#Wish the quality didn’t get scuffed

[albino-parakeet]

Drawn around the time of Days of Nature (2021)

[utterlyinevitable]

Can u do a headcanon or fic as part 2 for that mc has a musical talent one where ethan gets a keyboard for her birthday?😊

For anon, @thegreentwin and @lucy-268 ❤

Read Part 1 here. 

Music & Secrets (Part 2)

Ethan and Bryce arrived at Odette and the gang’s shabby, yet homely, garden apartment early. They came separately but showed up together. Well, actually, Ethan made it to the building’s front door 2 minutes before his gym acquaintance. The attending was struggling to type in the code, open the door, and balance the birthday gift all at once. Bryce noticed Ethan’s struggle and jogged to help him get through the front door, offering to share the weight of the juggled present teetering in his arms.   

Ethan gratefully relented as the two most important men in Odette’s life navigated through the corridors to the familiar, ajar apartment door. 

“Dirty 30!” Bryce exclaimed ceremoniously over the expertly wrapped package he helped Ethan haul into the apartment. 

The roommates looked to Bryce, to Ethan, then down to the ridiculously long gift wrapped in duck egg blue and white stripped paper with a comically dainty bow placed in the uppermost corner. 

“Why’s it so big!?” Elijah asked, deep brown eyes gleaming at the possibilities.

Bryce shrugged and plopped his side of the weighted rectangular object onto the scuffed wood floor carefully. He bounded over to the kitchen to peck Odette on the cheek and grab a beer from the fridge, making himself right at home like always. 

Now left alone, hovering in the foyer, Ethan took to placing the package carefully against the wall, then busying himself by rubbing his palms down the front of his button down shirt to expel any creases. It’s not like he hasn’t interacted with this group of colleagues before - they’ve got to know one another rather well over the last two years - but there was something different about being one of the carefully selected individuals invited to their home for a party. 

Not just any party. 

Odette’s birthday party.  

Never had they celebrated a milestone together before. 

As Ethan shifted in place he wondered if he really should be here, if he should have really gotten such an ostentatious gift. She didn’t ask for it - what if it was a mistake? 

Should’ve just gotten a card and some flowers. Lahela’s gift fit in the pocket of his jacket. That’s more representative of our friendship. Right? 

Before Ethan could run a marathon of doubt Odette moved to greet him, eyeing the parcel resting to his right, then looking him up and down - noting how something about him was uncharacteristically shy. They - Odette, the gang, and Ethan - have worked together for over three years, at the very least they were all pub friends, there was no reason why he should feel so out of place in such a warm, loving, environment.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said softly with a private smile as soon she she was situated a mere two steps before him. 

Just like the calming salt-filled breeze wafting off the Bay and up to his balcony, the air around Odette had Ethan’s rigid shoulders rounding, jaw loosening, entire body enraptured. 

“I know.” 

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. 

Their eyes - deep azure and sparking emerald - met, speaking volumes they wouldn’t dare say out loud. The animalistic side of him fought to ogle her in that new strappy turquoise dress that accentuated her long legs and curvy waist, fabric pleating effortlessly around her salaciously round hips, and - dear god - the bodice fitted all too well and Ethan would need to swallow the offending lump forming in his throat. The overbearing, and commanding part of Ethan Ramsey fixated on her naturally painted features, waiting for one of them to make the next move.  

Sienna got there first, breaking the moment the two diagnosticians were having. “What is it!?”

Ethan took a half step back and made a motion to the present with an invitingly raised brow. Odette’s eyes glowed a shade of enticing light green Ethan had never seen before. That in itself was worth it; he convinced himself in that moment that her reaction to the actual object could not supersede the bemused and satisfied lightness he was feeling right now. 

Odette couldn’t help herself. Her hands reached the paper even before her feet could follow. Dropping to her knees, filed nails tore the wrapping paper right off as unladylike as possible - not a single care for the purposefully chosen decoration. 

She’d only gotten a fifth of the way through before she recognized the logo on the box underneath and froze in place. 

No. It couldn’t be. 

Odette’s neck craned ever so slowly, turning to Ethan who’s lips pulled into the most genuine smile she’s ever seen on him. 

She had no words; mauve painted lips parted, only the most necessary of breaths leaving her lungs, emeralds glassing over. She knew Ethan was wealthy and enjoyed spending money on those in his life. But this was too much. 

Much too much of a gift for a good friend. 

Odette turned back to the most thoughtful gift she’s ever received. Her jaw slacked further and her big eyes barely blinked as she gawped at it. 

“Shall I place this in your room?” 

All Odette could do was nod. 

Ethan helped her back onto her feet before lifting the package and making his way down the corridor he’d gotten accustomed to over the last few years. Late nights and nightcaps spent in the living room, and early mornings he’d stop by to force her out of bed for a case or to join him for the rest of his jog.

When he was out of sight and most certainly hearing range, the gaggle of doctors shared the exact same look. Sienna the only one to whisper-exclaim; “Oh my god!” through her grin. 

Odette bit her lip, not sure of what to make of the moment. Her thoughts were blank, yet her chest was fluttering faster than she could keep count. She glanced between all her friends’ elated and encouraging faces for any semblance of the explanation she was too stunned to come up with. The only sentiment she found was an astounding wordless command: Go with him! 

Odette rose her brows. Took a deep breath. Then turned on the balls of her bare feet, making her way to her bedroom where her dearest friend was waiting. 

Before rounding the corner to her open bedroom, Odette took one more cleansing breath and shook her head. There was no reason to feel so discombobulated; this is Ethan! 

They’ve been through so much and have become the closest of friends. Why is she getting knots in her stomach and a lightness in her chest at the thought of being alone with him right now? 

When she entered, Ethan was sat at the edge of her bed, hunched over with forearms resting on his thighs, intently reading through the assembly instructions. His baby blues were squinted and she could pick out nearly all of the lines and divots usually carefully masked with his signature stoic expression. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at the sight. 

“You should start carrying your readers, old man.” He was only a few months shy of the big 4-0. 

“I wouldn’t need to if they didn’t print it impossibly small.” 

She sauntered over and gently snatched the booklet from his hands. Her eyes roamed over the packet. And of course; 

“You’ve got a point.” 

She handed the booklet back to him, her attention caught by the fully opened box propped up next to her pillows. The ivory-looking keys glittered back at her, and the fifteen year old prodigy she thought she’d long suppressed begged to break free. 

Ethan couldn’t help but watch her ogle the object. Her freshly painted fingers barely grazing the keys as if she’s afraid or shocked or... he’s not really sure what to make of it. All he knew was that she was holding herself up straighter than five minutes ago. 

“Is this the right one? The saleswoman said it’s the perfect compact option that doesn’t compromise on quality.”

There was a bated pause. Only a beat before she responded - thought he knew her well enough to know her mind was elsewhere than she’d let on. 

“It’s perfect,” the words came out breathy. Odette tore her eyes from the piano to smile at him, “Just unexpected.” 

The two of them spent the next forty minutes building the keyboard stand with the allen key Ethan absolutely detested, and the foldable stool she had to scower around for the tiny toolbox her older brother made sure she kept on hand. Then eventually they cleared some space from under her window so she could bask in the natural light while playing to her hearts content. 

Ethan put on the final touches by pinning back her curtains for a better view of the small plot of greenery her bedroom was fortunate to overlook. He took a step back to be at her side. The two of them admiring how the dark colors of the keyboard contrasted with the whites of her minimal décor, yet looked so perfectly at home - like it was always meant to be there. 

Like it was always meant to be in her life. 

Funny how that thought crept up on him. It’s exactly how Ethan felt about Odette. He may have adamantly refused her friendship their first 15-months, but he always knew she was special. For a man that didn’t believe in higher powers, that .01% has come to accept his need for her in his life. 

He’d never know she feels the same way about him. 

With the grand gesture illuminated by the mid-autumn rays, Odette took a magnetic step forward. Sitting down on the stool, her hips wiggled in the seat to test out its comfort level. Satisfied, her fingers began hovering a waltz over the keys, still so hesitant to touch them. It’s been nearly a decade since she’s last let her emotions wistfully speak for her. 

“Go on, try it out.” Ethan’s gentle baritone cadence urged, knowing she’s dying to without her having to say it. She had that look on her face that he knew all too well - that glassy, dazed expression that meant her mind was moving faster than her muscles could comprehend. 

Odette’s front teeth sunk into her lip, angling herself away from him as much as possible and wishing she didn’t ask Sienna to put her hair into an artistic bun. This would be so much easier if her bleached blonde locks could curtain her from her onlooker.  

Ethan stepped back to sit on her bed and give her space.

She took another breath. Shallower this time as the fear, excitement and desperation began to culminate in her fingertips. 

The pad of her thumb grazed E, the ivory warm to the touch and the sensation not as distanced as she expected. Even though she hadn’t elicited a single sound from the instrument the key rang in her ears. Her other hand came into place. A single cord beckoned for her attention. Odette pressed lightly, enough for the note to sing from the speakers. Her lips turned upwards. Every new touch coaxed out such sounds that drowned out the rest of the world. Her eyes fluttered shut as the sounds began vibrating off her walls. This room never felt more like home.   

And, soon, she began to play. 

From memory.

The song she’d have ingrained within her bones forever - the song she demoed that led to her development and publishing deal. 

A song Ethan couldn’t place. Didn’t know the tune. A crooked smirk was pulled from him at the thought of her writing something this beautiful. He’s been in awe of Odette Hall for as long as he’s known her, and watching her - getting to experience this secretive side of her - Ethan couldn’t find the appropriate phrase in his elaborate vocabulary to accurately explain just how awestruck he was right now. How he adored everything about her. How he couldn’t fathom never witnessing her play or never solving a case with her ever again. 

And as he leaned back on her box spring bed, fingers fisting in the floral patterned duvet and his deep azure eyes hypnotized by his life’s most incredible surprise, he wanted to know so much more.

And as the melody reached the living room, the good-natured group of third-year residents conspired to set a plan in motion.

________________________________________

A/N: In this world, Ethan and MC aren’t and never have dated. Maybe in canon she was on the Raf route? idk. But E and MC have been strictly platonic for three years and the feelings have been growing. Hence the really thoughtful piano and why she trusts him with her secrets more than her friends. They’ve got an attachment and mild codependence brewing ☺

I’m not planning on making this a series but can be persuaded to do another part if y’all want 😅

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[kiloxy]

Analysis: WHY DREAM IS ACTUALLY BLONDE GEORGE!

NOW DON’T SCROLL AWAY JUST YET!

Listen Guys I have come up with the greatest theory/analysis of my life. Twitter could NEVER. This is about to solidify me as one of the lead big brain theorists on tumblr, cross my heart..... *cough* shit-poster *cough* I mean what? anyway... This analysis includes lots of receipts! Now let’s begin me launching my 1000000000 IQ career faster than Dream can MLG water out of this damning post. 

Tw: Close up of eyes since I zoomed in images of their eyes as proof. It will be under the cut.

So let me start with the question everyone has asked: WHO IS DREAM?!?

He’s the mysterious lime green, tea kettle sounding, god level skill, 10000 IQ, pissbaby enigma that took the internet BY STORM. He has grown so fast and so quick it’s insane, big brain plays must be through the roof. We could wonder how he did this... Why he did this.... But really. All we should care about is WHO THE FUCK IS HE?!!?!

Excuse my language... But anyway.. I have been working DAY AND NIGHT. To figure this out for you guys. It’s been 78 hours of no sleep. After escaping Dream’s basement (smart ass found out I was going to expose him) I have finally made it to a computer to post this...   

Dream is Blonde George

Okay wait wait wait! Before you go leave, screaming and appalled, slamming the button to unfollow my broke ass, hear me out. 

First point... What the fuck is blonde George?

THIS MAN. REMEMBER HE BLEW UP?!?! WHY DID HE? WHY??? I mean we hate him! Well the only reasonable explanation is that he was a PLANT!

Yes that’s right, blonde George was a plant. This is actually Dream. Now Dream loves chaos, he’s even mentioned before he may make a stan account/pose as a cosplayer and I think this was his way...He leaked this photo of him on twitter to fuck with us. To test the waters before the Mr.Beast video where he might reveal himself as blonde George. 

Only Dream and his 1000000 IQ could blow up a post like this guys, think about it! 

OKAY TIME FOR THE REAL PROOF:

We know Dream’s hair color okay, look at this twitter post where he does a hair color reveal:

POST HERE

Now let’s take a closer look. Here’s Dream’s hair:

Rest of the analysis under the cut includes more analyzed images, links, and video as proof:

Now I took to an eyedropper and examined Blonde George’s hair and got:

LOOK HOW CLOSE THE NUMBERS ARE!  AND WE KNOW NUMBERS DON’T LIE! The more samples I took of blonde George’s hair and compared to Dream’s the clearer it became... Their hair... Is the same! 

Now that we have the hair matching what else can we figure out? I mean Dream said he had green eyes, we even have a pic here of them. 

But I ask you.... Dream’s smart. You really think he’s telling the truth? I mean think of the the vlog incident. Man is a liar. 

I introduce to you a concept: CONTACTS

You see Dream knew that blonde George would get a lot of traction (he wanted it to). But he didn’t want to be outed too fast. I mean blonde white dude? blowing up on twitter? Obviously traceable back to Dream. So change one of his most distinct features, his eyes! He is wearing brown contacts. I have proof, let’s look at blonde Gog again. uSING MY EXPENSIVE HIGH TECH EQUIPMENT I-

ENHANCE ENHANCE ENHANCE!

I mean first just looking at this you can see the odd white glare on his eye... Now that is not your usual eye glare, no... That’s an eye glare that shows what it looks like when light reflects off a contact lens. He is wearing contacts! 

But if that isn’t enough for you I cleaned up the photo of blonde George’s eye using mad skillz I learned from crime shows and got:

YEAH THAT’S RIGHT! CLEARLY A CONTACT LENS AND A CHEAP ONE TOO! LOOK HOW ARTIFICIAL IT IS IN THIS CLEAR ZOOMED IN PICTURE OF BLONDE GEORGE’S EYE THAT IS OBVIOUSLY NOT A PHOTO OF A RANDOM WOMAN I FOUND WITH A CONTACT. 

Dream put in brown contacts! Why else would this “blonde George” be wearing contacts huh??? We know real George has 100% real gorgeous brown eyes. 

Now you may be saying, well that’s just an edited photo of legit George. We have the real photo of George.  But no, it’s not! THAT’S WHAT DREAM WANTS YOU TO THINK SHEEPLE, WAKE UP!

Dream put on a red hoodie, styled his hair to look like George, and he posed just right so it looks like it’s an edited version of that photo of Gog. But it’s not! We can tell by the contacts! Also George would never exude the off vibes blonde George does. It doesn’t pass the vibe check. 

Now while there are so many other bits of proof... This is getting long and I want to wrap it up. So here’s one last big bit of proof. 

THIS VIDEO OF THE SCUFFED PODCAST AT 15:37

They talk about blonde George and, George claims it is photoshopped but he smiles nervously. And as he pulls up blonde George Dream does his nervous laugh. Why is he nervous? Why would he be nervous?? about this “meme”. Maybe because he’s scared to be found out,

Now the most important part:

“I don’t rlly like it tbh.”- Gog.

“Uhhh I don’t like it.”-Dream.

Now you may have brushed past this upon viewing, but.... Nobody asked for Dream’s opinion. This was supposed to be about GEORGE why would Dream input his opinion and speak like it’s about him... BECAUSE IT IS HIM

Now the most damning of all... 16:50 same video.

“Dream have you like ever done a face reveal or no?”-??

Dream HESITATES 

“No- I haven’t yet. I do plan on doing one but I haven’t yet.”

As he speaks his words get more rushed and quiet, he’s lying. He’s nervous.

Then George saving him, redirects the topic completely off blonde George and Dream immediately jumps on the new topic eager to switch focus. It’s so weird how fast they move the topic, the clearly don’t want to talk about it. George is a good friend, he knew that Dream was scared and needed an out of the conversation before he outed himself as blonde George. 

But... they couldn’t keep the ruse up.... BECAUSE I AM HERE! 

I see you Dream and your 10000000 IQ. HE THOUGHT HE COULD CONTAIN ME, CONTAIN THE TRUTH. BUT I- BREAKING GENESIS CAN NOT BE STOPPED. I ESCAPED HIS BASEMENT JUST FOR THIS FUCKING POST! IT WAS MANHUNT, I SPEEDRAN THIS SHIT. I BET HE’S LOOKING FOR ME NOW.

*cough* Anyway, now my very very last point. 

Why haven’t we ever seen Dream and Blonde George in a room together huh? It’s weird right?? They can’t coexist separately because THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON. IT’S SO OBVIOUS! 

If this grade A++++, wagyu quality, meaty with receipts analysis wasn’t enough to convince you then.... I am going to hack into Mr.Beast’s content. I am on my way to his house as I type this... Next post I am LEAKING images from the shoot when Dream drops the sign that will SHOW that he is in fact Blonde George. 

If you have more proof.... Anything to add... react... or respond to this analysis. My inbox is open.

Wish me luck, I honed my hacker skillz just for this. You may not be able to trust Dream, but you can trust me! Hopefully I can do this before Dre catches me again. 

o7 bois 

[fandom-sheep]

Fundy 21 APR 21

OSMP Dr*g Lab Part 1/1

The boy is doing disasters!

And now he’s got his new computer! Hooray!

Let’s see if the stream functions. I doubt it but it’ll be funny.

I’m typing this and attempting to fill out digital paper work for my college. Let’s see how this goes.

Hooray cat! We love Boots. Look at that pretty kitty laying on her pillow! I need to do more art for Boots. I’ve done some in the past.

Fundy gets to annoy people with his appearance. Everyone in chat shouting no. I think it’d be funny.

I don’t want to do my work. I just want to watch the chaotic fox boy.

We’ve hit problem two. Woo.

The people demand an Ad.

Oh we get facecam! Oh never mind he’s stuck again.

Ah yes. The temporary facecam.

My stream quality is going to drop just cause it can. I’m calling it.

Poor Fundy wants his mic not to cut out, but its become a thing and we all love it. “Twitch Pr”

He’s trying to break the mic for us. LOL.

Oh things sound Funky.

Echo, echo, echo

Oh no. My poor head.

He’s just laughing at us now.

He’s wondering how he didn’t lose all his viewers, we’re loyal, sadly.

Fox with his lovely base. It always looks so cool.

Ah we’ve been abandoned.

Bless your soulza

Yuck. Normal Minecraft. Yuck Spiders.

Dodge those skeleton shots! Do it!

Enslave Berry Foxes!

He has become a slow airplane.

Posture check. I am laying on my back I have no posture.

The boy eats the valued things.

I almost want to dual wield streams and watch Phil’s reactions to all this, but also not seeing the reactions is funny.

Puns. I love them. RUN FOX RUN!

Fundy Just causing problems on purpose. We love our chaos boy.

Ha ha. Karma.

Fox go YOINK.

Boots? Pet the cat. I wish we could see the cat. Boots is being banished downstairs.

Aww. He’s trying to be helpful. but the zombies just going to burn. Oh he realized before he burned the zombie. Good.

What is crow father doing? Just kelping? Is Phil just ignoring him?

Oh Phil just watching Fundy save the slab.

And giving him a reward. I am seeing parallels between this and what I do with troublesome campers.

I wonder how the crows have been reacting to Fundy being a problem on purpose?

Wealth goes in the mouth.

Sadness. Zombie friend despawned.

I love how Fundy can go from “I am tough” to “I am weak” to “I am tough” its always funny to me.

Something happened with sticky keys but I’m not sure because I was making a hot pocket.

Not crash is typically a goal of driving.

no reusing jokes. Boo someone throw a tomato.

“R” well alright then.

Don’t put wealth in the mouth. Got it.

Chat goes zoom? He’s oh noing.

“I don’t have a phone” as you text on your phone.

Wat. Some donos make negative amounts of sense.

I’d listen to him play that in the background while I work.

Look at the crowfather making his achievements.

Why would a fox have gold nuggets?

Foxes will look at Fundy and go “ah big fox. He is our leader now”

Ooo another video? A game show?

Don’t mind me. Just nearly drowning drinking water because a skeleton dropped on the small fox.

Humans designed bananas. Natural bananas are tiny and seedy. I know, Ive tried one. It was nasty.

Are star fruit rounded?

Foxes are dogs with a cat attitude. Who steal. The thief animals.

Digsirton. Dogson. Dogust. III. What an interesting name.

He was a fox. Because.

Fundy in the ring.

BRB gotta go cover plants so they don’t die during the cold snap.

Plants have been covered.

I know you guys attempted to surf the void and failed and that’s about it.

Now the Fox is chatting with the inchling.

Oops. Didn’t time it right.

He is a spring.

How does everyone have so many diamond things.

Nice. Enderman one shot.

Guilt free trident.

Woosh! With a trident the fox can fly!

And he didn’t thief it. Proud of him.

I love how close everyone stayed near spawn.

Poor lil fox.

Someone get the fox a trident!

Oh Phil’s view was probably great.

We’re looking scuffed again.

Phil witnessing the murder of 1 (one) fox.

Sneeg is a bullet.

Poor Fundy wants to become stacked, but he doesn’t hunt for anything.

Ah the bee. And there he goes.

Secret chest. Lovely.

Storage Unit Fox. Infinite mouth.

Sizzle Fox

Sneeg and Fundy work well together.

I’m betting on “no” for his next death being burning. Someone’s going to stab em or something.

Rats. Oh well. It was just 10 points

Quality entertainment.

Up he goes. He made it! Mitsakes are made (error intended)

Fundy one shotting everything is so great.

Aren’t ghast sounds cat sounds made weird? Or is that just something I heard once?

I’m voting no again. I’ll probably be wrong but again it’s 10 channel points.

No sizzle fox please. He will, but I’m saying no.

He one shot the ghast, but he did sizzle.

All this fox knows is sizzle. Ooo that give me an art idea.

Oh no he’s going to feel bad about the people who donated multiple times when it was paused.

Hi 5up.

Wow calling his “lover” short. How rude. Lol.

Du du du du

The tortles were released. Poor Niki.

I hate the mouth sound effect so much.

Training Arc with the pounce.

I hoard channel points like some people hoard money.

Oopsy.

Because he coldn’t help it? Poor boy.

I’m not involved in the prediction but these people have no hope in our boy.

Bee boy!

Oopsy. He is dead. The predictors were correct.

Bye bee boy.

Bee boy is back!

Ender boy is here! It’s a party now!

Fox just wants a skull.

Also yeah chat no spamming VC. Have good etiquette. We don’t do that’s here.

Prediction once again was right to not believe in the fox.

Drug corner looking nice. We can officially drugs now!

Oh no. He said chat. He does that when he’s ending.

Ah we are ending. That was productive.

Shaders! Gorgeous!

Oh it’s night. I never know if it’s night or not with the fox.

A pretty fox hole.

Phil over there Fox proofing his house.

Ah were attacking Phil. Nice.

The Fundy raid is here!

Tubbo! Really? Oh well. At least there is the mouth.

Anyway. I’m off. Good luck out there everyone!

I’m back to say that Fundy attempting to jump and get Tubbo was great.

Come on Fundy! Get him!

Ah. There goes the low heart boy.

Ah and the bullet appears.

I’m going to chill until Fundy gets Tubbo.

“C’mere” -Fundy

We’re used to watching our streamer get murdered Phil. This happens a lot.

Oooooooooo

He did it!

Go Fundy! Put the Wealth in the Mouth!

Oh no. Tubbo hired the bullet.

The bullet strikes again.

Oh he mouthed the zombie head.

Proud of our streamer.

No Fundy. Quit making problems.

Bees and foxes. Natural enemies.

Oh others can always hear the fox.

Anyway. That settles that. I’m heading off for real.

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). Now, the pieces start falling into place or smth lmao :))

Drizzle | Deluge | AO3

Chapter 3: Squall

Did they get rid of her?

He dreads to think of it, but there’s nothing else he seems to be able to pick out from what information he gathers. Three years after he died, Cass (who hated killing, would never do it even for the worst of the worst) had nearly murdered the Joker. She almost finished the job until Batman saved the madman and subdued her. After that,

Nothing.

Not a single report on Batgirl. Nor a photo of Cassandra Todd. Only two traces he could find. One a significantly sullen Wonder Woman (he and Cass had liked her, and she, them). The other an interview of Bruce, repeating that she’d gone to ‘travel the world’.

Jason knows a lie when he hears one.

“It’s – It’s like she just disappeared,” He’s gripping his head, rocking back and forth while Rose smooths out his hair. “He cut her out of the family and then what?”

He remembers a promise, a vow Bruce had made with him. It had meant the world to Jason.

Bruce had broken that vow. Torn it apart and stomped all over it.

Rose watches him as he breaks down with no judgement in her gaze, just holds him close as his world crumbles around him again.

--

There’s a child in Nandra Parbat, and Jason has to train him.

“This is my son, Damian,” Talia had said to him, showing him some new kid as if he hadn’t just killed three assassins in the space of a minute. He would have said as much if she didn’t immediately order him to be the kid’s new teacher.

Looking at him now, all Jason can see is a small girl with a crooked smile mouthing his name. He blinks, and he’s met with a scowl and sapphire eyes (eyes just like Br-).

“Mother has requested you to be my instructor,” The kid repeats and lord, his voice is nasal. Jason chooses to stare at the kid, who fidgets. If he looks close enough, he could swear Damian’s scowl looks almost precisely like-.

“Is he mute, Mother? I do not see how an invalid could assist me,” He can tell by the way Rose’s head shoots up and glares at Damian whose side she would choose if this escalates. A flare of anger rises in Jason’s chest; his eyes start to flash a sharp emerald. Still, he pushes it down and diverts it to strengthening his stare, dominating the room.

He can’t read people the same way Cass can, but Jason could swear that the kid’s composure cracks at his uncertainty.

“Wanna repeat that for me?” Jason’s voice is low and even. He can tell the kid recognises the threat in his tone. To his credit, Damian hesitates before he honest to god tts, like every single other haughty, uptight rich boy.

“Regardless, habibi, you will treat your new instructors with respect,” Talia speaks, gesturing to him and Rose. “The quality of your instructors was incredibly subpar, and you have them to blame for killing the previous masters beforehand.”

“I do not think that a lowly thug and his harlot-,” Jason’s arm shoots out in an instant, clasping his hand over Damian’s mouth and clenching. Indignant fury flares in the boy’s eyes as Damian tries to slap Jason away. It does nothing, unsurprisingly.

“So long as you are under my tutelage, you will never speak that way to any woman. That is no way to speak to anyone, regardless of what they do for a living,” Somehow, the kid actually listens, the flinty look in his eye lessening somewhat. “I bet your own mother had to pull a fuck ton of strings just to make sure this meeting even happened in the first place.”

Jason glances up to Talia, expecting a reprimand. What surprises him is how genuine the approval she emits is. It hits him that he has literally confirmed to training Damian. He coughs.

“You should know,” Talia pipes up. “His full name is Damian Wayne-Al Ghul.”

Jason stares at the ceiling and curses the rain as it tap-dances with the universe, mocking him.

“All right, then, I’ll go to hell.”

--

Cassandra shakes herself from the nerves and rings the doorbell. The last time she had been here, she had kissed Alfred on the cheek and let him drive her all the way to the airport. That was only two months ago. Two months away from Gotham, away from Batgirl, away from-.

Bruce. He’s standing in the foyer, his gaze cold, but his body… his body seems unsure. She doesn’t know what to make of it. She half expects him to turn her away, but he moves to the side. He opens his mouth.

“Cassandra!” Steph darts from behind Bruce’s body, all flailing limbs and mismatched socks. “You’re here!”

“Yes.”

The girl grins, periwinkle eyes dazzling (They’re from the same cloth, just not the proper stitching) as she drags Cassandra away.

“So… how’s life in Hong Kong?”

“Peachy,” Cass answers honestly.

“Think of any names for your new identity?” Steph gesticulates to nothing, but her body language is focused on questions. So, she doesn’t give the girl any. They walk a little more until Steph decides to fill in the silence again.

“Tim’s dad found out about the vigilante business,” Cass nods as Steph talks. “Wants him to quit being Robin and Bruce doesn’t seem to know what to do about it.”

“His problem.”

“Well, duh. It’s just that….” Steph rubs her arm shyly, the same way she always does when she’s afraid of what she will say next. “When I was growing up, with my villain dad and addict Mom, I always imagined that Batman and Robin would save me. I’m here now, and….”

“You want to be Robin.” Cassandra deadpans, even as Steph whirls to gape at her. Really, it’s not like she wasn’t obvious. “Why not go for it?”

Silence for a moment. “Because I’m afraid.”

Cassandra looks at the blonde sharply. Stephanie Brown? Intimidated-by-Batman-and-joined-vigilantism-anyway Stephanie Brown was afraid? She doesn’t know what to think. That is until the dots connect in her head.

“You’re afraid that you won’t be able to help as much as you want to,” Steph scuffs the carpet glumly.

“With Mr. Anal-retentiveness-to-the-9’s? Yeah, that’d probably happen,” Steph sound so defeated and desperate that Cass curses because apparently, fate chose now to be when Steph is truly like Jason.

“Then don’t wear it,” Steph’s scuffing gets a little stronger. “I, for one, think you’d be a really good Batgirl.”

Steph makes an incredible impression as a fish and stares at Cass, barely wheezing as she gawks. “But Bruce -.”

“Bruce doesn’t have autonomy over Batgirl,” Cass smiles sweetly, echoing Barbara. “It’s your uniform now, and no one can take that from you but yourself.”

Her friend squeals loudly and squeezes Cass, gushing her gratitude over and over. Cass hugs her back, pretending it’s Jay she’s holding in her arms, giving the assurance of family she failed to keep.

--

He’s only trained with Damian for a few months, yet he’s seen more than he really should from the boy. His younger brother (the kid’s only a child, it doesn’t matter what Jason’s previous misgivings are) has been raised in the League of Assassins since birth. He can already use a sword with deadly efficiency at eleven years old. His attitude's as ruthless and condescending as every other assassin in the compound.

However, what is an exploitable weakness for Damian is the fact he’s only just started puberty. Most easily demonstrated when Rose makes a suggestive pose before tackling the boy and pinning him in place. Jason whistles because he’s fond of her, an asshole like that. Rose flips the bird at Jason and sticks out her tongue, now lounging casually on Damian’s squirming body.

It’s cute, the scene, but Jason knows how wrong it is. As long as Damian is with the League of Assassins, he won’t live normally. To find his own love, his own family. Even as the child wrestles with Rose and yells at him to help, it won’t ever be enough.

He’s not projecting.

He’s not.

He’s going to concoct a plan.

--

Ravi, Damian’s caretaker, has that air about him that Jason has only ever seen come from Alfred. So, he guesses trusting Ravi with this is more than okay. The man may be blind, but with him, they manage to smuggle Damian through the channels of the League, avoiding everyone who could threaten their goal.

“If I may ask, Mister Todd,” Ravi says as they reach the last legs. Jason nods. “Why are you doing this? To what gain is rescuing this child for you?”

“I don’t do this because I want to gain something,” Jason replies immediately. “No child deserves to grow up in this place. He deserves to have as good a childhood as he can get.”

Ravi stares patiently, hearing what’s unsaid.

“Sound reasoning,” Talia’s voice echoes around them. Everyone tenses. The woman steps out from behind the pillar ahead of them, alone. “And where, may a mother ask, are you taking my son?”

The woman’s voice lacks her usual veneer, sounding so genuinely earnest that he can’t help but blurt out: “Gotham.”

“Gotham,” Talia repeats, her forehead pinched. “With him?” With Batman? Jason bristles. “Might I remind you; he left your death unavenged and replaced you in mere months.”

“Fuck that,” Jason snarls. Ever since he came out of the Pit, madness clings to the edges of his mind whenever he thinks of how Bruce replaced him. This time, it only flickers. “What I want doesn’t matter when Damian needs his father figure. I’m – I’m not stopping him from having that.”

“So, you no longer wish to kill him,” Talia states. He sighs.

“I guess not,” Jason frowns, considering her presence. “Want to take him to Bruce?”

If Talia is surprised, she doesn’t show it, only beckoning for Damian to follow her. As the kid moves, Jason realises this might be the last time he’ll see Damian on the same side of the fence. He grabs the kid’s shoulder, who oddly doesn’t resist.

“Look, Damian,” Jason starts as his younger brother stares up at him. “Doing right is right, and wrong is wrong. A body ain’t got no business doing wrong when he ain’t ignorant and knows better.

“Living with your father, it’s rules like that he follows like gospel. He’ll love you; I know he will, but with him it’s always on the condition that you adhere to his principles. Can you promise something for me?”

Damian nods, soaking every word in.

“I need you to keep an open mind with what he says, but I don’t want you to follow them like gospel the way he does. You’re more than his soldier, you’re my brother, you’re his son.”

The kid nods again, shifting on his feet.

“And – And look after yourself, okay? And -,” The words that come out of his mouth feel like hot coals, but he has to say them. “And if somehow Cass is there, can you look after her too? For me?”

“Of course,” Damian answers softly before throwing his arms around Jason’s waist. “I will find your ukht, ahki, and make sure she is well cared for.”

Jason smiles. It's a broken, weary-looking thing.

“And Todd?” Jason raises his eyebrows. “You should confess to Wilson about your ridiculous affection. It is sickening to watch you two dancing around one another every lesson.”

Jason can’t help it; he laughs and lets his little brother go, his tears like raindrops.

--

Cass leaves the fresh hydrangeas on the headstone. It stares back at her, its date (four years) seeming to mock her from beyond the grave. Literally, Jay says in her head, which has her biting back the laugh that builds in her throat.

Bruce’s son had come in a few days ago, obviously an assassin child, yet he’s still… subdued, somehow. She knows the boy is there, at her brother’s grave, and that he follows her all the way to the manor. Even then, Cassandra lets it go. He probably took all his cues from Bruce anyway.

It’s when she’s sitting at the new memorial for Jason, a small statue of an apple with a plaque underneath, that Damian approaches her.

“Cain.”

“It’s Todd.”

Something crosses the boy’s face. She can’t tell what it is.

“Todd,” Damian says, his eyebrows pinching like a mini Bruce. “What is this?”

“It’s Jason’s memorial,” Cassandra traces the words on the plaque, a quote, one whose meaning she had struggled with a lifetime ago. She gestures to the book in her hands. “I read to it, every time I’m here.”

Damian looks like he’s about to say something about that, but he withholds it. Instead, he sits down with her, his head upturned, not unlike a bird.

“What was he like?” The boy asks, the words seeming to grit out his teeth.

“He was amazing, and we loved him so much,” Dick speaks up, out of nowhere, cutting Cass off before she can even begin. “I had a few issues with him, but I promise that I’ll be as good a brother to you as he was to us.”

Cassandra snorts, and Dick’s smile falls off his face.

“Cassandra, come on, I was just-.”

“You weren’t even a good brother to me or – or him.” She says quietly, because why is he even speaking now? “Why are you trying now? Why not before?”

“Like I said, I had a lot of issues with -.”

“I don’t care, Dickface.” Does it hurt to say Jason’s old nickname for the boy? Yes. Does she draw satisfaction at how much he flinches? Also, yes.

Barbara chooses then to speak up.

“I don’t think that’s fair for you to say, Cass.”

She freezes. The fact that even Damian, who hardly knows her, does the same with the others means they know how huge an error they’ve made.

“Don’t call me that,” Cassandra snaps, voice desolate and lethal, thoughts squalling and refusing to calm down even as she buries her head in the book in her hands.

Barbara sighs and calls Dick away to discuss the mysterious hacker that’s been pulling information from them. Damian, seeming to recognise her desire to be alone, follows him. Good. Cassandra’s mind falls in and out of a lull as her eyes try to refocus. So, she caresses the edge of the apple reverently. In its reflection, tears run down her cheeks. She can’t feel them.

--

“The information breaches just keep searching for Batgirl,” Barbara says, snapping Cassandra from her stupor. She pulls up a list; every entry confirms Barbara’s statements. Every entry, that is, except for one that catches her eye. The text flashes brightly, making her head spin, and she can’t look away because printed in the bright neon text is-.

There’s a memory, one she’s locked in the far recesses of her mind, where things like the Joker and David and all her other demons live. She remembers Faizul asking who her mother is.

David smirks, a savage thing he does whenever he’s about to order her to do something (murder, as it turned out, then) and says:

Sandra Wu-San | Lady Shiva

The words blare in her mind, bouncing round and round and blocking out all sounds in the cave. It certainly explains a lot; only Shiva can read the body like a novel. Plus, Cassandra isn’t sure that assassin skills are genetic but having two master assassins as biological parents should factor somewhere. It also opens a new avenue of thought. Why? Why did she give her up and never look back? Why did she leave her with her monster of a father? Cassandra craves needs answers, and she needs them now.

Staring up at the name printed on the screen, Jason once asked himself the same questions.

While the others discuss what to do, Cassandra has already listed Shiva’s last known locations and activities. They don’t notice she’s going to leave until she revs the engine of her bike. She sees them open their mouths, but over the sound of the motor, their voices fail to reach her.

All except, somehow, for Alfred and if there is anyone in this family Cass will listen to; it’s the one Jay loved the most.

“If you do pursue her, Miss Cassandra,” The butler has never been unkind to her, yet she can’t help but feel like he’s trying to keep her in place. “I am not sure if you will find what you are looking for.”

She leaves anyway, soaring underneath the tresses of Gotham as they settle around her, the mist obscuring everything but her path forward.

--

“Damian probably landed in Gotham last week,” Rose says casually. Too casually, she realises. Jace side-eyes her and snorts in response. Damn him and his ability to pick apart what she’s asking. Four years constantly in one another’s presence would do that to people with his life experience. Yet, as much as Jason can read her, she can’t say she can do the same for him.

Something about him seems fragile, like plaster covering a beautiful and distracting collage. Rose wants to dig past that plaster, through the collage and see the mind that is Jason Todd.

She has seen him at his highest and lowest points and always makes sure to stay by his side, as she does now. He’s her best friend; he might not know it, but he’s kept her sane (reassurances her father will not find her come to mind) just as much as she’s done for him.

“What do you think of the new Batgirl?” This time, she means to be conversational. When they stumbled across the profile of Cass’ successor, Jace had shaken his head and laid out half-heartedly into a punching bag.

“I don’t hate her, if that’s what you’re thinking,” That response was… not unexpected. But, when she raises her hickory eyes, Jason has his head raised to the sky. “I looked into her, and – and she’s like us.”

Oh.

“Girl’s from the Narrows. Didn’t live on the streets, but from her background, her home life definitely wasn’t that great growing up either.”

His hand is trembling, so Rose grabs it and tries to keep him steady with all the power in her.

“She’s going to do Batgirl proud,” Jason says shakily. “I think you’d agree.”

They stand there, leaning on each other, tranquillity settling around them as Jace lets his tears flow. It occurs to Rose that she never let his hand go. She doesn’t plan to. The feeling makes her feel warm inside, and as much as she wants to go further, she also doesn’t want to push her best friend away.

In the distance, the outline of a jet approaches the runway they’re on. It is time.

“You ready?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said yes.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey,” Rose looks up at him, waiting for him to continue. “If anything goes wrong, I want you to stay out of sight of the others and get away from Gotham.”

Rose growls. “No way, there is no fucking way I’d leave you alone with them.” She steps closer, jabbing her finger on his chest. “I didn’t train with you for the past four years for it all to be thrown away just because Batman is an asshole. My dad’s just as bad, remember?

“You’re stuck with me no matter what Jace. Deal with it.”

He gives her a wry smirk that has her heart fluttering as much as her returning grin is sharp. Even as the plane touches down, she realises that he hasn't let her hand go, and neither has she.

In the next week, Red Hood and Ravager will carve their way through the deeper bowels of Gotham’s stomach, a bag of heads linking their iron fists.

For now, Rose breathes in the moist air as a drizzle begins.

--

Mad Dog, Cassandra muses, is a morbid reminder of what she might have become if she stayed with David. He doesn’t have her abilities, but he has more physical strength in spades; his movements are so strange, so unpredictable, that it’s not like it matters.

A deft swipe narrowly misses her throat, and Cassandra cuffs the man in the jaw with her knee, knocking him back.

She had definitely found Shiva. Tracked her all the way to some subset of the League of Assassins. The woman had only gazed coolly at her and set Mad Dog on her.

True to his name, the assassin growls and leaps at her, fury behind each of his strikes. Cassandra dodges one of these, the fist cratering the cement wall, and gets socked in the chest for her trouble. The force of the impact sends her flying metres away.

Getting up from the blow is a chore, and she can feel the agony her body is in, feels the blood run down her mouth as she rises. Her fist is shaking; her stance is uneven. Mad Dog notices, and he grins like David, drawing a jagged sword from his sheath and charges.

Cassandra darts past the assassin. She knows she can win this. Even though his movements are swift and deadly, she manages to outpace him. His sword strikes aim to draw blood as he swipes at her, but she’s still managed to weave her way around them, causing sparks to fly into the air. When he tries to hit her, she still uses his momentum against him and knocks him down.

Yet, Cassandra can feel herself getting slower now; her arms are still shaking. She dodges another strike, but it’s a feint, and Mad Dog grabs her by the hair and slams her onto the ground. Hazily, she watches his wicked grin widen as the assassin raises his arms and prepares his blade.

As Mad Dog is about to drive it into Cass’ chest, she thinks (This is it. It’s all over. It is time.) of a boy in an alleyway, an apple in his hand and a smile on his lips.

She closes her eyes and listens to the sprinkling outside.

--

“Do you think we were unfair to them?” Dick seems to ask to open air, but Bruce knows when his sons want a genuine response. “Like, that we didn’t give them enough credit for what they could do. And because of that, they’ve never had anyone but each other?”

Dick slumps. It looks so wrong on him that Bruce wraps his arms around him, especially careful (As a real father would. An insidious voice in his brain sneers). “Do you think, that if maybe we treated them so much better...” His boy is crying now, usually joyous lapis eyes cold and red-rimmed. “That they’d still be here?”

Bruce only grunts because not one of his answers is what Dick wants to hear.

On a slab of stone, the petals on the hydrangeas wilt, droplets dappling their edges.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[moved-attre]

more random snippets because i can't keep anything to myself and i like sharing.... also i love writing cole and stefan like an old married couple i can't help it

Stefan had recommended a small diner a few blocks away. It was fairly nondescript; peeling leather chairs and scuffed metal tables, bright lighting, a few pretty waitresses and an elderly couple enjoying late breakfast on a small table by the counter.

It would do. All Cole cared about was the quality of their coffee.

“Hey, Polly,” Stefan flashed a charming smile to the young woman on the register as they approached.

Polly beamed back at him, her blond hair shining in the fluorescent lighting as she tilted her head.

“Good morning, detective,” She replied, her tone cheery if not slightly flirtatious. “Your usual?”

“Perfect,” He winked. “Cole, what are you having?”

“I’ll just have a black coffee. Thanks.”

“Just a coffee? Phelps, we’re having breakfast. Get some bacon or something.”

“I’m fine with just the coffee.”

“Cole.”

He sighed. “Alright, I’ll have a black coffee and a small plate of bacon and eggs.”

“See?” Stefan clapped him on the shoulder. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“Take a seat and I’ll bring it over,” Polly said, scribbling the order down on a notepad.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Stefan replied.

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

“Take the next left on the intersection and keep going until the road splits again, then take the right,” Stefan frowned and leaned forward into the map, squinting at the small writing. “At least, I think that’s the way.”

“Maybe you should get checked for glasses,” Cole said, a hint of frustration to his tone.

“My eyesight isn’t the problem,” Stefan retorted indignantly. “It’s the size of the font and all the squiggly lines they use to represent roads.”

“And that’s completely unrelated to eyesight?”

“Yes. It’s a manufacturing oversight.”

“Right.”

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

“Do you regret it?” Cole asked.

“What?”

“Ending the relationship with Matilda. Do you wish you hadn’t?”

Stefan didn’t speak for another few moments.

“Sometimes. Other times I’m glad to be rid of her,” He chuckled. “She was a lot of trouble.”

“I’ve heard that the best women are.”

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

[vintagevalentinex]

Decode, III

Alright folks!  Here is the next installation!

Please be gentle.  There are elements in this chapter that are very personal to me.  Some from personal experience, so I apologize if this “reader” isn’t exactly like you.

As always, please leave me some feedback!

xoxo

Decode, III by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1825 words

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.  

You steadied your breathing as you leaned against the wall in the hallway.  You hated when people stared like that, as if you were something other than a human being.  You dealt with those looks your entire life.  It was hard for you to help; you couldn’t help how easily some things came to you, it was just the way your mind worked.  It was the way you were hard-wired, and yet it was as though you were penalized for it.  The memories of grade school came rushing back, being bored because you had finished your work, being yelled at for reading a book, being made fun of and ridiculed by the other kids because you were more interested in ancient civilizations and cultures instead of MTV.  You kept your eyes shut as you tried to calm yourself down, feeling your heart slowly retain its normal speed.

“I suppose we got off on the wrong foot, Professor.”

Your eyes snapped open, revealing Mycroft Holmes staring intently at you.  It wasn’t in an overly affectionate way.  It was more out of curiosity.  His eyes lit up with understanding as you tried not to wither under his gaze.

“(Y/N), please call me (Y/N)…”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, (Y/N).  If anything, there’s something wrong with all of them.”

You smiled softly, gratefully at him, feeling your breathing return to normal.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes.”

Before he could even speak, another voice joined the conversation.

“Really now Mycroft, deducing the professor without her knowledge?  For shame.”

“As if you’re one to talk, Sherlock.  I’m sure that (Y/N) doesn’t mind.”

“Oh so you’re on a first name basis now?  How sweet.”

“She told us her name in the car, Sherlock.”

You were going to get whiplash with how quickly your head moved back and forth as you listened to them bicker yet again.

“Could you two please stop for one moment?!  What are you going on about?”

They both looked at you now; you were starting to really hate that.

“Mycroft was deducing you, not comforting you, Professor.”

“Deducing me?”

Mycroft took a deep breath, looking almost guilty as he had been found out.

“Sherlock it’s not the appropriate time or place for—“

“Nonsense.  Now Professor…By observing the way that you are dressed, it is quite simple to surmise that you strive to appear feminine, something that the overwhelming majority of your colleagues is not.  By overtly dressing in a manner which is quite opposite to that of the people whom which you work, it is a clear choice that you have made.  If I were to guess, my thought would be that it has been a way for you to stand out amongst your colleagues.  In a male dominated field such as yours, you have needed to be able to stand out as to not fall to the wayside.  Because of the demographics in your field, you have constantly had to prove yourself worthy of recognition and praise—“

“How did—“

“That brings us to the quality of your clothing.  It is actually quite good quality, which informs us that you invest in items that you wish to last.  While you may appear to be superficial and materialistic, you in all actuality just maintain your belongings as can be evidenced by the black permanent marker covering up the scuffing on your shoes—“

“I…I…”

“Sherlock, please—“

“Furthermore, from your behavior from before and now out here it is quite obvious that you, despite your superior intellect, suffer from anxiety dealing with social situations, and I would venture to guess in other situations as well.  This probably stems from several childhood experiences that—“

“Enough, Sherlock!”

You weren’t sure how you felt about the elder Holmes, but at that moment you were truly appreciative that he was able to make Sherlock stop.  At first, it was quite impressive that Sherlock was able to pull information merely from what you were wearing.  But as he continued, it became more and more uncomfortable for you to be scrutinized in such a manner.  Before he began he stated that Mycroft was deducing you as well.  Did he come to all those conclusions as well?  This was just too much.   You didn’t ask for any of this, and you weren’t going to stick around for it any longer.  Sherlock faced you once more, amusement shining in his eyes.

“My apologies, (Y/N). I wasn’t aware that you would be so…sentimental.”

You looked him right in the eyes, trying to keep your temper and feelings in check.

“While that is quite impressive, Sherlock, it only took me a mere glance at you to know that you are an immature prick.  Now seeing as I was brought here against my own volition and I am not getting compensated for any of this…this…lunacy, I will be leaving.  I hope to never waste another breath speaking to you.”

You turned away from the brothers, squaring your shoulders as you made your way towards the exit, feeling hot tears threatening to escape.

It was easy enough to hail a cab, giving the cabbie the directions back to your hotel.  Before you sped away, you gave one last glance toward the doors of the precinct, your eyes catching the older, wiser ones of Mycroft Holmes.

By the time you arrived back to your hotel you were absolutely exhausted.  Between giving an important presentation to further your career, being introduced to both of those Holmes brothers, and the nonsense down at Scotland Yard, you had certainly had your fill of London for a very long time.  You were longing for your own bed, and a stack of finals that would await your grading the following week.  All you wanted to do now was have a glass of wine, a bubble bath, and some peace before your flight tomorrow morning.

“Pardon me, but it seems as though my room key isn’t working.”

The women at the desk typed in your information, her eyebrows furrowing.  

“I’m sorry ma’am, but you are correctly checked out of your room.  Quite recently actually…”

“That’s impossible!  I’ve been out of the hotel nearly all day.  Please, is there something you can do?  Where are my belongings?!”

“That’s all I can tell you ma’am.  If you’re belongings aren’t on your person, there is not much I can do for you.”

You were about to give the reception a piece of your mind when you heard someone call your name.

“Excuse me, are you (Y/N)?”

You looked up, a pretty brunette with her eyes glued to her phone apparently was speaking to you.

“Um yes, yes I am. Can I help you?”

“All of your things have been moved to your new room, out of this decrepit hotel—“

Decrepit?  This wasn’t the best hotel in all of London, but you sure as hell weren’t staying in a hostel…

“You are being put in more suitable accommodations.  You should find that all of your belongings are there.”

“First of all, who the hell do you think you are switching my reservations?  I am certainly not paying for all of this?  How were you able to do this in the first place?  Who the hell are you?!”

You tried to keep your voice down but you had had enough for one evening.  It was at this point the pretty brunette looked up from her phone.

“My name is Anthea. I work with Mr. Holmes, and he has tasked me with making sure that you are given proper hotel accommodations for your stay in London.  Now if you would please come with me…”

“Did you say Mr. Holmes? Please tell me it’s not the one with the curly hair…because I’m a mere moment away from eviscerating him.”

She laughed, “No, but that does sound like him.  Please follow me; I’m sure you are quite tired.”

What other choice did you have?  Hopefully you wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch.  It was only for one night, after all.

You were barely in the room as you let out a soft gasp.  It was the most luxurious thing you’d ever seen.  Was this really necessary?  Plush carpeting, soft lighting, and a bed that looked as though if you lied down in it you would have to be surgically removed from its comfort.  

“Why…why did he do this?”

Without even looking up from her phone, Anthea replied.  “He wanted to extend his gratitude for your help earlier in the day…and his apologies for the event following your help.  Goodnight.”

She’s a real conversationalist.

You looked around the room, seeing that all your things had been put neatly away, the bed turned down for you, a bottle of wine next to the bed.  You spied a note on the pillow.

(Y/N),

I deeply apologize for my brother’s antics earlier today.  He seems to have no understanding over decorum as well as minding his own business. Please accept this upgrade to your lodgings as a request for forgiveness.

I must say, I was quite impressed with the ease at which you solved the coded message.  Perhaps the Scotland Yard could use your help.

I do hope to hear from you soon.

–M

You fell asleep in your clothes, too tired to even move, and too comfortable to escape the clutches of the bed.

[3 New Voicemails.]

Great, what could this be now?

[4:45 am] We deeply apologize, but your scheduled flight has been cancelled.  Please call back at your earliest convenience to reschedule.

Wonderful.

[5:00 am] Hello (Y/N), I know it’s early over there but it’s quite late here.  I am so pleased to hear that you are helping the Scotland Yard in such a riveting case. Do not worry about your request; take all the time you need in helping them solve their case!  Let me know how it goes!

What the hell?  I never put in any kind of leave of absence at the university?  What is going on?  

[5:15 am] Professor, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade.  Please give us a ring when you can.  We have two more coded messages that we could use your help on.

What is happening?  Who moved my flight and called the University?

[1 New Text Message.]

[6:44 am] I hope by now you understand what has been put into motion.  I apologize for the abruptness of it all, but it had to be done.  Allow me to make it up to you in some way.  Please let me know, this number is secure. –M

You were going to kill him.  How dare he?  He’d better have more than one pretty little girl surrounding him when you got your hands on him.

You furiously texted him back on your phone, throwing it across the bed when you were done.

[6:51 am] Fuck off.

Next Part!

[loverdrew]

Promise You Won’t Fall In Love With Me II

Part 1 

He never knew love. He never understood relationships. He never imagined his life after high school or outside of his fame. She was the opposite. She deeply loved her family, she had ambition, intelligence and drive. They were the complete opposite, but together, they wouldn’t know what to do without each other.

Inspired by the movie A Walk To Remember.

Ethan had come over to Y/N’s house the day after getting their roles, her father seeming practically disgusted by him as he sat in the living room awaiting her. Her father stared him down with crossed arms.

“You know Ethan, I know you’ll be spending some time with my daughter because of this play but that doesn’t mean I particularly like it.” Ethan kept his gaze on the ground. “I see you, I hear of you, I watch you at church, you’re not meant for my daughter, so think before you act when you’re around her.”

“Yes sir.” He gulped. He and her father heard footsteps descending down the staircase and both looked away from each other, her father walking away into the kitchen. Y/N gave a slight smile and looked to Ethan.

“Ready?”

The big night, the play’s opening. Everyone had been working so hard to make it a fun filled nostalgic play. Even Ethan surprisingly. He was scared of course, since all of his friends were in the crowd tonight sitting front row with their phones out to video tape his probably horrid performance. He was shaking backstage, holding onto his fake fur around his body and looked like he might even rip it off. His breath hollowed and barely coming out as he stared at the floor. Y/N noticed and shyly walked over in her first costume, the white and blue dress with her hair tied back in a low ponytail. Ethan felt her warmth radiating onto him and looked up, but instead of saying anything, he just took his bottled water and drank half of it.

“It’s always nerve-wrecking before your first show. Totally normal.” She tried to make small talk.

“But you don’t know my friends, they think it’s ‘so hilarious’ that I had to do this as punishment.”

“I’ve seen what you’ve become, don’t be so hard on yourself if things don’t go smoothly tonight.” She patted his shoulder with a thin smile and took her place behind the curtain as the lights dimmed down getting ready to start the show.

Y/N and Ethan had been meeting up with each other at her house after school so much that it became a routine and Y/N expected him to be at her front door at the same time every day. Their relationship became easier somehow, more relaxed and Ethan began to loosen up whenever it was just them two. It almost seemed like a real friendship. They laughed together when one of them messed up, they talked about things other than the play, and sometimes cut practice short and just hung out together in the living room talking about anything that came to mind. Y/N found her stomach getting tense when he rang the doorbell and her cheeks getting flushed when he looked directly into her eyes. She never showed it though, telling herself she couldn’t get attached under any circumstances. It’s not that she didn’t like Ethan or anything, but only if he knew why. He definitely doesn’t deserve to know and would cut her off so quick if he found out.

Ethan too found his palms sweating before she even opened the door and his voice cracking at the beginning of every practice. Was it nerves? Sure. Was he scared of her, someone that has done this before, making fun of him if he messed up? Of course. But was he also acting this way because some part of him liked being here for more reasons than just getting away from his everyday life? …He doesn’t quite know. Y/N had a certain soothing quality to her voice that made it hard for him to leave her house at 7 pm after their practice. He secretly wished she would ask him to stay for dinner, but he knew with confidence her father would never accept it, so he had no choice but to leave. Ethan still practiced at home in his room by himself. In a hushed voice he’d go over songs and scenes he knew he had more lines than others. His views on theatre drastically changed during his times by himself, cursing at how hard it actually was, and all this time he assumed sports were the top tier of pain, but theatre was so different. When he got down even a line or two it made him feel way more accomplished than any sport ever had. He even began focusing on his classes as well, putting more hours into his assignments and papers than anything else, sometimes leaving football practice early to do so. He withheld tests from his friends that pestered him, as they asked how he did on a certain geometry test, saying he got a D, when in fact he got a 90%. Of course, none of his friends could know that. Y/N saw from the other side of the classroom how his face lit up at the white piece of paper, but how it disappeared so quickly as he stuffed it into his backpack. Y/N knew that look all too well, her heart filled with joy for him. She was intrigued as to why he all of a sudden was trying in school but never pried, knowing her place in his life. She was just his leading lady on stage, a fictional role she so wished to fill.

It was the scene everyone was waiting for, the infamous slow dancing scene with the beautiful fluffy yellow dress that made Ethan swallow hard when he saw her on the other side of the stage from behind the curtain. He tried to snap himself out of it, picturing all of the other much sexier girls he had gotten with, but still nothing compared to how she looked now. Curled hair, the dress that hugged her just perfectly. He didn’t want to admit that he was strongly attracted to her at this moment, but who was he kidding, everyone in the crowd would be too if they were in his shoes.

He heard the music begin and both emerged from backstage looking straight at each other, a genuine smiling upon both of their faces. Y/N acknowledged that Ethan was attractive, for as long as she could remember, but tonight it stood out to her and practically slammed her against the wall without warning. Even as a beast, he was the most handsome guy in the room. However, this was strictly for the play, so she calmed down her thoughts, and did what she had to do; slow dance.

As both started to dance, Ethan’s eyes couldn’t break from hers. Something about the way the stage lighting made her brown eyes seem ever lighter than his hazel ones, even though she had eyes as dark as night, tugged at his heart strings. Her lashes fluttered like Bambi, her lips wore pink that made them look full and plump. They somehow moved closer, and Y/N could feel his breath on her forehead. She didn’t dare look up and get lost in his features, scanning over every perfect crevice he possessed. She picked up on his stare and wondered if it meant more than that. She remembered all the times he picked on her with his friends, made her feel like she was lower class than him and ignored her when she tried to talk to him. Ethan Dolan was a bully and only cared for himself, could he ever actually care for another?

It was a week before opening night, and Y/N thought it would be a good idea to ask Ethan to practice an hour earlier this week to really prepare. She walked over to him and his friends holding a book close to her chest, making direct contact with Ethan.

“Hey Ethan. I was thinking we’d practice for the play earlier today than usual since the play is next week, what do you think?”

They all gave her weird looks, whispering to each other asking why she was even talking to them. She hugged the book closer to his chest in intimidation.

“I think…you should get lost.” He said plainly, only looking up at her for a split second before looking back at his phone uninterested. His friends all laughed with wide mouths at his comment and demeanor, scuffing at her.

Y/N got the hint and simply nodded before scurrying off to her locker. Her cheeks flushed and she felt like she could cry, but every time she felt the need to, she just remembered what her mother use to tell her: they can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.

It had always been that way between the two. Y/N constantly trying to be friends with him, even with the most unlikely people, and them shutting her down. She was never good at it for some reason. She always blamed it on herself rather than the people around her. Even when she says hi to people, they practically tell her nobody wants her here and leave it at that. She believed it partly, but as long as she had her father that’s all she needed. He took care of her once her mom passed away and was her best friend. Family meant way more to her anyway.

Ethan suddenly was flooded with memories of when he’d bump Y/N into lockers for fun, call her trash as he walked by her locker, and even dumped her books and bag into the trashcan during lunch. She never cried or said a word, but he could always tell she was hurting. In the moment, when he was with all of his friends, he didn’t care, the laughter of other students around that praised him mattered. She never did anything wrong to him, she was always nice to him and helped him when he needed it, especially recently. And with the way she looked tonight he couldn’t help but suddenly feel a wave of regret, wanting to somehow make it up to her.

As the music died out and the lights dimmed into a single spotlight on the pair, the audience sat in anticipation. Time stood still, when he quickly leaned in for a soft lingering kiss on her lips. He couldn’t allow himself to go further. He slightly leaning in before pulled away to look at her expression; a look of horror and confusion flowing from her eyes. Her mouth laid agape, instantly freezing up as a kiss was NOT a part of the play. Ethan could feel his friends staring daggers at him on stage, and it didn’t help that Ethan’s ex-fling sat directly in the middle of the front row, crushing her playbill in her hands. For more than a few seconds you could only hear the high buzzing noise in the atmosphere, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Y/N and Ethan didn’t know what to do next other than the lines for the ending of the play, but after that kiss each time either of them spoke they either stuttered or took too long to think of what to say, confused faces on everyone in the theatre, even their teacher.

The play ended and many people came up to the prince of the night, for taking on this character so seriously and delivering a great performance. His mom, brother and sister were among the last to see him since he was bombarded by people after the show.

“Honey! You did so great, what a transformation.” His mother burst with pride.

“Yea bro, not bad, I was thoroughly impressed.” His sister gave him a side hug and playful asked him to sign her playbill. Grayson, even though just as mean as Ethan, gave his brother a bro-handshake, congratulating him and saying he actually liked the play as a whole, even though it was the ONLY play he had ever attended at school. They all waved goodbye to him, going home for a late dinner. Ethan said he would see them at home but said he had to do something before leaving. He was going to find her, explain to her his sudden choice to kiss her and find out how she felt. But about 30 minutes later, after surfing through a sea of people to find his Belle, he realized she had left as soon as the curtain closed.

The next day at school wasn’t all that much better. Ethan’s friends constantly mocked him and some of the lines he said that made them laugh. He didn’t pay any mind to it, as his mind was stuck on finding her. He had finally stumbled upon her during lunch, sat at her usually table all by herself by the back window, reading a book they were assigned in English class. Ethan strolled up to her and sat down with a slight smile directed at her. She, however, was too preoccupied with ignoring him that she huffed at his presence then took a sip of her drink.

“Hey Y/N, uhm…what are you reading?” He asked shyly, the roles becoming reversed.

“Is this your way of small talk Dolan?” She spat.

“I’m just trying to be nice for once to you Y/N, you didn’t deserve my bullying, you were always so nice and helpful.” He pleaded with her.

“The play is over, okay? You don’t have to kiss my ass anymore, literally.” She whispered the last part, eyes still not daring to look up at him.

“Look, over these past few months I’ve done so much more good than bad, and it was all because of you. You’ve helped change me Y/N. I like you, okay?”

“I think that’s a bunch of bull.” Her eyes quickly darted to his, giving him a look of ‘go the fuck away now’.

“Which part of all that?” He said angrily.

“All of it!”

“But it’s not!” Some people sitting around them looked up, practically puking at the fact that the schools most loved senior was talking, let alone sitting, with the garbage that was Y/N.

“Then prove it.” She said calmly, picking up her school bag and walking out entirely.

Ethan called out for her until they reached the front steps of the school, fast walking to keep up with her and shouting her name.

“Y/N! C’mon Y/N please hear me out!”

“Ethan what did I tell you! I told you not to like me!” She nearly cried out, smashing her fists onto his chest in frustration.

“You know what? I’ve figured you out. Now I know why you told me that 3 months ago.” He said, getting into her face.

“Oh yea and why’s that?” She cocked her head.

“Because you’re scared someone might actually like you for you and want to be with you. Then, you wouldn’t be able to hide away behind your books, your church choir or your clothing choices.” She stood there still, a comeback not in her grasp as she knew he was right. She hid behind the non-constricting dresses and sweaters she wore, behind the books that gave her a new reality, and her church choir; where even though she had solos all of the time, she stood in the back behind a guy just a few inches taller than her. Y/N tried to free herself from Ethan before he tugged back on her to look at him.

“No, you want to know the real reason you’re scared? It’s because you want to be with me too.” She quietly gasped, was it obvious? Was it seen in plain sight that Y/N was head over heels for the once bad boy that made her cry? Without another word she gets into her car and slams the door, laying her head on her steering wheel keeping her from crying as Ethan watched. He told himself to give her space and time, maybe it was all too much for her to take in. He was the first to kiss her, the first to confess his feelings to her. If only he had told her before how he had always liked her secretly deep down inside, how things could’ve been so different. If only he could tell her he knew more about her than he led on and loved every little part. But they come from different edges, pointing in different directions. And Ethan didn’t know where to start when it came to telling her just how strongly he felt for her.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 19

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Read chapter eighteen

Title: A Powerful Motivator

Words: 5600

Summary: How could you have ever known? You couldn't. You have to accept that.

ST Rambles: Hello newcomers. I hope you all have enjoyed the story so far. And if this is the first update you're receiving. Well. So sorry. If you've gotten this far you already know there's a lot of pain and angst here. 

I very much hope this chapter had the effect I wanted. Please tell me your thoughts and reactions! Thank you for reading!

[MASTERLIST]

Only when the elevator doors had shut did the two men unhand you, the absence of their detention obvious as the tissues they’d bitten into amplified with your pulse. The crimson captors stood silently, soullessly, at either of your shoulders, posture so strict not even their armor shifted as you were propelled upwards. If they hadn’t been so obvious in their initial pursuit you were sure if you tried hard enough you could convince yourself you were alone, believe this was any other day and you weren’t venturing towards the Supreme Leader of the First Order. The latter half was true; you were only moments away from encountering Snoke. Though, however many people resided in the blaring white of the elevator, you knew you were wholly and entirely alone no matter what.

There was no floor indicator, clueing you into the fact that there was only one intended destination of this trip. Eternity clawed into the stunned flesh of your lungs, the ride simultaneously taking forever and going too quickly. The only scenario you could imagine waiting for you was one of the premature finality of your life; whatever mangled state of your body that would satisfy Snoke was only to be collected once your soul had left in the wake of his fury. Thinking of how the only people who’ve ever met him at such a low rank as you was blood-stilling; there were only stories of demise, grave retellings of endless officers never leaving the doomed automatic doors. Though you’d anticipated at least another month before you’d take your last breath, the closer you came to meeting the superior of superiors you reconsidered that date, your mind racing to think of every last statement you’d made to those you cared for. Would the last familiar face you’d ever see really be that of a nameless physician as he knelt over your co-worker’s seizing body? Nothingness crowded the corners of your attention, too many regrets and unfulfilled wishes tearing through every last gnarled second you had.

The two goons took hold of you again, this time instead gripping into your axillae and elbows. The gesture was suspicious, laced with motives unknown to you when they didn’t apply pressure. They were waiting on something they’d come to expect, or something they’d been instructed to anticipate. Whichever it was, you couldn’t see a reason to struggle against them; there was no escaping this, there was no way around your fate here. The only things left to do were endure and survive, and you weren’t even sure how much control you had over either at the moment.

The first set of doors hissed open as the diagonal split revealed a second, the perpendicular opening of the outer set offering a shutter-like introduction to the room. In the first half second of taking in your new surroundings, not even having left the elevator yet, your lungs shriveled in on themselves as a ragged strike of unadulterated pain rang through your skull. With every last remaining breath came an unintelligible utterance of curses and shrieks. It felt like every sutured connection of your skull was coming apart, your ears ringing with a piercing screech while your throat shredded against every new scrambled soundwave. The only thing keeping you vertical was the guards’ support, your legs forgetting their purpose as each nerve ending twisted in torment. White hot fury licked at each synapse until your head seemed it would implode, sound no longer registering as the worst of it fringed out over your spine and down your tailbone, eyes searing into the impossible agony behind pinched lids.

Torture had a knack for disproving the existence of time; it was unclear how long you’d been screaming when your ears tuned back in, hearing the remnants of a desecrated voice as it faltered into heavy heaves of breath. The armored soldiers were seemingly trained in the ramifications of this event, only releasing you when you had just enough strength and consciousness to support yourself, vision coming back slowly as a loud clack and hiss came from behind. Gathering the rest of your bearings you spun to find the exit had locked and the two guards had their staffs – equipped with electric blades at the tips – locked into an X behind you, further silent explanation of just how trapped you were.

“You’ll excuse the insurance,” a booming, slithering, rattled voice came, commanding every nerve ending to fire at once, every life-sustaining system halting simultaneously. “I can’t risk this meeting getting back to your Master, now can I?”

The guards took a step forward, your own feet stumbling backwards as they ushered you further into the room. There was a walkway, at least ten paces long and five wide, which mirrored the dusky red coming from the overhead lights. The room was incredibly dark, shadows billowing from each support lining the expansive space. Taking one last backward step, your shoe scuffed against the black-mirrored tile, a jumpstart to your heart as you caught view of the true enrapturement that enveloped you currently.

The far wall was a muted red, light evading it as it stretched upward, eventually becoming indistinguishable from the shadow-thick ceilings. Beside you were two railings, only ending when the walkway opened into a geometric stage. Saliva abandoned your mouth when you pictured being cast down into the unknown emptiness which framed you at either side. Drawing closer, harsh-yet-steady steps forcing you forward, an undeniable dread formed at the sight of several torture-entailing apparatuses scattered about the arena; two platforms rose slightly from the floor, mirrored in their placement as two more hung just above them. For all you knew, one of them would be your likely demise.

There was power in giving the Supreme Leader your attention, so instead you focused on that which framed him, feeling a nauseating sense of violation as his stare seeped into your presence. Six red-armored men framed him, three on either side, all of which held various versions of the weapons which buzzed behind you, a warning raging on as each zap rippled new goosebumps into your scalp. Without a single mistaken glance, your eyes traced the throne that framed your Supreme Leader; the grandiosity of its height intermixed with the cold architecture it stemmed from created an unease rooted in the discomfort  that something so dull and lifeless could emerge a sense of such utter intimidation.

A halo of bright white burst from below the cathedra, framing the symmetrical sterility just above the incline it sat upon. You’d passed the railing by now, losing a sense of hopeless protection in its absence. The only thing that quelled your fears of being catapulted into the abyss was the fact that it hadn’t happened already. Seemingly, given you were still breathing – though, the quality of each breath could be questioned – there was a purpose in your being here, an exception to the expendability with which the officers that came before you had been plagued.

The footsteps stopped, yours following suit just one pace ahead of them. Between your feet you studied the excruciating eyes peering back at you, wondering how much more pain or violence or trauma they could endure before they lost every bit of life they once held. It astonished you how bleak they’d already become, how unrecognizable you appeared in the glinting pool of ebony below. To look into your eyes now was to plead with the past, beg to go back, wish that you’d never crossed paths with Kylo Ren.

But then another thought, quick and biting and familiar, trickled into the blown reflected pupils: you couldn’t wholeheartedly make that request anymore. Even facing whatever haunting future Snoke would present, there was a rejection in considering never meeting your Master. Though he’d completely uprooted every aspect in your life, entirely deconstructed your every belief, in facing the unknown – whether it be death or something worse – you knew that part of you had grown to want him. To need him, even. A fog of regret clouded your vision when you remembered the last words you’d said to him. This doesn’t fix everything.

And maybe it didn’t, maybe you still held reservations to preserve whatever remaining self-respect you clung to. But if given the chance to go back ten minutes, to be in his arms again, to feel him so warm and so close? To instead forgive what he’d done, even if it meant compromising your pride? Right now, periphery dancing around the blurry frame of the Supreme Leader, you would take it without thought. If you were to be haunted by one last thing, let it be the pitiful nonexistence of your spine instead of the ache taking root imagining never seeing the black-winged Adonis which held your every thought.

“It’s disquieting,” Snoke said, introspection and examination flagrant on his tongue, “to feel familiar with such a young, useless officer.”

There was nothing left to look at, no more metallic stylings to admire. The last object of your attention sat before you atop the soulless steel, lounging lazily against the backing. He wore a robe dripping in gold-flecked thread, his lower body encased in the wrappings. At his waist sat a tie to keep the article tight against his abdomen, leading to the exceedingly low V of the robe’s opening. The skin that lied beneath was marbled in scars which echoed the remnants of a life lived in war. Though, given his rank, his authority, you already knew that to be true.

Talons sprung from bleak fingers, tips tracing into the fronts of either armrest in repetitive horizontal paths. The sight begged the question if he was entirely human, such an animalistic quality forcing your teeth together with fear. Quickly, though, inquiry was replaced with a blaring affirmation; the face that peered back at you incited astonishment of the coldest nature. Even then, was it even a face? Or just the personification of withered, battle-bludgeoned, venom-stained malice?

A shiver shook your chest, eyes too enthralled in the chaos of features to care about social niceties. Agony tinged into your blood, eyes blinking back the sight of the knots of flesh constructing his neck, burrowing notches creating pathways leading to an unknown you’d prefer not to think about. Half his face chinked into itself, a hollowed-out cheek splaying into stretched, melded strings of scarred skin. An asymmetrical mount of flesh stood where his nose supposedly was, two crystal-clear sea green eyes lopsided at either side of it. Above the caverns of his sockets laid a semi-centered gash sinking unsettlingly far into his scalp.

Though he’d done nothing to provoke it other than exist, you feared him. Briefly you considered if he’d become this way purposefully, wondering if his outward appearance worked advantageously towards his goal at inciting sheer terror in his victims. In the comfortable distance you fought to keep your jaw shut, senses overpowered by the gnarled suggestion of life founded in your Supreme Leader.

He tore through your first and last name in guttural pronunciation, metal walls screaming back the echo of your name as it reverberated from his mouth into your soul. “Ranked forty-eight out of one hundred and twenty graduates. Born to no one of acclaim. Heir to nothing. Yet, provider to my prodigy.” He still sat back, words clawing into you as you imagined his talons could. “Why do you think that is, officer?”

Swallowing against your throat, spit nowhere to be found, your lips parted in hesitance, not knowing if he actually wanted you to answer. He said nothing, eyes scraping over your stature with every suffocating second you took before speaking. “Supreme Leader,” you faltered out, thoughts barely forming. “It’s an honor to-,”

“I have no time for pleasantries or half-witted pleadings.”

“Sorry sir – err, Supreme Leader. Won’t happen ag-,”

“It will be to your benefit to only speak when spoken to.” His glare withered every remaining fragment of hope which resided just behind your eyes. “Now, tell me, why do you think you have the position that you do?” Every word slithered from him in an encrypted riddle.

Trembling fingers flexed at your sides, your heart racing into indiscernibility. “I was chosen by Commander Ren. I know this.”

“Precisely.” He brought his dusk-tinted claws in front of him, bringing their tips together to form a sharp angle. “Have you ever questioned your placement? Wondered why you weren’t vetted for the assignment?”

“In the beginning, yes.”

“Not anymore, though, no?”

It was obvious he was leading you into a trap, though you didn’t know why. “No.” Simple answers offered the most protection from such a predator as Snoke.

A low, rolling hum of gravel came from his throat, his mouth forming into a knowing smirk. The sight stabbed through your sternum. “It’s fortunate that I’ve chosen to make use of you. Calculated answers don’t bode well here, I’d suggest being more forthcoming before I change my mind.”

Pulling your lips into your teeth, you stared into the reflected blue mirroring you. “I found it questionable that I would be chosen for such an esteemed position, yes. I struggled with it for nearly two months while being assigned to my Master. I’ve since overcome whatever doubts I had.”

“It seems you shouldn’t have—” he brought his arms back down, fingers molding against the stark angle of the armrest while he leaned forward slightly “—given your upcoming trial and the events which preceded it. How much longer do you have before your initial hearing?”

“One week, sir. Exactly seven days from today.”

“And how do you suspect that will go, officer? Any early predictions? Gut feelings?”

Though you knew he wasn’t anywhere near you, his appearance – cunning and close-chested – suggested he had taken residence in your head, his questions barely questions and instead breadcrumbs. “I trust the Board will make an educated, unbiased decision. However they end up voting.”

“And the sentencing, the only thing in question is your license, yes? Nothing of more… consequence?”

This was no time to have a smart mouth, though your tongue tingled to question his motives. “My license will be revoked no matter the judgement I receive,” you said, listening as the truth slit through your efforts to avoid it, knowing completely he was making you do so purposely, “I’m being tried for my life.”

“Hm. Remind me, girl,” the way the identifier purred out sent a shudder down your arms, “how did this all start? What did you do to prompt such an uproar?”

He knew all of these answers already, only asking them to see you squirm, to force you to acknowledge his authority. “I took supplies from my Master without the proper permission to acquire them.” He didn’t want or need to hear your argument surrounding the ordeal.

“Certainly a competent professional such as yourself would have good reason to do so, correct?”

A huff of indignant air nearly escaped at the suggestion. “Not one good enough, apparently.” A flash of the man’s face came before you, remembering the way warmth flooded over your fingers while compressing his neck.

“Ah, but you disagree.”

Staring back at him, you could feel the coaxing of his implication, your eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “My thoughts are of no importance, Supreme Leader.”

A contained frenzy lit his expression before he slowly stood from the desolate throne. “Don’t discount yourself entirely, officer. Your thoughts are of much value at the moment,” the robe moved fluidly against him, like it was anatomically attached to his physique.

“How do you mean?” It was growing difficult to keep his stare, wanting nothing more than to drill your eyes to the floor.

“Maybe not your thoughts directly, but thoughts that resemble your presence, your frequency per se.” He formed another pyramid in front of his chest, eyes narrowing into you as he paced on the inclined platform. “However unknowingly, you have become quite the obstacle in Ren’s focus.”

“Sir?” He wasn’t making sense. Whatever he thought had to be a misunderstanding.

“It’s only recently become an issue of mine, hence why I allowed it for so long. And your disruption has proven an asset, in a way turning my disadvantage to an equitable benefit.”

There was no other respectable way to tell him you didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, so you stood there, eyes tracking his patterned steps while he kept you locked under his own. “Such a young, impressionable officer. The odds were against you to begin with, so I can see the allure his power had, see how you could be so ignorant to the consequences of your decision. Well, I suppose it wasn’t your decision alone, was it?”

A furious intuition rang in your ears to keep still, to disallow any reactions to his speech, to try and tune it out completely if you could. He was walking you down a dangerous path of admission. Again you stayed silent, barely breathing now.

“I suppose I should make my point.” He stopped moving in his repetitive paths and began the descent towards you, your pulse rioting in your chest. “You are to stop all relations and contact with your Master, Commander Ren. Professional or otherwise.”

That momentary intuition turned into a permanent mental siren, skin burning as you realized Snoke knew; he knew about you and Kylo, and you didn’t know how much or how long or how or why. The only thought that could form was one of complete infraction upon your privacy. Paranoia catalyzed a brewing insanity, inwardly questioning ever interaction you’d had with your Master, backtracking routes to imagine any covert cameras or onlookers. If Snoke knew, so did the Board. This solidified your execution. This stole your future. And all you could think of was how stupid you’d been to believe it would’ve resulted in anything other than your own pain and suffering.

“Of course I hate to be the one to get in the way of young love, but-,”

“What? I don’t love him.” The objection came before the words had formed in thought, fast and fumbled as you rejected his phrasing.

Snoke’s face fell to a disinterested snarl, his steps leading him ever closer as his robe draped off of him, smoke following fire. “I don’t care about the details, only that your existence in Commander Ren’s—” a small, terrible smirk turned his expression sinister “—Kylo’s, I suppose, life has begun to distract him from his duties.”

“And how would you know any of this is true? What if you’ve received false information?”

“Speak when spoken to, girl!” He flung out a hand, with it coming the most intense blockade to oxygen you’d ever experienced, blood immediately pounding against your skull. “Did you really think it was a coincidence you were the only officer to receive a letter upon arrival to the Finalizer? Did you think yourself so entirely special and set apart that I, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, would care enough – or at all – to welcome the most lackluster provider in the program?” He was full on roaring, ears pierced with each booming, malicious redundancy.

He began to circle you, your feet lifting from the floor as the Force continued to steal your breath. “It made no sense for Ren to request such a subpar provider as you, so I gathered intel, placed surveillance of my own, formed a team to compile all the information and present it to me when it became an issue as I knew it would from the beginning.”

Heaves of wordless pleas came as you gripped onto your own throat, clawing at hands that weren’t there, vision blackening as time went on. “I’ve watched you, seen your friends, listened to your conversations.” A hysterical, crazed laugh bellowed from him, the scraps of skin over his neck bouncing in rhythm. “You didn’t even think twice about being the only provider to live with her Master. Didn’t even have the brainpower to suspect something was off. Stupid, emotional girl.” The darkness in the clear blue of his eyes was unsettling, like there was no soul behind them at all. “You are not, and will never be, special. You will only ever be the start and end of the issue.”

By now your lips were surely blue, the vessels in your eyes on the verge of explosion, but he was relentless in his point. “You’ve quite the stamina, though I regard there isn’t much choice involved,” he said, sly staining his features. “I could be wrong, given I’ve only heard a few of your… interactions, and viewed just one. Though, I can’t believe you’d want anything to do with him after the incident last month.”

If it could, blood would be filling your cheeks with a desert heat fueled by the fires of embarrassment and disgust at the thought of Snoke knowing about your relationship, let alone hearing you, seeing you, have your will taken away. Every sexual interaction you’d shared with Kylo ran quick and fleeting across your fading sight, wondering which ones he was referring to, simultaneously wanting to know and to never think of the fact ever again. Although the invisible grip kept strong around your neck, you felt the urge to vomit, to reject completely the knowledge he’d just given you.

“Trial this, door that, practice this, Robbie that. All of these things lie just below the forefront of his mind, distractions from his true responsibilities. And they all focus around you and your pathetic, meaningless life.” Snoke bit off the words as spit sprayed in the low light.

Altogether his hand came down and your knees crumbled onto the floor below, the joints screaming in protest while your lungs flourished with new, vibrant gusts of oxygen. Palms pressed to the floor, spit coughing past your lips and onto your reflected face, you allowed your body to find equilibrium, all the while aware of the predacious nature of Snoke’s paces.

“What can I do that will fix any of this?” There was no longer a need to show respect, bluntness forming over your tongue now as hiccups of breath swelled in your chest.

“As I mentioned, you may have started this ordeal, but you will be the one to end it as well.” His steps stopped just in your periphery, a long pause forming between you, his own reflected face just feet from yours. “I’ve chosen to take this as an opportunity to both refocus Ren and reinforce his priorities, and you’ll find this arrangement will be beneficial to the both of us,” his pitch rose just enough as he said your last name to run creeping chills down your arms.

“If I’m such a wrench in your plans, why not just kill me? Wouldn’t it be easier?” Sitting back on your heels you rubbed your temples, vision still not wanting to focus.

“Easier, yes. Though, ending your life would barely serve to my advantage. I don’t understand why, but Ren is rather invested in you. To kill you would be to make him my enemy, and I still have use for him and his legacy as of now.”

“I will never, ever, do your dirty work. You disgust me.” Blinking back in the light, his second face met the first and aligned into one solid image, your pulse still pounding in your ears.

“Don’t make up your mind so fast, officer. I believe once you hear the exchange I’ll make for your compliance that you will be more than eager to join forces.”

He was the most repulsive being you had ever laid eyes on, or ever had to exist with that you’d ever met; a disgusting, selfish, transactional man – still up for debate – who only did anything to advance his own agenda. It was easy to identify what amplified the blood in your veins, to know the culprit that prickled your cheeks in rage. Within you, staring up at this thing, all you knew was how overwhelming the feeling of pure, centered, unrivaled hatred was when it rooted at your sternum and spread until every cell in your body screamed in protest at his presence.

“Even if you did have anything I’d ever want, I would never accept it. I have a duty to protect and serve my Master. Only him. Never you.”

“You’re more oblivious than I thought,” he said, beginning his circling again as you listened to the shifting echo of his voice. “I suppose I’ll put two-and-two together for you: in exchange for your gracious compliance, I will ensure you come out of your trial with not only your life – however small and pointless it may be – but also your license to practice.”

He stopped behind you, your face hidden from his observance. The two guards stood firm in their blockading of any exit, the two open abysses free to jump into anytime, though you didn’t believe you held the courage to off yourself. Someone else would need to do it. You wished someone would, now.

Devastation cut into your intestines as you realized you had begun to consider his offer; to your utter disturbance, he held exactly what you wanted, what you knew you needed. A guarantee so grand could only be made by a man of his caliper, the strings he held both incredibly invisible yet impressive in their multitudes. Snoke had the power to make this part of your life disappear, to pluck you out of this misery like it never happened in the first place. But as you regarded earlier, you didn’t know if you wanted to leave the entirety of this season, portraits of perfect lips flickering into your thoughts and reminding you of the compliance you’d be tasked with, noting Snoke had yet to explain it.

Swallowing, hating yourself for considering him, you closed your eyes. “If I accepted, what would I need to do?”

“When you accept, you would simply have to quit Ren’s service. Tell him the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Tell him how he disgusts you. How everything he does, every person he kills is makes you sick. Tell him how he’s an irredeemable bastard who isn’t worthy of your… care. Tell him how for the past month it was easier to hate him than it was to breathe. It’s that simple.”

A terrifying ripple of regret tore through you, inwardly regarding how all of those things had been true. They had been. However long ago it was now, though, this morning had worked to undo nearly all of those damages. “You know it’s not simple,” you bit back a derogatory name, still aware of the bottomless pits framing the platform, “why does it have to come from me? Why can’t you tell him? Or Hux? Why does it have to be me?”

“You are the key, officer.” He came back into view, his presence prompting you back to your feet, arms crossed and face flat. “If anyone else were to inform him, it would be clinical. Corporate. You and I both know Ren isn’t keen on being told what to do, especially when there is no reason for him to do so.”

Slowly your heart was coming down, fingers digging into your arms as he continued to speak. “But from you, oh from you,” he emphasized, his tone growing in volume and exuberance, “it will be a personal attack on his soul. For someone he regards with such admiration, though ill-placed and confused, to tell him they don’t want him…”

“It will break him,” you finished the thought, voice a broken whisper.

“And in turn undo the damage you’ve caused. Something I’ve come to realize in my lifetime: betrayal is a powerful motivator.”

Was it selfish to believe that what you’d caused wasn’t damage? To choose to view how his thoughts caressed you as something wonderful and worthy of cherishing instead of a plague which poisoned him? To even have that knowledge now incited the light from a million stars. To know that his stunt last month was brought on by doubts placed by the same man who was recruiting you to hurt him in an irreversible way was to feel your heart piece back together. He really hadn’t wanted to, but in some way he was made to. Within your chest lied an immeasurable amount of disgust, eating away at your withering resolve. Not for Snoke, but for yourself. Taking any opportunity to stall your decision, you fought back tears while inquiring further.

“And if I choose not to? What then?”

Snoke’s eyes momentarily lit, surprise quickly returning to a shuddering contempt. “You would die for him? Give your life for Kylo Ren, the one who made you-,”

“Don’t you dare say anything about that night. You’re the one who instigated his actions, I know it.”

Like it had been there all along, a bright white fury shone against your face, the clean blade of Snoke’s lightsaber buzzing just next to your ear. You listened as hair singed off, smelled as it blew down to your shoulder in its fried state.

“Even so,” he said, apathy palpable in his voice, “you asked what would happen if you refused? Well, it wouldn’t make sense for me to kill you here and now, debilitating any future opportunity I would have at using you to my advantage.”

The weapon’s heat started to burn against the sensitive skin of your face, its proximity prompting sweat at your hairline. “No, if you refuse me, blatantly renounce your Supreme Leader, I’d use much more effective, much more… personalized tactics.” He angled the lightsaber so its tip was just below your ear lobe, its vibrations lingering into the trembling skin over your neck. “Maybe first I’d finish what Ren couldn’t in that McCarty physician you like so much. Though I’d still ensure you endured your trial, even when I would make it impossible for the Board to grant you your life. Maybe even arrange to execute you myself,” he narrowed his eyes, “or, I’m sure Ren would have no problem volunteering himself after I tell him how you informed me of your affair in an effort to quit his service.”

A rage-stuttered laugh came from your chest. “You’re the irredeemable bastard.”

Snoke snarled once more before quieting the white fury of his blade, your sight inking in its absence. “This is a one-time offer, girl. Don’t let the urgency of your youth blind you from your reality.”

It only angered you more that he was making sense. “And what would that be?”

The flesh at his jaw set uncomfortably against his healed injury. “You have something I need, and I have something you need. It’s simple business.”

“Nothing about this will ever be simple.” The phrase was vacant in tone and broken with acceptance.

He knew he was about to get what he wanted. “Do we have a deal, officer?” He extended his decrepit hand, a notion of finality.

Shaking your head, one single tear – hot and betraying and shattered – ran down your cheek, your head a concoction of torment. You didn’t want to do this at all, but just as he’d done to Kylo, Snoke wriggled your head full of contradicting truths. Truths you had worked hard to suppress, truths which lied dormant until now. A half-skip in your heart bloomed from the thought of never spending another moment with your Master, a harrowing torrent of guilt as you regarded his verbalized trust, visualizing how entirely decimated it would be when this was over. Not even decimated. Completely obliterated. Like it never existed in the first place.

“When does this have to be done by?” you whimpered, hand falling into his before his knotted joints cracked into your knuckles.

“By the end of today, if Kylo Ren hasn’t returned to his focus, your trial will become the biggest waste of time and currency the galaxy will ever bear witness to.” He dropped your hand, clasping his together within the confines of his robe, turning back to his throne. “Take her away.”

Not that you were aware, physically or mentally, your arms were ceased once more as your feet dragged lifelessly below you, face stunted as hatred burned below the surface, floods of shame and loathing dripping down your neck and staining into your uniform. The trip back down seemed impossibly short, though you didn’t know if that was due to its direction or your indifference. Before, your only thought had been never leaving from Snoke’s presence. Now, as you stared into the bustling crowds of the Finalizer, the doors locking shut behind you as your earlier captors vaulted back to their leader, your only thoughts were focused on the harm you were indebted to cause. A pain that scraped against the very foundation of your being. A pain you were now required to deliver.

“Hey, stranger!” Mason came out of nowhere, his cheery voice violent against your somber ears.

“I can’t talk right now, Mason,” you said, hiding your face and turning towards the Elite lobby.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? Did Ren do some-,”

“Go away, Mason!”

He caught you by your wrist, your arm lurching back towards him before he caught view of your crushing expression. He lulled your name, eyes dancing over your features. “What is this about? Your trial?”

Lips trembling and brow creased, you yanked your arm from his. “Don’t worry about the trial, Mason. It’s handled.”

Turning away from him you dashed into the crowds. “What does that even mean?” Mason shouted at you.

A heave crested your back, face split in an agonizing grimace while you licked salty tears from your mouth. It wasn’t meant for him to hear, only saying it out loud to solidify the reality Snoke had pointed out.

“It means I have to go home.”

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

A Regular Keats and A Regular Mozart

PART TWO OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: plentiful pop culture references, teasing fluff, a slow burn at its core

Word Count: 3K

Summary: Jess and Ella bask in boredom and argue over various authors.

Evening light waned in the Connecticut sky. Ella watched the stars appear slowly, in her usual corner table near the windowed wall at Luke’s. She’d tried to get through her calculus homework three times, but eventually her brain would start frying and she would have to take a break. Lane would have been with her, but she was grounded yet again. So, Ella was flying solo. It didn’t bother her. Most days she wasn’t on shift, she ended up at the small corner table anyway, pouring over her textbooks with occasional interludes for tea and a burger around dinnertime. Luke had long since cleared away her dishes and left her by her lonesome.

After a few unproductive minutes, watching the townspeople walk by, she glanced at her watch and found it was nearly half past eight. The twinkling string lights illuminated the main streets and the town’s gazebo. It was beautiful. No matter how many times she sat and watched the cozy yellowish glow envelope Stars Hollow night, she never got tired of it. She had a decent view of the sky from her bedroom window at home, but Luke’s view of town was far better. It was one of the many reasons she preferred to spend her nights away from the little blue house near the edge of town.

She had just gone back to the nearly illegible problem below her when Jess’s knuckles rapped on her table. A nervous blush crept up on her freckled cheeks though she hadn’t visibly startled. Her heart had still skipped a beat at the noise. He sat down across from her without being invited, a smirk on his face and an apron around his hips.

“What are you doing here? You’re not on shift today,” he asked. The sarcastic twinkle had never left his eyes the entirety of the time they had been working together thus far.

“I like to study here on my days off,” she told him, her pencil still in her head. She debated ignoring him and going back to her notes, but decided to humor him for at least a few minutes. Apparently, it was the first time he hadn’t been out raising hell on an evening shift she wasn’t working. It had been a part of her routine for so long, she found it odd anyone would be surprised to find her there on a free weeknight. “What are you doing sitting down here when you’re supposed to be working?”

Jess chuckled a little. “Thursday nights apparently aren’t too big around here. Luke’s already closing it up. I just clocked out.” He paused to untie his apron and throw it over his shoulder, as if to prove his point. “I knew this town was boring, but damn. Do you really not hang out anywhere else on your days off besides the place you already work?” he asked.

Ella shrugged, looking down at her work again. Just the sight of it made her insides squirm in frustration. “There’s places to go.”

“Well, could you let me in on them?”

Pursing her lips, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Hm?”

“Show me around. Apparently you know of some interesting spots, and I haven’t found any yet.”

She scoffed. “You’ve been here almost a month and no place in Stars Hollow has piqued your interest at all?”

“No,” he told her nonchalantly. Though he didn’t continue, she only stared at him suspiciously. Sighing through his nose, he produced a deck of cards from the pocket of his jeans. He fanned them out in front of her, the deck with wrinkles and scuffed spots on the royal blue designs. “Pick a card.”

Instead of going along with his trick, she rolled her eyes dramatically and shut the textbook in front of her. “Why don’t I just cut this magic show short and give you the world’s fastest tour?”

“Oooo, so impatient.” Jess pretended to be offended. “Homework makes you cruel.”

.   .   .

Arms crossed over her chest, Ella strolled down the dimly lit Stars Hollow sidewalk with her boots tapping pleasantly on the slightly damp cement, Jess alongside her. A November breeze blew past them, cooling her flushed cheeks. For the life of her, she could not figure out why he had asked her to show him around, she hated to admit to herself how antsy she was feeling. She would have regretted it more than she already did if she didn’t trust Luke so much. There was no fear in her heart, only anxiety and confusion. She could smell the autumn in the air. The wind swirled around them, forming a tiny tornado of dead leaves in the center of the street. A frosty bite, a crispness, had arrived about a week before. The snow would follow soon enough.

“That’s the bookstore,” she said, nodding over to Stars Hollow Books on the left as they neared it. “I’m gonna assume you’ve been there.”

Jess smiled proudly. “She’s a regular Sherlock Holmes.”

A little smirk crossed her face, brightening up her hazel eyes. In the light of the streetlamps, Jess could see the golden specks swirled in the pools of her greenish irises. The red glints in her loose blonde braid shone, too. A faded green messenger bag weighed down her right shoulder and an old peacoat was draped around her small frame. She wasn’t the shortest girl, but she was still nearly a head below him. After a moment, he broke his concentration from her form as she pointed out a large, barn-like building on the right.

“That’s Miss Patty’s. I’m sure you’ve done your best to disorder the peace in there, too. Steal a bunch of tutus of something,” she said, though her tone wasn’t angry, just knowing, verging on  a joke.

“I have not,” he assured her dramatically. “I am a stranger to that realm.”

She put her hands up in surrender. “Well, if you decide on the studio as your next target, you leave the piano alone, alright?”

“What’s so special about the piano?” he asked, his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets as the wind whistled once again.

“Nothing in particular. I play it for rehearsals sometimes when Mrs. Rothschild, the regular pianist, is out. The first two weeks you were here, she had a knee replacement and there was a recital, so I had to sub in. I had no time left to work at all. But Miss Patty gave me volunteer hours for school, so it was okay,” she explained. The rogue strands of hair blew away from her face, and Jess could see the frosted roses blooming on her freckled cheeks. Autumn had come with a particularly harsh chill.

“Huh,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Just spit it out, Mariano,” she pressed, her voice light.

“I just didn’t see you as a piano player,” he told her.

“Well, what’d you see me as? If you say tambourine, we’re never speaking again,” she warned, giggling slightly as she spoke.

Jess chuckled breathily in response. “I don’t know. Guitar, maybe.”

She hummed thoughtfully, nodding as though the assessment meant anything specific. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You should.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence between them, and she let her eyes longer on his shoes. His jeans were frayed at the ends, just a bit too long for him. It made her feel like smiling, though she didn’t quite know why.

“What’s New York like?” she asked out of the blue, passing by a few strangers as they walked. Soon, they would turn right, away from the edge of town and into the outskirts. Jess didn’t know it yet, but he was walking her home. She had a date with her dishwasher set for half past nine.

He tilted a sideways look at her. “You’ve never been?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never really been anywhere.”

The sentence struck a chord within him, deep in his gut. She didn’t look sad, and she didn’t sound it either, but something about the phrase she had uttered felt so devastated. Maybe even hopeless, but he didn’t let it shake his exterior. “Well, it’s loud. It’s flashy. You can buy sex for five dollars on every single street corner.”

Ella snorted a laugh. “Oh, then I’ll definitely have to make it there sometime.”

He smiled; her joviality was growing since she’d gotten her nose out of the calculus textbook. Clearing his throat, he took another shot, his tone more serious. “No, but, it’s really...it’s very alive. There’s always movement.”

“So, it’s the opposite of here?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” he agreed.

“You like it better there, I take it?”

“The understatement of the century.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said. In the back of her mind, she remembered she was supposed to be giving him a tour, but he didn’t seem to care that the conversation had veered from its original purpose.

Jess shrugged, cavalier. “It’s what it is.”

“How poetic of you,” she mocked. “You’re a regular Keats.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you like Keats.”

“You’re on dangerous ground,” she told him gravely. They had turned down a gravel road, lined with quaint houses, which seemed to decrease in quality the farther down one walked.

“I just wish he would make his points a little faster. Time is money, and poets almost never take that universal law into consideration,” he argued, a crooked smirk ever-present.

Sighing in disappointment, Ella began to speak with her hands. “It’s about taking the moment, taking the artwork, for the simple beauty of it. Just letting it wash over you, letting the words radiate out. Haven’t you ever read Portrait of the Artist?”

“I tried. Modernism is just poetry masquerading as fiction.”

Ella gasped dramatically, bringing her hands to her heart as though she were wounded. He could see her feigned grief in the light of the many street lamps which buzzed beside them. Apparently even far-off residential areas were alight in Stars Hollow. “Blasphemy!”

For perhaps the first time since they’d met, Jess laughed. A true, genuine laugh, free from his usual sardonic layering. It made a grin appear on Ella’s face, and she almost felt sorry when they reached the decrepit mailbox which read Stevens in faded black paint.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to take a raincheck on this tour,” she said, opening the box and checking for mail. There were a couple bills, and advertisements from various colleges she knew she wouldn’t be able to afford.

Jess sighed in defeat. “I have to say, you did a subpar job. You didn’t even point out the sock hop where the young men and women fraternize on Friday nights!”

She nodded, accepting his criticism. “Well, next time I’ll show you where to buy a malt for the girl you’re courting.”

“As you should,” he concluded.

Dropping the act, she furrowed her brows. “Can you make it back? Or have I led you too far down the road less traveled by?”

“I think I can manage,” he said.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“It appears that way.”

“I’ll have a Keats for you. Maybe a Dickinson, too,” she said, visions of her crowded bookshelf filling her head. “Though, you might not be ready for her yet.”

“Alright, but in exchange you’ll be receiving a Hemingway,” he warned, preparing to turn on his heel and begin the walk back to Luke’s.

“Hardly an even trade, but I’ll accept the terms.”

.   .   .

Jess sat behind the counter with a Kerouac held open in his right hand, the business rushing around him. The clock ticked rhythmically above the door, and when he looked up he saw it was a quarter to five already. He thought it odd Ella hadn’t arrived yet, but he shrugged it off. Why should he care where she was? Coffee steamed from the pot behind him, and the evening chatter was beginning to rise in volume. Over the past few weeks of living in the diner, he had learned not to make eye contact with any customer whatsoever, and he could usually get through a chapter or two in peace. About ten pages later, the door opened and Ella’s footfalls snapped heavily around, as she hung her coat and bag, then grabbed her apron from the back. He smirked as he watched her bustling around. She always seemed to be in a hurry, with her hair falling from whatever updo she pulled it back into before work. There were holes and runs in her stockings, but it matched the vibe of her plaid dress and combat boots well enough.

Clearing her throat, she took a moment to catch her breath when she reemerged and surveyed the busy diner. She grabbed her pad of paper from the pocket of her white apron, but found she could see no one in need of her assistance at the current moment.

“Something wrong, honey?” Jess piped up, teasing, though he didn’t take his eyes from the words before him.

She raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed. “Don’t call me that. And yes, I’m a very busy woman.”

“Well, color me impressed,” he drawled flatly. Then, after a moment, he put down his reading. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a thin, weathered book and held it out to her wordlessly.

A tired smile crossed her lips, taking her book back and running her thumbs over the familiar cover art. “Ah, my favorite. The formidable Miss Dickinson.”

“That she is,” he agreed, nodding as he cast his Kerouac off to the cabinet beside him. It had only taken him about two days to get through it, though he’d kept forgetting to return it to her. A wide grin blossomed on her face.

“You liked her?” she asked expectantly.

Nodding, Jess began refilling two or three of the customers’ coffee cups on the counter in front of them. “She certainly gets the message across much quicker than some others.”

“Well, at least you have some taste,” she said. “I’ve still got about fifty pages of the Hemingway. Not entirely unreadable, but I can definitely tell he was drunk for eighty percent of his life.”

“But that’s the beauty of it!” Jess urged.

“Man, and you were just starting to acquire an air of refinement. We’ll continue this again when you finish Keats and agree that I’m right,” she quipped, turning her view back to the customers.

“Well, get ready for the disappointment of a lifetime.” Jess could see her getting lost in her own, frazzled head and let his eyes longer on her, biting his lip and hiding a smirk.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Ella found a blue pen. On the other side, she found a pencil. Eventually, she discovered three more in her messy bun and shoved them in the pocket of her apron. She groaned softly at herself, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Jess chuckled. “What could possibly be giving you a headache on this lovely Friday afternoon in the utopia that is Stars Hollow, Connecticut?”

“Nothing,” she told him evasively, hands on her hips. Luke was chatting up the early birds. No one had come through the front door since she’d arrived, but she kept a trained eye in that direction. Either Babette or Miss Patty would show up soon enough. Likely Miss Patty, to grab some food before the seven o’clock meditation class, which mostly involved the students lying on the floor asleep.

“Oh, so nothing’s what made you forget about your five new pencil accessories?” he asked.

Rolling her eyes at his insistence, she finally turned back to him. “I had to go to New Britain to visit my aunt. She’s getting married and she’s making me play piano for it, for some ungodly reason.”

“Are you any good?”

She scoffed. “Oh, yeah, I’m a regular Mozart. No, I’m terrible.”

“Now, I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

“Trust me,” she told him. “When my mom taught me, I think she thought with enough time and energy I’d at least get halfway to her level. But, sadly, no dice.”

Jess was about to continue the conversation, the gears turning in his head for the next giggle-worthy quip, when Luke finally returned from arguing (shouting) with Taylor about Christmas decorations. It was still a whole week until December. And no one in the town save for Taylor was holding out any hope Luke would decorate at all the entire holiday season.

“Hey, Ella, how ya doin’?” Luke greeted her offhandedly, tearing a few tickets and giving them to Caesar in the back.

“She has a headache and is single-handedly ruining the piano as an instrument, apparently,” Jess informed his uncle on her behalf.

She nodded, then her eyes brightened when she saw Patty walk in, right on schedule. “Just this once, your nephew is correct. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

With a sardonic tilt of the head, she left the two of them behind. She pulled out one utensil from her wide writing arsenal and went over to greet Miss Patty, who made her lean down for a kiss on the cheek. Ella obliged, though red as a tomato. It shocked Jess how sweet she could be with the customers. Most of the time all he got was a razor-sharp tongue. She had a goodness within her he already knew he could never live up to. It made his heart do a little twist, though he would never in a million years let her know.

“Jess?” Luke asked, breaking his nephew out of his daze.

“Yes, Uncle Luke?” Jess replied, his usual sarcastic mask back on.

Luke sighed, but ignored Jess’s attempts to irritate him with the formal address. “Less staring, more working, alright?”

[eternadyne]

[ guard ] for your muse to step between my muse and danger | @aestuavis

I.

An unpleasantly metallic taste filled his mouth the moment his jaw connected with the other’s fist; his body swerving around like a ragdoll onto cold, hard cement.

The dazzling yellow suit he’d bought himself the day before was now anything but, what with all the mud and dirt and areas of torn fabric. His new shoes didn’t look any different from his old ones either, scuffed at the heels like he’d gone on an entire marathon in them in one night.

This wasn’t like him at all, and Zapp knew that. Were this any normal day, he would’ve already killed these bastards and been right on his way ——— but tonight was a special night, and he had vowed to himself to not get into any unnecessary trouble if he could help it. He wanted to stay clean.

                                      And yet, trouble found him anyway. Always.

The roaring laughter that escaped the men towering above him were all he could register when he tried to get up again, focused only on getting back what they’d taken from him while he was on his way to the theatre to meet up with Shino. It was a small blue box, containing a rather expensive piece of jewelry inside — something Zapp had saved up months for (only to be loaned the last couple of hundreds for it), but never told her about. ...Or anyone, for that matter.

                                                It was meant to be a surprise.

“Give it back,” he growled under his breath, eventually staggering back up with his hand gripping his arm. It’s not broken, thank goodness, but it doesn’t make the pain any less agonizing to deal with. “I don’t have the time or energy to fuck around with you losers right now.”

One of the aforementioned losers could hardly contain himself at the sight of him, chortling up a storm as he pointed his finger awfully childishly in Zapp’s direction. “Oh yeah? Says the guy who can barely stand!” So what the hell’re you gonna do about it, pretty boy — call the cops?

“Plus, you still owe us for lendin’ ya all that money, Renfro.” The other loser pops up from behind, slugging a metal pipe onto his shoulder no differently than a baseball bat. “Must be someone real special in your life if ya went and wasted it on some crummy ring.”

Zapp’s eye twitched violently, and his lips formed a deep grimace. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth and leave her outta this. Besides, I already told you I was gonna pay you back by next week—”

Another condescending laugh cuts him off mid-sentence. “—Yeah, yeah, as if y’even had that on your mind. Because this ain’t the first time you’ve screwed me over, I’m not waitin’ anymore.” The man then beckoned to the one with the pipe, telling him to get ready.                                                       “No more excuses.”

II.

“Never would I have imagined you to be the settling type, Renfro. You really think she’s the one?”

Snapped out of his excited reverie whilst looking at his options, Zapp shot an annoyed glare at the nosy clerk who had the balls to ask. There were times, like this one, that he wished his (infamous) reputation in this city wasn’t so damn widespread. Maybe then, people wouldn’t be in his business so much.

“Pipe down, clown ——— of course I do.” Now shut up and let me think.

He returns to looking at all the different rings on display, but feels too bedazzled by them all to really be able to choose. They were all pretty expensive, though — it seemed that was the only thing they had in common.

What would Shino like though? For someone who’s known her for so long—and here, he smiles in a braggy sort of way—he ought to know best; but in truth, he kinda didn’t. She was the type that seemed to consider any gift something to be treasured, regardless of quality... but Zapp wasn’t going for just anything. He was going for something big.

He was sick and tired of dreaming helplessly about it like an idiot———of picturing himself getting down on one knee, tying the knot, and moving away to the countryside with Shino and Valerie to escape the awfulness of the city. He was tired of dreaming about that freedom instead of actually living it, and after all this time of waiting he finally felt like he could pull it all off.

It gave him chills, just thinking about it; the thought of leaving all that he had ever knew. Hellsalems, Libra... and the final resting place of his first love. In a way, he almost regretted feeling so happy to pack up and go.

...However. Zapp had a daughter to raise. Mouths to feed. To die an early death on the job and leave Valerie alone would be breaking the promise he made upon Ashley’s grave. He didn’t even dare think about the possibility of losing Valerie himself... there were people here cruel enough to go after loved ones first.

It was decided long ago that he would leave so that they would live a better life ——— and with Shino, that once faraway dream felt like it could finally be true. She made him so happy, more than what words alone could describe. ....Even though she would inevitably outlive both Valerie and himself, it mattered not. He wanted to spend the rest of his days at her side.

His eyes waver over to a small silver ring with an even smaller purple gem on the front — a pretty little thing, glistening under the light in the display case. This one for sure, he thought, imagining himself slipping it on her for the first time and watching her gasp in total shock.

“Oh, Zapp — it’s beautiful!” He could hear her say, though it’s slightly (read, extremely)  exaggerated due to his insanely huge ego. “I love it so, so much — and I love you too. Marry me RIGHT NOW.”

                                                 “Ehehe... she’ll love it.”

Flagging down that dumb clerk again, his plan was beginning to set itself in motion.

III.

The first thought he had upon waking up was that this definitely wasn’t the movie theatre ——— and yet, there the TV was in the usual spot of the living room—

...Living room, eh? At his place? But Zapp could’ve sworn that he was still outside before. Outside and fully dressed too, because all he had on within the moment was a plain white shirt, shorts, and a bunch of bandages. He felt sore in some areas (especially his stomach), but otherwise... relatively fine. If not a little weirded out.

He was left lying on the couch with a soft blanket over him, warm and comforting as his eyes adjusted to the strange scenery of his own home. There were questions running rampant in his mind, such as how he’d gotten all the way back here in the first place... and most importantly, where that damned ring went.

But before he could get down to business in the sleuthing department, it’s the sight of Shino hovering over him from behind the couch that startles him silly ——— her eyes carrying nothing but pure relief.

“Zapp, you’re awake!” she said in an excited whisper, caressing his cheek and brushing a thumb over a bandage that’d been placed there. “How are you feeling?”

“...I-I....”

                                    Snap out of it, Renfro — she’s talking to ya!

“I’m feelin’ alright, but... why are you whispering?” he asked, also in a whisper. Shino seemed more than happy to answer as she circled around the couch to sit in front of him on the floor.

“Because it’s still nighttime. And Valerie’s fast asleep.” The girl was a light sleeper, and only recently stopped waking up in the middle of the night ever since Shino started living with them. “I’m just glad I was able to rescue you in time so that she wouldn’t wonder where you went...”

Zapp’s eyes bulged a little at the word ‘rescue’, gradually starting to make sense of things prior to his blackout. Those two men, that stupid pipe, and getting his most prized possession snatched from him. Damn horrible night, but it was better than being dead.

“...So I wasn’t just dreaming. That part actually happened.” ...Getting his ass whacked by a metal pipe... how utterly, utterly embarrassing. But more importantly—

“I thought you were already at the movies waitin’ for me by the time that happened. How’d you know I was... y’know. Dealing with that?”

Shino fell silent for a time, biting her bottom lip. It seemed to be one of those hard to explain, instinctual things. Something he understood well enough.

“...You’re usually super earlyfor all our dates, so when you didn’t show, I... decided to start looking. Something didn’t feel right.”

She then went on to explain how she had decided to backtrack that night to go out looking for him, even if that meant missing out on the movie itself. Something was telling her that things weren’t right, as she said before ——— and after about thirty minutes of searching, she thought she’d heard his voice ring out from an alleyway about a good block away.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first ——— but your voice was unmistakable.” And it was in pain. A lot of it.

She then told him how she had stepped in upon discovering him hunched over in a corner — having protected himself from most of the blows, but barely. How those men twisted around to look at her with such seering eyes, telling her to back off or else her little boyfriend wouldn’t live to see the light of day.

And then... Shino went silent again for a few minutes, as if recalling an awful memory of the past. Zapp noticed this, and told her she didn’t have to continue if she didn’t want to ——— but she was insistent on finishing.

“...Put simply, they’re both dead now. So you don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“...Dead? Like, dead dead?”

She giggled a little, feeling the weight of her own words lift off her shoulders some. “Yes, sweetie, dead dead. I made sure of it.”

If he wasn’t still recovering from his injuries, he would’ve leapt up from the couch and hugged all the air right out of her. God, how was she was this badass??? He always knew she could pull her own weight in a fight, of course ——— but nothing turned him on more than when she killed in cold blood like that.

“Alright, but where did ya put the bodies? ...Y’didn’t leave ‘em there for the police to find, didja?”

“...The dumpster is fine, right?”

He thought about it for a second, and ultimately figured that it was. Nobody checked those things in this crazy ass place, anyway (not even the cops).

“It’ll be totally fine. ...Still. Thanks for savin’ me back there, Shino.” Once again, if it weren’t for you, I’d literally be dead right about now. “I know I keep sayin’ that I’ll keep myself outta trouble—“

“And you didn’t—“

“—And I didn’t, yeah. Yeah.” He’s always been terrible at this staying alive thing, but... in his defense, he was at least doing a little better since the brawl with that huge goddess creature a few months back. Only today did he lose his streak of having zero injuries, so that counts toward something, yeah?

He asked Shino this himself, to which she rolled her eyes playfully and allowed him to have that itty bitty moment of validation ——— leaning over to peck him on the forehead (only to be surprised by his forwardness when he instead pulled her into a kiss) before standing up again.

“I’m going to go wash up and come back to check on you in a bit — make sure to get lots of rest, alright?”

His nod was a fervent one, as though she’d entrusted him to a Herculean task. “Yes ma’am!”

Within thirty minutes, Zapp was already fast asleep. Seeing him in so peaceful a state made Shino’s eyes soften by the time she came back to see how he was doing, holding a familiar blue box (stained with blood) in her hand.

Though she had never opened it, a woman of her many years had a pretty good idea as to what it contained ——— and so, she went back into the bedroom placed it in one of the drawers he frequented whenever he was getting ready for work. In time, he would be ready to give whatever was inside to her; and until then, she would wait patiently.

After all, it wasn’t as if her answer would be a no.

[youarejesting]

Femme: 07

[MASTERLIST]

Important: I am looking for an editor, if anyone is interested. I am focused on writing so as not too lose motivation. If you are interested please message me.

Summary: The year is now 3019. Women were going extinct, cryogenics was the only hope for society. Now Femme Industries is the provider of Females, they use computer analysis and algorithms to match a femme to her male applicants. It is common for femme’s to match with multiple applicants. When you match with seven handsome young men, it is a challenge. But you love a challenge.

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, Kwon Jiyong (GD) x Big Bang, GOT7 x OC, Eventual TXT x OC

Rating: Fluff so far

Warnings: none

Length: 1.5k words

Yoongi had emerged from his room now wearing a black shirt and sweat pants. At this time the front door opened and Hoseok and Jimin stepped inside they looked tired and they quickly showered and changed again before sitting down at the dinner table.

“Where did you go?” Curiosity got the better of you, you wanted to know where the two had gone. Placing dishes on the table the two boys grinned cheekily. Jin sat down and everyone began eating. Hesitating at the sight of the colour of some foods you watched them eat.

“Jagiya, why you, are not eating?” Hoseok asked he was sitting on your left. Namjoon and Hoseok were comfortable with speaking English and were quite good at it, but, every now and again they would add an extra word or say something slightly out of order. It was cute and never failed to make you smile.

“I don’t know what this is?” You said innocently gesturing and that set off a chain reaction. Each of them trying to hold a straight face, Jin clueless at the head of the table continued eating.

“That’s just Jin’s cooking, Pass the tteokbokki” Yoongi said monotonously. The table was in a fit of giggles. Jin slapped his hand on the table with a loud cry and began throwing gestures and lecturing the group. Jungkook and Taehyung on either side of him began ducking away from the violently swinging appendages.

“I meant Korean food, I don’t know what it is, everything looks tasty and that’s the problem. That red dish looks spicy and I’m a big baby when it comes to spice. I want to try it all but, I am nervous.” You took a deep breath. “Alright tell me the names of the dishes”

“This one is Bulgolgi it just is beef, and then you have tteokbokki a little spicy rice cakes, sukju namul and sprout salad, Kimchi we have at every meal spicy fermented cabbage, your soup is Gulguk um oyster soup” Namjoon smiled gesturing at the dishes and you tried each of them and was pleasantly surprised by the flavours and textures.

“I like the tteokbokki, and it’s not too spicy, but is it okay if I don’t have the soup, I tried some and it’s a little too fishy for me. Not that I won’t try again its best to keep trying foods to become accustomed to them it is just a strong flavour, that I am not used to” You blushed, not wanting them to think you were picky or acting like a stubborn foreigner. Jungkook took the bowl happily.

“Here you have this, it nice” Jimin smiled handing you his bowl, it was different. You tried to politely decline not wanting to take it from him, but he wouldn’t let you give it back. “You eat make me happy”

Blushing you ate slowly. It was a simple chicken soup. He asked you if it was nice. Thanking him in Korean made them all giggle and cover their mouths calling you cute in Korean. Dinner ended happily and you all sat in the lounge. Taehyung sat beside you and smiled he pulled out a small bag he grinned.

“I got you a present, to welcome” he smiled and you grinned and opened the black present bag. Inside was a large black and gold photo album each page was empty. Admiring the beautiful cover and the quality of the paper you smiled. At the bottom of the bag was a very expensive looking camera with a bow on it. “For you, we take photos together”

You leaned over and pulled him into a hug “thank you so much, this camera is amazing. Everyone keeps giving me gifts you are going to spoil me”

“I also have welcome present for you, very very uh careful” he handed you the long box it wasn’t very wide you gently opened it and inside was a glazed red rose, every edge was finely outlined in gold.

“Jin this is beautiful, you are all so thoughtful, I love all your gifts, so much” You said feeling your eyes begin to get watery. Each of them had taken the time and effort to make you feel welcome in their house. Now you felt mediocre, you have given them nothing.

“When you can’t see this flower” Jin gestured to his handsome face and then gestured to the rose “you can look this flower”

Gently wiping away a few traitorous tears. They were all smiling at you with a sparkle in their eyes. Jimin placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a gently squeeze.

Carefully taking the new presents to the room you arranged all the gifts and using Jungkook’s laptop you uploaded it to your social media and responded to questions people had. The video had 20,000 views and you were pretty amazed by the positive response.

Explaining to the boys about the video you made, asking if that was okay. They all seemed to have positive reactions and they all wanted to be in the video’s you took a picture of all of them while they watched your first video. Yoongi made fun of the music I had chosen and told me he could make something better. Taehyung told me he would help edit the intro and the video’s as he stated he was an expert. After that everyone seemed to shower and head to bed.

You woke quite early to someone walking around. Jimin was awake the sun wasn’t even out. Tiredly shuffling into his embrace. He said good morning in Korean his voice was deep and made you blush. His watch beeped and he went to pull away. He spoke to a tired Jin who had dragged himself into the kitchen and made himself a tea.

Jin nodded and pulled you from Jimin, laying back against his chest his arms wrapped around your middle. Wishing Jimin a good day at work he ducked his head and left. He was finishing up making breakfast and ate around you, until you made an ‘ah’ noise and he started to feed you as well. Taehyung stepped out and quickly took his container of breakfast and gave you a hug before he left for an early morning photo shoot you just managed to tell him to have a good day as the door clicked closed.

Jin’s watch beeped and he straightened his tie, pulled on his jacket and slid his bag over his shoulder. You repeated the well wishes and stood there continuing to eat your breakfast. It was cold and kind of lonely, you walked over to the window and saw the sun rising lighting up the city. There was a noise from the neighboring apartment. Stepping out onto the balcony, you saw the boys talking around the dining table and you called out.

“Kai” You called and he turned and spotted you the boys ran out to their balcony reminding you of little puppies. With a bright smile you waved, their smiles were so big you wondered if it was painful “Good morning!”

“Good morning Noona” they said in unison waving until Yeonjun got their attention showing them his watch. They all looked upset and turned to tell you they were late for school. “We got to go, have a nice day”

Stepping inside to see Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok eating breakfast. Hoseok gave you a tired smile. They each headed out at the same time, so you saw them to the door.

When the door shut, you felt lonely once more. You spent your day researching Korean packed lunches. You found out enough containers for each of them and you made one the rice and meat and salad in the bottom container and the top you made fruit skewers.

You finished, jumping when you heard a yawn from the hallway. Yoongi scuffed his feet along the ground, looking dead to the world. Boiling the kettle and turning to look in the fridge. There was no breakfast for him and he frowned.

“Yoongi, I made this would you like to try it?” He turned and looked at the two containers and nodded taking them to the bench. He was eating but he didn’t look happy. “Is it bad? I thought I could make you all lunches for work. I just don’t know what people like”

“It’s good” he hummed, “Jin like meat and strawberries but no strawberry flavor. I am uh not picky. I like lamb, you know sticks and Galbi. Hobi can’t eat sour things, he like seafood and Kimchi fried rice. Namjoon like the sweet .He hate seafood and bean. chimchim no like seafood many. He like meat and sweet food, uh like the fruits.”

“hyungie is the very much picky eating. He hate bean, peas sour and spice, but loves uh strawberry, hamburgers, Jajangmyeon, you know Jajangmyeon. Jk like meat, Hotteok, it’s a pancake and lamb stick.”

You began writing it down. Yoongi always seemed indifferent and cold, but you could tell he cared a lot about all the members of the house hold. Especially when he used the cute nicknames when addressing each of the members.

Femme Media 07

Next Chapter

[crackspines]

Not a Good Fit

Summary: A couple months after Bruce adopts Jason, the boy has his first class trip to Wayne Enterprises, the last place Jason wants to go. The new Robin is convinced that while Batman may need him, Bruce Wayne needs the embarrassment of a street-rat son like he needs a hole in the head. To Jason's horror, Bruce shows up for the tour.

Jason Todd, twelve-year-old street rat, robin, and Gotham Academy student, kicked at the ground with each step towards the sleek Charter Bus, scuffing the Wayne’s expensive shoes against uncracked cement. He knew he should probably be a little nicer to the shoes Alfred bought him; they probably cost more than rent at his old apartment. But he wasn’t feeling too charitable towards the shoes that didn’t feel like his or Alfred at the moment.

“Can’t I skip today?” Jason had asked this morning, a hint of whine entering his voice. “Just this once. I could help you with the roses.”

Jason didn’t give a shit about the roses. They were a snobby, rich person flower.

“The roses will still be here when you get back from your quality education, Master Jason,” the older man had said, shrewd eyes boring into the newest addition to the manor. “You wouldn’t want to miss your class school trip.”

Once on the lavish bus, Jason raced to the back where there was one single-seat instead of the duos throughout the rest of the vehicle. He sunk into the buttery leather, pulling a library book from his bag immediately. He didn’t want any of these rich brats to get the idea that he wanted to talk to him.

He shouldn’t have worried. Just like every day since he joined the school last month, the Gotham Academy kids were more interested in talking about him than talking to him. A couple of girls a couple rows ahead of him glanced his way and then turned back to each other in a fit of giggles. He felt like he should be charging admission to see the poor kid in captivity.

“Okay, class,” Mrs. Epstein said from the front of the bus over the chattering students. “We’ll be pulling up to the front of Wayne Enterprises in twenty minutes. I’ll need everyone to get off the bus quickly and line up in single file. Let’s not block traffic.”

Twenty minutes flew by, and Jason spent the entire time reading the same paragraph over and over again. By the time the bus stopped, he still didn’t know what sentences were trying to say.

As his classmates flowed off the bus, staring up at the sleek, sky-high expanse of WE, Jason’s heart-rate sped up. His palms were damp, and he rubbed them furiously against his ironed khaki pants.

This was ridiculous. He jumped off building routinely, tangled with the worst Gotham had to offer. A trip to WE with his class shouldn’t even be a blip on his radar.

Besides, the likelihood of running into Bruce was slim to none. His office wasn’t anywhere near Research & Development.

The WE tour guide didn’t give Bruce Wayne’s newest charity cases a second glance, and Jason wished he could say the same of his classmates. The deeper they got into the building, the more classmates he caught stealing glances at him, mouths turned up at the sides.

Digging his hands deeper into his pockets, Jason tried to appear very interested in the shoes he hated. Despite his training as Robin, he couldn’t manage to keep a slight flush out of his cheek, which just confirmed what all the kids were thinking: he didn’t belong here.

The class walked into the R&D lab, suitably impressed by the sprawling space and all the futuristic tech littering the room. The ceilings went up at least thirty feet, though Jason, still staring down, couldn’t appreciate that.

“Hello,” a terrifyingly familiar voice said. “You must be Mrs. Epstein.”

Jason stiffened so quickly, he felt a twinge in his ribs from where Killer Croc had thrown him against a brick wall last week. This wasn’t happening. He would’ve fought Alfred tooth and nail if he thought there was even the smallest chance Bruce would show up.

What the hell was he doing here?

Suddenly, staring at his shoes wasn’t just to avoid his classmates; it was survival. If he looked up, he’d have to see the expression on Bruce’s face, and he really couldn’t bear it.

There was a reason in the two months since Bruce had adopted him, he hadn’t taken Jason to WE or showed up at Gotham Academy. Batman might need a Robin with the Dick Wonder gone, but Bruce Wayne didn’t need some kid from Crime Alley bringing down stock values.

Dick fit in Bruce’s life; Jason didn’t fit anywhere anymore.

“--know you were going to make an appearance, Mr. Wayne,” Mrs. Epstein said, delighted.

Bruce, clad in a multi-thousand dollar suit, walked over to Jason’s side, ruffling his hair before throwing a large, comforting arm around the boy. Jason had to look up then, searching Bruce’s face while he answered the teacher.

“It’s been a busy couple of months, Karen,” Bruce said easily. “This is actually Jason’s first trip to WE. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He turned to look at Jason then, smiling broadly and not moving his arm, even under the scrutiny of Jason’s high-society classmates. As hard as Jason looked, pulling on all of his Robin training, he couldn’t find any embarrassment, anger, or regret in Bruce’s face.

“How about a VIP tour, kids?” Bruce asked, nodding over to one of WE’s new projects: stealth flying technology that would make everything else on the market obsolete.

The students, despite themselves, moved over to the futuristic drone with unconcealed interest. Bruce, however, brought their attention back to him with his next words.

“Jason knows just as much about this project as I do.” Turning to his newly adopted son, he said, “Why don’t you tell your classmates about what we’re working on here?”

Everyone’s attention turned to the boy, and a sweat broke out on the back of his neck. Unlike before, the gazes weren’t smug or malicious, though quite a few of them were shocked by this turn of events.

Taking a deep breath, Jason started to talk about stealth technology. He was a little awkward at first, halting and tripping over his words. But once he got into it, he realized Bruce was right. He did know a lot about this project and a few more at R&D.

He took his classmates around, introducing the ones he was familiar with. At the end of the tour, he finally looked up at Bruce, who hadn’t left his side the whole time. The older man was practically beaming, and he squeezed Jason’s shoulder. The move left the boy with a funny, warm sensation he couldn’t remember if he’d ever felt before.

After signing him out with Mrs. Epstein, Bruce turned to his son while the other kids piled on the bus. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up for your field trip.”

Jason scuffed his shoes lightly against the ground, the movement no longer angry and anxious. “It’s fine.”

“Why don’t we stop at that Chinese place you showed me on the way home?” Bruce said as they headed towards the parking complex. “It’s growing on me.”

“I can’t believe you’d never had it before,” the boy said. “Best in Gotham.”

“I guess it’s a good thing my kid is such a takeout connoisseur,” Bruce said with a laugh.

Jason had to smile at that, the warm feeling from earlier taking over his whole body.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Jason felt like maybe he could belong in Bruce’s life. Maybe it’d just take a little more time for the fit to feel right.

Like this? Read more of my stuff here.

[olicitysecretsanta]

Gift for Effie214

Here is my fic gift for @effie214. Thanks again for organizing. Please drop me a message to let me know you’ve received this and I’m all set.

Thanks - Lauren @laureningall

Third Time’s the Charm

Dear Effie214: You suggested I ignore COIE… well that’s what I did. This is a new!parents!mode Olicity story full of fluffiness - with some eventual romance for our very exhausted couple. Thanks for giving me such a great idea to mull over. I had a lot of fun writing. Wishing you all the best in the coming year - #OlicityForever - Lauren 

Summary: Parenting is hard work even if you last job title was ‘superhero’. Oliver and Felicity enjoy a simple life in their Bloomfield cabin with their daughter Mia. If only she’d sleep long enough for her parents to spend some quality time together. 

>>>>>———————–>>

Bloomfield Cabin - Mid November

Felicity stepped into the warmth of the cabin laden with grocery bags. Scuffing her feet on the mat just inside the door she paused to admire the view before her, her husband was lying on the floor, face to face with their daughter Mia who was desperately trying to lift her head from the  floor.

He might have put the fear of God into many a criminal during his time as the Green Arrow, but he was so gentle and loving with Mia. Moments like this were perfection. Just when she thought she couldn’t love the man anymore she would see him like this and feel the tears blossom.

“Damn hormones.” 

She looked up to see Oliver smiling back at her from his vantage point on the floor.

“Hey, your back.”

He gently rolled Mia onto her back and slid her to the center of the animal print quilt that filled most of the floor area of their small living space. Oliver quickly rose to his feet and took the bags from Felicity arms to set them on the kitchen counter.

“You didn’t have to stop at the market. Remember, you’re supposed to be resting,” he added with a quick kiss on her cheek.

“It’s the least I can do, you do all the cooking. I’ll be back to put everything away, I want to change into something warmer. Feels like snow outside.”

After pulling on a turtleneck and hoodie she returned to the kitchen to see Oliver unloading the groceries from the bags on the counter. Felicity stepped up behind Oliver and slid her arms around his waist. She snuggled her face against his soft flannel shirt, “mmmh, you are so warm.”

“Are you cold? I can turn up the heat or maybe I should start a fire. We should enjoy the fireplace more before Mia gets mobile. I swear she’s going to roll over any day now.”

“She is motivated. I guess that is normal for all kids.Then again she’s my only frame of reference,” added Felicity.  

Mia let out a wail from the living room.  

“Duty calls.”

“You feed Mia and I’ll make dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

>>>>>———————–>>

After Dinner

“I forgot to ask, how did your doctor’s appointment go? Anything I need to know?”

To be honest Felicity was amazed that she had kept the precious little nugget of information to herself all the way through dinner. 

“Everything is good. Really good. I still need to limit my caffeine and alcohol since I’m breastfeeding”

“Do you think you can manage that? I know you’ve really been missing coffee.”

That’s not the only thing I’ve been missing

“I’ll manage. How about we have a glass of wine to celebrate?”

“Yeah, let me just put Mia down and then I’ll help you clean up. When is her next check up?” added Oliver shifting a sleeping Mia to his other arm. 

Felicity rose from the table taking her plate and silverware to the sink, “in two weeks. And the midwife said we’re clear to have sex again.”

Expecting Oliver to comment on the critical info she had just dropped Felicity she paused at the sink, but the silence lingered. It was too much. She turned around to an empty table.

Where did he go?

She stepped back to the dining table, stacked the remaining dishes and then deposited them next to the sink while she turned on the water and opened the dishwasher. As she waited for the water to warm she felt him behind her, one hand on her hip and the other moving to sweep her hair away from her neck. 

His lips made contact just below her ear, “I put Mia down, she’s asleep. Just so I’m sure I heard you correctly, no more limitations,” as he pulled at her hips to press them firmly into his own.

Felicity leaned back into his body lost in all the sensations.

“Nope. And I got the shot, so birth control is set for three months. She reminded me that we need to take it slow.”

Felicity felt a smile against her neck, “slow, hmm, I can do slow,” he answered pressing his growing erection into her more firmly.

Oliver released his hold and led her down the hallway. He sat down on the bed and pulled Felicity into his lap. Felicity pulled his shirt over his head and pushed him down onto the bed.

waaaa, waaaa

Felicity paused and turned her head in the direction of the baby monitor on the nightstand willing the sound to stop.  

waaaa, waaaa, waaaa

Following the second cry, Felicity smiled at her husband and moved to get off the bed, but he was faster and said, “you stay, I’ll check on her and be right back.”

Felicity scooted to lay down on the bed.

I’ll just close my eyes for a minute

Awhile later she woke with a start in the now darkened room. Mia wasn’t crying. Why wasn’t her husband in the bed?

How long have I been asleep?

She rose quickly and walked into Mia’s room to find Oliver in the glider rocker, holding Mia, both of them fast asleep. Felicity gently touched his face and his eyes fluttered open. Felicity moved to take the sleeping child from his arms and whispered, “come to bed.”

Felicity returned to their bedroom and lifted back the covers to place Mia in the middle of the bed. The baby opened her mouth and began to root for her mother’s breast. Felicity pulled off her shirt and bra and then slid carefully into the bed. Mia latched quickly and Felicity snuggled closer. 

A few minutes later Oliver returned to the room and slipped into bed too. She noticed that Oliver was wearing different clothes than she remembered from earlier in the evening. 

“Why didn’t you wake me when you had trouble getting her back to sleep honey?”

Oliver answered, eyes already closed, “diaper explosion, twice. It was all over her and the sheets and blanket, and then all over me. I had to change and then run a load of laundry, oh and I gave her a bath. I must have fallen asleep rocking her.”

“I slept through all of that?” 

Oliver’s answer came in the form of a small snore. He had spent all day with Mia while she ran errands and went to her doctor’s appointment, and now he had single handedly taken care of the monumental diaper crisis and let her sleep. Obviously they were both exhausted. Felicity felt the pull of sleep as Mia continued to nurse. 

The only sex I’ll be having tonight will be in my dreams.

>>>>>———————–>>

The Next Evening

The next day was filled with more of the same as most days with a new baby are. Feeding, burping, changing, baths and lots of laundry. Felicity knew intellectually that she would eventually be able to have sex with her husband, but it seemed so odd to think of scheduling that sort of activity.

Oliver had left early to head to Star City for the day to check in with the Team. He was supposed to be back around dinner time to allow for their scheduled *date*. Well not a date-date as they were not going to leave the cabin, but a date nonetheless. 

What do you call a date with your husband for sex?

Felicity spent the morning wheeling Mia around at the market picking up some special pre-cooked treats for dinner so that Oliver wouldn’t have to cook. Who could know how cooperative Mia would be that evening.

Time will be of the essence.

Mia slept peacefully the entire ride back to the cabin. Once Felicity has unpacked her dinner treats she repeated the cycle of feeding and changing and laid down on the couch to sleep while Mia was napping.

Oliver returned home just as Felicity had begun to pull the dinner treats from the fridge.

“Hey, your back early. How did things go?”

“Good. It was great to see John. I meant to text, but once I was on the road, I just wanted to get home. Looks like you have dinner ready.”

“Yup, cooked by someone else and ready to be reheated.”

“Is Mia sleeping? I was expecting to see her keeping you company in her bouncy chair.”

“Still sleeping. I was a bit worried at first she’d been asleep since before noon, but she’s peacefully sleeping. My breasts on the other hand do feel pretty full.”

“See, I told you she’d start sleeping for longer stretches soon.” 

Felicity turned to poke her husband in the chest, “don’t you dare tempt fate.”

Oliver smiled, kissed his wife and moved to set the table for dinner.

Just as Felicity lifted her fork to take a bite of the steaming mac and cheese on her plate…

waaaa, waaaa

“I guess I’m not the only one whose hungry.”

Felicity sighed. She quickly popped a morsel of food into her mouth, pushed back from the table to get Mia from her room. Once she returned with her freshly changed little girl, Oliver helped her get settled back in her chair with her nursing pillow.

“Can you eat while you nurse or do I need to help you?” he asked.

“I’ve got it. I knew all the practice typing with one hand would come in handy someday. You need to eat too.”

Oliver and Felicity had a wonderfully relaxing dinner. Mia on the other hand didn’t stop eating all evening. By 8 pm the entire Queen family was exhausted and asleep.

>>>>>———————–>>

One Week Later

“Fe-li-ci-ty - let’s just rock her. We can wait.”

“No, we will not wait. I has been 7 weeks, 3 days and (checks her phone), 2 hours. I don’t want to  wait anymore.”

“Honey, Mia has been crying for the past 2 hours, she’s been doing this for the past few nights. It’s colic. You know we just need to wait it out and she’ll eventually fall asleep, come and sit down next to me,” as he patted the sofa next to where he was sitting.

Felicity hung her head in defeat, but noticed that Mia was no longer whimpering as was typical during one of these bouts of colic.

Why is she quiet?

Felicity looked up to see Oliver rocking baby Mia using his foot to move her bouncy chair. His eyes were closed and his head rested back onto the couch.

“She’s not crying.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’ve been holding out on me - you’ve known the secret all this time.”

“No secret, it just seemed easier this way since I’m tired”

“Genius. You Oliver Queen are a genius.You know what that means don’t you.”

“No.”

“Can you multitask?”

“Multitask?”

“Yes. You keep Mia quiet by bouncing her and do something else at the same time?”

“Why would I need to do something else at the same time?” he answered as he opened his eyes.

“If you can keep her busy, then we can get busy,”

Oliver snorted at her innuendo, but without another word, he swooped up Mia, bouncy chair and all, and carried her into their bedroom. Felicity was close on his heels, peeling off her sweater as she walked down the hallway.

He gently placed Mia and her bouncy chair on the floor next to the bed and turned to take Felicity into his arms. Oliver wasted no time and moved in to kiss her firmly. Felicity pressed closer and slid her hands up around his neck to deepen the kiss.

Mia began to whimper, eyes still closed, but sensing a sudden lack of bouncing. Maybe their short window of opportunity was closing.

“I’ll keep bouncing, you get undressed,” added Oliver.

Felicity yanked her shirt over her head. Next she toed off her shoes and shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in only her bra and panties. 

“Are you sure you can manage this?”

He leaned over to caress her face, “Felicity, I am highly motivated to keep Mia busy so that we can… get busy too.”

Felicity laughed and leaned in to kiss him again. Oliver pulled her close and snaked his arm around her back. With practiced ease he unhooked her bra and slipped it off her shoulders.

“I thought I was undressing myself?”

Oliver pulled back and shrugged, “what, I’m helping.”

Felicity pushed his foot away and took over the bouncing.

“Your turn.”

Oliver stood quickly, pulling his shirt over his head, and then dropped his pants and boxers in one fluid motion.

Felicity raised an eyebrow. 

“What? I’m anxious too.” 

Oliver laid down and shifted so that he had one leg hung off the side of the bed, his foot moving at a steady cadence. Felicity carefully stepped around the bouncy chair to reach the foot of the bed. She had to smile at the view laid out before her; her husband, in bed, completely naked - and miracle of miracles they were both awake and their daughter was not crying.

Felicity wasted no time in crawling onto the bed so that she was face to face with husband. 

They would remember this day for many years into the future and laugh at all the effort it took that day to complete their pressing task. 

Parenting was hard work. 

>>>>>———————–>>

Effie214,  I hope you liked the fic. I do have an idea for a second fic/second part that would be Christmas / Hanukkah focused. Obviously I didn’t get to write that yet, but I’ll share that on AO3 later on. Christmas in March anyone?

[for-ests]

To Make You Come Home- Colin Ritman x Reader

Part 1

Word count: 3,802

Sorry for the long wait and the spacing. I didn’t plan on part 2 being this long :’)) I hope you enjoy!!

________________________

He didn’t care. He never did.

That’s all you could think about as you sprinted down the road. It was so late in the night that not a single soul was out. All you could hear was the sound of your sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

If he really cared about me he would be here right now. If he loved me, he would have put forth the effort I have.

The streetlights were a haze in your vision as you ran until the weight of your bag felt like a hundred pounds.

Why does Colin make himself so hard to love?

Just the thought of cutting him completely out of your life was enough to cause your tears to overflow. Your sniffles turned into sobs within seconds, overtaking your senses so quickly that you had to stop running.

Colin… Colin, why? Why do you have to make me feel like this?

You wanted to scream as loud as you could. There was so much anger building up inside of you and you didn't know how to let out. You just needed to get away. You needed to breathe. Yet being alone felt odd. Wanting a break from Colin was something you had never craved before.

Why do I let him treat me like this?

Why did love have to be so complicated? You wanted to be alone yet you could barely stand the idea of not laying in bed next to him. If only he had decided to go to sleep with you that night. If only he had listened to your advice. If only he didn’t rely on drugs for release. If only.

You came to a stop at the realization. This entire time you had been trying to change him. For the better, yes indeed. But he wasn’t ready for change. He wasn’t ready to grow up and cherish the love you were willing to give him.

And if he wasn’t ready, 3 years was already too long to wait. You always had time, but it was never going to go to waste.

"I'll be okay." You promised to yourself, lip quivering with each prayer that you uttered. No matter what was going to happen, you would get through it. With or without Colin by your side. The relationship was in his hands now. One more tear slipped from your eye when you realized you had done all you could.

Your heart seemed to shatter at that realization. All you could do was sit and wait for him to make up his mind. It felt like you had broken up, but you couldn’t help and hold on tightly to that last string of hope.

You had wanted to feel something real; you wanted something more. You wanted someone to depend on you, to crave and cherish you. But you always seemed to let the wrong man do so. Someone who didn't even deserve an ounce of the love you had to give.

You thought that man could have been Colin. There were so many great qualities about him, yet his deep rooted issues always stood in the way. You noticed his problems when you were friends, yet had to deal with them as a couple.

In your eyes, the man you wanted to be with was never supposed to be perfect. You just needed to see him strive to change. The fights you always had with him were easily preventable yet it never changed. He could fix his problems if he wanted to. He could get some sleep. He could stop drinking in excess. He could stop lying. He could treat you better.

And now you had finally had enough. You would not let Colin bring you down with him, as selfish as that sounded. But you had already been trying for 3 years. If the sign that he wouldn’t run after you wasn’t enough, you didn’t know what was. You could not fix him.

And that was the biggest, most important lesson you learned from this.

Some people aren't meant to be fixed.

Tears started to well in the corners of your eyes. Sometimes the truth really was harder to face. It hurt to know your efforts to form an unbreakable bond with him crumbled right in front of you. But you couldn’t go on like this any longer. You could not watch Colin destroy himself. The promises he whispered in your ear had become devoid of all meaning. They were almost as empty as you.

Despite his faults, you loved him. You loved him more than anything- yet you had to be strong for yourself. Everything you thought was contradicting.

Though you tried desperately to deny it, you could not continue on like this. "I need to move on.” Your brain tried to reason with your heart.

Yet uttering those words did not change a thing. You were still confused, still hurt beyond explanation. You were so angry and tired, in dire need of someone who was willing to calm you down. The last thing you could do was walk back into the apartment you and Colin shared. You were so frustrated that you would rather sleep outside.

And with that, you reached your childhood best friend Stefan’s door with a heavy heart.

Coming around the street corner so early in the morning was strange. There wasn’t another sound to be heard. The silence was eerie, as if it was trying to remind you that you were alone.

Somewhat ashamed, you walked up the concrete steps to Stefan’s front door. You were surprised you had even made it there, with how dazed and confused you had become. Your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute. Would he even take you in? Was he even home?

Your finger hovered over the doorbell. You paused, half of you wishing Colin had followed you. You absolutely hated bothering people like this. Stefan probably wouldn’t mind, but your worry stemmed from your own anxiety of becoming a burden.

Ding.

You waited anxiously. It was not too late to turn back.

Yet before you could think about another alternative, Stefan appeared behind the glass. A surprised look was on his face.

“Y/N?” He rubbed his eyes, voice muffled behind the door until he unlocked it and ushered you inside.

“I'm sorry Stefan...” You half smiled, swaying the duffel bag around your torso. “Is there anyway I can crash on your couch for tonight?” You tried to ask without showing any indications of how heartbroken you were.

But he could see right through you, aside from the fact that you had shown up at 3am.

“Colin let you walk away huh?”

“I think we are done this time...” You bit your lip to hold back the tears. “I can’t watch him spiral like this. He won’t take my advice. And as far as I’m concerned, I have been enabling him to take the drugs. He can’t function without them anymore. We don’t talk.. Haven't done anything special in two weeks...” You looked up to meet Stefan’s eyes, and was surprised to find them filled with sadness and compassion.

“You don’t need to say anything more, Y/N.” Stefan took your bag from you and gestured for you to follow him to his bedroom. His hair was disheveled from what was once a deep sleep. For the most part he was awake, giving you his full attention.

“The couch is fine.” You smiled weakly, not wanting to ruin his entire night. Stefan was far too kind.

“You already know what I'm going to say.” He rolled his eyes, moving aside papers and books to set your bag on his desk chair. You hadn’t been over for a couple weeks and a lot had changed since then. Stefan was also working on a similar project, and he was still sane. At least you thought… At least Stefan talked to you about his problems. That topic had remained constant in your friendship.

“Thanks,” You laughed through your nose. “for real.”

“Colin may be a coworker and friend, but I’ve known you since we were children.” He crossed his arms and looked around. “I’m sorry for the mess though… Is there anything else I can get you before I go back asleep?”

“No,” You smiled genuinely. You wondered if Stefan could see the obvious indications of crying that littered your face. If he did, he remained quiet. He had known you long enough to wait until you were ready. The pain was still fresh. “Not till the morning.” You finished.

“I'll be here when you wake. We can talk then.”

He closed the door. You listened to his bare feet creak against the hardwood until you were sure he was out of hearing range. You felt like crying, but part of you was too angry to produce any tears. You tried to avoid the resentment creeping into your mind. Relationships were never a waste of time until the end, when you realize everything you had put into it was unappreciated. Years of your life gone. If you somehow couldn’t work it through with Colin, your happiness would become a painful memory. All the traits you had learned about him would eventually fade. Everything you had been through would never be spoken about again.

You weren’t ready for that.

Sighing to avoid more tears, you took off your shoes and set them quietly under Stefan’s bed. You knew a couple hours of sleep would relieve some of the stress.

Stefan’s home was a great place to take your mind off Colin. He was a part of your life that was filled with continuous joy. He even had a few pictures of you from your earlier years taped on his wall. Glancing at them caused a smile to spread across your face. The two of you were so young then, and now you were reaching adulthood.

Stefan’s room was so plain back then. Now, the walls were decorated with projects, diagrams and posters. Piles of books and software littered every possible open surface in the cramped room.

Looking at them put you at peace. And eventually, you wrapped yourself in a blanket and drifted into a relaxed, stress free slumber.

___

The morning came sooner than you wanted. The room was still pitch black because of the blinds, which made it ten times harder to wake up fully. Groaning, you stretched and climbed out of bed. The clock read 10:30am.

You emerged from the bedroom and found Stefan up in the kitchen. He smiled at you, gesturing to the eggs and toast he was preparing.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You chuckled.

The lanky boy shrugged nonchalantly. “I know, but you would do the same for me.”

You pulled out a chair at the breakfast bar and laid your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes from discomfort. Your mind was still racing, trying to piece together some sort of plan on how you were going to figure your life out. You couldn’t just bail on Colin, You shared an apartment. You shared everything...What were you going to do? You would have to find your own place closer to the university. You could possibly find one of your girlfriends to live with for a couple week. Yet your pride wouldn't have it. You hated relying on other people so heavily like that. Colin had been the only person to see that side of you for quite some time.

“Y/N?” Stefan’s voice finally hit you like a slap in the face. You hadn’t noticed he had been calling your name.

“What? Sorry.” You mumbled.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” A sigh escaped your lips. You wished more than anything for something else to fill your mind. “I’d rather talk about you. How’s the game going?”

“Don’t give me that.” He laughed while shaking his head. “You need to go back to Colin’s and figure your shit out.”

You were silent. You knew Stefan was right but you craved recognition from Colin. You wanted him to come to you. You were sick of being the one who initiated to sort through your problems. You wanted Colin to be a man and ask you to stay. Immature and irrational, yes, but still. You could not help the way you felt. Why were you the one obligated to figure things out?

You lowered your gaze, ashamed. “It’s always me.”

It took Stefan a moment to process what you meant. When it hit him, he raised his eyebrows. “You want him to come to you?”

You slowly nodded, your answer as faint as it could be. “I’m sorry Stefan. I’m being an idiot. I’m just so… angry.”

Stefan pulled out the chair next to you and took a seat. “You don’t need to be sorry about anything.”

You felt tears prickling at your eyelids. You loathed being this vulnerable.

“Why don’t I drive you back over there so you can pick up your things. You can try to talk to him.” Stefan lowered his head into your view until you were forced to look at him. “See what he has to say. But after that, I can always take you back.”

You sniffled. “I-I can do that.”

Not another moment passed before you gathered your composure. You reached over and grabbed the telephone from off the wall and dialed your phone number. Your hands were on the verge of shaking from how terrified you had become. What the hell were you going to say? The phone rang three times before Colin’s raspy voice echoed on the other side.

“Hello?”

“Are you at the flat?” You asked, keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“Yeah.” He replied softly, recognizing your voice in an instant.

“I'll be over soon.” You clutched the phone so hard your fingers turned white. You heard him taking a breath but were too nervous to hear what he had to say. You slammed the phone against the receiver before you heard another word.

___

Arriving at your apartment should not have been this difficult. You swallowed hard as you unbuckled your seat belt. Maybe it was too soon to come back, but you were an impatient person. You would have to come back regardless.

“I’ll be here.” Stefan gave you an encouraging smile.

You reciprocated his actions, even as your heart began to beat so fast you could barely hear what he said. You closed the car door with a click and clutched the keys in your hand. Here went nothing.

Entering the lobby and riding the elevator seemed like a fever dream. This building had been your home for over a year, yet you felt like an alien in it. No matter how long you had been with Colin, it was his. This was his home first. And depending on what happens when you enter the room, it will be his home last.

Even staring at the front door, decorated with pictures and signs you had placed there, wasn’t enough to make you feel welcome. You were most likely scaring yourself, but it was you form of preparation. You couldn't face another disappointment. You did not want to expect a smile on his face and be greeted with a frown.

Shaking your head to disperse the thoughts, you took a deep breath and knocked. At the sound, you heard shuffling from inside. As if he had been intentionally waiting beside it, Colin pulled the door open.

Your mouth parted in surprise.

The bags under his eyes had worsened. It seemed like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

“Y/N-” He started, too choked up to say anything coherent. You had the feeling he wanted to reach out for you by the way he stumbled. You watched that thought leave his eyes at the sight of you standing as still as a statue.

“Where’s your mind at?” You shifted awkwardly on your feet. Normally, you would be all too willing to fall back into his arms. But if that were to happen, the cycle would go on repeating itself. That's not the life you wanted for yourself, and it was certainly not the life you wanted for Colin. If you couldn’t be the one by his side, hopefully someone else could.

“What do you mean where’s my mind at?” He blinked in confusion, one hand gripping the door and the other gripping the wooden frame. You watched his muscles tense.

You met his eyes. “Did you think I was going to come back and pretend everything was okay?”

“I hoped.”

“Because you're ashamed?” The accusation left your lips out of anger and frustration. “And you’re not big enough of a man to admit it?”

“I have nothing to be ashamed about.” He swallowed, now unable to meet your eyes.

“You're addicted, Colin.” You bit your lip. “I can’t be with someone like this.”

“I’m not-”

“-You are. And I’ve let it slide for too long. You can’t function sober.”

Colin was silent. He knew he had a problem. The hurt in your tone was evident enough. He had neglected you long enough.

“All you had to do was ask for help. Before any of this spiraled. I was there for you.”

You saw panic flash across his face even though he was trying to hide it. “Was?”

“I can’t.” You gestured frantically between the two of you. There was barely a gap, but it felt like miles. “I can’t keep going on like this.”

“Like what?” He whispered.

“Being ignored. Watching you fall apart. You pushing me away. You never wanting to do anything. You smoke every night, and you push your work off until you have to cram it all into one night. And then you can't even do it! You need to take a tab. I’m sick of it. Your sleep schedule is so fucked up I can't remember the last time you held me in that bed.”

He knew he had no justifiable excuse. He had fucked up.

“I love you, Y/N.” His shoulders relaxed. “I don’t understand why that isn’t enough.”

“How am I supposed to know you love me when you never show it?” You raised your voice, surprised at the weakness of his rational. “I should be able to feel your love.”

Your words were a challenge. After the years you had spent together, Colin was able to decipher your language.

You were growing distraught. Was he even listening to you? You wanted to kiss him so badly, to run your fingers along his face in a caressing touch. You wanted to move on like nothing ever happened but your heart couldn’t go through it again. There needed to be a change. And he had to make his decision now.

“You’re right.” He breathed, tension pulling harder and harder at the both of you. “I feel like you despise me. I don’t know how to make it right.”

His confession took you by surprise. Colin was never not confident, he never shied away from taking control of every situation. When he walked into the room, all eyes were always on him. You knew he was under an immense amount of stress and pressure because of it. But now it had taken a toll on your relationship.

“I’m not used to this… not knowing what to do.”

“You should be able to take comfort in the fact that I'm here for you. I should know things about you that no one else does.” You met his eyes again. “I thought you would have learned this of being together for 3 years.”

“Take comfort in the fact that no one has heard me say that before.” He opened the door wider, as an invitation. “You’re the only woman I need.”

Still upset, that comment made the corners of your lips curve slightly.

He was vulnerable for what seemed like the first time. That was a step in the right direction, a promising one. Now he knew you were serious. You wouldn’t tolerate his childish behavior any longer. You wanted something more with him, and he was going to have to work for it.

Even though Colin was sure you still wanted to scream at him, you held yourself with so much composure. It made his heart race. You looked beautiful just as you were, even when your eyes were red and your nose stuffy. He only wished he hadn’t caused it.

“I love you.” Colin repeated with glossy eyes.

And with that, you fell against him with a sob. His warmth enveloped you and you gripped onto him tight. The man you loved more than anything ushered you inside, hugging you just as tight in return.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” He whispered into your hair. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“I believe you.” You tilted your head up, staring deeply into his eyes. “My love for you is still strong. I love you, Colin. No matter what happens that will never change.”

You shared a long kiss, one that was filled with passion and desperation. The butterflies you had felt so many times before erupted back into a fury. He gripped your waist, begging for more.

You pulled back, hands caressing his jawline. “Later.”

“I need you, babe.”

You chuckled softly, burying your face into his chest. Colin knew what names to call you when he wanted something. Every time he did, he was able to see that familiar blush light up your cheeks.

“Let me go tell poor Stefan that everything is okay.”

“Is that where you stayed?”

“Where else would I have gone?”

He smiled. “You’re right. Let me come with you. I need to thank him.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you didn’t have the courage to come back by yourself. He had some say in your decision, yeah?” His question was cheeky, followed by a nudge.

You rolled your eyes. “I would have come back eventually.”

“I know. I was just about to go find you when you called.” His joke turned into something more serious. “I was worried sick about you.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

“Well I promise not to do that again. If you promise me that you’ll work at your habits. I’m only saying this because I care about you Colin.”

He took your small hands and kissed them softly. “I promise.”

[akatsuki-celeste]

See Me In Starlight

Commission for: @kingofthewilds Series: Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas Pairing: Libra Dohko/Bennu Kagaho Genre: Romance/Fluff/Minor Angst Also posted on: AO3

Poetry in motion.

Alright, perhaps that was edging on the side of sappiness even for him. But it was the first thing that came to mind as Dohko watched the lithe figure in front of him move through each step of his set, every stance fluid as it shifted into the next. His lover was every inch the true warrior – it was in his blood, his body, the very center of his being. The notion that it was only the Saints of Athena that burned Cosmos was ridiculous propaganda as far as Dohko was concerned; through Kagaho he had come to believe that even if the Specters called it by a different name, the source of their strength was the same.

Idly Dohko ran his fingers along the darkened dirt that he was sitting on. Unlike Earth, which was a myriad array of color even in the desert mountains that housed Sanctuary and certainly in the lush forests of his own Mt. Rozan, the Mekai seemed to consist primarily of shades – with the occasional burning red of lava and the steely waters of the River Styx. He knew, logically, that it couldn’t be like this throughout all of the Mekai – surely places such as Elysian and the Fields of Asphodel were brighter – but such places permitted only a very specific kind of visitor. The dead kind.

Which Dohko wasn’t, and had no burning desire to become. Investigation of those other realms could wait as far as he was concerned. Besides, he hadn’t begged off a favor from Manigoldo for access to the Mekai – which he was sure he was going to end up regretting when it came time to pay up – in order to have a tour of the place. Dohko had no love for the bland dark and dankness of the Underworld. Trees and mountains were far more up his alley. Stars as well.

What he did have love for was the man so focused on his training that he hadn’t once glanced in his direction since Dohko had arrived, despite being the one to invite him in the first place. The invitation was been abrupt, even flustered, tacked on almost as an afterthought before the two of them had parted ways during their last rendezvous. Dohko was ninety-nine percent positive that Kagaho hadn’t expected Dohko to take him up on it, which just went to show that there was still a lot more that the Bennu needed to learn about him. For starters, the fact that Dohko could never, would never, turn down a challenge.

And the challenge of slipping into the Mekai under the noses of the Three Judges themselves? It was simply too good to pass up, particularly when Kagaho was the reward waiting for him at the end.

Dohko grinned. Once he’d entered the Mekai, finding Kagaho had been easy. He’d become attuned to the other man on an intimate level, and it had been easy enough to block everything else out and focus. Well, not everything – he’d needed to keep watch for anyone he didn’t want to run across while at the same time masking his own presence, but making his way to Kagaho’s location had been otherwise simple. He’d approached cautiously, just in case Kagaho wasn’t alone when he found him, but to Dohko’s delight he had come across his lover alone and in the middle of training. Utterly absorbed in what he was doing Kagaho hadn’t even noticed his approach, and so it had been for the past five minutes or so, Dohko sitting leisurely on his rock and waiting for that perfect moment to drop his shields just enough to let the other man know he was there, wondering with increased curiosity what his reaction was going to be. He was almost positive that it wasn’t going to be a knee jerk reaction that would result in Dohko’s death. Almost.

Well, it’d be his own idiot fault if it was.

Alright, maybe it had been long enough.

Kagaho had just finished his final set when Dohko dimmed his shields, letting through just enough of himself to both let Kagaho know that he wasn’t alone and to tell him who it was. Kagaho stilled, back still towards Dohko, tension rippling through the muscles of his shoulders and arms. Then, slowly, almost imperceptivity, that tension began to ease as the Bennu relaxed. He reached up, running his fingers through sweat-soaked hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“You aren’t helping to dissuade me of the thought that all of Athena’s Saints have a death wish,” Kagaho said finally. “What would you have done if I’d noticed you sitting there while I was doing my set?”

“Hoped that your brain would register who I was before your body acted?” Dohko suggested with a grin.

“Sometimes I really do wonder how you haven’t managed to get yourself killed yet,” Kagaho grumbled, finally turning to look at Dohko.

Dohko’s grin widened. For all that Kagaho’s tone of voice was what could only be described as grouchy, and his brows were knit together in a clear attempt at scowling, there was a light flush to his cheeks that betrayed his antagonistic words. For all the not-so-thinly veiled irritation his tone carried, the gleam in his eyes and the slight curving up of the corner of his mouth told Dohko that Kagaho wasn’t in the least bit unhappy to see him.

“Some people call it luck,” Dohko chided lightly, uncrossing his legs on top of the rock and letting them hang down, “but I prefer to use the word skill. Natural talent, even. Some of us really are just blessed.”

“And some of us – specifically you – need to deflate their egos a bit,” Kagaho dryly replied.

“Now, see, that –“ Dohko was cut off by Kagaho abruptly closing the distance to the rock, placing himself squarely between Dohko’s legs, hands braced on either side of his hips, and leaning in to cut off whatever else he was about to say by soundly kissing him.

Dohko immediately forgot the words that had been on his lips – or rather, they suddenly seemed far less important that the activity his lips were currently engaged in. It had been over a week, nearly two, since they had last had a stolen moment together and Dohko was determined not to waste a moment. His arms came up to wrap around Kagaho, tugging him closer as his hands gripped the damp fabric of his training gear. Nothing fancy, a single dark, sleeveless tunic, but suddenly that piece of thin fabric was insanely annoying. He’d rather feel the warmth of Kagaho’s skin beneath his, the lines of taut, lean muscle that corded through the other warrior’s body, the…

“Kagaho-sama?”

Survival instinct kicked in, Dohko and Kagaho shoving apart from each other in the same instant. As Kagaho spun around to face the source of the voice, Dohko twisted around and rolled himself to the other side of the boulder, crouching down and thanking all the gods for deciding to cap his height at five foot five inches. For once, being short actually had its advantages.

It wasn’t one of the Judges – Dohko could tell that just by the honorific, there was no way the Griffon, Garuda or Wyvern would ever lower themselves to referring to a lesser Specter as with any form of respect. In fact, Dohko couldn’t imagine any of Kagaho’s fellow Specters addressing him in such a manner - they usually all had their heads too far up their own asses, at least as far as the ones Dohko had had the displeasure of crossing paths with. It was thoughts like those that made Dohko wonder, not for the first time, how Kagaho had ended up affiliated with Hades.

However, since it wasn’t a Judge and it didn’t seem to be another Specter, Dohko found his curiosity well and truly piqued. From behind the rock he couldn’t tell much about Kagaho’s visitor except that their voice was high, almost... child-like. And that made his curiosity even stronger, because as far as Dohko was aware, Specters didn’t have trainees and potentials the way that the Saints of Athena did. Or at least he’d never heard anything about it, and Kagaho had never said anything. Not that Dohko had ever asked, or ever would.

Rule number one of fraternizing with the enemy – don’t use your lover as a potential spy.

He tilted his head to the side as he heard Kagaho respond. “Eveline? What are you doing here?”

There was a shuffling sound not unlike the scuffing of a heel against the ground, and Dohko could imagine the other person doing just that from the uncertainty in their – her? – tone. “I… I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your training, Kagaho-sama. It’s just… I had a question… but I can come back later, it’s not…not important…”

Not important? Dohko didn’t believe that for a second, not with the tremble that accompanied those words. And to his credit, it seemed neither did Kagaho. Quietly, taking care to not scrape against the ground or jar loose anything that might make sound, Dohko shifted so that he could peer around the side of the boulder.

Eveline couldn’t have been more than eleven – twelve, perhaps? Even so she was small, so much so that she seemed far younger than the rest of her appearance suggested. She only came up to Kagaho’s waist in height. Her short black hair looked like a pixie cut that had started to grow a mind of its own as it gained length, her features were delicate with an almost elfin-like quality, and her eyes – they were red-rimmed, as if she’d worked herself up into tears and had forced them to quit before coming to see Kagaho.

Kagaho placed his hand on top of Eveline’s head, the touch startlingly gentle. “Ask your question,” Kagaho said quietly. “If it’s bothering you enough that you were willing to interrupt my training session, then it must be important.”

Eveline sniffled and bit her bottom lip, looking up at Kagaho with wide eyes. She hesitated, and just as Dohko thought she might turn and bolt, he saw her swallow hard and gather her wits about her.

“Some of the others… they’ve been talking about the War,” Eveline said. “They said that Lord Hades and Athena are going to declare war soon, that we’re all going to have to fight. Even us newer Specters, even though we’re still learning how to use our Surplices. They said we have to fight the Saints of Athena – that we might have to fight Gold Saints.”

She said the words in such an ominous tone that Dohko couldn’t help but stifle a grin with his hand. Were he and his fellow Golds like bogeymen to the rookie Specters?  From the angle he could see Kagaho’s face at, it looked almost as if the other man was trying to fight back the same reaction. He was a lot more successful at it than Dohko would have been.

“It’s true that we’ll probably be officially at war soon,” Kagaho said with a nod, answering Eveline with simple, forthright fact. “And yes, you and the others may end up fighting Saints, even though some of you are still new to your Surplices. But I doubt you’ll ever have to see battle with one of Athena’s Gold Saints, Eveline. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But…” Here Eveline hesitated again, brows furrowing, “why do we have to fight Athena? What has she done that makes Lord Hades want to go to war with her?”

Dohko went still, holding his breath as he waited to hear Kagaho’s response.

It didn’t come right away, but when it did, Kagaho spoke with firm conviction. “I don’t know if Alone – if Lord Hades – wants to go to war with Athena, Eveline. He isn’t a god of War. He isn’t even the god of Death; he takes care of those of us in the Underworld, protects all of the souls that find their way here. And in some rare cases, he takes a few select souls and elevates them to places of honor among his Specters.

“But those souls were all living once, and I don’t think Lord Hades’ concern for them only starts with the moment they die. I think he looks at the lives they live Above, and he wishes that he could do something more for them. In his own way, he cares for them as Athena does - they just don’t happen to agree in how to care for them.”

“And that means they have to go to war?” Eveline asked softly.

“It won’t be the first time,” Kagaho said, “and it won’t be the last. We don’t get to make these decisions, Eveline. All we can do is follow Lord Hades and carry out his wishes as best as we can. That’s the vow that we swore when we became Specters. We have to trust and believe in Lord Hades.”

The doubt that shadowed Eveline’s features didn’t seem to abate. “Could…could there ever be a time when Lord Hades might decide not to go to war with Athena, Kagaho-sama?” she tentatively ventured.

“Maybe,” Kagaho replied; there was no admonishment in his tone for her question. “I don’t pretend to know Lord Hades’ mind, but there’s always a chance that some day he might decide that. Would you still follow him if that happened, Eveline? Would you still want to be one of his Specters?”

To that, Eveline nodded without hesitation. “I don’t want to go to war, Kagaho-sama,” she confessed. “But I want to serve Lord Hades. I want to protect him, and I want to protect the Meikai and the other Specters. If that means I have to go to war, then… then I will. But I’m also going to hope that a day will come when we wake up and there won’t be a war that we have to prepare for. That we can just be here, protecting and supporting Lord Hades, the Meikai, and all of the other souls here.”

“Good answer,” Kagaho said with approval. “No one should ever want to go to war, Eveline. Now go on. I have to finish my training, and I’m sure the others are wondering where you went.”

“Yes, Kagaho-sama!” She brought her hand up to her chest in a salute with a smile, then turned and dashed back the way that she’d come, disappearing out of sight.

Dohko waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps before he rose to his feet and stepped out from behind his boulder. At this point he figured it was his, and he might as well claim ownership of it even if it was just in his mind. It made for an excellent viewing platform as well as a visual shield.

“I wasn’t aware that Specters had trainees the same way that Saints do,” Dohko said inquisitively.

Kagaho looked over at him. “We don’t,” he replied. “Just…young Specters. New recruits, so to speak. It’s…” He hesitated, and Dohko could see the indecision weighing on him. How much to tell? How much to explain? Although their very relationship could be considered treasonous by his comrades, Kagaho himself was no traitor. He simply considered what was between himself and Dohko to be separate from his duty and loyalty to Hades. It was a fine line to walk, and while Dohko would never admit it out loud, not knowing how long Kagaho could keep from crossing it was a worry for him.

Dohko walked over to him and slid his arms around the other man’s slender waist, resting his forehead against Kagaho’s. “You don’t need to explain,” he murmured. “We promised, didn’t we? That we wouldn’t use each other like that.”

Kagaho closed his eyes and shifted his weight, leaning into Dohko’s embrace; the shorter man had more than enough strength and balance to support the extra weight. “Sometimes I think this would be easier if we’d sworn ourselves to the same god.”

“It would be,” Dohko admitted. “But we didn’t, and that’s just how it is. Besides which, if you hadn’t sworn yourself into Hades’ service, we might not even have met. And no matter what happens, I’d rather have lived a life having met you then risked missing you entirely.”

Kagaho opened his eyes and glanced away, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “That silver tongue of yours is too talented for your own good,” he muttered.

Dohko grinned, his expression growing downright mischievous. “If you’d like, I could show you just how talented my tongue really is,” he purred – and then immediately laughed as he released Kagaho to dodge the swipe aimed at the side of his head. He jumped back and landed nimbly, his posture perfectly relaxed and his eyes dancing with clear amusement. “You know, you really should have seen that one coming. You gave me the best opening.”

“You really don’t have any self-preservation instincts, do you?” Kagaho growled, his face still aflame.

“You’re sounding like Shion again,” Dohko said with a smirk. “And like I keep telling him, of course I do. When I think I actually need them. Here, right now? No reason.” His expression softened. “Is there?”

Kagaho crossed his arms over his chest for a moment, scowling – then sighed and dropped his arms back to his side. “Of course not,” he muttered. “You know that.”

“I do.” Dohko nodded. He motioned Kagaho closer, and after a moment’s pause his lover did so. Dohko reached up and slid his hand behind Kagaho’s head, leaning up while drawing him down at the same time so that they met in the middle, resuming the kiss that Eveline had interrupted. This one was less hurried, the both of them using their extended senses to pay more attention to their surroundings and knowing that no one was close enough to interrupt them any time soon.

Less hurried didn’t last for long; after parting to breathe their lips met again in a searing case, and the pressure of Kagaho’s hands on Dohko’s hips prompted him to follow the other’s lead, allowing himself to be backed up until his back connected with a stone surface behind him. Not his boulder, Dohko dimly noted because he was still vertical, but that hardly seemed important when Kagaho gripped Dohko’s leg and lifted it to hook around his waist, allowing the lovers to press even closer together than before.

Dohko could feel the heat of Kagaho’s skin through his training gear, and he let out a low groan in response. His hand slipped from the back of Kagaho’s neck to join the other, clutching the back of Kagaho’s tunic and arching against him as the dueled for control over the kiss. Their relationship had started with Dohko’s initiative, but it hadn’t taken long for Kagaho to get his feet underneath him, and with it the confidence to set himself as an equal partner. Not that Dohko had ever considered him to be anything else, but he had to admit that he’d enjoyed watching Kagaho grow into his emotions. He’d been so closed off that it had been difficult to get through his walls, but Dohko was nothing if not willful and determined. Stubborn, if he listened to Shion, but Shion was twenty going on one hundred and twenty. As Shion’s closest friend, he was allowed to say that.

They were enjoying their – fifth? Sixth? Who was counting? – kiss, tunics untucked and hands sliding over tautly muscled skin, when a boom echoed in the distance, breaking them both out of the lethargic haze that had been building up to look off into the distance. Dohko had no idea what lay in that direction – it just looked like more dark mountains to him, but Kagaho’s expression became more subdued. More shadowed.

“One of the Judges?” Dohko guessed. He’d felt the burst of power that had accompanied the explosion.

“Probably Rhadamanthys,” Kagaho muttered. He sighed and shook his head, then slowly released his grip on Dohko’s legs so that the other could stand straight. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have suggested you come here. If anyone saw you…”

“Just like if anyone had seen you sneak into Sanctuary?” Dohko pointed out. “You were just following my example. No berating yourself unless you’re ready to call me an idiot, too.”

“I already do call you an idiot,” Kagaho replied, the corner of his mouth lifting up in an attempt to smile that fell flat. “My point is… this is dangerous. I could have been caught going to Sanctuary. You could have been caught coming here. We almost were caught, and we’re lucky it was only Eveline. Anyone stronger and they would have sensed you.”

Dohko frowned. “What are you trying to say, Kagaho?”

“I don’t know if a few stolen moments when we can is worth risking your life over,” Kagaho quietly replied, casting his gaze away.

Dohko didn’t miss Kagaho’s specific wording, and he didn’t push it even though it irritated him to no end. Kagaho’s life was just as important than Dohko’s. He was no better, no worse. But arguing that point wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere, and if this conversation was going in the direction that Dohko thought it was going in then he needed to nip it in the bud right that second.

“Kagaho,” Dohko said. “Kagaho, look at me.” He waited until violet eyes had shifted to meet his own. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to say this, and I am going to keep saying it for as long as I need to drill it into your skull. This is worth more. You are worth more.”

He cupped Kagaho’s chin. “We won’t get caught. We’ll be careful, even if it means days or weeks before we can see each other again. But I’m not letting you go. If you want to get rid of me, then you’re going to have to tell me to my face that you don’t want to have anything else to do with me. Can you do that, Kagaho? Can you look me in the eye and say that?”

Kagaho swallowed hard, all the time not breaking eye contact. Finally he shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “No…I can’t do that.”

“Good.” Dohko drew him closer, embracing him and resting his forehead against the other man’s shoulder. “Because even if you could, I swear, you were still going to have a fight on your hands. Your mine, Kagaho, and I don’t like letting go of things that are mine. I don’t abandon the people I care about.” He ran his hand up along Kagaho’s back, fingers tracing the ridge of his spine. “And I care about you very much.”

“Dohko…” Kagaho choked on his partner’s name, barely able to get it out. His grip on Dohko tightened, so tight that someone with lesser strength and tolerance might have considered it crushing, but for Dohko it was only a reassurance that Kagaho wanted him as much as he wanted Kagaho.

When Kagaho’s grip on Dohko had loosened enough that Dohko was fairly certain he’d gotten himself under control, he spoke again. “You do have a point about the danger here, though,” he reluctantly admitted. “Your fellow Specters aside, getting into the Meikai isn’t easy for me, and the circumstances under which you were able to get into Sanctuary don’t happen nearly often enough. Even meeting up in Rodorio is getting riskier. We need to find some place with less risk.” Dohko smiled slowly. “Luckily I have an idea.”

Kagaho looked at Dohko suspiciously. “When you mention luck,” he said, “I get nervous.”

Dohko just grinned.

*****

“So, what do you think?”

Kagaho stood in the center of the field, staring at the trees, the mountains, the massive waterfall in the distance. He had never felt such a sense of peace and tranquility as he did in that moment. His life had been nothing but darkness and shadow ever since his brother had died, the light only slowly returning since meeting Alone and Dohko. He’d never thought of peace as having a sound before, but as if he closed his eyes he knew that was what he was hearing.

“It’s…beautiful,” Kagaho said finally, turning to look at Dohko. “Almost too beautiful. Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?”

Dohko chuckled. “Of course it is,” he said. “It’s my home. Long before the master of Mt. Rozan swore his allegiance to Athena, the Five Peaks was a training ground for those seeking master of the Arts. Legends have it, in fact, that those who trained here did so in the service of the Celestials, and that it was the Jade Emperor himself who bequeathed this land and its caretakers into Athena’s service during the Age of Myth.”

Kagaho beheld Dohko with a touch of skepticism. “That’s something of an auspicious history, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.

Dohko shrugged, gesturing haphazardly with his hands. “It is what it is,” he said with a grin. “Whatever the truth of it, though, this is where I grew up. Where my Master trained me to become a Saint, and where I’ll someday train my own successor. Only the two of us come here; my Master is reclusive and my last apprentice is already a full-fledged Saint in his own right.” His expression softened. “We can be alone here, Kagaho, with no fear of being discovered.”

“And what about your reclusive Master?” Kagaho asked, arching an eyebrow.

Dohko’s eyes danced with mirth, wrapping his arms around his love and pulling him closer together; there was no resistance from the other man. “Maybe some day I’ll get the chance to introduce you,” he murmured as Kagaho lowered his head for another kiss, “but for now, just avoid the waterfall and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

Whatever Kagaho might have to say to that was lost in the warmth of Dohko’s kiss, and after that, neither of them were interested in anything else but each other.  

~Fin~

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