a little less than an hour left in their silent drive, they blew a tire.

For the first time since they began their journey, Isaac’s smile faltered. They pulled onto the side of the road and Isaac turned off the engine. Nesta still had her bare feet up on the dash, still was scrolling through her phone when Isaac got out of the truck.

He was muttering something under his breath but Nesta didn’t pay him any mind. She was too bitter that she was there to begin with.

Maybe they wouldn’t have a spare and they’d be stuck there for the entirety of the weekend. With any luck, they would have to call Elain to come and get them and take Nesta back home.

That hope faded when Isaac pulled a tire out of the back.

The tire was changed, the flat caused by a deep gash from a nail they hit along the road at some point, and they were back on their way. It cost them nearly two hours, though, and by the time they pulled into the skeezy motel her father had booked a room in, the first night of the rodeo was all but done.

Isaac kept apologizing, saying they’d get to the arena early the next morning, that was she could find Tomas before everything began. Nesta wasn’t stupid though, she knew her dad’s old roping buddies were all here, all with their sons or daughters, if there were here for breakaway or to run barrels. She was sure he was excited to tell them that the up and coming Tomas Mandray was his soon-to-be son-in-law. Or so he thought.

The last thing she heard him say before he fall asleep was, “Man, I can’t wait to see his face.”

Yeah, she thought. Me either.

She didn’t sleep at all that night and when morning came she was completely exhausted. On top of that looming exhaustion, she felt nauseated at the thought of Tomas seeing her. She had called him once more before she’d “gone to sleep” the night before but got his voicemail, once again.

As Nesta hopped into the truck with Isaac, she thought she was going to puke all over the floorboards. Her father was so excited at being back at the rodeo that he didn’t even notice his firstborn's silence or discomfort.

Nesta hated him for that, hated him for not noticing, for not listening.

She hated him for forcing her to be here, for forcing her into this life, just like he had her mother.

Tomas was just like her father.

And her? She was just like her mother.

Two people who were attracted to one another but shouldn’t have a future together, because that future would be shit, no matter how hard they tried.

By the time Isaac parked their truck, Nesta was paralyzed. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could hardly breathe.

Perhaps she should be the bigger person. She should go and find him, apologize, and tell him good luck. But even though that’s what she should do, the thought had her hands shaking at her sides.

You can do this, don’t be an idiot, she told herself. She should consider herself lucky. At seventeen, she had found someone who loved her.

At least, he told her he did.

Until he got pissed and stopped answering her calls.

“Coming, Nesta?” Isaac asked, grin wide, tapping on her window. He was ready to go dwell in his safe haven. Nesta had to follow him. She was his excuse to be there, after all.

She nodded, and took a deep breath before opening the passenger side door and hauling herself out.

Nesta and her father gave their tickets to the man at the door and walked in. Isaac stopped and stood there, breathing it all in.

All Nesta could smell was horse shit.

“Isaac Archeron, you son of a bitch, what are you doing here?”

With that one sentence, her father was whisked away, into conversations with his old rodeo friends, seeing people he hadn’t seen since before Nesta was ever even thought of. And she was on her own.

Nesta sat down in the stands. She fiddled with her phone, not wanting to scroll through Instagram for the fiftieth time that day, but having nothing better to do.

Until her phone rang.

His name flashed up on her screen. She’d been trying to get in touch with him for three days, yet now that he was calling her back, she couldn’t make her hands work, couldn’t remember how to swipe her finger across the call to answer the phone.

She answered, but her voice was hesitant as she said, “Hello?”

“Nes? Hey, sorry, my phone hasn’t been working.”

Bullshit bullshit bullshit.

“It’s okay,” she lied. She stood, walking down the bleachers and looked towards the entrance. Her father was still where she’d left him, telling war stories and talking about the good ole days. She could see the stables behind a tarp with the rodeo association's name on it. She asked, “Are you warming Rain up?”

“Nah, he’s good to go. I got a ride in this morning. Just getting him brushed down.”

He hasn’t said a single word about her leaving the other night. Had he not noticed? Was she that insignificant that he hadn't even realized she was gone?

“Well that’s good.” She sighed. “Can we talk for a-?”

He cut her off. “Hey, babe, I gotta get going. Wish me luck?”

“Oh, I- Okay. Good luck,” she said. “I love you.”

“Yeah, you, too,” he said, already pulling the phone from his face. “Bye.”

Nesta stood still as the line went dead. With a deep sigh, she shoved her phone into her pocket. He must be getting ready to make his debut for the day, maybe she would be able to catch him, surprise him, before he went. 

He wanted her to wish him luck.

Maybe she would, if only she could catch him in time.

She wandered around the bleachers, dodging people who looked like they lived and breathed watching underage rodeo championships. 

She had never seen so much hype. The rodeo was somewhere she hoped to dodge as often as possible even though, obviously, she wasn’t always blessed enough to do so. 

Either way, she continued on her journey to finding Tomas, but she came up short.

Looking down at her tennis shoes, which were covered in dust and dirt, she scolded herself for not packing different shoes. Not only were her sneakers filthy but her feet hurt like shit from all the walking. 

Another name was called to get on deck, but she didn’t hear Tomas’, so she went on her way. Maybe he was off somewhere trying to clear his head.

With that thought, she went around to the back of the bleachers, where trucks and trailers were lined up. She passed people laughing and celebrating in deep conversation, but they all ignored her, thankfully.

She turned the corner at the end of the row, though, and froze.

She had found Tomas, but he wasn’t getting ready.

At least, he wasn’t getting ready alone.

His lips were stuck to a girl’s neck, whose head was thrown back, her eyes closed. He was palming her breast beneath her tied up flannel shirt. 

Nesta tried to say something, but she had once again been paralyzed, frozen in place.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am.” An older man leading a horse stepped around her, and the horse whinnied as it passed.

The sound got Tomas’ attention.

His eyes went wide as he saw her standing there, in the doorway to the stables. He blinked a few times, and the girl didn’t realize their fun was over. Her hands roved over his body and she kissed his neck. Nesta began to shake her head and walk away.

“Ne- Nesta, wait!”

She turned and it took everything in her not to break into a run. She wanted to leave. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream.

She wanted to cry.

Her entire future, that stupid future she was dreading so much, but the only plan she’d ever had… it was gone.

“Baby!” His voice was much closer than it had been and his hand closed around her wrist. “Baby! Baby, baby, baby. Hey, it’s not what it looks like.”

Her voice was small, but she said, “Get your hands off of me.”

He didn’t. Instead he gripped her shoulders and said, “Whatever you thought you just saw, I promise you’re wrong.”

“It’s a little hard to misinterpret that,” Nesta snapped, snatching her wrist free. “You ignored my calls. Made me feel like shit for the other night. And while I was feeling like shit...you were getting….” Nesta’s words trailed off, and she laughed, loudly, humorlessly. “Fuck off, Tom.” 

“Hey,” he begged, brushing her hair back, the hair that had come undone from her ponytail. “Don’t do this.”

Nesta hated herself for crying in front of him, for shaking her head, for taking a step back. “It’s over. I never want to see you….never want to see you again.”

Her voice broke, and that only made the pitiful scene worse.

Nesta Archeron walked away from Tomas Mandray, and she never wanted to look back.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (5)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD, background drug use

*****

Riley waited a full week before talking to Nikki again. Probably not her best move, but Nikki didn’t need to be such a baby either. 

Hey we need to book flights, Riley typed. 

The three dots appeared and disappeared several times before Nikki sent back, Come over. Let’s do it together. 

Ok.

An hour later, Riley hesitated before knocking on Nikki’s apartment door. She didn’t know why. She hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet here she was, standing outside like a timid guest instead of letting herself in like she always did. 

Deep breath. “This is ridiculous,” Riley muttered to herself. Her knuckles collided with the wood in three sharp knocks. 

Muffled footsteps approached the door, and then Riley was met with Nikki’s soft smile. “Hey,” the blonde said. 

“Hey.” Crossing the threshold, Riley didn’t know what to do with her hands. She tried to put them in her front pockets before realizing her jeans didn’t have pockets. Nikki would take crossed arms the wrong way, so Riley clasped her hands in front of her. That felt wrong too. She settled on clasping her hands behind her back, slightly widening her stance like a soldier. 

She’d learned that from an Army guy her mom dated once. 

Nikki grabbed her laptop and set it on the kitchen counter. Looking at the screen, she said, “I started looking at flights before you got here. They’re all pretty expensive because it’s Fashion Week, but I think I’ve found some good options.” 

Riley kept her distance, but she said, “Whatever you think is best.” 

Nikki’s eyes slid to her, disbelieving. “Are you sure?”

Riley tensed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You always have opinions on flights. Always.” That was true. When it came to running a job, Riley never let someone make a decision without her input. 

But her apology had to start somewhere. If Desi, of all people, thought she needed to apologize, then she couldn’t just sweep this under the rug. And giving Nikki back some control after refusing to do so before seemed like a good place to start. 

“You can pick. I trust you.” Riley shoved down the burning need to look over Nikki’s shoulder as her gut churned, unsteady and anxious without having complete control. She quickly wiped the grimace off her face, but it was too late. Nikki saw it. 

“Riles, are you okay? You look like you’re going to puke.” Nikki studied her with a concerned frown. 

Riley squeaked, “Yep. I’m good.” 

Her friend wasn’t convinced. “You hate this, don’t you?” 

“Just book the fucking flights, Nik.” She fought not to squirm the entire time Nikki worked, only relaxing after the deed was done and Nikki closed her laptop with a soft click. 

“Need anything else?” Riley didn’t miss the clear dismissal in Nikki’s tone. 

“Uh, yeah.” Riley awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, just to give her hands something to do. “Jill told me about that jewelry designer who rented out the Louvre,” she said. “That wasn’t just a casual conversation you two had, was it?” 

Nikki glanced down. “No, it wasn’t. But you already knew that.” 

“Why not just tell me yourself?” 

“Because you wouldn’t have listened to me!” Nikki tried and failed to speak calmly, her normally calm exterior crumbling with each word. “When I questioned you in the kitchen, you pulled rank and basically told me to shut up. If I had suggested an alternative target, you would’ve blown up in my face right in front of everyone!” A pause. “You’ve changed. The Riley I know doesn’t do things like that.” 

Her words stung, but Riley kept her expression neutral, the way she’d learned to do in prison. “Desi thinks I still hold a grudge against you.” 

“Do you?” Nikki asked softly. So, so softly, almost like she was afraid of the answer. 

Nikki’s change in tone and the apprehension lining her eyes was enough to make Riley lower her guard. Not all the way, but just enough to say, “I don’t know. Maybe.” Nikki swallowed. “It’s complicated,” Riley backtracked, desperately trying not to make things worse than they already were. 

“So how do we fix this?” Nikki asked. “Fix us.” 

Talk to her, Jill had said. 

“Talk about it, I guess. Not all today,” Riley quickly added, “but over time.” 

“Okay.” Nikki chewed her bottom lip, and Riley waited, knowing her best friend had something more to say. Nikki’s voice was thick when she finally said, “It’s okay that you’ve changed. Of course you have. It’s not fair of me to hold that against you. And I’m sorry that it’s my fault you had to change to survive in there.” 

Neither of them could say the word aloud. Prison. Riley could barely imagine a future where she could easily say it. 

“Do you really blame yourself?” 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“That’s why you visited me so much, isn’t it? Because you felt guilty.” 

Nikki looked down. “It should’ve been me in there, not you.” 

“Bullshit. I made a choice, and I’d do it again if I had to.” Riley wasn’t entirely sure the last part was true, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Clearly it was, because Nikki met her gaze, eyes brimmed with tears and a sad smile just barely curving her lips. 

“Thank you, Riley.” 

The moment hung heavy in the air between them. Riley felt it then, the gravity pulling her toward Nikki—the same force that drew them together outside that art gallery all those years ago, like the universe was telling her they needed each other. Riley spent much of the last two years cursing the universe, but this...this was the one thing the universe did right. 

Riley closed the distance between them in two long steps, flinging her arms around Nikki and holding her best friend tight, letting the hug convey the last thing she needed to say. 

I’m sorry. 

Nikki clutched her just as tightly, like she was afraid Riley would disappear again if she didn’t hold on tight enough. 

Breaking the silence, Riley asked, “Do you want to go shopping with me?” 

“Like Target and the grocery store shopping? Or maxing-out our credit cards on Rodeo Drive shopping?” Riley snorted. This was normal. Like it was before. 

“I, uhh, tried on all my party clothes the other day, and none of them fit anymore.” Riley tucked her face into Nikki’s neck, not wanting to see the pitying look on her friend’s face. She expected another comment, or for Nikki’s hand to feel her ribs, but neither happened. Instead, Nikki simply pressed a kiss to her temple and continued to hold her, with no sign of letting go any time soon. 

Almost as if she were an anchor, refusing to let Riley get swept out to sea. 

*****

Riley studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The metallic red mini dress she’d bought earlier clung to her curves like she’d been wrapped in plastic. She’d expected pity as she pulled it off the rack, but Nikki had been nothing but reassuring. Even after Riley had sent her from the dressing room again and again to grab a smaller size. 

She’d left with a pile of clothes small enough to fit a wraith-like body like Cage’s. 

Now the team was at an exclusive party at a mansion in the Hills—courtesy of Cage’s endless social connections—for a little fun. And by fun that meant stealing stuff from a notoriously overbearing, sexist, and overall obnoxious director. He had it coming, to say the least. 

Desi had to work— “Drunk assholes won’t bounce themselves out of the club,” she’d snarked—but Jill agreed to tag along. That way she could get her feet wet in a real heist and show the rest of the team what she could do. 

The four of them—Riley, Nikki, Cage, and Jill—huddled off to the side of the spacious living room as Cage explained the plan. “Get a load of this,” she said, a feral grin lighting her face. It was one of the things Riley admired most about Cage, her passion for the job. “Six months ago, this guy paid millions at auction for a miniature painting. But because of the crowd that attends his parties, he hides it in his personal safe in his office so nothing happens to it.” 

Considering the utter debauchery all around her, Riley didn’t blame him. Every guest had either a drink or pills in hand, often both, and she vaguely recognized the actor snorting cocaine off the kitchen counter. In the darker, more private nooks of the mansion, people slunk to the shadows to devour each other in semi-private. Riley made a point not to look too long in those directions. 

Jill clearly hadn’t yet learned to do the same. She asked, wide-eyed, “Whose house is this?”

Nikki gripped her chin and turned Jill’s attention back to the group. “It’s better that you don’t know.” 

Frowning, Jill questioned, “Why?” Always so many questions with her. 

“Because you’ll chicken out.” 

“I will not!” she shrieked. Nikki just smirked. “Okay,” Jill amended in a much quieter tone, “maybe a little.” 

“Anyway,” Cage redirected. “I’ll go into the office first and make sure it’s empty.” And remove anyone who is there, she didn’t have to say. “Riley and Nikki will hack the safe—” they both nodded— “and Jill will make sure you two don’t leave any evidence behind.” 

Riley itched to get her hands on that safe. Stealing that random man’s wallet a week ago had only made her more hungry to get back out there, doing what she did best. She eyed her team. “Don’t get caught.” 

“Don’t get caught,” Nikki and Cage parroted, just like old times, and then Cage melted into the crowd, making her way to the office. 

The remaining trio followed at a much slower pace, pretending to admire the eclectic collection of artwork hanging from the walls. Riley’s cursory glance snagged on a cartoonish painting of a pug driving a Porsche on some tropical highway. The director had bizarre taste. Knowing Nikki was doing the same, Riley kept the office door in her peripheral vision, waiting for Cage to reemerge. 

Meanwhile, Riley pulled her phone from her clutch. To any onlookers, she was merely responding to a text message, but in reality she was hacking into the director’s home security system. It was easy enough, since the whole thing was connected to his WIFI, and the director was dumb enough to leave his network accessible without a password. 

Although, it wasn’t like bypassing a WIFI password would’ve slowed Riley Davis down. 

Riley didn’t understand this guy. He hosted drug-fueled ragers in his mansion, yet also cared enough about security to have interior cameras. Why would he want proof of what happens within these walls? 

Unless…

Gagging, Riley refused to finish that thought.

Cage emerged a few minutes later with a wasted middle-aged woman in tow. She met Riley’s gaze just long enough for two slow blinks. Coast is clear. 

Riley looped the office camera feed so it only showed the empty office, giving them plausible deniability of ever going inside. “Let’s go,” Riley murmured. She slipped into the now-empty office, trusting Nikki and Jill to follow. 

The director’s office, like the rest of the mansion, was ultra-modern, all sharp angles and sleek, black and white furniture. A distorted statue of a giraffe was the only exception, standing beside the door like a sentry. It’s glassy black eyes made it seem like it was watching them. Freezing, Riley checked the angle of the camera she’d looped. It matched the giraffe’s eye-level perfectly. 

Sneaky bastard. The camera was in the giraffe’s eye. Clever, but creepy. 

Embedded in the far wall, behind the director’s messy desk, the safe was relatively new and very high-tech. And while the fancier ones were always harder to crack, user-friendliness came at the cost of security. In the case of this particular safe, the battery compartment for the keypad was part of the keypad itself, so the batteries could be changed easily. But that also meant that by taking out the batteries, someone like Riley would then have direct access to the wires inside the keypad, and thus, an easily hackable way in. 

Nikki slid on a pair of cotton gloves before taking out the batteries and wiring the keypad to Riley’s phone. Riley reached back to brush her curls out of her face, but Jill stopped her with a firm hand on her forearm. 

“Don’t touch your hair. You don’t want any loose strands to fall on the floor.” Riley raised her brows but did as she was told. “You should’ve worn your hair up.” Jill gestured to her own meticulously pinned bun. No stray hairs would be escaping that thing. 

“Good to know.” Riley turned her attention back to cracking the safe. 

It took just under a minute. 

“Losing your touch?” Nikki teased. “That took forever.” 

Riley rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” 

Once the safe was open, they didn’t waste time poking around. All they cared about was the painting, no matter what other valuable things the safe contained. The painting was even smaller than Riley had pictured. The canvas itself could’ve fit in the palm of her hand, and the frame made the whole thing about the size of a birthday card. 

Nikki shoved the painting down the back of her dress, the frame’s sharp angles hidden beneath her ridiculous fringed suede jacket. Considering how well it hid the painting, maybe Riley shouldn’t have made fun of it. But only maybe. It was still ugly. 

Riley and Nikki locked the safe, and the trio slipped out of the office undetected. 

In short, the heist was flawless. 

Nikki immediately peeled off, joining Cage in flitting around the room and saying hi to all sorts of people. Nikki seemed to actually know several of the guests, although not nearly as many as Cage did. Cage was acquainted with everyone worth knowing in LA, plus quite a few who weren’t. 

Riley much preferred to be a fly on the wall, watching but not interacting. 

Jill stayed back with her, mouth agape at all the blatant drug use. “I’ve lived in LA for a long time, so I know that happens here,” she said, “but, like, it’s different actually seeing it, you know?” 

A young couple knocked back a handful of pills with shots of something clear, and Riley grimaced. “You can join in if you want, although I don’t recommend it.” 

“Absolutely not!” Jill squeaked. 

“Good choice.” 

Nikki made her way back to them, slinging her arms around Riley and Jill’s shoulders. “Ready to go?” 

Riley had been ready to go the moment they’d locked the safe. If Jill’s overwhelmed expression was any indicator, she was ready too. 

All that was left to do was collect Cage. 

The blonde stood across the room, batting her eyelashes at an attractive, dark-haired man. Her airy giggle floated above the pulsing music at something the man said. Jill coughed. “Umm…”

Riley quickly put her out of her misery. “It’s fine. Cage flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“She’s just like that,” Nikki added. “Stick with us long enough, and she’ll flirt with you too.” 

“Doesn’t that upset Desi?” Riley and Nikki exchanged a knowing look. “Wait, what am I missing?” Jill hissed. 

“So many questions,” Riley teased, linking arms with both blondes. Nikki laughed, and together they dodged wasted partiers on their way to grab Cage and go home.

~ Tag List ~ (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@macrileyedits​ / @hellishrose​ / @incorret-macgyver-quotes​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem​ / @thecarrieonokay​