#far from ourselves (babble) ao3

[nejackdaw]

(Abandoned) WIP Wednesday

So I never actually finished this (or wrote the things meant to come after,) but I still like it so I figured I'd post it. Ra'zhirr was from my last rp file, he's a MASSIVE khajit (to me, not that ingame models agree,) escaped gladiator (which is why he was caught at the border,) and WAS going to be Harbinger but I decided it would make more since if the Companions just. Shattered. After the truth came out. Cause half of them already had issues with the Circle, then come to find out it's some exclusive werewolf club? Nah, they're out.

Anyway I put off ever actually starting the main questline til after doing the Companions bc that progression made more sense to me, so I just pretended the whole "hey can I talk to you about the whole dragon thing, go talk to Farengar" thing didn't happen, you know, to some rando walking through the door the Jarl doesn't even know.

Also this post was partially just so I could tag @incorrectskyrimquotes in wip Wednesday. Hiii :) no pressure <3

At the Turn of the Season

He hadn't expected to return to the great hall, to climb those steps misted by the waterfalls of Whiterun and feel the heavy doors beneath his hands once again. All things considered, it was a decent enough day to be summoned: without heavy winds the sun was warm, and his feet had nowhere else to be.

Not now that the Companions had nearly unanimously agreed to disband, fractured by the truth of Hircine’s blood and the realization they'd been lied to. They will do well enough, Ra'zhirr told himself as he crossed the threshold. There's nothing more for it.

The hall was as grand as he remembered, dark browns and gentle yellows and tall, looming beams leading to the balconies. Quiet conversation stopped as he closed the door behind him and the guards posted nearby both nodded, then relaxed, resuming their quiet chatter as he stepped away. Something so massive should give him pause, he thought idly; something so empty should feel wrong. Large and empty rarely went well together, but the welcoming air and decor set him at ease once again as he mounted the steps.

He'd received summons the night before, sitting idly on the steps to Jorrvaskr. The agreement had just been reached, and most had been quick to gather their things and depart. Some still lingered, and it was for their sake, he'd told himself, that he yet remained. Stars had been shining when a woman approached with a message, armor shining new and untattered as she said the Jarl wished to see him the following morning.

So here he was, drifting the same as the rest of them, following whatever voice next called. The fire blazed in its recess, chasing away the darkness and the cold, and he and the Jarl locked eyes through floating embers.

The hall was empty, Ra’zhirr noted, and the surrounding doors closed. His chest hollowed with a dread he kept firmly from showing as he halted before the steps to the throne, bowing his head as was expected.

Grey-green eyes swept over him for a moment. “I hear you were to be Harbinger,” Balgruuf greeted quietly. His posture was straighter than it had been last time: he sat regally in his chair, looking down, and this, too, stirred dread in him.

“A decision has been reached,” Ra'zhirr replied. “The Companions are to be no more.”

“Daedra worship is not permitted. Doubly so within the city.”

Ah. The Jarl's voice was hard, a threatening warning that spoke ill. Of course the secret had gotten out: anyone who'd heard of the Silver Hand could guess at why they'd attacked the longhouse, killed the Harbinger and maimed who they could before being slaughtered. Word had, however, been quickly contained–warriors were those who would recognize the signs, and warriors would obey the demands of Balgruuf and the guard–but whispers reach far. It had not been an easy trip for those who had left the city gates, whether they'd possessed the blood or not.

I am within rights to have you all hunted down and jailed,” Balgruuf continued.

Ra'zhirr met his gaze head-on, saying nothing for a few moments in favor of looking him closely over. He understood suddenly why the hall was empty; he understood the steel in the man's tone was poorly crafted. “You complained not when they protected your city. Complain not now that they drift.”

Regal shoulders lowered, relieved at the civility of the response. “Aye.” Exhaustion darkened fine features, then, emphasized the shadows under his eyes as he leaned himself against the armrest, duty-bound warning administered. “Aye,” the Jarl whispered. “But I did not call you here for that.” He held no animosity towards the men and women who had defended his city and people, had no desire to dirty their legacy. Let them leave, he thought again. For all they have done, just let them leave. There are worse things at hand. His eyes met again with his company's, ice cold and hardened and watchful. “For you, who have witnessed the massacre at Helgen and survived, I have a request.”

“This one is listening.” It was easier to listen, easier to breathe, now that Ra'zhirr knew there was no risk of needing to cut down the Jarl and flee. He kills glady, perhaps, but Balgruuf seemed a decent enough man. It would have been a shame, he admitted to himself as he relaxed. The smoke reached him here and burned his nose, but the sensation kept him here, in the moment. He enjoyed the way the firelight danced off of gleaming metal and gems and the golden silk of the other man's robe as he watched his throat work, looking for words. “Speak plainly.”

“A Jarl does not usually find himself being ordered,” Balgruuf deflected, weary amusement in his voice as he settled comfortably in his chair. “Very well. You know more than most what these dragons are capable of. And I do mean dragons, plural. That beast you encountered is far from the only one I have heard tale of.” There was urgency in his voice, a plea for his audience to grasp the gravity. “There's not much we mortal men can do to stop them,” he said, “no deep wound we can cause with blades and arrows. My court wizard Farengar has been fond of reminding me of late.”

Balgruuf’s lips pressed together as he glared sidelong at the closed doors off to the side, irritated and unsure. “He's fond of the damn things–or at least, the idea of them. I've set him to working on finding a way to drive them away since you first came here from Riverwood, but now he says an informant of his has come up with something that may be truly helpful to our cause.” His gaze darted away from the doors, to the spit above the fire to the floor between his boots and finally to Ra’zhirr’s eyes. Thinking. “This brings us to my request. Speak to Farengar and go where he guides–I’m certain he'll tell you more than me. I know what he seeks is hidden in a crypt somewhere, but that is all I could gleam from him. He insists he won't bore me with the details, insolent man he is,” the Jarl muttered. “Though perhaps you could tell me in one minute what would take him many. He will not share all the details with me, but I suppose as long as you get this done, that will hardly matter.”

[gudvina]

If you’re still taking requests, how about a one shot of Hayffie watching Katniss and Peeta’s kids for the day? I feel like we need more Hayffie fluff, and shenanigans can ensue of course :)

Soft life

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Genre: tooth-rotting fluff

Can be read on AO3!

It was still early afternoon when Haymitch woke up from his nap. He had fallen asleep on the couch of his living room, lulled by the gentle spring breeze that swirled in from the open window. He opened his eyes to meet a pair of grey orbs with a lemon-zest mane.

The girl was sitting on the floor with a colouring book and pastels in front of her, an amused smile on her face that strongly resembled her mother’s.

“Hi!” she quipped.

“Robin, what are you doing here?” he moved into a sitting position, groaning when he felt the twinge in his neck. It was a stupid question, anyway. He knew the answer already. The Mellark children had inherited from their parents the bad habit of invading his house, almost as if it was another part of their own. And it was mostly Effie’s fault; she never seemed to be able to say no.

“How silly you are! We came to keep you company, of course. Mommy and Daddy worry an awful looot about you and MaMaw being all alone.” the kid explained, agitating her hands in the air.

Robin was just shy of six and had taken almost completely after her father, preferring her colouring book to more adventurous activities. Everyone adored her, and many parents seemed to envy her sweet temperament.

Nothing could have prepared them for what was coming.

Just a few years prior, Robin started emulating Effie. With her thick District Twelve accent, she used words like “refined” and “preposterous”, developing a keen interest in fashion and intricate fabric designs. Surprisingly, Katniss and Peeta didn’t seem to mind having their own District Twelve diva, even going so far as indulging her wishes whenever it was possible.

“Can’t be too lonely, when it’s the two of us” he snorted, stretching just enough to shake away the tiredness.

The kid shrugged and resumed her activity, and from what he could see she was colouring an elaborate outfit. He deduced the book had been shipped from the Capitol; the trends were a lot more subdued now but still ridiculous to him.

He heard footsteps and looked up to see Effie, walking in with a little Arlow babbling in her arms. Two years old and rambunctious, the boy looked more like his mother than Katniss herself.

“Oh, Grandpapa woke up!” Effie cooed as she sat on the rocking chair, sitting Arlow on her lap. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she was wearing a light flowery dress that seemed to be fitting to the current season. Haymitch’s eyes softened as he watched her talk to the boy, making funny baby sounds, and moving her hands to tickle him.

“Grandpapa wonders why we can’t have a nice evening to ourselves, too” he smirked.

“Haymitch, don’t say these things in front of our grandbabies!”

“Babies? That girl will soon manage a clothing line, sweetheart”. He winked at Robin who beamed at his words.

“That she will, that she will!” Effie acquiesced with a proud smile on her face.

“MaMaw, do you think a floral motive would go well with a tartan?”

“A floral and tartan dress? That’s revolutionary darling, I’d wear it!”

“You’d wear a potato sack if pretty enough” he teased, watching as Arlow slowly fell asleep with his head on Effie’s chest. Lucky boy indeed.

“Robin, don’t listen to him, he knows nothing of fashion”.

“Is that why it’s MaMaw who buys your clothes?”

“No, MaMaw buys my clothes because I’m lazy”.

“And because you have no fashion sense”.

“Thank God for that, you’d have a stroke if I was the one setting trends. What would be left for you?”

Her eyes were narrowed into two slits, and he felt an otherworldly urge to kiss her pout away. He would have, sans Arlow and Robin. She seemed to have read his mind and her lips stretched into a smile, one of those only reserved for him.

He would have never thought this could be his life, and he certainly knew she would say the same. Sometimes it still seemed too good to be true. But they had lived together for years, now, and shared a bed every night without fail. Even when their demons screamed. Especially then.

Twelve had been good to them, even to Effie, despite all expectations. At first, it hadn’t been easy. She’d had to adapt to Twelve’s sensibilities and feel comfortable without her wigs and makeup to shield her from the world. And she still never went out without a scarf covering her hair, he and the children were the only ones allowed to see her real hair, the only ones she could be her true self with.

Not everyone had welcomed her with open arms when she’d come, but slowly that worked itself out as well.

If he’d been told this would be his life, a life where he was free, where he and Effie could simply be without problems, he would have probably laughed. Maybe even mocked. It would have been the response of a man who had no hope, it would have been fitting.

Things changed, he mused. Their life now was walks in the meadow, trips to the Hob where they’d bicker about what to buy or not, swims at the lake during warm summer days, and dozing off under the shade of a tree. It was feeding the geese, helping Peeta at the bakery, or accompanying Katniss on her hunting trips.

They had the children, and now Robin and Arlow too. It was a soft life. It was good.

[detectiveichijouji]

Case 24 - A panicking digimon’s plea

[AO3 version]

“HE GOT TEN?! TEN FRAGMENTS SO FAR?!” Daisuke babbled, shouting and making iconic angry Daisuke noises, “THAT THIEEEEEEEEF…!!”

“We should focus on who will be the next target!” Miyako snapped, “We can track Arsenemon’s stolen pieces later, ok?!”

“But--”

“Miyako-san is right,” Ken sighed, “There’s something bugging me about this though…”

“Hm?” The digimon, Hikari, Takeru and Iori looked at Ken. Miyako was still on the laptop and Daisuke… was just babbling something inaudible right now (probably gibberish noises).

“Espimon was there too, but we didn’t see Noel Leblanc around.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Patamon replied.

“But Noel-kun said he doesn’t like to leave Espimon locked inside a room,” Hikari explained.

“This could mean Ken’s theory that Noel created Arsenemon is true, right?” Armadimon asked.

“Makes no sense!” Daisuke snapped, “Noel wouldn’t create a smug thief digimon and be playing with us! He’s not like… Uh, forget it.”

Ken stared at him for a moment -- yes I know what you wanted to say. But Ken also knew Daisuke didn’t mean any harm. And besides, Ken himself admitted creating Chimeramon was a bad bad idea.

“... Y-you know, sometimes I forgot you were… that guy” Daisuke blushed in shame. He was about to blame the Kaiser again, in front of the one and only former Digimon Kaiser.

“No, I get it. I just hope he’s not like who I was in the past.”

“... Awkward,” V-mon whispered to the other digimon.

“Hmm…” Iori was thoughtful.

“What is it, dagya?” Armadimon asked him.

“Instead of waiting for the next victim to appear, we should set a list of potential targets so we could prevent them from getting caught.”

“Ooh, that’s a good idea,” Hawkmon exclaimed.

“Iori-kun is really a genius,” Hikari giggled lightly.

“Of course he is!” Armadimon said, proudly of his human partner right now.

“Well done, Iori-sama” Daisuke gave Iori a pat in the head.

Iori blushed all of those compliments though. Then, the group started listing the potential victims. Patamon then asked, “Should we include ourselves in this list too?”

“Everyone has a potential to be a target here,” Ken explained. The others could feel he was afraid of something… But still not sure if about him turning into a potential menace again, or about the enemies using the other five against him like they had tried previously with Takeru.

“Right, I think they wouldn’t come after Takeru again,” Daisuke said seriously, “That Impmon noticed Takeru had some resistance to the wicked Digimental fragment, or the brainwash.”

“The lightning doesn’t strike twice, so I don’t think they will target me again.”

“Right, this means…” Miyako looked at the others, “... The rest of us are in danger.”

They nodded. Hikari frowned, “Okay, so who else is left from our seniors?”

“Mimi-san, Yamato-san and Koushiro-san,” Wormmon replied.

“Well, Mimi-san can’t be!” Miyako smiled, “She lives in New York, and we haven't got any request from any American Chosen Child yet.”

“Ok, then Yamato and Koushiro are possibly the next ones” Tailmon mused, “How is Yamato’s mood, Takeru?”

“Huh? He’s… fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” the others repeated, the worried faces made Takeru uncomfortable.

“Y-yeah, everything is fine with him. He told me at least. He’s just busy with university stuff, but nothing to worry… Yet.”

“When you say ‘yet’ like this, it means something is off,” Daisuke sighed. V-mon imitated him as well.

“They would totally target Koushiro, dagya” Armadimon said with a serious gaze at the group, “He got the shards we collected so far. Soon or later they will come after those too! To use it on others.”

“And then there’s Arsenemon too, who will come after those shards once he gets the remaining three…” Ken began musing again.

“... I think we should ask Arsenemon why he wants those,” Daisuke commented, out of the blue, making the others look at him in surprise, “He said we wouldn’t believe him if he told us what he wants with the shards… But… I think we would’ve at least tried to.”

“What?? He’s a thief!” Miyako squinted her eyes at Daisuke, “Isn’t you who keeps saying he’s a thief and that it’s our job to catch him!?”

“Yeah, but he helped us countless times! Even if we had the shard stolen later!”

“Daisuke-kun, why are you suggesting we do that all of a sudden?” Hikari frowned, “And besides, Inspector Fujieda didn’t… Contact us anymore…”

“Did she kick us out of the case??” Patamon asked them.

“Hmm, no. It’s that Arsenemon’s targets are not related to stealing usual objects anymore” Ken replied, “Seems like she and the police decided to quit the case.”

“AH~ Japan’s Autumn is so good~” Mimi’s plane has just landed and she was stretching her arms and she started to hum a song, excitedly.

“Mimi-san?” someone else came with her. Someone… who wanted to see a couple of old friends after a long time without seeing them… “I had never been to Japan before, so please don’t leave me behind…” he chuckled nervously.

“It’s okay~ I bet Daisuke-kun will be happy to see you again, Wallace~ ”

“... W-will they hate me?” a tiny Lopmon was holding Wallace’s leg. Yes, it was…

“I don’t think so, Chocomon. Don’t worry about it” Wallace responded with a smile, “I think they will be happy to see you again, now that you’re back.”

“Yeah, it was Daisuke himself who gave Wallace hope while you were inside that DigiEgg” Terriermon replied, “I bet he will like to meet the real you.”

“The real me…?”

“Now, let’s go!! I want to visit everything while we’re here!!” and then Terriermon took Lopmon’s hand and dragged him through the airport.

“D-don’t go without us!!” Wallace, Mimi and Palmon gasped and went after the twin-mons.

Later, at night…

“...”

Despite everything, Arsenemon kept watching the kids’ activity from the shadows. Especially now that they are the next targets from the eyepatched Impmon and Dracumon. Also… Who would be this Naito person? Would he be the same person mentioned by Taichi?

“Sigh, I’m running into a wall here” the elusive thief sighed, “We could track Impmon down and retrieve the remaining pieces, but this would end my fun…”

The truth is, he’s enjoying the caper shenanigans.

“... But if I don’t stop them, something bad will happen to those poor innocent humans and their digimon…”

He used his own magical tricks to write on the air, making notes on the current thread of events.

“Let’s see… Takenouchi Sora, Yagami Taichi and Kido Joe… Trying to use the Chosen Children with crests huh…”

“What’s up boss?” Espimon popped in, and she realized he was busy thinking about complicated stuff again “Oh…”

“I guess they’re just doing it purposely this time.”

“Huh, but why?”

“Maybe revenge? But it wouldn’t make sense… If the human named Naito is after the Chosen, he would’ve targeted Yagami Taichi’s peers first and then him later. But Taichi was the second victim this time…”

“Hmm… I think they might indirectly attack one of the younger humans…?”

“Oh, that’s for sure mademoiselle. But… Who?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “So, who’s next?”

“I’ve come to the conclusion it would be the less expected, less obvious human in this group of douze personnes , and it’s…”

He wrote the name in a calling card, then copied the calling card with his magic. He gave her the original one, “Send this immediately. Maybe if we get their awareness… Maybe we can prevent those Chosen Children from facing something terrible.”

“Aye, sir!!” and with this, Espimon flew away.

But that new target was…

In the morning…

“WHAT!?”

Mimi and Daisuke found the calling cards in their rooms, respectively. Daisuke’s one made him confused -- ISN’T MIMI-SAN IN NEW YORK OR SOMETHING!? -- but Mimi’s confusion was why would she become a target if he had nothing like a shard in possession?

“Might be a mistake,” Wallace looked at the paper “Are you sure it reads ‘Tachikawa’ and not another way? It doesn’t have furigana…”

“Maybe we should talk with Miyako-chan and the others…” She took her phone from the desk and started typing a message on it.

…

“Mimi-san is here!!?” Daisuke blinked, looking at the message he got on his phone minutes later, “Wait… How did he know?! Is she the next victim?! But it makes no sense!!”

“Huh… He’s really good at spying on us” Chibimon had his arms crossed, and he nodded his head sagely.

“It doesn’t matter! We have to protect Mimi-san from Arsenemon!!”

“But weren’t you saying recently that… We should ask him what he wants with the pieces?” Chibimon’s eyes narrowed.

“... Yeah, I did. But I’m not sayin’ we should become best friends ever with him!”

“Oh…”

“Anyway, Mimi-san needs our help. This is a case for our special digimon crimes unit!!”

“He’s back into that ‘detective’ mood…” Chibimon gave a long sigh.

Mimi and the 02 group gathered at the usual karaoke booth. And with her… Wallace and the twin digimon. This was the very first time Ichijouji Ken and Wallace were seeing each other.

“Why is Wallace here!?” Daisuke exclaimed.

“Oh he asked to come to see you five!” Mimi grinned and replied with joy, “See? He asked if they could come too and I said yes why not…? Daisuke-kun and the others would love to see you again!!”

“Huh, is that digimon…” Ken noticed Lopmon. The others looked at Ken and Wormmon.

“Oh, yeah it’s Chocomon!” Wallace took the digimon and put it on his lap, “He hatched!”

“What, didn’t I tell you before?” Daisuke blinked, “Wallace got twin digimon partners.”

“Oh…”

“Anyway,” Miyako cleaned her throat, “Why is Arsenemon after Mimi-san if she does not have a shard?”

“Maybe he knows something we don’t?” V-mon mused.

“That thief is really good at getting one step ahead from us, dagya” Armadimon complained with a pout.

“Um… Can you please explain to us more about those shards and this digimon called Arsenemon?” Terriermon asked them.

“Well, we can…” Hawkmon answered, “But we still didn’t get enough details figured out yet. Is that okay?”

Mimi, Palmon, Wallace and the twin digimon nodded in return. Then the 02 Team started explaining to them what happened.

“Oh I see…” Mimi stroked her chin “Ichijouji-kun destroyed a forbidden Digimental, hid the broken pieces somewhere only to be found by some mean digimon and then started to be spread through Tokyo…”

“Yeah,” Miyako nodded.

“Then this digimon called Arsenemon appeared,” Wallace was also stroking his chin, “claiming he would gather all of those pieces for a reason he claimed none of us would believe him…”

“Yup,” Patamon confirmed with a nod.

“But then an eyepatched Impmon and a Dracumon appeared and started corrupting people with those fragments…” Terriermon said, arms crossed.

“... And now you all have to not only get the shards before Arsenemon, but before they’re activated by someone’s desire?” Palmon completed the line.

“Yes,” Tailmon replied, “There’s also this new student at Hikari’s school named Noel Leblanc. He’s suspicious, but so far he has not been involved with anything bad yet.”

“Oh, is it because…” Wallace asked.

“... He’s a distant relative from Maurice Leblanc” Takeru answered, “Arséne Lupin’s creator.”

“In other words, we suspect he had created Arsenemon” Ken added. Daisuke looked at him.

“Well, we will have to be your bodyguards,” Miyako explained with a serious voice, “At least to prevent either of them from attacking you!”

“I’d like to have you as my bodyguard, Miyako-san,” Wallace said with a smooth voice and a smile. Ken suddenly took the microphone from the table and…

“THAT’S ALL, THANK YOU FOR COMING.” … screamed on it.

And he then gently pushed Wallace and Mimi out of the booth. He closed the door. Everyone stared at him, confused. Except for Daisuke, who definitely got the gist.

“Why did you do that!?” Miyako snapped, “That was so rude coming from you, Ken-kun!!”

“We need to talk. About that plan. Right now.”

“????”

“What was that…?” Wallace whined in his seat, at a local fast food chain around the karaoke’s location, “Daisuke told me that Ichijouji Ken was nice and tidy.”

“Oh don’t mind him,” Mimi giggled nervously, “Ichijouji-kun can be a little assertive when it comes to some of his friends.”

“Does he like Miyako-san too?” Wallace wondered, “He got good taste then.”

“I think we shouldn’t jump to conclusions yet,” Palmon commented.

“Oh so do I still have a chance…?” he smiled.

“Wallace,” Mimi laughed, “You’re so funny~”

“Hmm…?” Terriermon blinked, then called for the others’ attention, “Wallace, Mimi, look.”

“??” they looked to the direction Terriermon’s ears were pointing.

It was an Impmon. It had an eyepatch. So it’s one of the enemies, right? Mimi and Wallace, alongside their partners, got up from their table and slowly left the building, trying to contact Miyako and the others as soon as possible.

On their way, Wallace accidentally bumped into a young man with short white hair: Unryuuji Naito.

“Ah, I’m sorry!!” Wallace apologized with a bow.

“Oh it’s okay, kid” Naito smiled, “Oh you have dropped something.”

“Huh, did I-- Oh yeah, my phone! Thank you, mister!!” Wallace got his phone from the streetwalk and then bowed again to Naito. Finally, he ran after Mimi and the digimon.

Naito smirked, but a certain cyborg digimon witnessed the entire scene.

“What, you saw that Impmon we told you and Wallace?” Takeru and the others had met Mimi again. Oddly, Wallace was not around yet… the twin-mons neither.

“Yeah, we saw it!” Palmon confirmed, Terriermon saw them-- Huh? Where’s Terriermon, Lopmon and Wallace?”

“That’s no good…” Patamon frowned, “Maybe they went after that digimon?”

But, suddenly they see Wallace walking calmly with the twins. He smiled at them and went to meet with the group, “I finally caught you up. Sorry, I bumped into a dude…”

“Are you okay?” Hikari asked, and then Wallace nodded.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, no one got hurt. Well, shall we look for that digimon then?”

“Hmm…” Ken mused.

“What is it?”

“Nothing… Takeru-kun and Iori-kun should go with you. Miyako-san and Hikari-san with Mimi-san.”

“Hey, who made you the leader here?” Wallace stared at him, “You just think I’m after your girlfriend right!?”

“Girlfriend?” The group exclaimed.

“She’s not my girlfriend…” Ken spurted quickly. The group glanced at him again.

“Wait who’s Wallace talking abou--” Miyako raised an eyebrow.

“He’s jumping to conclusions,” Ken babbled again, “Anyway, let’s go. Daisuke agrees with those groups, right Daisuke?!”

“Huh?? Y-yeah I do…” Daisuke blinked, “Ken’s a good strategist so I trust him.”

“Hm… Going by those choices,” Iori stroked his chin, “Ichijouji-san put Mimi-san in priority, Silphymon is smaller and faster, alongside Lilymon they might counter the enemy until we arrive. However, Shakkoumon and Gargomon might be useful to protect you and the twins from turning into a target too.”

“Yes, exactly.” Ken nodded, “Paildramon and Imperialdramon should be used only in an emergency, in case either of you or Mimi-san get corrupted by the fragment.”

“I dunno…” Wallace squinted his eyes, “But if Daisuke says so, I’ll trust him more than you.”

“... Ken,” Daisuke and V-mon had narrowed eyes on the boy.

“Yes?” he gulped.

“Now that we’re alone… Be honest with me. You did it on purpose right?”

“What are you talking about, Daisuke??” He was sweating cold now.

“Y’know, you saw Wallace flirting with Miyako and… Decided to keep the girls away from him.”

“Oh?? Oh no no no no, I thought it would be good if they had Silphymon with--”

“He definitely did it because of Miyako” V-mon nodded sagely. Daisuke kept staring Ken.

“Don’t you believe in Ken-chan?!” Wormmon hissed, “Of course he didn’t do that for Miyako-san--”

“Ok, I admit… Yeah, but. Don’t. Tell.  Them. About. It.” Ken gave Daisuke and V-mon the stare most known as the ‘Digimon Kaiser murderous glare’

“R-right, sir…”

“Sigh, was it too obvious…?” he blushed.

“Y’know, it’s still funny” Daisuke chuckled, “You’re not the kind to be this aggressive when it comes to someone.”

“...”

“You should be like me and be more… Discreet? Is that the word?”

“You? Discreet?” Ken held his laugh. Wormmon and V-mon looked at Daisuke, impressed (but not surprised) that he had the audacity to say that.

“... Say, is it true Miyako-san doesn’t have a boyfriend?” Wallace tried to start a convo with the other two, but they were too focused on catching Impmon before things went south. They didn’t answer Wallace at all.

“Wallace-san,” Iori spoke, looking at the older boy now, “Where did you and Gummymon see that Impmon?”

“Uhh… It was in a fast food restaurant…” he answered, “Gummymon, show them the way.”

“But I… I have never been to Japan before…!!” Terriermon frowned, “How can we get there…?”

“Hmm, is there anything you could remember from that place?” Takeru asked, trying another approach, “Like, what’s on the other side of the street?”

“... I wasn’t paying attention… All I remember is we left and I bumped into this white haired dude, Then I used the digivice to find Mimi-san.”

“That’s a big problem, dagya…”

“But we don’t need to look for the place,” Terriermon said, pointing with his ears at someone in the horizon, “That Impmon is right there.”

“!!”

“Let’s catch him!” Patamon said, and then the boys nodded. But Lopmon was a little slower. Something made him a little wary about this.

“Um.. Umm…” the bunny digimon tried to run faster, to catch them up, but he stepped on his big ears and slipped, rolling like a ball through the street. He then heard some screams and a loud noise. He got up and looked into the direction of the sound.

He saw Wallace and Terriermon. But…

“A-aahh…!!”Lopmon flew away from there. What did he see??

“Strange…” Miyako pouted, “Why is Ken-kun acting so weirdly today? Geez, I don’t understand him sometimes.”

“Maybe Iori-kun was right and it was to take advantage of a Lilymon-Silphymon combo” Mimi tried to cheer her up, “Or do you think he did it because he was jealous?”

“Jealous?” Hikari, tilted her head, “Um… It’s true that sometimes…”

“Hey, there’s no way he would be jealous!” Miyako snapped, “He’s not Daisuke. Daisuke used to throw tantrums every time someone flirted with Hikari-chan.”

“He didn’t do that anymore though” Tailmon shrugged, “Maybe he grew out of it.”

“Mhm, mhm” Mimi and Palmon nodded.

“Hmph! Ken-kun is too intellectual to lose his patience with someone like Wallace! He’s well mannered, and calm. There’s no way he was putting us in a team to keep Wallace away from us!”

“I think I heard something…” Hawkmon commented, “Oh, someone’s nearby.”

“Hm? Oh it’s…”

… Noel? He seemed to be looking for something or someone. He then saw the girls and panicked. Well, maybe he’s just awkward… He passed by them, in a rush. But something fell from his pocket.

Mimi took it from the ground and it was…

“A card?” they all exclaimed.

It was one of those black calling cards. Miyako then read it, it was actually a calling card specially for him?? 

Your friends are in danger. Hurry up and find the shard, before it’s too late.

“Why would Arsenemon send a calling card to Noel-kun?” Hikari frowned, “And… Is Arsenemon planning to attack Daisuke and V-mon?”

“Oh no, we got to warn them…!!” Mimi babbled. The girls then went back, trying to phone Daisuke and Ken immediately.

“You were laughing!” Daisuke growled, “ Don’t lie, Ken! You were laughing when I said you need to be more like me!”

“I don’t know what you mean, but it was funny the way you said it.”

“Hah! You admitted it! But now you’re feeling less upset, right?”

“So Daisuke was trying to make Ken laugh?” V-mon blinked, Wormmon shrugged in silence.

“Well, if you want to know, I don’t think the word ‘discreet’ suits you. You’re more… ‘carefree’ if you ask me.”

“Carefree huh… Well, that’s how I am, I don’t like to take time worrying about useless stuff.”

“Suits you. See?”

They laughed lightly… Until they saw Lopmon coming in their direction, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” The bunny just hit Daisuke in the face and hugged it like the times Koromon did it with Taichi.

“G-GAH!!” Daisuke fell on the floor, then he took the bun off his face. He held Lopmon gently, “W-what happened, what’s wrong, where’s the others!?”

“TOO MANY QUESTIONS AAAAA!!” Lopmon cried, like a baby. Yeah, Gummymon was right -- Chocomon is a crybaby.

“Hey, take it easy,” Ken then took him from Daisuke’s hands, to let the other get up, “What happened…?”

“Wallace… He--”

Suddenly, a calling card flew in front of Daisuke. He took it from the ground:

Pardon my mistake. You six might be in real danger now.

“What? What does he mean??” V-mon asked the boys.

“Please… save… Wallace… and Gummymon…” Lopmon said, with his voice wavering. He grabbed Ken’s shirt tightly, as if he was saying don’t leave me.

Ken and Daisuke looked at each other. Something happened. Daisuke looked at the calling card again, “Alright so this means the bad guys caught Mimi-san and Palmon.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Arsenemon knew she was the target. There’s no other option here. Let’s go--”

“Alright/Yeah…” Ken, Wormmon and V-mon nodded and then the four went after the girls.

“Ugh…” Takeru woke up, and then he realized he and Iori were stuck inside a basement, “Iori-kun…!”

“Ghn… My head…” Armadimon growled, “Are y’all okay?”

“I’m fine…” Iori finally spoke, “Where are we?”

“We’re underground,” Patamon explained, on the top of Takeru’s head, “Seems like we got trapped here.”

“... Can we open the trapdoor?” Iori asked, but Takeru and Patamon shook their heads.

“Gah, I don’t think we can call for help now, dagya…!!” Armadimon sighed.

“Stay calm, please…” Iori asked him, softly. Then he took his phone, “Maybe I can ask for help.”

“But… How did we end up here, dagya…? Huh? Where’s Wallace and Gummymon, dagya?”

“...”

“Mimi-san!!” Daisuke screamed, and then approached the girl, “Huh, you’re… Normal??”

“W-what do you mean!?” Mimi pouted, “I’m fine…!”

“But… Arsenemon…”

Miyako and Hikari come, along with Silphymon and Lilymon. They all were confused. Daisuke then asked their digimon: “Why did y’all evolve?”

“Miyako-san found this,” Silphymon (Aquilamon side) answered, and then Miyako showed him the calling card.

“Huh, another one??” V-mon exclaimed.

“Did you get one of those?” Miyako raised an eyebrow. Ken was also curious about it, “This one dropped from Noel’s pocket.”

“Noel huh…” Ken mused.

“Maybe he went to warn us?” Wormmon said.

“But why would Arsenemon send him that?” Daisuke frowned, “A-anyway… If Mimi-san and Lilymon are fine, then this means…

Then Daisuke and the others look at Wallace coming into their direction. He was smiling, walking calmly and normally. But they all definitely noticed that Takeru and Iori weren’t with him so it made them all a little terrified.

“Sorry, we couldn’t find that Impmon” Wallace frowned, “Anyone got some luck?”

“Wallace,” Daisuke said with a serious voice, and he was glaring at the other boy, “where are Takeru and Iori?”

“Oh? They decided to keep looking for the digimon a little more, but I got lost from them.”

“You could’ve phoned us,” Mimi said, “I thought you had mine and Daisuke-kun’s number…”

“Hey, what if we split up again? I’ll go with Daisuke this time. We can find them quickly this way.”

“Uh…” Daisuke looked at Ken and the others, and at Lopmon who had asked for them to help Wallace… “It’s pointless to split up now. We need a better plan--”

“No, go with him” Ken interrupted him, and whispered something in Daisuke’s ear.

“Ok… If you say so…” Daisuke shrugged, but whatever Ken had told him made the goggle boy pout. He walked to Wallace, but Ken held V-mon’s arm for a moment. For some reason, Lopmon refused to go with them.

Wallace and Daisuke left, V-mon looked at Ken: “Huh, don’t you think it’s dangerous to leave Daisuke to go all alone?”

“Trust me, I have a plan” Ken said with a determined gaze at the blue digimon.

“Hm?”

“Hey, Wallace…” Daisuke grabbed his digivice inside his hoodie’s pocket, “Where’s Gummymon? If you get in trouble you might get hurt…”

“He went with Iori and Takeru,” he replied calmly, “Huh?” Wallace looked behind, “V-mon and Chocomon are not coming?”

“V-mon is a little tired. I think it’s okay to look for the other two without him. And when we found Chocomon he was afraid, so leave it in Mimi-san and Hikari-chan’s hands.”

“Fine then.”

Wallace, you’re acting too suspicious here… -- Daisuke thought -- I think something is wrong here, but being used as bait sucks!! Hurry up Ken…

“Uh… Shouldn’t it be easier if we call them with my phone?” Daisuke asked, “I think it would be easier--”

“... Daisuke.”

“?”

Wallace led him to an alley. They stopped, and Daisuke clutched the digivice in his pocket. He gulped.

Suddenly, Daisuke noticed something in Wallace’s hand. It was… A shard?!

“Y-you…!!”

Behind Wallace and in the shadows, two flashing red eyes appeared and then from that direction missiles like the ones from Rapidmon Golden were shot. But Daisuke couldn’t defend himself!! So he closed his eyes waiting for the worst, BUT!!

“Un deux trois!”

A magical barrier made of a giant Ace of Hearts card protected him. The three looked up and saw a silhouette of a humanoid digimon. Arsenemon jumped from the top of that building and landed in the middle of the scene.

“My my, you’re a bit reckless when I told you you were a target, non ?”

“I… I didn’t ask for your help!!” Daisuke babbled angrily, “... B-but thanks. I guess.”

“Your little blonde friend here has not only been consumed by the fragment,” he said hesitantly, “But also one more little detail. May you believe me?”

“If you’re goin’ to steal that thing do it now!”

“I won’t let you ruin it.” Wallace’s voice sounded creepier now, “Rapidmon, get rid of them…!!”

 A black digitron Rapidmon appeared from the shadows and assaulted Arsenemon, who used his cane to block the opponent’s attack and shielded Daisuke. The boy was completely confused about why Arsenemon decided to protect him instead of going after the fragment.

“Forget me!” Daisuke shouted, “Get that thing out of Wallace’s hand!”

“If you want this, then better you stop shielding him and come get it!!” Then Wallace ran away.

“He’s escaping!!”

“Are you ok, though?”

“... Yeah I am, but you might not like to lose a piece right?” he smirked.

“W-what?”

Lilymon used her Flower Necklace technique to wrap Arsenemon with her flower and vine rings. Little do they (Wallace and Arsenemon) know that Lilymon had been following Daisuke.

“Kh!! It was a trap!?”

“Hehe” Daisuke laughed, “We caught you, sneaky thief!!” Then he phoned Ken, “Ken, we got him. Now it’s up to you to catch Wallace.”

“Heh, you smooth detective caught me.”

“Shut up, I hate to be used as bait!”

“...”

Wallace and Rapidmon were successfully running away when Silphymon and Shakkoumon blocked the way! It wouldn’t be a problem to get rid of them, right!?

Except… a pair of cables wrapped Wallace and Rapidmon. They looked back and saw… Paildramon?! But HOW did V-mon evolve without Daisuke…!?

“Kh!! H-How!?”

“Easy,” Ken smirked a la Digimon Kaiser, “Lopmon witnessed you using the shard. And then he used ‘save’ when asking us to help you and your digimon.”

“Then Iori called me on the phone and explained everything” Miyako added, “That they were trapped in a basement by you and Gummymon.”

“... So, you figured things out, huh?” Wallace smirked, “But not enough for THIS!! ” and then Rapidmon fired his revolver on his back, attacking in all directions. The group had to cover and hide.

But… More of those card-shields protected them all. Lilymon took advantage and used her Flower Necklace technique on Wallace and Rapidmon by wrapping them with her flowers and vines, thus removing the wicked mental control from the fragment and Dracumon. Rapidmon devolved back into Terriermon and passed out due to exhaustion. 

Ken took the fragment from Wallace’s hand, “I’ll take this, thank you.”

“Huh… How did this thing end up in my hand…!?” Wallace blinked, “Argh… My head hurts…”

They all looked at each other, then back to Wallace.

“Don’t you know?” Patamon asked, raising an eyebrow.  The three Jogresses had undone and all six digimon devolved back to their usual forms.

Wallace shook his head, “Nope… All I remember was… I was using my phone to call Mimi-san and… Suddenly a flash light came from the screen… I don’t remember when I had that shard in my hands, but I clearly remember doing something bad to Takeru and Iori… ugh…”

“Maybe it fused with Wallace’s phone” Ken mused, “Like when Mokami Ryouma fused the shard with his partner’s DigiEgg…”

“Wow, you’re pretty smart huh?” Wallace gasped in surprise.

Mimi walked in, with Lopmon in her arms, Lopmon then jumped on Wallace’s face and hugged it. The boy grabbed the twin-mon gently and took him off his face.

“Thank you,” Lopmon thanked Ken, looking at him timidly.

“Daisuke’s friends are my friends too” Ken smiled kindly, “I hope Terriermon is not hurt though…”

“He will be fine, he’s a tough digimon” Lopmon smiled back.

“But where did those cards come from, dagya?” Armadimon asked, looking at those objects fading in the air.

“Arsenemon…” V-mon clenched his fists. Then, the group saw Lilymon and Daisuke coming to meet them “Daisuke, did you let him go?!”

“... No?” Daisuke blinked, “A-actually he… He was a dummy. Like, not the real one.”

“A dummy!?” the rest of the group exclaimed.

“Yes, a dummy” Lilymon nodded her head, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, you did your best” Mimi tried to comfort her.

“... Sigh, we got THIS close to get the other ten shards back…” Daisuke commented, dramatically.

“Hmm… 8 shards for them…”

In the distance, Noel watched them. Why was he there though? Maybe he arrived too late to warn Daisuke and the others about what happened with Wallace?

“Good… Very good…”

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

the sky’s open wide, i’m running with the wolves - chapter 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, background Remy, background c!Thomas Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Platonic/brotherly Virgil with Logan and the Creativitwins; platonic/parental Patton & Virgil; platonic/brotherly Logan and the Creativitwins with each other; platonic/parental Janus with Logan and the Creativitwins; background endgame Moceit.  Warnings: Probably some language; references to Christianity; non-graphic violence.  Word count: 1570 Notes: Wolfwalkers (2020) AU! You don’t need to have seen the movie to enjoy this, though. 

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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Summary: When Patton is charged with hunting down the wolves in the woods, he believes he is protecting his young son Virgil. But Virgil is afraid to watch his father vanish into the woods, and sneaks after him. When Virgil runs into three wolf cubs who hold the secrets of the forest, he has to make a choice: obey the rules he’s known all his life? Or try to help the three shapeshifting boys find their missing father—even though Virgil's always been taught that the only safe wolf is a dead one? As Virgil explores the wonderful world his new friends show him, and uncovers the lies his town is built on, he may be too late to realize that his choices will cost him more than he ever bargained for.

Chapter 1

Remy would never have particularly considered himself a God-fearing man. Oh, he said his prayers and went to church, of course, but it was more a comfortable habit woven into the fabric of his life than something he devoted much thought to. Even at nineteen, he preferred to occupy his day-to-day thoughts with such matters as the tending of his sheep, the comfort of a nice dry pair of woolen socks, the avoidance of wolves, and, most of all, the brewing of a good cup of tea.

Remy was good at his job. He tended his sheep; he stayed well away from the woods. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with the woods. Stay away from their territory, and keep up the deal of old, and always be safe. He had never put much thought into this, either; it was much more important, in Remy’s eyes, to consider the fine taste that a brew steeped just right could carry.

He never expected his thoughtless respect for the woods to pay off.

The first time Remy saw a Wolfwalker, he was twenty-five years old and had started to wonder if he even believed they were real. But after that day, he never doubted again.

After all, how else could one explain the way the huge, snarling gray wolf, poised to deliver a killing bite to one of Remy’s finest sheep, had heard that commanding howl come from the woods, and put its tail between its legs and run back home in response?

Remy had watched the wolf run, standing frozen in fear and shock—and then he’d seen the Wolfwalker. A tall, tremendous wolf standing at the edge of the treeline, easily twice the size of the largest man, with dark gray fur and eyes gleaming yellow, a jagged scar running down one side of its face. Lean and powerful. Remy instinctively knew this was no ordinary wolf.

Remy had never considered himself a God-fearing man, but staring at the Wolfwalker and the way it commanded the pack of ordinary wolves surrounding it, he thought to himself that perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pray a little harder.

“Thank you,” he croaked out when the Wolfwalker turned its eyes on him. “Thank you, m’lord—bless ye—I’ll never cross your territory, you may be sure of that—thank you for protecting my sheep—” He barely even knew what he was saying, babbling out his thoughts in more than a little healthy terror.

He wasn’t quite sure if the way the Wolfwalker bowed its head was a nod of acknowledgement, but the next moment, the Wolfwalker was leaping away, the pack of wolves trailing in its wake. And not a single sheep of Remy’s had been harmed.

Remy didn’t see the Wolfwalker often; over the next decade or so, he crossed paths with—him? Remy somehow got the feeling it was a him—perhaps half a dozen times. Every time he came away filled with awe and fear and a renewed sense that though the Wolfwalker was terrifying and fearsome, Remy would far rather live under his odd protection than whatever farce could be provided by all these guards the new Lord Protector kept bringing around.

Before he knew it, Remy was nearly thirty-seven and his appreciation of a good cup of tea had only strengthened over the years. He went to church and said his prayers with gusto, and every night he glanced out to the woods and gave a little nod of respect. For the Wolfwalker and, these last few years, the little cubs that followed in his wake.

As long as the people kept themselves to themselves and stayed out of the woods, Remy knew there was nothing to fear from the wolves.

***

“I don’t want you to go!” Logan clung to Janus’s wrist, digging his heels into the ground and trying to physically hold him back.

Janus lifted his powerful arm and picked the near-teen right up off the ground with almost no effort at all. “This is terribly grown-up of you,” he informed his eldest son dryly.

“There are too many humans,” Logan insisted, dangling from Janus’s arm, the little claws of his hands pricking at Janus’s skin. “You said only the forest was safe!”

Janus drew a long breath. “And that has been true for time immemorial. But things have changed. I like it no more than you do. But I need you to stay here and look after your brothers, you understand me, Logan? I will find us a new forest, a safer one, without any humans who want to cut and burn the trees or trap us with iron. And then I will come back and get you three, and we will go there.”

“But this forest is ours!” Logan protested. “No other forest will be ours like this one is.”

“Logan,” Janus said, and his voice bore an undercurrent of a warning snarl now, “I am doing what I must to protect my cubs.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that they couldn’t stay here. Not with the way the humans kept getting bolder and bolder and venturing deeper into the woods. Between Logan’s poor eyesight and the twins’ recklessness, and the way all three of them were only cubs and couldn’t defend themselves well yet, Janus was getting twitchier and twitchier by the day.

Logan stilled, an unhappy look on his face. “Can I come with you, at least? I can help! I’m very good at figuring things out! We could find a new forest together!”

“No,” Janus responded at once, his heart rate quickening at the idea. “I don’t—” He broke off and reconsidered what he was about to say. “I need you to look after the twins,” he said at last, striving to keep his voice casual.

Not casual enough. Logan stared at him, a look of dawning horror on his face. “You think you might not come back!” he accused.

Janus refrained from speaking the curse he wanted to let out. Logan had always been far too observant. “Of course I’ll come back,” he lied through his teeth, running a comforting hand through Logan’s tangled hair. “I only want to make sure the way is safe for my little ones first.”

Logan had spoken the truth a moment ago: there were too many humans these days. Janus wasn’t sure it was possible to safely venture past the borders of the forest anymore. He wasn’t sure there was anywhere left to take his little ones.

He wasn’t sure he would survive this search.

But it wasn’t like there were any other options left at this point. “Logan,” Janus said, kneeling down and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He focused on making his voice honey-sweet and sincere. “I’m going to keep you safe, you understand? I would never abandon you. You are in charge of keeping your brothers safe until I return, but I will be back in a month or two.” Janus held the little boy’s brown eyes and tried not to think of humans with their traps and spears and guns and the way that once Janus left the forest he would have nowhere to hide.

“I will come back,” Janus told Logan, and he put his whole heart into his lie. “I promise.”

***

“I don’t want to move to some stupid village.” Virgil kicked his feet against the edge of the wagon petulantly, poking a piece of straw through the bars of his kestrel Thomas’s cage.

Patton sighed and reached back to ruffle his son’s hair, not taking his eyes from the winding dirt road. “I know, kiddo. We’re going to have a better life there. The Lord Protector offers a handsome salary to Hunters who can bring down wolves. They say the town is terrorized day and night, and they need to rid the forest of these pests so they can safely harvest the wood and expand the borders of the town.”

“But I hate when you go hunting!” Virgil crawled up to the driver’s seat beside Patton and clung to his arm. “I’m always so scared you’ll get eaten up! Or step in a trap! Or fall off a cliff! Or drown! Or—”

“Hey, there. Hey, now.” Patton wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “Breathe, child. Breathe for me.” He murmured soothingly for a few minutes. “Now, come on, tell me: who taught you to draw a bow and arrow?”

“You,” Virgil mumbled.

“Good lad. And who taught you to track?”

“You did.”

“And what do you think? Am I a good Hunter? Haven’t I always kept you safe as can be?”

“Yes, but—”

“Virgil,” Patton interrupted, gentle but firm.

Virgil fidgeted for a moment. “It only has to go bad once, and you’d never come home again!”

“It’s a good thing I’d never do that, then,” Patton said, chucking Virgil under the chin and chuckling. “I mean, I have a sturdy little lad to look after, I must always make sure I hasten home to him at the end of the day.” He drew Virgil close and gave him a protective, reassuring hug. “Nothing’s going to get your Papa. I promise. I will always protect you, Virgil, you hear me? And today, the best way to protect you is to find ourselves a new home out here. We’ll make do, never you worry. I’m sure you’ll have lots of new friends in no time!”

--

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): 

@theimprobabledreamersworld @private-snippers @fivehargreeves05 

[delimeful]

WIBAR Intermission: Night Terrors

welcome to the third intermission piece; also a commission for @walkingonsunshine for more WIBAR content! sorry for the delay, and i hope you enjoy! <3 

if you’re new to this AU, you can find the first story on tumblr here and the ao3 collection here!

warnings: panic, fear, nightmares, depiction of night terrors, hurt/kind of comfort, tsundere princey

---

Roman carefully adjusted their flight course, half his attention devoted to keeping an eye on the Human currently hovering around one of his two closest friends. 

How strange his life had become, for that sentence to only be mildly terrifying. He glanced at the charted course on the ship’s displays one more time, and then made his way over to the others. 

Predictably, the Human’s gaze flitted to him immediately, and though his shoulders went taut, he continued speaking in low Common. 

“Are you sure this is safe? What if you need to get off-planet quickly, won’t we be too far? The smugglers could have people there, what if they recognize Patton--,” 

“Virgil,” Logan cut in, still carefully slotting items into his traveling pack as he made direct eye contact with the Human. “We’ve taken this all into account, and we have several contingency plans. If I thought that either of us were in danger, this trip wouldn’t be happening.”   

“I know you don’t think the chances are high, but…” The Human shifted his weight, working his freaky jaw as though chewing on his words. “Is it worth the risk, though?”

“In order to keep our ship running efficiently and avoid budget…,” Logan paused, and then revised his statement, accommodating the Human’s inability to comprehend nerd speak. “We need currency and information, and this is the best way. It will also keep us from looking suspicious and risk being boarded.” 

The Human averted his eyes, shamed by the reminder that he was the reason they were striving to remain so secretive. Roman huffed derisively. Before, they hadn’t ever picked up anything illegal or unsavory while running missions. Now, they had an entire stowaway on board that could get them in serious trouble.

“What about Roman?” the Human asked, a curious note entering his voice. “I… I know that I can’t go, but he’d be able to keep you safe, right?” 

Roman bristled slightly, thrown off guard by being suddenly dragged into the argument. Complimenting him, what sort of ploy was this? “Of course I could keep them safe!” 

“However,” Logan shot him a look, completely unfairly since the Human had started it, “Patton and I are the most effective team for trading, and I am a distinctly and severely poisonous species, which means most will be wary to engage. Besides, Roman usually remains onboard to keep the ship functioning properly. Deviating from the norm here could draw unwanted attention, and even open ourselves to the risk of being robbed.” 

The Human seemed ready to continue the discussion, but his mouth clicked shut as Patton skittered into the room at full speed, his own small traveling pack strapped to his waist. “I’m ready to go!” 

Roman raised a skeptical eye ridge at the bulky shape of the bag as the Ampen passed him. “How many cookies are in there?” 

“Just enough to make it through the trip!” Patton chirped back, completely unashamed. The Human’s lips twitched, and Roman reminded himself again that Patton would be upset if he interpreted it as the barely concealed threat display that it clearly was.  

Logan cleared his throat. 

“Can we consider the matter settled, then?” he asked, because he wasn’t above taking advantage of Patton’s puffball-ness to win an argument. It was infuriating when used against Roman himself, but he was more than happy to let the Human face Logan’s underhanded tactics. Virgil’s face pinched up in a strange expression, and then he sighed heavily, slouching more than normal. 

“Aw, still feeling stressed about the trip?” Patton asked, hopping closer to the Human and reaching up to the tip of his talons to pat his hand. 

Obligingly, the Human dropped into a stalker crouch, sickeningly quick. Patton headbutted the underside of the Human’s chin gently, completely unfazed by the threatening body language. Roman did his best to pretend he hadn’t just twitched menacingly in their direction. 

“Don’t worry, Vee, we’re going to be just fine! I’m a little nervous too, but I know everything is going to turn out okay.” They exchanged one of those clingy Human-style embraces, and then Patton finally stepped back, antennae lowered slightly at the parting. “And you’ll be okay, too! You’ve got Roman onboard to help if anything happens!” 

Roman didn’t miss the wary glance the Human threw his way, and he furrowed his brow (one of the few expressions that seemed to convey his general displeasure to the Human fairly well) before turning away pointedly. 

“... Right,” the deathworlder said, sounding more apprehensive than he had any right to be. 

After all, Roman suspected that Virgil hadn’t gotten the lecture/scolding on ‘playing nice while they were gone’ that he had. 

As if Roman was the one to worry about here! Unbelievable.  

---

The first half-cycle that Patton and Logan spent away passed without incident, mostly because the Human didn’t bother to emerge from the guest room and irritate Roman with his presence. 

Roman still struggled to get to sleep, since he couldn’t bring himself to remove his under armor plates while alone in a ship with a Human. Without Patton on board, there was no guarantee that the Human would remain ambivalent towards Roman. 

Humans didn’t take well to anything resembling a threat, after all. 

With that unnerving thought in mind, he should have expected that his dreams would be plagued with flashbulb memories of familiar, long-gone faces, ominous sounds drawing closer in pitch darkness, and claustrophobic tightness pressing in on him. 

He jerked upright, his mind still struggling in the dregs of the nightmare, and froze at a thick tearing sound. 

… That would be the pillows. He sighed as the soft fluff filling spilled out of the holes his scales had pierced. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get them replaced, but Patton often managed the shopping roster, and he’d definitely notice and realize that the nightmares were coming back. 

Roman smoothed his arm scales down absently, shaking his head and climbing out of bed. The lights were still dim, meaning he could barely see three feet past his face, but he had navigated in worse, and he’d also been living on this ship more than long enough to familiarize himself with its layout. It would be simple enough to go get a drink of water, clear his head a bit.

He tried not to focus on the fact that he was traversing the same darkened halls that a Human could be wandering. Or stalking. He shuddered, and regretted it as his scales clacked loudly. 

As though summoned by his thoughts, there was a faraway faint sound. Roman went still, ears panning carefully-- there it was again. There was only one other being onboard that could be the source of the noise, but what was the Human even doing at such an hour? 

With only a little hesitation, he made a detour, following the turns and curves until he reached the guest door that he knew housed their illegal stowaway. 

Luckily, the Human always left the door partially open, so it was easy for him to peer in and spot the vague outline of him, curled in a pile of bedding on the floor. It was even easier to see the way the Human tossed and turned, murmuring, clearly caught in the throes of his own nightmare.

Roman softened slightly despite himself as he caught a low whimper. It wasn’t any of his business but… maybe he should go comm Patton. The Ampen would know what to do.

Before he could decide, there was a sharp inhale, and the Human spasmed as though electrocuted, sitting bolt upright and breathing heavily. His entire body seemed to be trembling. 

Roman shifted, awkward at being caught lurking, but the movement made Virgil’s head snap sharply towards him. Something about his eyes, wide and blank, immediately set Roman on edge, and he resisted the urge to growl defensively. 

“What?” he demanded instead. “I simply heard you making noise-- hey!” 

A beat after he’d begun to speak, Virgil jerked away, scrambling to his feet and throwing himself not at Roman, but over the bed, as though trying to put distance between the two of them. He slammed face first into the wall with a painful-sounding thud, but didn’t seem hindered by the injury, turning and wedging himself into the corner of the room.  

Roman took an indignant step forward. Virgil screamed, guttural and terrified, as though someone was murdering him. Roman took several rapid steps backwards, but the Human continued to scream for no reason he could see. He abruptly began to worry about how Patton would react if he got back and found that the Human had spontaneously broken in his absence.

“Woah, calm down! I’m not doing anything to you, I’m just standing here,” he tried, backing up slightly. 

It was like he hadn’t even spoken. Virgil continued to stare right through him, eyes glazed with fear, skin slick with sweat, breathing quick and high-pitched like he was on the edge of sobs. Starting to panic himself, Roman sat down, eased his body language, even talked soothingly, but nothing he did seemed to help shake the Human out of his stupor.

“Please. Please!” 

Roman’s head jerked up as Virgil finally spoke in Common, his voice raspy and thin. “What?” 

“No more, I don’t want to-- please, just take it, leave me alone, please,” the babbling dissolved into Virgil’s native language again, and Roman wondered what kind of dream could possibly reduce a Human to this state. ...What had been taken from him? 

“Please…,” Virgil mumbled again, and then hummed a few shaky notes. Familiar notes.

When the Human’s hoarse voice trailed off, Roman picked up the rhythm. He carefully hummed the Ampen lullaby to completion, struggling not to tense up when Virgil finally reacted, his head swinging to the side as though searching for the source. His gaze eventually settled on Roman, promptly dropping down to his chest. It took him a moment to realize the Human wasn’t eyeing his vulnerable underbelly for attack, but rather, spotting the glowing charm that hung there. 

“Patton?” 

“A friend of Patton,” Roman replied in the musical tones of his crewmate’s language, feeling hopeful as the humans shoulders lowered slightly. Virgil nodded to himself, hand reaching for his own charm. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” he asked mildly, and then collapsed. 

Roman made an alarmed yip that he would absolutely never admit to, and then bolted for the nearest biometrics scanner, thanking his stars that Logan had managed to get the twitchy creature to sit still and register a baseline for them to compare to if he ever got sick or injured. He double checked that the device was offline before logging the Human’s vitals and quickly comparing them to baseline.

Other than a slightly accelerated pulse and an increase in the already ludicrous amount of Dren in his system, it all looked fairly normal. For all intents and purposes, Virgil had simply... fallen back into sleep, just like that. 

“What the fuck,” Roman muttered to himself, watching the Human breathe steadily for a moment more before backing out of the room and heading back to his own quarters, water forgotten. Whatever was wrong with Virgil, he could ask (or interrogate) in the morning. 

For now, he needed a damn nap.

---

The next morning, the Human seemed to have no recollection of the incident. 

After a frustrating amount of time wasted with subtle and then less-subtle prodding questions, Roman threw his arms up and stormed from the room, returning a moment later with the communicator. 

“Call Patton,” he instructed as he firmly shoved the device into Virgil’s hands, ignoring his perplexed expression. He paused for a moment, and then added on, “And give me the comm once you’re done.” 

Not because Roman was worried about the situation or anything. It was just that if he had to put up with terrifying and vexing Human shenanigans, then the other two were going to get an earful about it. 

And... if they decided to talk to Virgil about it and figure out what was wrong, that was their business, not his. He wasn’t involved.

---

Virgil squinted curiously at Roman’s retreating back as the Crav’on vanished into the other room. 

The comm in his hand buzzed twice, indicating that the connection had been established, and he felt some of the stress ease from him as Logan’s calm voice trickled through the alien phone, Patton audible in the distance. They were okay. 

He was okay too, despite all his doubts about being alone on an alien ship with an alien who didn’t hide his distaste for Humans at all. Roman had even seemed oddly concerned at breakfast. 

Maybe the guy didn’t completely hate him, after all.  

[nautiscarader]

Nautiscarader’s Wendip Week day 3: Prank War

geez, this one took a while. I apologise, and let’s hope next one will arrive faster

 (ao3)

============

Someone standing outside of The Mystery Shack might have thought that the living room contained a very predictable lighting bug, or at least that someone inside was broadcasting a rather boring Morse code message using light signals.

In reality, it was just Wendy and Dipper, slouched on the sofa, surfing TV channels, giving each of them at most three seconds to entertain their bored minds. So far, none of them stood up to the challenge.

But as Wendy continued the only physical activity she had the energy for, i.e. pressing one button, something finally caught their attention.

- "What's up everyone? It's your boy, the Prankster Prancer!"

A loud, obnoxious, blonde man in his twenties, wearing spiky, gelled hair rode into the shot on a fake unicorn, face-hugged the camera, filling the wide-angle lens and made both Dipper and Wendy jump in their seats as loud horn noise shook the air around them.

- Wait, I thought this guy was only on the internet! - Wendy raised her brow - Did he escape to the real world?! - Come on, who in the right mind would give him a show? - "So, first of all, thanks to our station, The Cheese Network, for giving me the chance to entertain you guys..."

Dipper and Wendy groaned in collective understanding.

- "...and for giving us some cheese to pay for our last week's prank!"

The screen dimmed and the camera changed to an aerial shot, containing not only fires and flood, but also several military helicopters.

- "So last time we did some EPIC prank during the gender reveal party and we've made a hole in the ozone hole!"

The man made extra effort to extend every vowel in the last word, to an equally obnoxious collection of sound effects.

- Wow. That looks... bad. Even by our standards. - Wendy watched the footage. - Yeah. Good thing this dude stays away from us. - "And now it's time to reveal the next place for our EPIC PRANK!"

The man took a baseball bat and unceremoniously smashed the unicorn doll in half, and stuck his hand in the fake guts, revealing an envelope.

- "And this one is a suggestion from my top commentator on-line, that girl leaves comments under every single one of my videos, so I could not ignore her request".

The envelope was opened, and suddenly, a girl's voice began reading it.

- "Dear Prankster Prancer. I love your videos, and how creative your calamity can be..." - Wait a minute - Dipper sat up, as his eyes widened in horror - Is that- - "My name is Mabel Pines, and I am staying in a small town called Gravity Falls, in Oregon...".

Dipper and Wendy looked at each other and understood each other at once.

- Barricade the doors!

But it was too late. As Dipper ran towards the lobby, the door were smashed to the ground, seemingly under the power of the air horns, and flooded the Shack with lights. The same blonde man walked inside, as if he owned the place, leading with him Mabel Pines.

- What's up birches? Is that how you call people living in the middle of a forest? - he shoved his face to the camera again. - More like, in the middle of nowhere! - Mabel added, high-five'ing him - Thankfully, me and my Prankster Protégé are gonna rock this place! - he shouted.

Dipper Pines stood up and cleaned himself from the dust and debris, watching as the two rock their heads to some aggressive tune.

- Hold on a minute! Mabel, why did you invite him here? If anything, there's too much going around in here! - Ugh, this is my little brother, Dipper. - Mabel rolled her eyes - I'm-I'm not little! - Dipper stomped in place - We're twins!

Somewhere behind him, Wendy snickered.

- What, you just look adorable when you're angry.

Dipper turned back and stormed towards his sister.

- Mabel, do you have amnesia or something? Gravity Falls is full of amazing things! We've been on treasure hunts, found all sorts of monsters in every lake, glade and a cave... You wanted to date a zombie on out first day here! - Yeah, sure, kid, as if I could just walk into a forest and find a dead body... - the Prankster took a sip of soda, looking somewhat nervously. - Mabel, we've seen living dinosaurs here! - Yeah, like I can see one now!

The Prankster pointed to the kitchen and very confused Grunkle Stan in his pajamas.

- What in the DMV is going on here? - Check this out, a living fossil!

The Prankster jumped towards Grunkle Stan and unceremoniously took a selfie with him.

- Oh no, my eyes! The light is coming towards me instead of the other way around!

Stan cried when flash of light blinded him, and with a sleigh of hand, the blonde man undid his belt, causing Stan to nearly trip and fall, if it wasn't for Wendy.

- Hey, you! You're not a prankster, you're a jerk!

At the sound of those words, the man stopped laughing and turned his attention, as well as cameras, towards Wendy.

- What's that? We've got ourselves a HATER!

An air horn was about to blow her hat off, but Wendy swiftly grabbed it and twisted it.

- Yeah, that's what I've said, you're a jerk. I like pranking people, but not to hurt them. - And watchu gonna do, leave a mean comment? - No, we're gonna prank you. - Wendy reached and brought Dipper towards her. - Cos we've done some pranking together ourselves! - Like what? - Like... when we've made our friend think his inflatable tube could talk!

The Prankster shot them with a dead stare.

- You know what, I don't even have time to play the "wah-wah" soundbite. But if you want to lose, your call. Tomorrow, we're gonna get an EPIC PRANK-OFF!

And he shot a pose in front of the camera.

- Right, now tell me where's someplace to eat. And they better have unlimited refills. - Lazy Susan is neat. And there's water tower nearby...

And with that, he and Mabel walked off, leaving the small destruction behind them.

- Wendy! - Dipper turned at once towards her - Are you crazy? He has entire film crew! And money! And very little empathy! He's gonna plough through us! - Chill out, man, we're gonna trick him, one way or another.

And she gently smacked the edge of his hat.

- Er, I know you guys like to babble all the time, but I still can't get up. - Grunkle Stan grumbled from the floor.

=============

The next day, Wendy woke up at the break of dawn with unbridled optimism. Dipper less so, and he was a bit nervous when Wendy gathered him and her crew in the small lumberjack shack in the woods to explain the plan of action.

- So, any questions? - she asked

At the same time, every teenager in the small room raised hands.

- So, how does exactly the can of whipped cream is supposed to work with the rake? - Tambry asked - And what do we have to do with the rat-shaped balloons? - Thompson asked shyly. - And can't we just... punch him? - Robbie suggested, mimicking the action. - Ugh, you guys!

Wendy groaned and hid her face in her hands. hearing the murmurs of doubt across the room, Dipper quickly stood up and continued.

- Guys, this jerk is giving us, pranksters, a bad name! We gotta prank him in a way that shows we are better... Because we can do better!

He watched as faces of the older teenagers brighten with his speech. Several of them even smiled.

- Plus he could, like, sue us for millions of dollars, so we gotta stay clean.

With newly gained optimism, the gang rushed to Thompson's van and readied themselves for the prank.

- Thanks, man, for giving me a hand. - Wendy suddenly patted Dipper's back. - Oh, no-no problem. - Dipper spoke, wondering if she noticed his blush.

=========

- Alright, we're all in places.

Wendy spoke to her phone, and observed the places, leaning from behind the wall. Her eyes moved from Robbie, hidden in the abandoned ice-cream stall, to Thompson, on top of a tree, to Tambry, pretending to read a large newspaper, and finally, to Dipper, holding a bag of provisions.

- We-Wendy, I'm not sure if this is gonna work. - Now!

She commanded, as Prankster walked nonchalantly out of the store. He thre away the half-eaten sandwich he just bought and was about to walk into the string that would have activate the whipped cream... if he didn't make a sudden jump.

He then threw something into the stall.

- Oh, crap, it's a grenade!

Robbie stormed out, tripping on the same wire he helped setting up, which resulted in his black hair covered in white goo and sprinkles.

Tambry was supposed attack next, but Prankester was already next to her. He took a bucket of soapy water and dumped it over her, destroying her diguise that covered her pruple hair.

For Thompson, he didn't even have to do much - he threw a mouse toy into the air, and listened how the boy tumbles down, shrieking.

And finally, he took something big and colourful out of his backpack and tossed it onto the street, watching as Dipper and Wendy rush towards it.

- Limited edition Giraffeoala!

They realised the two were after it when it was too late. Their heads collided with each other, just as the elusive plushie was yanked from their hands, back into his bag.

- Seriously, guys? You wanted to outsmart me? There like five of you and you couldn't do it. - Ha! That was a good one! - Mabel emerged from behind his back and did another high-five. - But I couldn't do it without you. - he pointed at her. - Me? But I didn't do anything... - Of course you did.

The Prankster lowered his sunglasses.

- Last evening at that stupid bar. You told me you were friends with everyone here. You told me how one of them likes gloomy, dark places. Like another one is afraid of mice. Like another one never looks away from her phone...

Mabel's ecstatic, radiant smile faded with each word the Prankster spoke, and her eyes, widened from excitation began to fill with tears.

- And, well, you told me what these two dorks are obsessed about... amongst other things. - Mabel! - Wendy and Dipper cried at the same time. - But-But I didn't... - Aw, really? You feel sad for them? LAME. - he pushed her aside and waved for his crew that followed him anyway.

For quite a while, all the small town could hear was Mabel Pines sobbing, until someone closed his arms around her.

- There, there, sis. - Dipper spoke quietly. - I guess you see why were so angry now. - I-I didn't know he would...

Dipper hugged her, letting her cry as much as she wants into his vest.

- It's not your fault, Mabel. - Wendy added, taking a knee and gently patting her. - But-But it is! - Well... Kinda... - Robbie added, and received a cold, piercing stare from Wendy. - Jerks like that like to... use people. And they know that the best ones are those, who are most trusting and kind.

Mabel's sniffing stopped, as Wendy continued.

- But you know what? - Dipper spoke suddenly - I think I got an idea...

He let go of his sister rushed to the Prankster, sitting on one of the toy unicorns, tossing quarter after quarter, while two children in queue began to tear up.

- Hey, you! - Ugh, you again, twerp. What, want me to reveal more secrets about you and your stupid hobbies? Or, like, who is your biggest crush after a toy plushie from the 90s?

Dipper's face reddened, but he remained unperturbed.

- We're not done yet. Tomorrow we're gonna prank you for good. Double or nothing! - Ugh, sure, fine. - the Prankster didn't even look at him - It's not like I can do anything until my lawyers clean up the whole "gender reveal party" fiasco. Like, who cares if the whole state is now inhabitable for life?

==============

By the next morning, the battleground was set. Cameras and tons of equipment surrounded the small grassy meadow in front of the Mystery Shack, where Dipper and Wendy were sitting in their chairs with their arms crossed, both wearing much more confident smiles. And the fact that Mabel was with them added them extra layer of morale.

When the clock struck 12, a mighty roar shook the place, as monster truck drove from behind the tree line, smoking and setting nearby branches on fire. The Prankster Prancer jumped out of it, and, drowned in the flashes of cameras, walked into his place.

- So, are you twerps ready for the FINAL PRANK OF YOUR LIFE? - he roared into the microphone, rolling his tongue back and forth as if he was about to eat it. - Nah, we're not gonna prank you. - Wendy shrugged - But someone else will.

The newly reinstalled door to the Mystery Shack opened, and a new figure appeared. An elderly woman walked out, being led by Grunkle Stan that gallantly helped her, for once not sneaking his hand into her purse.

And when she looked up from behind her glasses, the confident smile on Prancer's face disappeared at once.

- Grandma?! What-What are you doing here?! - Oh, don't you know? - Grunkle Stan rushed with explanation - We, old folks, all know each other. And I simply couldn't let her miss her grandson's grand day! - I'm so glad I can see you, Archibald!

The elderly lady used her cane to hook him by his neck and brought him into his arms, despite his best efforts to avoid any interactions.

- G-Grandma, don't- don't call me that! - Why not? - she continued, seemingly ignoring her grandson efforts to escape her tight hug. - I am your grandma, and I will call you by your full name, Archibald Roderick Sebastian Eugene!

Somewhere behind them, Dipper, Wendy and Mabel were having the time of their life, trying to hide their laughter.

- So, wait, his initials literally make him an... - Grandma! Make them stop! They-they are laughing at me! - Nonsense! Those young folks told me all your fans would love to see me talk about you. So I've send them some photos via the eclectic mail!

The blonde man looked to the side at Wendy and Dipper's faces. Their wide smiles told him everything, and in the act of ultimate desperation, he gently shook his head, silently mouthing his plea. He then looked at Mabel's, but hers was filled with spite.

In response, Mabel simply pressed a button.

The enormous screen behind them lit up, showing an adorable newborn blonde boy in diaper, giggling at the baby rattle.

Several more followed, showing his equally naked body in progressively embarrassing positions.

The screen changed, and the same boy was now three-years old, wearing a strict haircut as well as a bowtie. And the worst part was, he looked happy.

The Prankster Prancer fell to his knees, as tears began rolling from his eyes, which his grandma quickly dried with her handkerchief.

- Oh, yes, I do tear up a little at this one too. Oh, but the next one makes me so proud!

Prancer's eyes widen, if possibly even more, and throwing away all the pretence, he rushed to Wendy and Dipper and began begging them for mercy. But it was for nothing. He knew they have seen the photo already.

And with another press of a button, a seven-year old Prancer was shown, wearing a blue cardigan, sitting in an armchair with a big book in his hands, smiling at the camera, proudly showing his braces.

The scanned photo displayed a title, written in crayon over it.

"I love school!"

Flocks of birds flew into the air from the nearby trees in response to the shriek that reverberated the air, full of remorse, despair, and unmistakably, defeat.

- Nooooo!

The Prancer hit the ground with his fists, for which he was quickly reprimanded by his grandma ("You're going to make them dirty!"), while Wendy and Dipper high-fived each other, before giving Mabel a warm hug.

=============

- So I guess that will teach him? - Dipper asked Wendy as the two lay on the sofa, flicking through the channels again. - Pfh. I wish it did. - Wendy reached for her phone and showed Dipper a familiar blonde man waving his arms uncontrollably. - "What's up Prankster Pros? It's ya boy, and I've got this sweet book deal full of my MOST EMBARASSING photos! Look at that baby bottom! Only for $99.99..." - Geez, I guess they never learn. - Nope. But at least he's not here...

For a while the room dimmed every few seconds, as Wendy searched for anything interesting, but something else was on Dipper's mind.

- So... about those Cuddle Buddies...

The remote fell out of Wendy's hand.

- Uh, yeah, so, I just...

She shied away and mumbled her answer, until she saw a polite smile on Dipper's face.

- So, like, remember ever since you wanted to win that Duck Panda for me? I... kinda got into them, you know. Not like, obsessively collecting them, but... you know. - Yeah, I do. For cuddling.

The two looked at each other and exchanged the same, warm smiles.

- So which generation you like the most? - Well, gen 2 obviously - she rolled her eyes - What? Five is the best. - The best as sucking, perhaps. - Come on, they had changed the lead designer and everything, but they're still Cuddle Buddies...

For quite a while, the channel stayed on, as neither of them bother to change it. And when the night fell on, Wendy and Dipper realised that they might have discovered something new to talk about.

[3pirouette]

Fic: By The Sea (1/1)

Title: By the Sea By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Part of the Nobody’s Baby Universe

Story Summary: Mandy’s first time at the Beach hijinks. Pure fluff.

A/N: Prompted by an Anon on Tumblr, Mandy’s first trip to the beach. She’s about just shy of 2 years old here, so you can imagine where it falls in the stories. There was about… a two-week hole from when I started this to when I finished it. Fluff doesn’t seem to be what my brain wants to focus on right now. Hope you all enjoy.

~*~

Peggy straightened; her one hand still held tight in Mandy’s as she pulled her sunglasses down with the other. “Well, this is quite embarrassing.”

Ana leaned over, holding the umbrella tight over the three of them as she whispered conspiratorially, “How long do you think it will take them?”

Peggy smiled, looking over the men a few dozen feet down the beach as they struggled with the poles and fabric that was supposed to be an easily assembled gazebo to keep them out of the sun. She shrugged and leaned over again, moving as Mandy toddled along, unsteady in the sand and dragging her along. “Well, we have the world’s strongest man, the world’s smartest man, and the world’s most patient man all working together.”

Ana followed, keeping the three fair ladies in the shade of the umbrella as Mandy led them back and forth in the new novelty of the sand. “So, next week then?”

Peggy laughed, and Mandy stopped, looking up and laughing, too, though she didn’t quite understand what she was laughing at. Peggy and Ana shared a look that lasted only a moment before Mandy pulled them along again. “Quite,” Peggy agreed. “If anything,” she ventured another peak over where Steve was consulting directions, Howard was blatantly ignoring them, and Jarvis was standing in the blaring sun, long suffering, “we’ll be lucky to have it for lunch.”

“Unch?” Mandy asked, looking up and smiling.

“Yes, darling, lunch.” Peggy repeated the word, exaggerating her lips. “Lunch.”

“Unch!” Mandy babbled it over and over, kicking her feet up and giggling as the sand kicked up into the air and squished between her toes.

“Want to switch?” Ana asked, holding out the umbrella.

“Ah, yes, please!” Peggy sighed happily, turning and handing Mandy’s sweaty hands over to Ana’s trusty grip. “She needs to grow six inches or I need to shrink. The leaning over is just terrible!”

“Aww, I think she’s just delightful the way she is!” Ana cooed the words, leaning over to kiss Mandy on the cheek as she adjusted her grip. “Though, yes, the leaning is terrible.”

Peggy stood, arching back as she held the umbrella over the three of them, the shade helpful but no match for the heat. “She’s gotten much steadier on her own, but…”

“Nard!” Mandy squeaked, pulling Ana along towards a group of seagulls.

“No darling,” Peggy followed dutifully, “that’s not Bernard, that’s a seagull.”

“Nard!” She tried again, this time taking one hand from Ana and pointing at a stray that was wandering closer.

“No, seagull.”

Mandy pouted, looking up at Peggy obstinately. “Nard!”

Peggy squatted down, meeting Mandy at her height and brushing the errant hairs from her sweaty forehead. “No. Darling, Bernard had to stay at the house. That is a seagull.” Peggy shook her head and looked at Ana as she stood. “I swear, Howard is on my shit list for ever introducing her to that bird!”

“Shit.”

Peggy and Ana both stopped and looked down at Mandy, who was smiling wide with the new word she’d just learned. She said it again. “Shit.”

Peggy turned away, smiling and waving at the boys who were somewhat farther along in their job, but still no closer to having any kind of actual shelter. “Steve is going to kill me,” she whispered to Ana, a hint of real panic in her eyes. “She said ‘damn’ three times last week.”

Ana chuckled, far less concerned. “She’s learning new words every day. Just ignore it and she’ll drop it.”

“Nard!”

“See?” Ana let Mandy pull away from her grip and toddle a few steps away. “She’s forgotten already!”

Peggy glanced back at Steve, dutifully still trying to hold poles in ways that seemed to defy gravity, knowing any anger he might feel would be minimal as he was having his own issues with curbing his language, as well. Mandy was silent for a moment, then her voice picked up a sound that Peggy had started to get far too familiar with and that meant mischief was coming. “Nard?”

Peggy swooped down, dropping the umbrella and grabbing Mandy right before she could grab a fistful of an unsuspecting seagull she’d managed to sneak up on. “Oh no, no touching the seagulls young lady!” Peggy kept her voice light, but she was frazzled enough that there was anxiety in her voice.

Mandy, however, was unhappy with being taken away from her find and let out a loud and shrill squeal as she squirmed to get out of Peggy’s hands and down to chase the bird that had now flow away. The sound caught the attention of most everyone on the beach, but especially Steve, who dumped the armful of posts and fabric he was holding into Jarvis’s hands without thinking before jogging over to Peggy.

Peggy was sure she would have found the way Jarvis slowly crumbled to the ground, trying his best to hold the weight of his new load and failing, quite comical had she not been trying her best to keep the squirming and crying toddler in her arms from running down the beach.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve was barely out of breath when he reached them, his arms out to be handed his daughter.

“Dad-dy,” Mandy moaned as he took her in his arms, as if Peggy had horribly wronged her by keeping her away from the seagulls.

“Drama queen,” Peggy whispered, shifting her caftan back in place. Steve just looked at her as Mandy burrowed into his arms, smiling. “She’s cross that I wouldn’t let her grab a seagull.”

“Oh, how dare Mama?” Steve cooed at Mandy as she quieted, brushing her hair back as he shared a look with Peggy over her head. “How dare she keep you safe!”

Peggy sighed, trying to pull Mandy’s disheveled hair back into the small ponytail they’d managed that morning. “How’s the hut coming?”

“Oh, you mean Howard’s overly expensive, overly complicated, tent?” Steve rolled his eyes and started to rock back and forth. “We’ll be lucky if it’s up by dinner.”

“We were hoping lunch,” Ana chimed in, stepping over and setting herself and Peggy under the umbrella.

Steve looked back, lips pressed tight. “If you guys can distract Howard, I think Jarvis and I can get it up by ourselves. He keeps trying to ‘improve’ the design.”

“Oh, good lord,” Peggy mumbled, reaching for Mandy and taking her in her arms. “Work fast, please? She’s getting cranky already.”

Peggy and Ana followed Steve back to the little site they’d staked out, far away from the other early morning beachgoers. Howard was on his knees, picking up pipe fittings and tossing them aside. “Why didn’t they include a J fitting in here?”

“Perhaps, sir, it’s because the design doesn’t call for one?” Jarvis asked, his voice far less sarcastic than the situation called for, as he tried to dodge and yet gather the pieces Howard was tossing away.

“Well, it should. It would make the design much better.”

“Howard!” Peggy called sharply, making the man look up. “Just the man I need. I have had a fabulous idea and need to speak to you about it just this minute.”

He turned back to his pile of fittings as Steve took Jarvis aside and whispered their play. “Alright.”

She pulled her sunglasses down and looked at him. “By the water.”

He set his hands on his knees, shaking his head at her. “I’m kinda in the middle—”

“My daughter is suffering, Howard. It’s a hot, humid day in the blinding sunlight and you’d deny my daughter the relief of the cool ocean water?” Peggy shook her head, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You’d deny your own goddaughter her first steps in the Pacific Ocean, Howard?”

Howard stood, brushing the sand off his knees, mock outrage on his face. “You make me sound like a monster, Peg!” He turned back to the pile of tent supplies. “Do you—” Howard hadn’t even managed a whole sentence, and Steve and Jarvis already had a tent pole set and secured. “Yup, I think they’ll be okay without me, lead on, Peg.”

Ana watched as they left towards the water and bent down, taking Howard’s place and sorting the connecting parts. “How long do you think Peggy will be able to keep him busy?”

“Oh,” Steve paused to lift a pole in place and waited while Jarvis secured it, “Peggy’s a wiz at wrangling him, I don’t know how she does it.”

“I find her handling of him quite spectacular,” Jarvis’ voice was high as he reached on his tip toes to secure a nut into place. He finished and slumped down, moving on to the next section, “I’ve managed to learn a thing or two from her in that regard.”

“What could she still possibly have to talk to him about?” Ana moved on to start sorting the lump of fabric that was supposed to go over the supports. “They just spent four days with the Colonel going through that entire Los Angeles office!”

“Who knows? She always manages to find some way of distracting him.” Steve set the last crossbeam up and secured it into place and looked at the bones of the tent, set securely in the sand. “Well, look at that, it really is easy to put up.”

“When you don’t have a narcissistic engineer trying to run the project,” Ana mumbled, pulling the light canvas wide.

~*~

Howard kicked the sand as they got close to the water’s edge. “I know what you’re doing, Peg.”

“Guilting you to come out to the water so they can get the tent set up so we can start our day at the beach?” She smiled, sitting at the water’s edge and sitting Mandy between her legs.

Howard sat down next to her, the edge of the waves running up just to meet their feet. “Something like that.” He wiggled his fingers at Mandy, trying not to sound maudlin. “It’s hard for me to not try, you know?”

Peggy let the girl crawl between them, one hand on her as she sat. “I know, which is why sometimes you need a friend to step in and remind you that you don’t need to impress us.” She smiled as Mandy patted Howard on the thigh then laid her head on him, babbling little noises to herself as she splashed her feet in the remnants of the waves. “See? She doesn’t care if you can make the tent better.”

Howard smiled, looking back out over the water. “You know, kid, you almost, almost make me want to think about settling down, you’re that cute.”

“Dah cu!” Mandy replied, smacking his leg a few times and sitting up, giggling.

Peggy held her own laugh back. “Yes, yes, you’re cute. We all know.” She leaned over and kissed the girl’s forehead before wetting her hand and letting it run over Mandy’s neck and back to cool her.

“How are they—” Howard laughed as he looked back, Steve and Jarvis on their knees, tying the last few flaps of the cabana in place. “Guess it was easy to set up, after all.”

Peggy stood and pulled Mandy into her arms, trying to wipe off the wet sand before she reached down and tapped Howard on the shoulder. “Come along, you. There’s fun to be had today, and we’re not letting a tent stand in our way.”

~*~

The shade was a relief for the small group, and between Steve and Jarvis they had the small set of tables and chairs set up quickly, and Mandy was out like a light in the little wooden pay pen as soon as they set her in it.

“You two should go for a swim,” Ana encouraged Peggy and Steve. “She’ll be no trouble while she’s sleeping.”

“Well, if—” The sound that came out of Peggy’s mouth after that couldn’t exactly be called undignified, but there were only so many noises she could make as Steve rushed her and flung her over his shoulder. “Brute!” she called, laughing as he nearly ran with her to the beach, arms pounding at his back.

Steve stopped, looking at her over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “You were about to ‘well’ your way out of it.”

She pressed her hands into his back and looked at him over the edge of her sunglasses. “I was about to say, ‘well, if you insist,’ darling.”

Steve slowly put her down, an impish smile on his face as she followed her the few steps back to the tent. “In my defense…”

Peggy turned and walked backwards, pulling her sunglasses off and looked at him seriously. “In your defense, I’m often a wet blanket.” She tipped her head and licked her lips. “Good thing for you, my intentions are quite different today.”

Peggy turned, stripping off her caftan to reveal a bright red bikini. She folded it and slipped off her shoes, dropping her things in a pile in the shade of tent. She set her hands on her hips, bright smile on her face as she turned back to him. “Well? What do you think? It’s French.”

Steve nodded, slowly stepping up towards her. Without another word he tossed her over his shoulder once again, heading towards the water. “I think I’m one lucky guy,” he laughed, setting her down at the water’s edge.

Howard stepped forward, watching from the shade of the tent as Steve and Peggy slowly made their way into the chill of the Pacific Ocean. “Who’d think it?” he wondered out loud.

“Who’d think what, sir?” Jarvis asked as he was setting out fruit from the picnic basket next to him.

Howard smiled, watching as Steve lifted Peggy out of the water keeping her head and shoulders dry as a wave hit him straight in the face. As it receded, she reached down, wiping the water from his eyes and kissing him softly. “Who would guess that the world’s best super solder and the world’s most dangerous spy are two idiots in love?”

Ana laughed from her chair, pulling out a book and peeking over at Mandy. “No one, which is what makes it even better.” She sighed, leaning back and opening her book. “God help anyone who crosses them, though.”

Howard scoffed, putting on his own sunglasses. “Oh, yeah.” He leaned out and looked down the beach. “I’m uh, gonna go meet some of the locals.” He looked around the small haven and smiled. “You two ok by yourselves the munchkin?”

“Quite fine, sir,” Jarvis replied, taking his own seat next to his wife. “Lunch will be ready at noon on the dot.”

Ana put her book down as Howard walked away, whistling as he made his way down the beach. From her chair she could see Mandy reposition herself, sighing as she fell back asleep, and Steve and Peggy laughing in the waves a few dozen yards down the beach. She reached out taking her husband’s hand. “How many girls do you think he’ll bring back this time?”

“At least two,” Edwin leaned back, kissing her hand before relaxing in the chair. “How long do you think the two of them will be out there?”

“Oh, until lunch, I’d say,” Ana looked out, smiling as they splashed each other, “Or until Peggy’s skin’s as red as her bathing suit, whichever comes first.” She lifted her book. “Poor thing hasn’t figured out how to deal with California sunshine.”

Edwin picked an apple from the spread on the table. “Don’t worry, I’ve packed the aloe.”

“Good man, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Well, someone has to take care of them.” He bit into the apple, chewing thoughtfully. “They may be dedicated parents, the world’s strongest man, the world’s best female spy, and then of course we also have the world’s smartest man, but none of them can cook or clean house if their life depended on it. And sewing? Ha!” He swallowed and looked over at his wife. “I’d say it’s quite lucky we all managed to find one another, wouldn’t you?”

Ana smiled, “Yes, quite, my love.”

[inquisitor-of-hearts]

Faded Lives (Chapter 1)

Solas/Female Reader, Solas/Female Lavellan

You are Lavellan, and Solas takes you through the memories of your many different lives together. As fate would have it, you always find him, or he finds you.

A collection of short writings, each based on an affirmation. Some are AU, others are dreams in the Fade. Minor spoilers for DAI possible. Each chapter has roughly 1,000 words.

Chapter 1: I am home, I am loved

Chapter Summary: Solas carries a blindfolded Lavellan through the forest, into the depths of his heart.

Rating: Teen

on Ao3

(picture source)

“Where are we going?” you ask, your eyes blindfolded and stumbling through the forest. The smell of the air had changed, it was distinctively fresh and clear now. You could tell there was a source of water nearby, the distant sound of it mixing with the birds chirping above your head.

“You will have to wait and see.” he answers softly, guiding you by his hand along the path.

“I do hope I will get to see eventually” you joke, taking every step slowly and with consideration.

When you stumble on what you think of as a tree’s roots on the ground, you almost fall but he catches you by a hold onto your hand and turns around to stabilize your body by his grip onto your waist. Swiftly he makes the decision to carry you through the passage that is not easily crossed.

While you are on his back, you feel his hands around your thighs intimately and he is so close that you can almost taste his skin. The masculine scent, the hint of sweat; his muscular shoulders that your hands hold onto. First you had wondered why you had even agreed into letting him guide you blindfolded through the forest but now you realize you can take in all of the sounds and scents so much more intensely and are overly pleased with the experience.

You cannot hear the noises of the village and your clan anymore. All that you hear are the sounds of nature, his steps rustling on the ground, the water, the birds. You feel like you can see the sun through the opaque fabric, how it shines in from the right side onto you and in your mind, the image of both of you in the forest unfolds.

He finally sets you down, carefully, while you still hold onto him. Only slowly your hands let go of him as you notice the sound of the water in a rippling flow.

“Are we there?” you ask curiously, your fingers already on the seam of the blindfold. His answer comes in an approving hum, and it sounds like a song to you, the sweetest song you have ever heard. Meanwhile his hands move to the back of the fabric around your head, cautiously loosening the knot.

When your eyes are unveiled, you are first blinded by the glaring sunlight that comes in as expected, but soon it reveals the scenery of a large waterfall in front of you. You gasp at the beauty of the water flowing wildly off the edge and see the drop caught gently by the pool of water below. The splashes sparkle in their fall like beautiful crystals.

“Wow. Solas... This is... this is so beautiful.” you say and lean in to his side. He wraps an arm around you and chuckles.

“Do you like it?” he asks while you stand at one another’s side, taking in the natural scenery.

“Do I like it?” you ask in an ironic tone, laughing. “I want to bathe in it!”

“We can do that later. I want to show you something else first.” he suggests and takes your hand again to guide you. As you turn around, you see that the pool from the waterfall flowing into a river through the forest. You squint a little at what you see in the back and as you approach, you notice a wooden house.

“What’s this? Does someone live in there?” you ask, pointing at the rather spacious looking hut with your free hand. It stands at the edge of the forest, a steep slope behind it captures it cut-off from the land below.

“Yes.” he answers calmly, “We live in there.”

A frown comes to your face at his words. But as you enter the house, you start to understand. There is simple furniture, a bedroom, a living room. And on top of all that you are yet still overwhelmed as you see the living room’s windows giving a view past the cliff into the lush land below.

“This is-- this is amazing. It’s so beautiful.” you say in awe and he smiles in reaction. “I can’t believe this!”

A radiant smile forms on your lips when you see the little crib in the living room and you come up to it and take your baby from it, who babbles happily at the sight of his mother. Once he is safely cradled in your arms, you see an elder woman from your clan approaching you, smiling, telling you she had taken care of him while she waited for you to arrive.

“Would you stay a while longer? We would like to enjoy ourselves and take a bath” he requests from her kindly, and she nods.

You smile at Solas, then at your son, who plays with the seam of your clothing, entirely lost in his play with his gaze firmly on the fabric.

“My lovely little boy” you say as you place a kiss to his forehead, the thin hair that is yet but peach fuzz covering the crown of his head. Then you lay him in the crib again and walk over to his father, your arms now settled uneasily into one another in front of you.

“What is it, Vhenan?” he asks when he sees your posture, a hint of worry in his voice. “Is there something that bothers you?”

“No, no! I just... I--” You sigh before getting the courage to voice your concerns. “It’s so awfully far from the settlement. I don’t know if this will be alright.”

“I have taken care of everything. Someone will come to our house daily, and we will go to the village when necessary. We will not lack a single thing.” He takes your hands from the crossed posture and holds them, continuing to speak in a soft tone. “But most of the time, I want it to be only you and me, and our son.”

The smile comes back onto your lips at his reassuring words and you let him guide you into the bedroom, the sturdy wooden bed already set up and made. It must have taken him a while to get all of this ready, and now you recall the days when he had been gone for hours and had not told you where he had been. You would have never guessed that you would have a house of your own, you were happy with the living arrangements in the settlement of your clan. This was more than you could have ever hoped for.

“Vhenan” he speaks softly into your ear as he stands behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist. You lead your own hands onto his while you watch the waterfall through the window.

“Hmm?” you hum in reply, and it comes in the similar singing tune as his hum earlier.

“They always talk about the first time being special. But I believe the first time in our home will be the most special.” he whispers, lips brushing your ear, making you blush slightly.

“Everything is special to me with you.” you breathe, closing your eyes while you feel his hands run along your shoulders and arms sensually.

“And you are the most precious gift to me. You are all I want.” he replies and turns you around to him, fingers running along the side of your face. He lifts your chin, then leans in and kisses you dearly.

[brokenjardaantech]

absorbance of the deep (chapter 6: new duties)

kinda rambling for this because it's more of a filler chapter than anything.

also on ao3

To Simon, the decision to include him in the meeting was, quite frankly, absurd. They had never listened to him before and including him in anything was considered a waste of time - even when it was his own fault that his mind just refuses to focus on matters that didn’t interest him - so why now? It wasn’t like he could suddenly force himself to listen to their boring babbling after all these years but the fact was that he was dragged to school on a day that was supposed to be a holiday, so good luck to them to make him focus.

Unfortunately, his brain seemed to have other ideas.

‘After this incident, we have determined that Simon Parrell is no longer suitable for the school,’ the voice that said this was semi-familiar. The headmaster, maybe? His homeroom teacher? His subject teacher? Hell if he knew. It didn’t matter. ‘The students involved have been expelled, logically, but it will be up to you to decide if you would like your son to be transferred to schools that are… more to his speed.’

Simon scoffed under his breath, but it came out more like a usual exhale. ‘Meaning?’ he heard his mother ask.

‘A school for the differently talented,’ another voice, another new term. ‘It will be quite far away from here, though my understanding is that you’re planning to move to the city anyway?’

City? Simon’s mind snapped into a state of alertness. City meant being away from the sea, away from their home, away from Markus, and what would he do? Where would he be? What would become of him? He found himself shaking his head frantically; that, at least, was a gesture that both he and others understood. He didn’t want to go to the city; he wanted to stay here. This was where he belonged.

‘There will be no need,’ his father replied. ‘We already have plans for him.’

‘Oh?’ the first voice. ‘May I ask what it is? We can help you with the withdrawal, but you’ll have to give a valid reason.’

‘Someone will have to maintain the lighthouse when we’re gone. Simon can do it, can’t you?’

It took him a long time to realise that the question was directed at him instead of the school’s… whoever they were. What did his father say again? Right. Staying here. Not going to school. Being a lighthouse keeper. And although he wasn’t sure if he would be up to the task - his interest was in the ocean, in Markus - he would do everything to stay. So he nodded.

‘I’m glad,’ the second school voice said. ‘Good. The matter’s settled then. I trust you can handle the position transfer on your own?’

‘Yes, we will.’

His father stood so Simon did as well. He wanted to get out of here.

‘Good luck, Mister Parrell.’

He skipped all the way home, every brush of sea breeze against his cheek a caress, every crash of the shore an encouragement, a celebration of a monetary victory. His father, thankfully, left him be. They returned to a house that was half-emptied already. Simon’s things were left alone, naturally, just as the furniture and bigger household items, but the cushions on the sofa, the cups and dishes in the cupboard, even some of the soap and perishables - all the things Simon didn’t bother to notice before, their disappearance were felt acutely now. His father quickly vanished to find his wife, and when Daniel came downstairs with a bag full of things, instead of greeting Simon directly like he used to, his gaze darted away as if he was the one ashamed for once. ‘Do whatever you like,’ he said dismissively. ‘Just stay out of our way. Dad will brief you on what your work will be like when we’re done with packing.’

So he picked a spot he imagined he would spend a lot of time at: the top of the lighthouse. The giant lamp was turned off for the day, the ships having no need for extra light to guide their way while there is daylight. The door to the small office was unlocked because there was never a need to - no one would do such a boring-sounding job for such a small salary now, according to Josh - and he sat in the hardwood chair and brushed the pads of his fingers on the surface of the desk made out of the same material. Both of them were worn out but study and cool and smooth to the touch, and with only a two-buttoned keyer and a radio on the desk, Simon envisioned a spacious working environment. He fit his pointer and middle finger into the two keys and imagined them moulding into the shape of his fingers as time passed. His arms weren’t as long as his fathers so he would have to drag the keyer forward to make himself comfortable, but with the muted sound of the ocean as company always… he could get used to it.

He didn’t know how long he sat there idly tapping nonsense with the keyer along the beats of the sea until the door creaked open, breaking his solitude and dissipating the fog that he had shrouded himself in. ‘Care to use some company?’ North asked as she set a dictionary - a full-sized one this time, not the one he usually brought with him for convenience. Simon nodded and looked around for an extra chair, but North had already perched herself at the corner of the desk. ‘You know they’re abandoning you, right?’

Abandon? Simon frowned in confusion. He flipped to the page explaining the world and checked if it suddenly had a new definition - dictionaries get updated every year, after all - but no, it still meant the same thing. [they - are - just - leave - for - the - city - with - brother,] he manages to construct. [they - are - not - abandon - me]

‘But they are!’ North exclaimed, and Simon’s hands flew up to cover his ears from the loud noise. ‘Don’t you understand? They’re taking everything they can away! They’re moving for good, Simon! They aren’t coming back!’

Simon thought of all the empty spaces he would fill with his own things instead of being told no because there weren't any more places they could put new stuff into. He thought of a quiet house where there was no one whispering about him as if he wasn’t there at all. He thought of falling asleep at dawn to the music of the waves and then waking up at dusk to activate the lighthouse with Markus at his side one way or another. No more school, no more sudden outbursts from either his father or twin brother, no more being ignored by his mother. He would be free. [I - do - not - see - any - problem - with - it]

‘Your entire family is leaving you behind in this shithole and you don’t even care?’

Simon was offended. [this - is - not - a - shit - hole,] he argued. [I - have - mark - us - and - you - and - J - O - S -H]

North was quiet for a while, and somehow, that worried him more than her shouting. ‘You know both of us are going to leave sooner or later, don’t you?’

It gave Simon a pause, but it didn’t take long for him to realise that it made sense. [you - are - from - the - city - J - O - S -H - is - smart - so - he - also - goes - to - the - city - because - there - is - not - enough - here]

‘You will have no one.’

[I - will - have - mark - us]

‘What if you two break up?’

As if on cue, a sudden gust whipped past them as the air suddenly cooled down. Then Markus was scooping Simon up and sitting in the chair with the human on his lap. ‘Simon is my intended,’ he declared. ‘Nothing will separate us. Not distance, not time, and certainly not ourselves. Have I not proven myself to you, surfacer?’

North recovered quickly from the sea’s sudden appearance. ‘Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real,’ she muttered, and she was gone before Simon could explain himself.

Markus held him silently for a while. Are you alright? he asked, his voice quiet and soothing in Simon’s mind. I do not hold the highest regard for your family, but this -

I’m okay, Simon interrupted before the ocean could finish. I will be as long as you are with me.

The sea kissed him. Alright.

They were on solid ground, but somehow, for some reason Simon was suddenly too tired to wonder about, he felt as if he was adrift at sea on an enclosed raft, the endless gentle bobs and lulls that terrified most people the softest lullabies to his body. Markus held his hand in his, and despite his circumstances, Simon found himself falling asleep.

When Daniel finally called him downstairs for dinner, the ocean had retreated, leaving a long, slumbering human behind.

His father didn’t say a word about lighthouse keeping that night, but Josh did break the news to him when Simon’s parents dropped him off at his house for the last of their packing - whatever that meant.

‘I’ll be leaving for university after this school year ends,’ he said, straightforward both because there was no way to get around it and also due to Simon’s inability to understand anything more. ‘I have been accepted into one. Full scholarship.’

[how - to - spell]

Josh flipped to the page directly.

[good - for - you - congratulations]

‘Thank you, Simon.’

They read together in his room for a few short hours, during which Simon learnt quite a few new things about the ocean that he had to ask Markus to show him, and he happily asked Josh if he could borrow the book for tonight when it was time to go home.

‘Actually,’ Josh cleared his throat, ‘you can keep it. Forever.’

[why]

‘It isn’t like I am bringing all these -’ he gestured at the books overflowing from the ceiling-high bookshelves which lined three of the four walls - ‘with me. I’ll bring some, of course, but the rest are yours.’

Simon paused in his tracks and let himself take in everything. So Josh was leaving a lot behind, but why? Why didn’t he take everything with him like his family if he was leaving like them? And he asked as such.

‘I’ll come back and visit if I need the books, though I don’t think I will - the book part, of course. I’ll try to visit at least once per year.’

[for - how - long]

Josh shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Simon. It all depends on how busy I will be and how much it’ll cost to come back.’

For the first time since they met, Simon hated the answer his friend gave him. [just - tell - me - when - and - i - will - prepare]

‘You don’t have to -’

He hopes that his firmness goes through by his loud flipping, though the softened paper of the dictionary dampened the impact. [i - will]

‘Okay. Of course.’

They walked to Simon’s house together. Josh initially offered to help carry a few of the books so that they didn’t have to bring them all later at the same time and potentially needing to bother North to borrow her car, but Simon decided against it because he didn’t want to add to the mess that was already stressing him out; either that or it was in fact that so many things were changing suddenly was the actual reason. Either way, he made himself scarce for the next week while strangers entered the house and more and more things disappeared, and in no time, he no longer recognised his home, which felt both liberating and terrifying.

He slept in his cave in Markus’ arms that night and didn’t return until the evening when his family was scheduled to leave. They at least told him that much. He hadn’t known they had a large car, he hadn’t known his father knew how to drive, but these were just two more things on his to-forget list because it wouldn’t matter in the future.

‘Take care,’ his mother said, the first sentence she uttered to him directly in years.

‘Here,’ his father said, handing him a folder no thicker than Simon’s thumb and Simon’s thumb was thin. ‘This is all you need to know on lighthouse keeping.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel said, and Simon didn’t know what he was apologising for. He didn’t ask his twin to clarify because he knew Daniel couldn’t stay.

Then they were gone, the car disappearing behind the slope that led to the lighthouse. Simon didn’t even notice that Markus had appeared until his legs finally buckled and he fell back against a warm chest. Let’s get inside, he heard the sea clearly in his mind. Tell me what they took away and what you need.

He turned on the lamp before starting to catalogue the things in the house under Markus’ guidance, discovering that he really didn’t know a lot about practical living, and at some point North and Josh arrived to help as well. There was a look in North’s eyes that Simon couldn’t decipher, but from the way Markus kept glaring at her while they, once more, substituted dinner with canned soup, it wasn’t anything good. Josh took the chance to stock up some of the books he was going to leave to Simon’s care, and North brought a few furniture catalogues and picked a combination that would bring colour to the house and made the place Simon’s properly; Simon let her choose for him because he got overwhelmed by the colours and examples on the small, thick booklets. With things settling down and their decisions made, they arranged two trips, one for groceries, one for new decor, and North and Josh left close to midnight with the promise that they would guide Simon through everything. Simon didn’t manage to process everything until the moment before he fell asleep in the cave, and he made up his mind to thank his friends properly before their eventual departure from the village.

The grocery trip wasn’t that overwhelming given the limited choice in the village’s grocery store and Markus’ and his friends’ calming presence by his side - despite the arguments between Josh and North that he mostly toned out of - but the furniture shopping was - how should he describe it?

Don’t do that again, he told Markus as they wheeled a cart full of new cushions and bedsheets out of the furniture store with too-bright lights and noisy customers. I hate this place.

Markus laughed visibly, though Simon wasn’t sure if it was silent in reality or not because it seemed to echo in his mind instead of being heard from his ear. I’ll find you something better next time.

‘Are you two gonna stand there all day while we do everything for you?’ North’s voice cut through the small bubble that somehow always appeared when Markus was close. Simon had half the heart to tell her that yes, everything was hers and Josh’s idea and therefore they should do the brunt of the work, but since the sea offered to help, he followed him and loaded their new purchases into the car just to return to his house and unload everything again and placing them in the correct spot. They took their time to admire their handiwork, and North proposed, ‘We should paint the walls.’

It took Josh a few seconds to formulate his answer. ‘Agreed. The colour combination will be nicer.’

[no,] Simon grabbed his dictionary and said. [do - not - like - paint - smell]

‘There’s paint that doesn’t smell.’

Simon thought of how many extra things they had to do that time his father repainted all the walls within and outside the house. He didn’t think he had the energy to do it then, but in the future… [maybe - later]

‘Sure,’ North accepted the suggestion quickly. ‘Just hit us up whenever. Not sure how much school work we’ll have in the future, but we’ll always make time for you, won’t we, Josh?’

‘It’ll be fun,’ Josh nodded.

That was the last mention of the renovation project between the three of them. With Simon’s inverted daily schedule and North and Josh’s increasing responsibility in their studies, it was difficult for all four of them - Markus included - to coordinate time to spend together. Sometimes he went to Josh’s for breakfast after spending the entire night on the lighthouse, sometimes North came to his house to do the same, and once per week Simon would stay up to have brunch with them on the beach with an assortment of snacks and food they could prepare with a camping stove. They would hang out together until Simon passed out with his head resting on one of Markus’ body parts - one way or another. He assumed that they always packed up and left afterwards, Markus carrying him back home so that he could have a good rest until the sun started to set. This happened every single week until after Josh and North had their final exam, which marked one step towards Josh’s departure.

Simon threw a party for his friend the day before the big date, or as much of a party as it could be with four people inside a house that was more patchwork than everything else. Instead of moving all the books to Simon’s, Josh merely gave him the key to his house and told him to let himself in whenever. ‘It’s easier this way,’ he said. ‘Besides, it isn’t like you’ve got a lot of room here. I trust you not to wreck my house.’

[cannot - do - it - even - if - i - want - to,] was Simon’s reply. [do - i - look - like - i - can]

‘Not on your own,’ North took a sip of her beer. He had no idea how she got alcohol in the first place given that none of them was of drinking age, but if someone could withstand alcohol, it would be her. ‘But with Markus? Yes.’

‘I promise I won’t destroy your house,’ Markus said solemnly. ‘Not unless you give me a reason to.’

‘I won’t,’ was Josh’s reply. He took a sip of beer from North’s can and was promptly sent into a coughing fit for the next five minutes.

Simon had been awake for more than 16 hours at this point so everything was hazy and blurry, but it didn’t stop him from dragging his friends for a marathon on his favourite documentary. Josh had to leave midway to prepare for his departure, but North stayed until she fell asleep on the sofa. She woke up when Simon tried to tuck her in, and she left and drove back home. Markus made them some tea so that they didn’t fall asleep, they watched over the lighthouse together and waited for ships that never came, and when the sun peeked through the horizon and turned the edge of the sky white, he leant on Markus while they walked to Josh’s house to send him off. He was too tired to feel and do anything apart from waving goodbye and watching the van drive off away from the village by then, but he woke up that night feeling empty, the events and the passage of time sinking in. Markus stayed with him until midnight, after which he returned to the ocean for his own business.

He was all alone in the world now.

It was as if Josh’s absence severed one of the lines holding their group together. There were no more canned dinners on the beach, no more trips to the library, no more squabbling over whose home they should stay at next; Simon was bad at reaching out, his body reacting before his mind did whenever he tried to get close to the school, North’s house was too far away to reach on foot, and North herself no longer seemed interested in ‘hanging out.’

‘Not everyone can be a genius like Josh,’ she snapped one day when Simon finally flagged her down out of what seemed to be pure chance. ‘Not all of us can have a job where you can fuck around all day and get a paycheque delivered straight to your bank account. Someone actually needs to work hard on their grades to get out of this place, so stop bothering me, okay? There’ll be time after this whole exam shit is over.’

But there would not be. Before the exams were apparently university applications, then came the exams themselves, then more university application things which Simon didn’t understand, and the next thing he knew was that North was leaving for the city. Back to where she came from, though he supposed whether she actually went to the city or just another village like theirs wasn’t important; the village was… the village, of course, while everything else was simply ‘out there.’ ‘I’m sorry, Simon,’ she said after he walked all the way to her house to find her, ‘but I really need to leave. You know how long I’ve been looking forward to this.’

The door slammed shut then, and it didn’t take a lot for Simon to realise that it was a cue to leave North alone. When he returned the next day to check, no one answered the door.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye this time.

Josh visited a few weeks later, having decided to actually use his summer break instead of studying this time, and he told Simon that North contacted him and told him to tell Simon that she wouldn’t come back. ‘It isn’t about you, don’t worry,’ he added as Simon continued to stare at his glass of juice. By that point, Markus hadn’t shown up in two months. ‘Village life just isn’t for her.’

[but - no - contact - at - all]

Josh did not have an answer for that, but he did say, ‘I guess this is growing up.’

Simon turned to face him. Questioning.

‘People drifting apart to do what they want now that they can. Deciding that the old life isn’t worth their effort. Moving on. Stuff like that.’

[maybe]

The space between him and Josh suddenly seemed so far now.

[isabilightwood]

THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 8

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6][7]

iang Yanli was thrilled to have A-Xian back, and she absolutely hated his plan.

He’d had little difficulty creating the device that would cloak him in a face meant for meaningless cruelty. He had carved a simple wooden mask, and etched characters into it with unusual care. While Jiang Yanli was still getting A-Ling dressed the next morning, A-Xian sketched a young man sweeping leaves across the street, and she walked down to breakfast to find a stranger sitting comfortably among the Nie.

There was nothing in his features to give away that this was a mask, or a face that did not belong to him. But his smile was still his own.

Nie Huaisang had already managed to find clothes in Nie gray that fit A-Xian. Jiang Yanli had to wonder if he’d prepared them beforehand, somehow remembering A-Xian’s measurements without even needing to ask her.

“Shiji— Ah, I mean, Jin-furen. Are you going to introduce your little monster to me?” A-Xian grinned brightly.

She’d thought he would only be able to glimpse his sleeping nephew. But with this disguise, A-Xian could meet him, and A-Ling would never be able to give him away with a child’s innocence.

A-Ling hid behind her back, suddenly shy, though he had not been with the Nie disciples the day before.

She knelt to get on eye level with her son. “It’s alright, A-Ling. He’s a friend.”

Setting his jaw, A-Ling looked stubbornly away.

“Hold on a second.” A-Xian sketched a talisman in the air, and it burst apart into a flock of glittering butterflies. He’d invented it for distraction, but it also doubled as a foolproof way of charming small children.

A-Ling gaped, his hand dropping from her sleeve, and ran forward to jump for the butterflies. As they disappeared under his grasping hands, he laughed in delight.

A-Xian laughed with him.

“Would you show me that one?” Nie Xiaodan asked. “It would be great for convincing our novices to get up and start their exercises. Some of them think that because their Sect Leader is a layabout that means they can be too.”

Nie Huaisang looked up from dipping his youtiao, soy milk dripping from the end of the fried bread. “Our finances are in better shape than they’ve ever been, and I let her manage night hunts as she wishes, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Except for the ghoul infestations you have us move or neglect to keep the other sects and your own peasantry convinced you’re incompetent.” Nie Xiaodan patted her Sect Leader hard enough on the shoulder that he shifted forward in his seat. “So, yes, this is your thanks, A-Sang.”

“The disrespect, not even calling me Zongzhu!” Nie Huaisang complained, even as he preened.

A-Xian laughed as he moved a century egg from his own congee to A-Ling’s. “Sure, I can teach you the talisman. I bet I could modify it so the butterflies last longer, and change directions when someone comes near, so they have to keep chasing them. What do you think, A-Ling? Would that be fun!”

“Mnnmf,” A-Ling agreed, as a blob of his breakfast failed to make it into his mouth. A-Xian beat her to wiping his mouth off, and A-Ling didn’t even flinch, already comfortable with him. Shiny new playthings and a smiling face worked wonders with children, but she hoped A-Ling somehow recognized that he should be important to him.

Jiang Yanli smiled, and brushed a strand of hair back away from her son’s mouth.

After breakfast, Nie Xiaodan and the other disciples parted from them to retrieve Nie Mingjue’s body, and transport him back to Qinghe for burial.

A-Ling had started out the ride babbling excitedly over a series of talismans A-Xian showed him, but eventually, he tired out and dozed off in Jiang Yanli’s arms, trusting her implicitly to keep him upright on the horse.

“It works like this, see?” A-Xian explained while they were on the road, still wearing that stranger’s face so A-Ling couldn’t describe his real one by mistake, only some friendly Nie disciple. He rode hands free, pressing the mask over a drawing of Xue Yang’s face as he etched new shapes into a second mask.

With his poor memory for faces, A-Xian hadn’t remembered the details of Xue Yang’s features. But Jiang Yanli’s glaring had not been enough to stop Nie Huaisang from describing him.

Qin Su was a voice of reason where she didn’t want one. You do have to admit it is a good plan. Jin Guangyao’s very observant — your brother’s plan could make a huge difference in how successful we are in undermining him.

Jiang Yanli had to admit no such thing. I thought you were afraid of him.

I stopped the moment he brought out the butterflies. It’s incredible to me now that anyone who met him could be frightened of him.

He can be intimidating when he wants to, make it seem like he doesn’t care about anything. For her, it was only terrifying to watch her brother do that to himself. His act fooled almost everyone, even A-Cheng.

But not you.

No, A-Xian had never fooled her.

Jiang Yanli would feel much better if there were someone out there, watching his back. If A-Xian would let himself be convinced to go see his zhiji before he committed to any reckless plans. But he had so far ignored her hinting.

Pressing it over the first mask, his features changed in the space of a blink, and Xue Yang stared back at her.

Only the malice was missing.

He went on speaking, and that was even stranger. “I’ll add on a few more faces, I think, so I can look like a respectable grandfather, or a random street kid at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t really let me change my body’s shape, so I won’t be able to shrink into a stooped little granny, unfortunately — that would be even less suspicious. Faces should be enough though, I think.”

“Very impressive, A-Xian. Switch it back, please?” It was, in fact, a monumental achievement, and one he’d achieved in only a single night. But there was only so long Jiang Yanli could stand to look at that face.

He sketched a talisman over the mask without looking, and with a shimmer of golden light, the first face returned. She would have preferred his own, but this was far preferable to the alternative.

The mask did solve the problem of how to smuggle A-Xian into Koi Tower unseen.

Nie Huaisang was all too happy to handle it.

Jiang Yanli entered Koi Tower first, the disciples she’d dismissed at Fengyang appearing at the city entrance as she’d predicted. The others waited outside the city until evening. She brought A-Ling to greet his uncle, as that was expected.

“I trust you had a productive trip?” Jin Guangyao reached out for A-Ling, and plopped him down on his lap. A-Ling giggled, and began to fiddle with a brush with a wet tip, promptly staining his fingers and flicking ink splotches onto his robes.

“I did.” She clasped her hands behind her back to conceal the way her hands clenched into fists at the sight of Jin Guangyao touching her son. Every time it happened, Jiang Yanli had to fight the urge to grab him away and run as far from Koi Tower as she could get. Though Jin Guangyao spoiled A-Ling, she and Qin Su both knew sharing blood would not be enough to protect him, if Jin Guangyao decided he wanted him gone. “I believe Zhai-zongzhu’s planned watchtower locations will be well situated to respond to their most difficult to reach locations. I also provided a few suggestions to Qi-zongzhu. Many of his choices were too close to a temple sect and one was on land that floods regularly.”

“Good, good. Would you mind summarizing those suggestions for me? Qi-zongzhu can be so absentminded, we may need to remind him.” He steepled his fingers, the effect ruined as A-Ling spread ink across the curve of his cheek. Jin Guangyao’s smile twitched. “Excellent, thank you. You also stopped in to see our dear cousin, I believe?”

Our cousin, Qin Su repeated bitterly.

Her breath caught. “I did, yes. I know they had a falling out with my sister, but we’re still quite fond of each other.”

“I feel the same way about Huaisang, though he does test my patience sometimes.” Jin Guangyao did not bring up any of her subsequent extracurriculars. Instead, he plucked the brush from A-Ling’s fist as he came dangerously close to spreading ink on his uncle’s robes. He very seriously asked A-Ling his opinion on tablecloths for an upcoming event.

With that, Jiang Yanli understood the conversation was over. She turned to leave.

Nie Huaisang had a sense for timing, and chose that moment to test Jin Guangyao’s patience. He burst in, wailing, with a rumpled, mud-stained, an out of breath steward on his heels.

Simply a disciple left in his supposed Sect Leader’s dust, A-Xian was able to slip in unnoticed.

Jiang Yanli met him near the kitchens, and after making certain the coast was clear, led him to Wen Qing’s prison using the same techniques as the first time. Thankfully, this time it wasn’t raining.

She knocked sharply on the closed window.

It was flung open with a bang only moments later, revealing Wen Qing, flushed with anger and her hair out of place from running her hands through it.

Jiang Yanli was struck with an odd, simultaneous desire to fix it and make it worse.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come here in person?” Wen Qing snapped.

They’d had no time to warn her, as the papermen had a limited range. “Jin Guangyao will be occupied for hours, and this is important.”

“I thought you were supposed to be…” Wen Qing trailed off, her eyes widening. “Did it work? Did he fall for it?”

A-Xian stepped out of the shadows, removing his mask. “Hi, Qing-jie.”

Wen Qing gasped, and grabbed for his sleeve. “Oh, my — Gods, get in here so I can smack you. How dare you die after we gave ourselves up for you?”’

A-Xian let himself be tugged over the windowsill.

He freed his arm from Wen Qing long enough to bow. “This one apologizes for his grave blunder.”

Wen Qing sniffed, and gave him a quick hug. He beamed, even as tears gathered in his eyes, and squeezed back.

Jiang Yanli climbed inside while they were busy with their reunion and stayed by the window to watch for anyone approaching. From a distance, it would be difficult to tell her and Wen Qing apart, so they’d have enough time to hide under the bed if someone did arrive at an unscheduled time.

“You look awful,” A-Xian told Wen Qing, once they were seated at her desk. The stack of A-Xian’s journals was still there, but the rest of the table was now covered with illustrations of meridians covered in notes in Wen Qing’s writing. Most were scratched out.

Likely something to do with strengthening Jin Guangyao’s core then.

Rather than take offense, Wen Qin rolled her eyes. “Six years of confinement will do that to a person. You look like death warmed over.”

A-Xian laughed in delight. “That’s because I am death warmed over. I came back to life two days ago.”

“Your sister doesn’t look like that.” Wen Qing said, with a glance at Jiang Yanli that felt like a compliment.

Qin Su, for some reason, giggled.

“Obviously Shijie is better than me.” A-Xian turned to beam proudly at her. He was wrong, of course, in his belief that she was the best and kindest person in the world. He didn’t know how the plans she’d set in motion would inevitably hurt the brother of the man he loved and treated the sovereignty of minor sects like weiqi stones, or how she’d threatened Nie Huaisang. But she smiled back anyways.

I don’t think he’ll judge, when he finds out. Qin Su said.

For the most part, no, he wouldn’t. But knowing would forever change his perception of his beloved Shijie, leaving the reality of Jiang Yanli in her place. And she couldn’t assume he would be so sanguine over Lan Xichen. A-Xian had always respected him, and hurting Zewu-jun would hurt Lan Wangji.

Qin Su gave the impression of a shrug. Maybe seeing you more clearly will be a good thing.

A-Xian and Wen Qing fell into an easy rhythm. Watching them, Jiang Yanli felt warm to her center.

“As happy as I am to see you, that’s not enough reason for a visit.” Wen Qing said, after a few more rounds of banter in which they pretended not to have missed each other. “What went wrong?”

“He’s having problems with Xue Yang’s core.” Jiang Yanli explained, before A-Xian could reflexively deflect from the reason they were here.

Wen Qing whipped her head towards A-Xian so fast her neck cracked. “You have Xue Yang’s core?”

He nodded, rubbing a hand gingerly over its place of residence. “I wasn’t entirely sure a core would stick around, when I designed that array, but it seems like the array reshaped everything around it.”

Groaning, Wen Qing took a moment to bury her head in her hands. “You never bring me normal problems. Next time, bring me a nice pulled muscle.”

“I would also like a pulled muscle to be the extent of my problems.” A-Xian sighed wistfully.

“We can dream.” Wen Qing said, her tone flat and disbelieving. “What are the symptoms?”

“When I’m agitated — angry or frustrated, but not sad —his core feels like it’s trying to tear itself apart. Like how the beginning stage of a qi deviation is described. On top of that, resentful energy is in his core, like he invited it there. It feels horrible.” A-Xian leaned forward on his knees and gestured as he spoke.

Wen Qing nodded, and turned to her. “Have you had any with Qin Su’s?”

She hadn’t experienced anything along the lines of what A-Xian was describing. Qin Su’s core felt almost like her own at this point. There was only the way her sword resisted her, draining her when she tried to use it as a spiritual tool, rather than merely a weapon. “Only when I try to control her sword. Chunsheng doesn’t like me.”

Qin Su slipped into a paperman and climbed up to her shoulder to elaborate. <It saps her energy, so she can barely move, much less cultivate. We’ve kept trying, but there’s no improvement.>

“Oh, it’s not just Jiangzai then? I bet they can sense we’re not really their cultivators, despite the cores.” A-Xian perked up with excitement at the implications, before he visibly remembered that this affected him. “But, no. Qing-jie, the real problem is that Xue Yang thought mixing resentful energy in with his spiritual energy was a grand old time.”

“Let me take a look.” Wen Qing took his pulse first, then sent a thread of her own spiritual energy into him. “This is a mess. All that resentment is trapped in your core, and it’s not purifying on its own. I’d bet Xue Yang had resentful energy flowing through his meridians, which would reduce how much gathered in his core and hold off qi deviation.”

She went silent, concentrating, as she continued her examination.

“Absolutely no demonic cultivation,” was Wen Qing’s verdict. “The array seems to have cleared out your meridians, but this core is — well, it’s a mess worse than even you’ve managed to get into on your own. We need to clean it out completely before I can start to help you manage the occasional use of a little resentful energy. That will take a while. Lie on your back, first.”

A-Xian obeyed, but not without complaint. “But how am I supposed to imitate Xue Yang if I can’t use demonic cultivation?”

Carefully inserting the needles in several points along his torso, Wen Qing closed her eyes and began working with hr spiritual energy though them. “You’re supposed to be a genius inventor, aren’t you? Invent something.”

A-Xian smushed his features together in childish irritation. “You’re irritated. What did I do this time? I just got here!”

Smoke-like wisps of resentful energy rose from the ends of the needles, and to Jiang Yanli’s eyes, vanished as it drifted away.

Qin Su’s paperman craned its neck towards the ceiling. Its features were, of course, blank, but her voice gave away her interest. <Its coiling into ropes up there.>

“Wen Qing has been transcribing your work for Jin Guangyao.” Jiang Yanli told him when it became clear Wen Qing would keep him in the dark. “Your handwriting is…”

“Atrocious. But that’s not the real issue here.” Wen Qing grabbed a notebook from the desk, and dropped it, open, over A-Xian’s face. “I had to explain to my family’s murderer that your notes sometimes cut off in descriptions of Lan Wangji’s eyes. Or lips. Or other body parts!”

“In my defense, I never meant for anyone to see this.” He reached up to pluck the book from his face, and flipped through it, eyes going distant as he stared at one of his sketches.

“Well, I did.” Wen Qing plucked the needles from his meridians. “I need to work on your back now, flip over.”

Retrieving a new set of needles, she repeated her work on his lower back.

“Peace offering?” A-Xian attempted to turn his neck halfway around without disturbing the needles. “You’ve been talking to each other with papermen, right? What if I could offer a simpler alternative? To talk more easily at a distance. I had this idea shortly before Qiongqi… I was hoping to… I never wrote it down, but I remember how it would have worked.”

“You wanted to be able to talk to Lan Wangji, didn’t you?” Jiang Yanli asked softly.

“And you, Shijie!” He slumped, pouting. As though to express his disappointment that she would consider herself less important to him. Which she hadn’t, but A-Xian had never had a very secure estimation of his own importance, so he didn’t expect others to either. “But yes. It’s pretty simple, actually. Just hand me that paperweight? And a few more stones?”

“Stay still until I’ve removed the needles, you idiot!” Wen Qing pushed him back down by the shoulders.

A-Xian grumbled out his impatience, but to Jiang Yanli’s eyes he seemed more genuinely energetic than he’d been since before the attack on Lotus Pier stole everything from them. She doubted it could last, if he went forward with this mad plan of his, but she was pleased to see it.

When Wen Qing finally removed the last needle, A-Xian immediately hopped up onto his knees and grabbed for the paperweight. He hunted around for something else that would suit, and came up with an empty crystalline box free of decorative carvings. Retrieving the same steel chisel he’d been using to carve the masks, and applied it to stone.

“So the distance should be … and the sound. No, wait, wrong radical.” A-Xian muttered to himself as he worked.

<Forget the demonic cultivation, if Wei Wuxian can just invent things like this on the spot, that’s what the cultivation clans should fear him for.> Qin Su slid down Jiang Yanli’s sleeve to the floor, and took a leap in A-Xian’s direction, slowed by the pressure of the air.

“Yes, all the explosions should be a warning to stay far, far away.” Wen Qing said dryly.

Qin Su paused with one paper leg in the air as she readied to take the next leap. <Is this going to explode on us?>

“I mostly explode things when figuring out to work metal, or with fire.” A-Xian looked up to grin mischievously at Wen Qing. “Qing-jie invents surgical techniques. That’s far more scary.”

Shrugging her little paper arms, Qin Su continued towards A-Xian to watch him work.

Wen Qing grimaced, hiding her amusement.

Jiang Yanli wanted to see her laugh.

“You know,” she said, “A-Xian may be right. A cultivator once told me the medical tent was more terrifying than any battlefield he’d ever been on. Right before I had to help a healer amputate his leg.”

Wen Qing let out a surprised peal of laughter, and caught herself, but her eyes sparkled as she looked at Jiang Yanli. She found herself without any desire to look away.

A-Xian whooped in success, and she saw that the stones in his hands had begun to glow. He jumped to his feet, with Qin Su holding onto his leg to avoid being knocked away into a wall.

“Okay, so! Hold this.” He placed an inscribed paperweight or box in Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing’s hands. “Think about each other, and put in just enough spiritual energy to activate a talisman. No more than someone without a Golden Core could manage, or you’ll overload it.”

Jiang Yanli met Wen Qing’s eyes as she thought about Wen Qing’s voice lulling her to sleep, the way she’d protested their presence but seemed secretly pleased, the way she always seemed so surprised to find herself smiling. The paperweight began to glow in her hands.

When Wen Qing’s did as well, she suddenly looked away.

A-Xian cleared his throat, prompting them, “Ok, now say something. Recite a recipe or something.”

Jiang Yanli started to list off the ingredients for doupi, one of the few recipes A-Xian had the patience for, but cut off when she heard her voice coming from the stone in Wen Qing’s hand.

“This is—” Wen Qing’s voice echoed from Jiang Yanli’s stone.

It worked. “What a fantastically useful invention.” She said, and again her own voice was repeated back. A-Xian beamed.

It would be… nice, to be able to talk to Wen Qing, and know she wasn’t projecting her consciousness across Koi Tower, leaving her body unaware and undefended. Without the small, but constant risk of Jin Guangyao walking in and finding her in that unmistakable, compromised condition.

“We’ll need to run some tests to see if maybe I can talk to you from a distance as well, but this should at least prevent you from needing to replace papermen regularly.”  A-Xian said, as though he hadn’t just made the greatest breakthrough in cultivation since sword flight.

And done it casually. And not for the first time.

Even more importantly, it was accessible. Anyone could use it.

If they’d had these, after A-Xian defected, when he first had the idea… They had both made mistakes in attempting to save people, in their former lives. The Dafan Wen in his case; A-Xian himself, in hers. But their chief handicap had been the impossibility of regular correspondence without giving the appearance of alliance and putting the fragile, still rebuilding Jiang Sect at risk. Without support from any save her husband and Lan Wangji, neither of whom had anything in the way of political influence, she would have been risking A-Cheng for A-Xian — an impossible choice.

This new invention could have made the difference.

Perhaps now, it could make the difference.

“If it doesn’t, I’m certain you’ll figure it out.” She told him.

“I had better hear from you constantly,” Wen Qing said, in a threatening tone that did nothing to disguise how much she cared.

A-Xian seemed to believe her, more than he ever had when A-Cheng expressed similar sentiments. Perhaps it was the time they’d spent merely surviving together, perhaps the secret they’d shared for so long. Perhaps it was that Wen Qing wasn’t all that much like A-Cheng, really, beyond the surface-level gruffness. There was less difference in their positions, and they shared a common curiosity.

“I want to hear from you every day. I — we — want to know you’re safe.” She needed to know. And with this, the ability to check in at anytime and make sure he was still there, Jiang Yanli might be more capable of watching him leave.

She still hated his plan, though.

“I’ll chatter at you until you’re sick of me.” A-Xian promised with a three-fingered salute and a blinding grin.

Jiang Yanli was going to worry over him incessantly, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 3

This one is much different from the others — I like to believe Kuvira feels deeply and fiercely, particularly for the person she loves. So of course, your first kiss is very much of that nature. Feel free to follow on AO3! 

“You first learn of her in the city newspaper. Her elegant features grace the cover of the front page, announcing her promotion to captain of the city’s guard. For a moment, you don’t think much of it until you observe the photograph with greater attentiveness. 

It’s the mark on her right cheek that suddenly distinguishes her. She is the young woman from Suyin Beifong’s dance troupe. Having attended a fair number of their performances, you slowly start to recall your fascination with the anonymous dancer. 

Kuvira. Your finger traces the printed name with wonder. 

Aside from the mark, you recognize the beautiful, heavy braid that sinks past her shoulders and falls to her waist. As exquisite as all the performers are, there is something about Kuvira in particular that has always captivated you.”

Being a non-bender, you are profoundly enraptured by the elegant movements of the dancers, the bird-like motions of their limbs that simultaneously allow them to orchestrate fantastical structures of metal. Having been surrounded by the more practical uses of the material, seeing the delicate side of metalbending is almost dreamlike. 

But you often find yourself mesmerized by the braided dancer. In fact, she later becomes the reason you attend these recitals with such determined consistency. 

---

“Here are the design drafts you requested,” you say, accompanied by Zhu Li whose arms are equally filled with rolled up papers. Kuvira nods once and angles her chin towards the desk across the room. “You can set them there,” she responds coolly, returning to her conversation with Varrick and Baatar. 

You sigh internally and join Zhu Li at the table, carefully unfolding the most pertinent documents. Work is work after all. 

You and Kuvira have gotten significantly closer over the past few months, finding times to share meals together away from the sergeants and corporals. Those are the only moments you get to steal her away from the daily commotion of building an entire empire and you cherish those conversations immensely. Often replaying them in your head, you lose yourself in the sonorous lull of her voice and the stories of her upbringing. 

Nevertheless, you don’t expect this newfound closeness to disrupt your daily duties.

Bolin joins you soon after from across the room, as spirited as ever, and peers over your shoulders to catch a glimpse of the diagrams. “Ohhhh! What are these?” he asks. You shoo him away and scowl. 

“Nothing we need to concern ourselves over,” you respond. “Zhu Li, Bolin,” Kuvira calls. “Accompany Varrick and Baatar to the engineering room. There are some developments that require your assistance.” 

“You got it, boss,” Bolin replies promptly, clearly thrilled to have something to do. Zhu Li merely nods and quickly makes her way to Varrick’s side, who instantly starts babbling about whatever new invention Kuvira’s got him working on. 

You continue organizing the documents and are just about to leave when you feel a muted pressure on your lower back. It’s so mild you almost question whether it’s actually there. But then you feel the warmth of another human and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Thank you,” Kuvira murmurs. “You have been an indispensable asset to this endeavor. I don’t believe we would be making such progress were it not for your efficiency.” 

You chuckle nervously and pray she can’t sense how on edge her proximity puts you. “It’s my honor to serve the Great Uniter,” you offer weakly. Kuvira steps away and you mourn the loss of her touch but it allows you to turn around and face her. 

You can’t quite look her in the eye so you stare directly at her cheekbone instead. “Call me Kuvira. I’d think we’re at that point, don’t you agree?” she inquires coyly. “I suppose so,” you stammer. 

There is a moment of awkward silence during which you have to chew into your cheek to avoid saying something horribly embarrassing. Finally, Kuvira breaks the stillness and says, “Let’s see each other tonight. Come to my tent after nightfall.” 

You blink once, then twice, before the words actually sink in and you ask, “Is something the matter? Perhaps Baatar or Varrick would be better suited—”

“No,” she interrupts. “It is no...professional matter. I only wish to see you. We have been able to spend some time together recently but there is rarely time beyond the occasional rushed meal. I have made time tonight and I...want to see you.” 

It takes everything in you not to let your jaw drop to the floor. You’ve never seen Kuvira stumble over her words this way. It’s strange to hear the obvious discomfort at the end and you would chuckle if you weren’t a.) so thoroughly intimidated by her or b.) completely and undeniably dumbfounded with the present scene. 

“Oh,” you breathe out eventually. When you manage to look Kuvira in the eye, they widen almost imperceptibly but she doesn’t break the gaze. “I’d like that,” you finish, allowing the faintest smile to crack the nervous line of your mouth. 

“Alright, then it’s settled. I will see you later this evening,” she says. “As you were.” 

You bend your back just enough to bow slightly, quickly making your way out of the room. You make sure you’re far enough into the hallway before falling back on the metal wall and exhaling shakily. 

What the hell?

---

“Suyin Beifong’s hypocrisy will be the downfall of the Earth Kingdom. Between the archaic nature of the Beifong rule, and the ineptitude and inaction of the United Republic of Nations, the anarchy that has taken control of Ba Sing Se will spread to the neighboring Earth states, wreaking violence and despair in its path. 

We have lived and served in the city of Zaofu as birds in a cage for too long, and now we have the opportunity to truly realize our potential by stabilizing the Earth Kingdom capital and reuniting the kingdom at large. Suyin Beifong and the government of Republic City are unwilling — and incapable — of exercising the leadership our people need. 

I vow to be the one who unites our lands, restores peace and order, and oversees the emergence of a long-awaited Earth Empire! We will usher in a new era of technology and innovation, leading us into a new and forward-thinking future.”

A wave of applause swells through the crowd, straining to maintain the extent of their excitement for fear of being caught by outsiders. You stand in the corner of the room and watch Kuvira with unabashed admiration. 

Between the city guards and wealthy citizens, everyone is captivated by the nearly-tangible force of Kuvira’s speech. She evoked a palpable sense of ambition in each individual, stoking their desire to see the Earth Kingdom stabilized and modernized. 

You see Baatar Beifong, Jr. join her side, grinning proudly and murmuring something near her ear. 

Your heart immediately sinks. 

---

Dinner is a painfully stagnant affair. You eat with Bolin and a pair of nameless corporals, attempting to appear engaged in their frivolous conversation while internally begging for nightfall to come soon. 

Eventually, people begin yawning and Bolin is the first to return to his tent. “Gosh, that was a great time you guys,” he sighs happily. “We gotta do this more often.” You nod a bit too enthusiastically, hoping your response encourages Bolin to take the hint that the evening is over. 

He is such a kind young man but so often fails to recognize when you’d prefer to be alone. You don’t have the heart to confront him about it so you suffer in silence.

Luckily this time he gets it and is on his way off, accompanied by the corporals who politely dismiss themselves and say their goodbyes to you. You stay in place, silently observing the sky and your fellow members as they disperse for the night. 

In an attempt to avoid bringing attention to yourself, you make your way to your tent as well, quietly sliding the door shut without turning the lock. You lean against a metal panel, listening to the bustle of conversation slowly diminish until it’s entirely silent. 

When it’s clearly time to head back out, you inhale deeply, straighten your shoulders, and quietly step outside, gradually sliding the door behind you to avoid making any sound. Kuvira’s tent is instantly recognizable from your position — it’s shaped exactly like everyone else’s but significantly larger. 

As you near the structure, you see guards posted and the resulting uneasiness nearly turns you away. But with each tentative step closer, a shadowed figure starts to appear before you. You’re just about to consider walking away entirely when you realize it’s Kuvira. 

“I assumed their presence would distress you. It appears I was correct,” she chuckles, her face illuminated under the dimmed lights of her tent. 

You let out a single, almost wheezing laugh and let your shoulders drop. “No, it’s fine,” you respond. “I knew they’d be here and I should’ve assumed you told them...just sort of went over my head, I guess.” 

“Careful now,” Kuvira says. “I rely on your excellent memory. Can’t have me questioning that anytime soon, can we?” You gulp and shake your head. “No...Kuvira,” you answer, reminded of her insistence on being called by her name. 

While her expression remains generally stoic, you can’t help but notice the way her jaw clenches infinitesimally. “Come, let us walk,” she says, turning away from you and walking towards the rocky mountains that surround your campsite. 

You follow closely behind, switching between watching your feet and her back to ensure you don’t get too close. You want to ask her about her day, whether she’s been resting, but you’ve never been completely alone this way. Even during meals, the mass of Empire soldiers is always somewhere nearby. This is new and daunting.  

Kuvira calling your name makes you look up at her and she’s watching you curiously. “I’m afraid the past few months have done little to assuage your discomfort around me,” she notes. “No!” you counter, perhaps too fervently. Her eyebrow lifts and you sigh. 

“It’s not discomfort,” you assure her. “You’re my leader and I respect you. Immensely. It’s like I said this morning: it’s my honor to serve you and I’m going to demonstrate that any way I can.”

She stops walking when she reaches a stony mound, turning so she’s facing you entirely and sitting on it. “You know, aside from Baatar, your loyalty to me and the Empire is unparalleled.” 

The mere mention of Baatar’s name immediately sets you off but you manage to keep a straight face. Or so you think. 

“Is there some bad blood between you and Baatar I should be aware of?” she inquires, bending a stone from the ground and letting it float above her hand. “No. He’s my superior and we work well together,” you reply simply. 

“Hm...I’m not too sure about that,” she responds. “You’ve never been too fond of him, even in our early days.” 

---

“You are one of Zaofu’s most prominent and well-respected political historians. You intimately know the inner workings of the Earth Kingdom states. Your expertise will be invaluable for our stabilization and reunification efforts.  It is a major task but I want you to consider joining my forces,” Kuvira explains. 

“It is no question,” you say. “I have aspired to serve your cause since the beginning. If you would have me, I would be eternally grateful to lend my skills to this great venture.” 

“Thank you,” Kuvira responds, but she is quickly overtaken by Baatar, who joins from the side and begins shaking your hand. It’s not lost on you how Kuvira’s face twists into evident annoyance but she restrains herself quite well. 

“This is a major addition to the Earth Empire forces. With your expertise and our technological innovation, there is certainly no bounds for the transformation our vision will bring!” Baatar boasts. You smile amiably but feel tempted to yank your hand away. 

You don’t care for Baatar. He’s a somewhat mousy fellow who rides off Kuvira’s confidence. He spends nearly all his waking hours with her and you know she favors him greatly. They did grow up together after all and you can’t deny his intelligence. If anything, they actually complement each other quite well...

Regardless, he gets on your nerves. But you do your best not to show it. 

---

“I recognized your distaste for him from that moment on. You are talented at concealing your emotions, though you can’t seem to do so around Baatar,” she observes, flicking the stone somewhere behind her. 

There’s an uncomfortable lump forming in your throat that you try to swallow down. You absolutely loathe being put under a magnifying glass this way. Kuvira’s right: you are excellent at hiding how you feel. 

Which makes it all the more frustrating when someone catches on. 

“Well, that’s human nature, isn’t it?” you ask. “That’s to be expected anywhere. Our personalities just don’t mesh...but we work well together. Clearly.”

Kuvira hums pensively. She’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite label and it makes you want to squirm under your uniform. It almost feels like she’s dissecting you with her eyes alone. 

“Join me,” she finally says, shifting her weight so there’s a wide space beside her on the stone. To stifle the anxious mewl that threatens to leave your throat, you bite your lower lip and hope the night obscures the gesture. 

As you sit by Kuvira, you realize how little space is actually between you two. Her hands are supporting her upper body weight, angled just below her hips. If you moved yours from your lap, you’d inevitably touch the edge of her fingers. 

For a single second, you consider it but ultimately manage to hold yourself back. Given the context, it feels like a massive feat. 

“I hope you know how much I meant what I said,” Kuvira says quietly. Your brow furrows in confusion and you turn to face her. She’s gazing straight ahead at the mountains surrounding you, the cool beam of moonlight casting a pale glow across her impassive expression. 

“You know these governments better than anyone. These negotiations have succeeded at such high rates largely due to your mastery of the subject. I am truly grateful,” she continues. 

You fold your hands together against your legs, holding them tight. “I believe in this mission. I believe in you,” you remind her. “I saw how many people you inspired back in Zaofu. It was incredible. I didn’t think I’d be able to contribute much...I’m just an academic. I read books and write papers for a living, for crying out loud. But you gave me a greater purpose. You broadened what I thought I could do.”

“I am glad,” Kuvira replies. It looks like she’s going to continue talking but her mouth suddenly tightens into a straight line and she pauses. You sit with the silence until the tension is unbearable. It’s so thick Kuvira could probably bend it. 

“Kuvira...I hope I’m not being out of line for asking but...do we need to talk? I know you wanted to hang out but, um, if I’m going to be completely honest you don’t seem like the type for these kinds of things.”

Your thumb digs into the back of your hand as you wait for her to respond. You fear you’ve crossed that unspoken boundary Kuvira has with everyone when she finally speaks. 

“You always waited for me at the corner of Salai and Third Street,” she states. Her voice barely pierces through your otherwise silent surroundings. Your heads tilt to the side in confusion and you dig through your thoughts until a vivid image of a recital hall flashes through your mind. 

“The dance recitals,” you gasp. 

“Indeed. I can’t say I know when it started but there was one evening where the troupe decided to go out for drinks,” she recalls. Something akin to melancholy touches her voice but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“You were sitting on the bench by the lamppost. I didn’t think much of it until the next time. I made it a point to exit through the front door from there on out and sure enough, you were almost always there. You caught me each time because within seconds you’d run off.”

If only the spirits had graced you with the privilege of bending because at that moment you desire nothing more than to drown yourself in the ground below. This time you can’t help it when your face sinks into your palms in absolute humiliation. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” you groan. “I can’t believe you still took me on after that. That’s ridiculous! You probably think I’m some kind of creep!” 

Kuvira’s face softens and she presses her hand against your shoulder. Despite the thick layer of fabric, her touch sets a flaming heat across your skin. You’re grateful for the darkness that conceals the inevitable blush spreading across your face. “Not quite. I was rather intrigued.”

You turn to face her and her hand stays in its place. You want nothing more than to enfold her fingers with your own but you resist the temptation. It doesn’t feel right. 

“You didn’t even know me,” you return. 

“You’re right, I didn’t. But that made it all the more fascinating,” she explains. A low breath filters out of her nose as she exhales slowly. She turns her gaze away from you, staring into the space beyond your shoulder but you can tell she’s not quite here anymore.

“Suyin raised me...but I never knew if she could really see me beyond a wayward child who just needed guidance and structure. She trained me, she perfected my bending. She gave me dancing and the guard. But I always wondered if that’s all I was to her. Her protégé. Baatar is a close friend but...he may be expecting something of me I cannot give him.

Then you appeared and I couldn’t understand why on earth you kept showing up. The recitals, the secret gatherings. And now we have these meals together and we actually talk. You ask me about my day, how I’m feeling. And it’s genuine.”

Kuvira’s hand trails down from your shoulder to your forearm, where she curls her gloved fingers around the muscle and squeezes gently. Her eyes refuse to meet yours, instead moving to the place where your bodies touch. The hairs on your neck rise as her thumb rubs a circle into your sleeve. 

“No one has ever truly asked about me. Not in that way,” she whispers and for the first time ever you hear an unmistakable twinge of sadness in her voice. 

You have known Kuvira to be predominantly fierce, commanding, and stoic. She is calculative and difficult to read. Even in the moments where you dare to ask about matters unrelated to the Empire, she is usually quite distant. She is an unyielding woman and you deeply admire that about her. 

So to see this side of her is astonishing in a way you can’t quite name. You anchor yourself in the grounding touch of her palm and wade through her words as they hang in the air. 

The sound of your name pulls you back and she’s continued speaking. “I need you to know that there is no one here I trust more than you,” she confesses. 

The revelation collapses on you like an unexpected rainfall. It’s almost as if a part of you sensed it coming, saw the grey clouds swaying in the sky. 

But it stuns you into stillness nonetheless, the weight of the words falling like thick drops of water that coat your skin and make it hard to move. The silence of the evening is somehow drowned out by roaring in your ears. 

“Kuvira…” The syllables fit differently in your mouth now, a supplication more than a name. You don’t know what you’re asking of her. 

She instantly removes her hand from you and stands, taking a step forward so there is more distance between you. “Don’t give me that,” she rasps. She’s facing away so you can’t see her face but the shadow of her figure is completely stiff. “I ask nothing of you and I certainly don’t need your pity. My only desire is that you keep this conversation between us.”

“What are you talking about?” you fret. The snag in your voice causes her to turn towards you, watching you with a semblance of resentment and distress. 

“I don’t pity you,” you continue. “This just...I can’t wrap my head around it, okay? Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the betterment of our people, yes. But I also do it for you. Don’t you see that? I want to be there for you.” 

You laugh humorlessly at the stunned expression on Kuvira’s face. “It’s always been you, Kuvira,” you reveal. “From the minute I saw you in that newspaper, it was always you. You’re brilliant and intimidating and strong and powerful. But you’re human. You deserve to be treated like one.” 

“Why?” she asks, voice tight. You stand up and force yourself into her space, tossing all reservations aside. “Because every human being deserves that, Kuvira. Including you. Especially you,” you tell her. With a small step forward, you close the gap between you both and shakily rest your palms on her arms. 

“You don’t need a reason to be cared for, Kuvira,” you say, letting your hands rub in what you hope is a reassuring movement. “Yes, you are the Great Uniter. You are leading this massive and historic movement that will be remembered for generations. But you get tired. You get stressed. You feel anger and disappointment. I see it. I don’t know if anyone else does but I do. And I want you to hold space for those things.”

At this point Kuvira’s eyes have closed completely and it’s evident that she’s holding her mouth closed with great force. You wonder if anyone has ever told Kuvira these things but the tautness of her body indicates otherwise. 

Moments that could be seconds or hours pass before her eyelids flicker open and she’s looking directly into you. She’s looking at something deep inside you and you feel exposed, vulnerable. But this time it’s not dreadful at all. You let her search for what she needs and hang onto her arms as she does. 

Without moving her gaze, her hands lift from her sides and pull away her gloves, dropping them to the ground. She moves towards your face, cupping your cheeks with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. Out of its own accord, your head allows itself to sink into her touch and your eyelids flutter close.

The next moment is absolutely surreal. You can’t see it but you feel her face drift towards yours until her steady breath washes over your senses. Her scent is soft and fresh, much like the mist that has settled around you. Her presence is much like the earth itself — firm, crisp, invigorating.

Kuvira’s mouth rests just above yours and you both stand totally unmoving before she finally asks, “May I?”

The “yes” is out of your mouth before you can register the question and then a gentle yet ardent warmth touches your lips and spreads throughout your limbs. Kuvira’s hands tighten ever so softly around your face, pulling you closer yet holding you like a sacred treasure. 

Her bare palms against your skin evoke an overwhelming sensation of euphoria — it’s so tremendous it nearly causes your legs to give out beneath you. The initial touch of your lips is tentative as you both process what’s actually happening. You leave your eyes closed so you can focus entirely on every point where Kuvira’s body connects to yours. 

Her fingertips resting on your cheekbones, her palms cupping your jaw, the pleasant tickle of her hair skimming across your forehead. 

Deep in the most secluded burrows of your mind, you have fantasized over this exact moment so many times but the reality is so much more intoxicating than you could have ever imagined. Kuvira’s mouth is supple and warm, whereas you had always imagined it to feel much cooler. You don’t anticipate the reverent way she holds you in place, with a sweetness that fills your mind with some ethereal haze. 

When Kuvira’s lips hesitantly move against yours, the shock in your body collapses completely and you fall against her chest, draping your arms around her neck with a soft whimper. 

The pressure appears to set her off as well. Her hands shift slightly so one is twisted in your hair, pulling you closer while the other cups your jaw. A visible shiver ripples through your bones when your lower lip is tugged by the slow drag of Kuvira’s teeth. 

She is slow and gentle, gauging your reaction with each deliberate movement. When your embrace tightens, she takes this as encouragement to sink her teeth ever so lightly into the soft flesh, making you gasp. You feel her mouth curl into a grin before she lazily sucks your lip, effectively turning your muscles into a quivering mess. 

When you pull away it’s with a great deal of reluctance. You keep your eyes closed, afraid that if you open them you will lose your grasp on the excitement that vibrates through every inch of your body. You feel Kuvira’s forehead rest on yours and her arms settle somewhere along your back. There is silence for a while and you can tell she’s waiting for you to break it. 

But the words don’t come, because in your mind a single sound could shatter this magical space in time you’re in. So instead, you let your eyes open and look into Kuvira’s eyes. They are brewing with an endearing combination of uncertainty and bliss. 

You smile reassuringly, leaning up just enough to press your lips to the corner of her mouth. A low sigh eases from her chest and her face begins to glow with unquestionable delight. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs eventually, pulling your hands into her own and bringing them to her mouth. She speaks the words into your fingers once more, pressing a deep kiss against your knuckles. 

You simply nod and don’t bother to conceal the smile her gesture produces. Pulling your hands away, you wrap yourself around her once more, resting your face against the soothing crook of her neck. 

With a single kiss to her throat, you seal a silent promise between you and Kuvira. When her arms encircle your head, pulling you closer as her face sinks into your hair, you both revel in the gleaming excitement of what’s to come.

[hitbythunder]

Chandrilan Moons -3

A Kylo Ren x Reader story with much angst, possessiveness and dark themes (warnings will be updated as the story progresses) –> Read also on AO3

Summary: Growing up under the loving care of your foster-mother, Leia Organa, there had been nothing for you and Rey to want for. Though not of kin, you loved Rey as your sister and spent a happy childhood with her on Chandrila. But when the boiling galactic politics demanded for Leia to take action, for the Resistance to rise and fight, the girls could no longer evade the cruelty of the world. Kylo Ren sought a map as a key to revenge, to freedom, and had no use for a force-unsensitive young girl like you. You were simply a means to an end. Until his darkness latched onto you, drawn in by your light as you were by the demon that is Kylo Ren - inevitably gravitating towards each other, bound to be one. Like the Chandrilan moons.

**** WARNING: description of violence, mentions of rape

____________________________xXx____________________________

3- A disturbance in the Force

+Takodana - neutral territory+

 Flying through space was amazing and although two experienced and trusted Resistance pilots had accompanied us girls on our mission, the glistening stars as far as one could see was worth it all. While Rey remained slightly pouting for most of the flight, I was glued to one of the side-windows of the ship. It was a small but bulky transport ship, for a star-fighter couldn't hold that many people and would have attracted too much attention once we landed on Takodana. Albeit its neutrality in the war, one should never act foolishly, especially since neutrality itself depended heavily on the benefits of a foregone alliance. But with Maz Kanata, the owner of the famous castle that granted sanctuary to everyone for one night, and proved friend of the Resistance, nothing could go wrong today and the whole mission seemed as good as done.

Leia had sent us there to retrieve the Jedi texts Maz had bought from a smuggler who had passed through weeks ago, hoping that they might help Rey's training in the Force. Or so I assumed as I curiously scanned the texts before Rey put the few scrolls and loose pages in a safety-box inside her back-pack.

 "There's one more thing." Maz rummaged in a small chest among the sheer endless heaps of stuff in the castle's vault, leaving me to wonder how she could possibly remain an overview of what was down here. But perhaps that was why it was such a good hiding-place for forbidden artifacts such as Jedi-texts - as well as the light-sabre Maz now held solemnly in her wrinkled hands.

"Oh my stars, Luke Skywalker's light-sabre!" Rey was beyond herself with joy, her hands trembling slightly as she took the legendary weapon and gingerly inspected it from all sides. Ever the technician, Rey simply had to understand how that thing worked exactly and probably would disassemble the sabre if it hadn't been Luke's.

While I shared my sister's excitement, I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as I watched Rey posing with the sabre. As so often, I found myself lacking as compared to my sister and Maz's talk about destiny and great deeds to be done with that sabre didn't make it any better. So I zoned out, sulking quietly in the background, until the three of us left the stuffy vault via seemingly endless stairs. We reemerged back into the dining hall of the castle's ground-floor where the canteen was, without drawing attention of the guests there. In one corner of the hall, a band played jolly tunes, which echoed off the thick castle walls and arched ceiling in a cacophony with the chatter of people. Because of many nooks and columns, the canteen could house many guests without seeming stuffed and a social-introvert like me could feel quite overwhelmed by all the noises, smells and visuals. I had never seen such variety of alien races, humans and droids gathered peacefully in one place.

 With our mission virtually accomplished, the Jedi texts secured, it was time for us to return to the base and thus I scanned the canteen for our two escorts. But fate had other plans, for suddenly three very familiar faces appeared at the entrance of the dingy dining hall.

"Han Solo!" Maz cried out, shifting everyone's attention to the smuggler and his companions Chewie, a startled guy in Poe's jacket and Poe himself, his loyal droid BB-8 at his heels.

 What in the galaxy are they doing here? I wondered while they approached us, an uneasy tingling overcoming my nerves. In hindsight, to give in and investigate this strange feeling more closely would have spared me so much trouble. But instead I pushed it down and greeted the guys as friendly as ever and soon later we found ourselves seated at the last available table. After getting us some food and beverages, Maz joined us at the round table, listening intently to the quiet conversation. We informed Han about our mission before he could get any wrong ideas (e.g. that we stole a ship and went against Leia's orders) and it felt nice that he cared about our well-being.

 "Kriff, that is amazing!" Rey nearly burst with excitement as Poe, with interruptions of Han and Fin (the new guy), told us about what had happened on his mission. To sum it up, Poe had been on Jakku to get a map leading to Luke Skywalker but had been caught by the First Order and tortured by Kylo Ren himself. I shuddered at that part, because everybody knew not to cross paths with this merciless demon. Ren's cruelty and thirst for blood-shed seemed endless, his hatred for the Resistance only fueling his powers, and I could not fathom to imagine what Ren had done to squeeze every ounce of information out of Poe.

Luckily, Poe had entrusted the map to BB-8, who had remained hidden on Jakku the whole time, until Poe had managed to escape by the help of Fin, a renegade stormtrooper. Well, and as if fate had decided to stir things up even more, they had bumped into Han and Chewie on the way - something concerning smugglers and gross aliens, I didn't listen too carefully then - and due to low fuel and necessary repairs they had to make a stop here on Takodana.

"Wow, what a ride..." I said with awe and respect for their courage and luck, which had at least Fin and Poe smile proudly.

"Yeah, didn't exactly go to plan-" Poe replied between sips of his beer, Han scoffing beside him and mumbling something to Chewie about the recklessness of youth. "-but here we are, map in hand."

 "And as soon as the Falcon's refueled we're leavin'!" Han declared as soon as Poe finished, his tone harsh but one could tell he only meant well for all of us. "Gonna make sure y'all get back in one piece." Obviously, Leia would have Han's head should anything happen to her girls, her best pilot and the map under his watch. And although I sensed his reluctance to face Leia, I was looking forward to the resemblance of a family. Hopefully they wouldn't quarrel from the start on.

 Somewhat lost in my fantasies of a happy family life, I hadn't registered the growing debate between Finn, Rey and Poe.

"... you don't know them as I do! There's no fighting the First Order because they'll slaughter us for even trying. I've seen enough of their horrors and I want nothing to do with them!" Finn declared heatedly and barely kept his voice low as Poe repeatedly urged him to, also keeping the renegade in his chair.

"But that's the point! You have so much detailed insider-information which we could use to fight them! Why would you waste that and cling to the illusion of outrunning them?" Rey retorted with unabashedly directness and not less heatedly, the spirit of the Resistance burning fiercely in her hazel eyes. "Fleeing like a coward."

Finn rose then, anger and shame written across his face, though he didn't come up with a response and after a few seconds gave in to Poe tucking at his sleeve, sat back down and glared into his cup. A tensed silence hung over the table, until Maz subtly changed the subject by engaging Han in a conversation about a mutual smuggler-friend of theirs. With a fuming Rey beside me, I shot Poe a questioning glance, but he looked as helpless beside Finn as I felt and began to talk some sense into Finn in a calm manner. That he should come with us to the base, at least for a little while.

 Next to Han, Chewie was eager to get out of here, groaning impatiently beside his friend and rubbing his bandaged arm.

"All right, Chewie, go on and check on our baby." Han said between Maz's babbling and quickly grabbed his beer before Chewie would knock it over as the giant jumped to his feet.

"I'm coming with you." on impulse I rose too, dismissing everyone's questioning looks as I added: "I need some air anyways."

 Let them cool their heads while I'm gone, I thought and jogged after Chewie.

   Since Maz's castle was built on a cliff surrounded by the ocean on one side and dense forest on the other, the landing-places were spread to a few clearings nearby. So we had to walk a little and although Chewie wasn't particularly chatty, I didn't mind either and enjoyed the beautiful landscape. At the bottom of the weathered castle's stairs, we turned right and followed a lovely path between lush grassy hills at the border of the forest, the rush of the nearby sea accompanying our steps. Suddenly Chewie halted, his hairy arm on my shoulder stopping me too, and pointed towards the thicket. There, half-hidden by the greenery, two humans were carrying a seemingly shut-down BB-8 further away from the castle.

 Hasn't BB-8 been with Poe and us the whole time? I wondered briefly. But then, BB-8 was a small droid and many people had squeezed themselves past our table in the brimming canteen. Perhaps we had all been too distracted by the heated conversation between Rey and Finn to notice BB-8's absence.

"I'll follow them and stop them from leaving. You go use that long legs of yours and get the others, Chewie! Rey'll find me through the Force!" I declared in a split-second-decision, already dashing away into the dense forest and leaving a groaning wookiee behind.

  Deeper and deeper I ventured in my pursuit, steadily closing the distance between myself and the thieves without alerting them of my presence. As children, Rey and I had often played hide and seek in the forests of Chandrila and I had to develop some pretty decent sneaking-skills to diminish her advantage with the Force. Rey had only once admitted that she wouldn't have won all those times if she hadn't used the Force to sense my approach. Thus, even if my sneaking skills should fail me I trusted that Rey would be able to find me. I just had to stall some time, delay those thugs from leaving, until Rey and the others would arrive. At one point, the two thieves halted to catch their breaths and looked around. I quickly ducked behind a tree, easing my nerves. Suddenly I noticed a bright red stroke on the otherwise blue sky above, far away yet ominous to watch. Though I had no clue what it was, I instantly had a bad feeling about it. But more pressing matters were at hand, and after another deep breath I dared to peek around the trunk. There was only one thief beside BB-8 then.

 Kriff, where did the other go?!

  Maybe Chewie should have chased them, not me, I admitted to myself as I was hauled by a pair of large hands and thrown very harshly on the forest floor next to the motionless droid.

"Look what followed us, mate!" said the gruff guy to his companion, who looked terribly scrawny in comparison. Both reeked of ale and whatnot, their ugly visages distorted by sinister smiles.

"A pretty thing like that will make a good price, I wager. Not as high as for the droid though." the scrawny one snickered as he mustered me, while the bear-like guy's eyes roamed over my body with a different kind of greed.

"How 'bout a taste..."

 "No!" I screamed as he grabbed me, trashing against his hold, and somehow I managed to draw my small combat-knife from its holster at my hips. I thrust without much consideration, nor proper aim, stabbing bear-guy right above the knee. The blade sunk hilt-deep into his thigh-muscle. He howled in pain and repaid me with a hearty slap across my face, sending me flying back against BB-8 and onto the mossy ground. The impact caused the droid to reawaken and a small safety compartment at its front jumped open, the object within landing a few feet ahead of me.

 The map! my dizzy mind concluded with horror.

 Ignoring the rising pain in my body, I crept on all fours and frantically scanned the forest floor with my hands in a panicked search for the map. Scrawny guy was still laughing at his companion. Knowing that the guys and Poe in particular, had risked their lives for this map and that finding Luke was vital for the future of the Resistance, I simply couldn't loose it nor let it be taken by those thugs. It was my chance to prove my value as part of the Resistance and failing wasn't an option.

 What would Leia think if I screw this up? Or Poe?

 Then, finally, my right palm touched a metallic longish object and instantly I closed my fingers tightly around it. The very moment I did so, a flash of energy shot through me, momentarily blinding all my senses in its immense light and suddenly the outline of a star-constellation appeared before my inner eye. Planets and stars twinkled in a blueish hue, in between a red dotted line that led to a particular oceanic planet. Though somehow familiar, I could not place this constellation and this strange vision lasted only a few seconds, before a sudden sharp pain in my hand brought me back to my present predicament.

  +++

  In front of Takodana castle, the fight between stormtroopers and Resistance had just begun by the time Kylo arrived there. His ship landed like a looming black bird among the First Order transports and agitation spread in his muscles upon the pending blood-shed, especially since he had sensed another force-user inside the castle. By far not as strong as him, but hopefully they would do for some entertainment compared to the other scum-bags that died like flies at his hand. Kylo was marching determinedly towards the building, when he felt it.

A disturbance in the Force within the forest to his right, faintly but clear as a lightning-bolt at distance and vanished just as quickly. Kylo paused, scanned the area with his powers and concluded that the other Force-user was up ahead at the bottom of the castle - not in the direction of the disturbance. Weighing his options, Kylo dismissed the distraction for being just that and walked on to find his opponent. The Force, however, tickled his senses again, rippling with distinct restlessly as if to tempt him and now it seemed foolish not to inquire further.

 "Find that droid at all costs! And take no prisoners!" Kylo barked towards a nearby officer, before he stormed off into the forest.

 The lightning-bolt had pinned down the exact location and the closer he got, the stronger the Force seemed to pull him there, becoming more insistent with each step. Faster, it seemed to whisper and spurned his steps beyond the capacity of men, neither rocks nor tree-stumps posing a real obstacle in his path. Kylo felt some human presence long before they came into view, two men beating and kicking a woman cowering at their feet. Judging by their appearance, they were either smugglers or Resistance-fighters and either was good enough reason to kill them.

Silent in his approach, Kylo descended upon them like a dark shadow from behind, the hiss of igniting his light-sabre the only foretelling sound of their demise. Effortlessly, the red crackling blade cut through cloth, flesh and bone, drenching the nearby greenery and earth with blood.

[bymyside-fic]

Epilogue (~2100 words) read on AO3 // AFF

- September 2, 2023 -

“Professor Kim?”

Kibum looked up from his desk, setting aside the roll of parchment he just picked up when he saw Maureen Jones, one of the girls from the class that had just let out. She was hugging her very new copy of Magical Drafts and Potions to her chest, her knuckles white around the book. Kibum clasped his hands together as he leaned forward to ask, “What can I do for you, Ms. Jones?”

“I’m…” Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed as if she were on the verge of tears.

His brow furrowed, and his tone shifted as if he were speaking to either Yeongjin or Hyejin when he asked, “Is there something wrong?”

Her mouth pressed to a firm, thin line, and she blinked rapidly as tears started to fall. “Am I a bad person, Professor?”

“What?” he said before he could stop himself, then he glanced down at her uniform, finally seeing the hints of green peeking out from over her textbook. “Are you worried about having been sorted into Slytherin?” When she nodded, he flicked his wand at the fire, charming the kettle to set itself over the fire so he could make them some tea. “Well, I can’t tell you not to be, because I get it. I felt the exact same way when I first started here at school.”

“Really?” she asked, wiping some of the tears away as she plopped down in one of his armchairs.

He nodded, smiling now. “I heard a lot of bad things about Slytherin, and when I got sorted, I cried, too.” Her eyes went wide. “But you know what? It’s not as bad as you’d first think.” The kettle started to sing, and Kibum held up a finger to her before he slipped out from behind his desk to get some tea made for them. He set her cup down on the desk before her before he sat back down. “Do you want to know a secret?” She nodded, scooting closer when Kibum leaned in conspiratorially. “Slytherins can be just as good, or kind, or loyal, or smart as anyone from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw.” He raised his hand to block his mouth as he whispered loudly. “The Sorting doesn’t really matter all that much. Your House is just a place to call home while you’re here, and your fellow Slytherins are your family.”

“What about the other Houses, then?”

“Just think of them as your close friends and family, and you’ll get along just fine.” He glanced at the picture of Minho smiling back at him on his desk. “And, from one Slytherin to another…” He looked back at her with a small smile. “Do yourself a favor and befriend a Hufflepuff. I promise you won’t regret it.”

* * * * *

- March 14, 2026 -

Steam from the bubbling cauldrons around Minho filled the workroom, fogging up the windows of Healing Touch Apothecary. Rain pittered merrily outside, the joyful melody accompanied by the sounds of the girls playing a game with Dad in the storefront. What they were doing, he wasn’t quite sure, but he was glad they were having fun.

He added the last few dittany leaves to the pile on his cutting board before he started mincing them. There were quite a few orders due today, but luckily, this was the last of the potions he needed to have started before he took a break. Once he was happy with the size of the leaves, he pulled the gold set of scales Kibum had bought for him for his birthday last year toward him, measuring out exactly what he needed before he scooped every last bit up and tossed them into the nearest cauldron and pulled the orders out of their clips to inspect them.

A burst of green flame in the fireplace filled the workroom, startling Comme Des and Garcons to wake and start barking. But Minho didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Hey, Bum,” he said absently, shuffling through the order slips, his brow furrowing.

“Hey, love” came his reply, right before he kissed the crown of Minho’s head as he passed by. “Taking a break soon?”

“In a minute.”

He caught a glimpse of him as he stepped up into the store, smiling despite his break in concentration at the girls’ excited greeting when they saw him. Minho sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes before he got up from his bench and started for the archway between the workroom and the store. But by the time he reached it, Kibum was already ushering the girls back toward him, Dad floating behind them. “You hungry?” Kibum asked, his hand resting on Minho’s hip as he stopped beside him.

“What’s for lunch?”

Kibum shrugged, smiling as he went up on his tiptoes to kiss Minho. “I didn’t even look. Come on.”

He grabbed Minho’s hand, and Minho let himself be pulled along, he grabbed his wand out of his apron and flicked it at the /Open/ sign, flipping it over to /Closed/.

* * * * *

- September 1, 2031 -

“Kelly, Karin,” O’Neely called, his voice ringing out across the Great Hall as a girl hurried up to sit on the stool so she could be sorted into her House.

Kibum cast a furtive glance down the dais before he leaned slightly back so he could see the page of his notebook as he wrote, I think Hyejin might be next.

He didn’t have to wait for very long for a reply. Are you still thinking she’ll be in Slytherin? Minho asked, and Kibum nibbled his bottom lip, looking up at the sound of his House being called, then…

“Kim, Hyejin.”

We’re about to find out.

He sat up in his seat, glancing around at the sea of students, finding Yeongjin easily amidst her fellow Gryffindors as she practically stood up on the bench to see her sister better. Before Hyejin sat down on the stool, she peered around O’Neely, and waved at him. Grinning, Kibum waved back, and she plopped down on the stool, to face the others.

His heart started beating a bit faster as O’Neely lowered the Sorting Hat to her head. What must be going on in her head? Was she nervous? Excited?

“Ravenclaw!” the Sorting Hall called out, and Kibum blinked in surprise as he watched her traipse down to join her new school family. She sat by the other first years who had already been sorted, then looked up at Kibum, who gave her a bright grin and a thumbs up before he picked up his quill again to let Minho know.

You know what? That works. Now we have one of each in our family.

Oh, true...And you know what else this means?

What?

We finally have the house...all to ourselves again.

Are you implying what I hope you’re implying?

Kibum coughed to cover his laugh, and glanced around to see if anyone noticed before he looked back down at the notebook. I guess you’ll have to wait and see, hm?

* * * * *

- July 22, 2033 -

“Have fun!” Minho called after Yeongjin, Hyejin, and the Edwards girls, watching them as they ran around the bend in search of the caves hidden in the catacombs of Magiabajo. Reluctantly, he turned away when Kibum’s hand settled on the small of his back.

“They know their way around, honey. They’ll be just fine.”

“I know, I know.”

He cast one last glance over his shoulder before he followed Kibum up to the floating island that Gil and Ana were already lounging on. She looked up from her book and set it aside as they sat in the chair opposite of her. “Where’s Gil?”

“Probably getting beer.”

“He was still talking to Mateo when we left.”

She smiled, leaning back and stretching out in the sun filtering through the river overhead. “Mateo may curse you for inventing the Babbling Concoction by the end of this trip.”

Kibum shrugged. “I mean, if he hasn’t so far, I don’t see why he’d stop now.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Don’t give him a big head,” Minho murmured as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “He already thinks he’s right all the time.”

Ana chuckled when Kibum flicked his knee. “It’s because I am and you know it.”

“You’re right, of course, dear.” But when Kibum turned back around, Minho met Ana’s gaze and rolled his eyes with a smile.

“I saw that,” Kibum said, even though he didn’t turn around.

Minho pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around Kibum and resting his chin on his shoulder as he said, in Korean, “I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you later.”

Kibum reached around, holding the back of Minho’s neck as he glanced his way. “Is that a promise?”

“Oh good,” Ana said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m glad to see that even fifteen years of marriage doesn't stop you two from flirting in Korean.”

“Old habits, and all,” Minho said in English, winking at her as she shook her head.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” she said, hiding her amusement as she picked up her book and opening it to where she left off.

* * * * *

- June 16, 2034 -

“Appa, do we really need a babysitter?” Yeongjin asked as she flopped down on Kibum and Minho’s bed. “I’m almost seventeen, I can look after us both.”

Kibum hummed absently, pulling some of his clothes out of the closet to pack for his and Minho’s annual after-school honeymoon. “I thought you were excited about Uncle Jjong and Tae coming to visit.”

“I mean, yeah, but…” She sighed heavily. Dramatically. Kibum bit back a smile at how much she was taking after him.

“What? Were you planning on throwing a wild party while we’re gone?” She scoffed dismissively, and Kibum grinned when she started to smile. “Your grandparents and Aunt Ana would let us know if that happened.”

“I know,” he said, drawing out the word as she fell back on the bed again. “Can we have friends over, at least?”

“Depends.”

The sound of the front door gave them both pause, especially when it was followed by Minho’s cheery “Honey, I’m home!”

Kibum glanced back at Yeongjin, correctly interpreting the glint in her eye as she bounded away. He tossed the clothes he had picked out onto the bed as he rushed to follow her downstairs, and before he could greet Minho, she was already badgering him with pleas. Minho met Kibum’s gaze over her head, his eyebrow quirking in silent question. Kibum just sighed, but that was enough of an answer for Minho. “Hon, did you already ask your father?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone sullen.

“So, why are you asking me? You know I’ll side with him.”

She sighed again, and Kibum cleared his throat, garnering both of their attention. “Yeonggie, Hyejin, you too…” He waited for a second, but soon Hyejin poked her head out of her bedroom door, adjusting her glasses. “I’m fine if you both invite friends over while we’re gone, as long as it’s okay with Jjong and their parents, okay?”

Hyejin gave him a small smile before she slipped back into her room, but Yeongjin did a happy little dance before she hugged them both tightly and ran off toward her room, saying something about needing to send a few owls.

Kibum rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little before glancing Minho’s way. Unsurprisingly, he was watching him with a bemused smile. “What?”

“Getting a bit soft, are we?”

“Shut up.” Minho grinned as he closed the distance between them, Kibum happily letting himself get wrapped up in Minho’s arms as he kissed him, at last. “Good day?”

“It is now.”

Kibum sniffed a laugh, smacking his chest lightly before he pulled away. “Come help me pack, love.”

“Okay.”

The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they went up to their bedroom, and Minho sat down on the bed to start folding the clothes Kibum had already picked out. “I guess we should pick a destination, huh?” Kibum asked as he resumed his place before their closet. “Where do you wanna go?”

Kibum looked back at him when he didn’t answer right away, finding Minho giving him his annoyingly, overly fond smile. “Anywhere, as long as you’re...you know, by my side.”

[waywardfangirl]

Write This Down

General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply

Baz Pitch/Simon Snow | 3,305 words | Complete

Summary: Inspired by Write This Down by George Strait - Baz and Simon love each other, and they know it. But, Baz came close to losing Simon once, and he doesn't intend to let that ever happen again.

***A big thank you to @foolofabookwyrm​ for editing this for me literally the second I finished writing it! I love you!!!***

Baz

The first time I told Simon I loved him, tears were pouring down both of our faces and we were absolutely miserable. It was one of the worst days of my life, and I hated the fact that every nice thing Simon and I have, every special moment and milestone in our disaster of a relationship, is marred in some way by tragedy. We kissed for the first time in the middle of a burning forest when I was so deep in the throes of self-hatred I couldn’t find my way out without Simon to save me. Instead of the honeymoon phase that every other couple gets, Simon and I received death and destruction and trauma, and then hearings and interrogations before the Coven. When we tried to go on vacation, to take a break and do something to pull Simon out of the pit of depression he had spiraled into, we almost died multiple times. When I finally propose to him I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that dark creatures can’t find us, the weather can’t ruin us, and even our well-meaning but nosy friends can’t disturb us.

But I’m getting too far ahead of myself. I can’t start planning for a proposal just yet, because I’m still not sure that I won’t lose him one day. He told me he loved me with tears streaming down his cheeks, and then he tried to break up with me.

I had started crying around that time too; I wanted to be in control, I wanted to shut off my emotions so Simon wouldn’t be hurt by my own anguish, but instead traitorous tears came streaming down my face and I started babbling out every thought I’d ever had – please don’t leave me and I’m not happy without you and no no no don’t go, Simon, please don’t and eventually I love you, I love you too, I love you so much, there’s nothing for me if you aren’t here, I love you. So, no, it was not one of our better moments.

Once I finally convinced him that breaking up with me would, in fact, not help me at all, we agreed to put serious effort into working on our relationship. This has also meant that both Simon and I found ourselves going to (separate) therapists, and coming together once a month for couple’s counseling too. Put together, we’re utilizing three-quarters of the magical word’s mental health resources. (It’s helping.)

(Read the rest on AO3, or under the cut)

I don’t know exactly what Simon discusses with his own therapist (although I could probably make a few guesses), but my therapist has been encouraging me to work on my own anxieties as of late among other things. I haven’t been able to shake my fear that Simon might decide to leave again, and that crying amidst declarations of love won’t fix things this time. So, since I can’t control the actions of others, I can only control what I think and do myself (yes, thank you Amy, the once-weekly sessions are working and I now hear your voice in my head when I evaluate my own thoughts), I’ve decided on a course of action that will help both Simon and myself.

I start by stealing his phone. He only uses the notes app to write down things he wants to bring up in therapy, so I ignore all the existing memos and start a new one, just three words – I love you.

(The numpty never bothered setting a passcode, I should modify his phone more often. He needs a new lock screen.)

 Three days later, Simon emerges from his bedroom after his appointment, face blotchy and tear tracks drying on his cheeks. Every muscle in my body pulls to gather him up in my arms and give him shelter in the form of an embrace, but I know in moments like this I have to let him make the first move. Luckily, he walks straight over to where I’m putting the dishes away and immediately buries his face in my neck. His arms cinch around my waist, and I waste no time in pulling him closer to me, carding one hand through his curls.

“Alright, love?”

He nods, pressing in closer, then mumbles into my skin, “I love you.”

Ah. He found the note, then. Good.

“I love you too.”

*****

The next week, I walk into Simon and Penny’s apartment after classes, only to find Simon asleep on the couch. Netflix is playing some action movie on the tv, and Simon’s face is twitching slightly, still reacting to the sound even while fast asleep. I know he was up late last night preparing for a big presentation, so I let him rest. As I pull my laptop out of my bag to study at the kitchen table, I grab a sticky note as well, and attach it to the center of the television screen.

I love you

An hour later, I hear the tv shut off. Simon wanders into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and scooching his chair over until it’s pressed up next to mine. He kisses me on the cheek, and then on the mouth when I turn my head.

“Hi love, how was your day?”

“Good. Better now.”

*****

Finals are upon us, and of course the worst academic weeks of the year are also the time when Simon and I decide to try spending the night together again. (Just sleeping, but sharing each other’s space for that long, being there together when we wake up the next morning.) I feel like all of this should be so much easier, like other couples just make it look so effortless – we love each other, why can’t we show it? Why is it so hard to turn those emotions into actions and words? I don’t ever want to be beside anyone else, how can I prove that to him?

After the first few nights, it starts to feel normal. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling of Snow’s arms wrapped around me, his muscles relaxing as we both fall asleep, but I don’t want to get used to it. I want it to be novel every single time, I always want to feel this in love with him.

Tonight, though, I can’t let myself lie down until I finish this last essay. I’ll edit it tomorrow, but I can’t stop writing until I’m done or I know I’ll lose momentum. Simon went to bed at least half an hour ago, and that’s all the incentive I need to keep my fingers flying across the keyboard; the sooner I’m done, the sooner I’ll be back beside him.

I close my laptop at half past midnight, and attempt to straighten the academic mess on the kitchen table before breakfast ruins a textbook tomorrow morning. Snow has left his books in a perilous heap, on the verge of teetering onto the floor, so I straighten the stack, then pick up the top book.

It’s a textbook, An Introduction to Social Services, because my brave and caring boyfriend wants to continue saving the world in any way he can. The first half of the book is filled with bookmarks and flags, highlighted passages and scribbled notes in the margins. He’s been attacking his studies with a vigor he’s never shown for academia before, and I’m so proud of him. I pick up a pen and add a note of my own under the practice review he’s flagged with tomorrow’s date (when did he get to be so organized? He’s wonderfully full of surprises even now) – You’re absolutely brilliant, love.

I leaf through the book to the next practice exam, this one flagged for three days from now. You’re the most caring man I’ve ever met, you were born for this work. The review in the middle of the book gets a simple (true) I’m so proud of you, and then I start leafing through the pages I assume Simon will be using next semester. I don’t let myself question the future, I don’t let uncertainty and anxiety creep in, I just write notes on random pages, to be discovered in the middle of lectures or homework or studying.

My darling

You’re the only sunshine I need

Have I told you lately how handsome you are?

I adore you

You’re my perfect other half, I’m so happy we match

Finally, I leave an index card mixed in with the ones he’s been using for review.

Q: How much do I love you?

A: More than I can possibly say.

*****

Simon Snow can still go off. He’s less physically destructive now, nothing in the flat gets burnt to a crisp and he doesn’t leave craters behind, but sometimes his emotions get stopped up until they come out in a flood of yelling and crying, and he erupts.

We’ve both been trying to be better about handling our outbursts, and trying not to take bad days out on the other, but sometimes it still happens. I don’t know exactly what happened today, but from what I can make out it seems like small things just piled up until I rolled my eyes when Simon suggested watching Star Wars, and that became the straw that broke the camel’s back. Old habits die hard, and we both still give as good as we get when fighting, so fifteen minutes later Penelope came home to find a screaming match in the living room and neither of us even aware of what we were saying or fighting over anymore.

She made us sit down and go through all the skills we’ve learned (use “I” statements, list your emotions, say what you admire about the other person – fine, thank you Amy, your voice is still in my head) until finally we had calmed down enough to be there for each other again.

I held Simon as he cried into my shirt, and we crawled into bed together still holding hands. We kissed before falling asleep and the last thing I remembered was Simon’s breath ghosting over me.

Now though, I’m awake, pulled from sleep and my boyfriend’s arms because I needed a glass of water, and I suddenly can’t stop reliving our argument. We’re fine, I know we are, we’re going to be okay. All couples fight, what matters is that we sat down and talked about it afterwards. We’re both sorry and we both love each other.

I can’t help the voice in the back of my head though, the voice that insists that Simon still thinks I don’t love him and that he might leave me again. I ignore it, then tell it how wrong it is, before finally giving in to my anxiety and tearing a blank piece of paper from the notepad on the fridge. I leave the note on his bedside table, so he’ll see it first thing in the morning, when he inevitably wakes up before I do.

Simon, my dearest, I love you so much. I promise, I love you, no matter what.

*****

“Baz! Did you get it?”

Simon Snow is bouncing on the soles of his feet like a toddler crossed with a golden retriever, and if anyone else were acting like this I would make a point of ignoring them, but because it’s Simon I just kiss him quickly and pull the book out from behind my back.

“Yes, love, I got it. Hot off the press, specially for you.”

Simon’s never been much of a reader, but after discovering ‘the best book in the world’, as he puts it, he’s been devouring this series. The newest one was released today, and I promised him I would pick it up from the bookstore on my way home. (I’ve read them too, and they are quite good, although Simon is definitely more enchanted with them than I am.)

“Can we start reading it right now?” He’s got it clutched to his chest like a child, and—no, that’s dangerous territory to enter, I can’t let myself start thinking of Simon with a baby or else I won’t leave this flat until I’ve proposed to him, and he deserves a nicer proposal than whatever happens to fall out of my mouth right now. Besides, I don’t even have the ring with me, it’s still hidden in my sock drawer back in Hampshire.

“Are you suggesting skipping dinner?” I hold up the bags of takeaway I’ve brought. He looks anguished.

“Can’t we do both?”

He’s a disaster. I love him.

“Alright you bottomless pit, you can eat your dinner and I’ll read to you, will that work?”

He kisses me again in response, a proper snog that’s only interrupted when Bunce wanders through to the kitchen, remarking loudly to Shepard, “They have their own room and everything, but they still insist on doing this sort of thing out here in the open.”

Simon good naturedly flips her off, and I pull away to smirk.

“He’s far too attractive for me to confine my affection to only one room in the house, Bunce. It’s not fair to expect me to restrain myself when my boyfriend is so criminally handsome.” I take Simon’s hand and tug him into the living room to settle against me as I start to read.

When all the food has been devoured and my voice is starting to lull Snow to sleep, I grab a scrap of paper, scribble I love you on it, and then insert it in the book to mark our place.

*****

Simon has been baking up a storm. He’s determined to figure out Cook Pritchard’s recipe for sour cherry scones, because she won’t give up the secret and he hates having to wait for Pitch family gatherings to eat them. He’s going through butter like a fiend, and all of our neighbors adore us because he keeps giving batches away.

When he leaves the kitchen to go retrieve something from his bedroom I slip a note into the fridge, to be discovered the next time he picks up the butter.

I love you

 Three days later, I find the note affixed to the freezer door.

*****

“It’s so empty!”

Simon’s voice bounces off of the walls, and it almost echoes. The house really is empty, at once both exciting and intimidating – this is ours, this is where we get to keep building our life together, this is where we’ll make more memories, this is where we’ll start our family.

“The rest of our furniture will be here tomorrow, love, the movers said they could have it in before nine.”

I hear running footfalls, and then Simon comes sliding down the hall in his socks, crashing into me and almost knocking me over.

“Maybe we should keep it like this, and we can use the first floor for sock races!” He’s laughing, and so happy, and I adore him.

“Mmm, perhaps not,” I say, pushing his curls back from his face. “As enchanting as that idea may be, I expect you’d be sad if Penny and Shepard stopped visiting us because they had no place to sit. And I’m sure you would miss having a dining room table, too.” I kiss him on his nose, because it always makes him laugh, and then I lean back, grab his hands, and spin him around in circles in our empty living room.

Once we’re both too dizzy to stay standing, we collapse on the floor together, struggling to swallow our giggles. Eventually, I pull Simon back up to standing, and nudge him to start unpacking what we can. Dishes go in the cupboards, and sheets go in the linen closet. One of the boxes I open has a hammer and nails, and Simon finds the box that we put our pictures in. Some have to be set aside until the furniture is arranged, but we hang a few in the kitchen and the entry hall. Right before we blow up the inflatable mattress and go to sleep for the first time in our new house, I lead Simon back into the living room and pull out one last photo to hang.

The picture itself is quite large, a candid shot taken during our engagement party. Simon was laughing at something I’d just said, and he’s as bright and radiant as ever. I’m gazing adoringly at him, looking every bit the lovesick fool I am. Penny and Shep are in the background, along with Fiona and the rest of my immediate family, and everyone looks so happy to be celebrating the two of us. It’s one of my favorites, enlarged to sit in a frame over the mantle, where everyone who enters our home will be sure to see it.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get it to hang straight, but eventually we manage it.

“That looks lovely. I didn’t even know you’d had that one framed, I like it.”

I kiss his neck, and wrap my arms around his waist, hooking my chin over his shoulder and holding my wand out in front of him.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

We watch together as three words start to curve around our bodies in the portrait, shiny gold cursive tethering us to each other and stating simply, I love you.

Simon leans back into me, turning his face up for a kiss. “I love you too,” he whispers when we pull apart, “Show-off.” Then he’s walking backwards down the hall, leading me towards the stairs, and going to break his neck if he tries to go up the stairs without first turning around. I’ll tell him tomorrow that the spell I cast will only show those words if they’re true and if I still mean them. (They’re going to be there forever.)

*****

We go ring shopping together. We want our wedding rings to match, and to also complement the engagement rings we gave each other, so we block off an entire Saturday to find the perfect bands. (It turns out that the perfect rings are hiding in a jewelry store just a few blocks from Simon and Penny’s first apartment, which I think has a lovely symmetry to it.)

The rings themselves are simple, gold bands that compliment both of our complexions with a delicate scattering of engraved stars barely visible on the surface. We know immediately that these are our rings, we hardly need to glance at each other to confirm it.

As we’re being sized and filling out all the necessary information, I hand over a folded slip of paper.

“I would like this to be engraved on the inside of his ring, please.”

Simon’s mouth falls open for a moment, then he reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out his own slip of paper.

“I’d like this engraved inside of his too, please,” he says, and I can’t help but loop my arm around his waist.

“I suppose great minds think alike, don’t they Snow?”

He wrinkles his nose.

“You’re going to have to start calling me Pitch before too much longer, you know.”

I wasn’t prepared for this argument, and I’m far too in love with him to have a satisfactory response ready.

“No I won’t. Pitch will be your last name, and Snow will become your middle name. You call me by my middle name already, so we’ll match,” I add, as a happy afterthought.

The jeweler chuckles.

“You really do. You want the same engraving and everything.”

I feel like he maybe should have understood that those messages were meant to be a surprise, given Snow’s obvious shock, and the folded pieces of paper, but I’m a little too happy to care. Our wedding rings are going to match, inscription and all.

I love you

[angelofthequeers]

Checkmate

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Ladybug: the episode where the A-plot sucks ass and the B-plot shines.

Summary: After making his deal with the devil to clear Marinette's name in 'Ladybug', Adrien seeks the help of Kagami to take Lila down. Lila really should've taken him seriously when he'd told her not to mess with his friends...

AO3 link

“So, you made a deal with the devil.”

“What? No!” Adrien splutters. Kagami just raises an eyebrow from next to him on the locker room bench. “Okay…yeah…maybe…”

“And now you want me to get you out of it.”

“I don’t need you to save me.” Adrien digs his fingers into the material of his fencing pants. “Just…help me figure out how to out Lila. I don’t know how to prove that she lied.”

“Why now?” Kagami says, fiddling with her ring. “Why not literally any other time before now? When I was akumatised? When she was only just starting to spread her influence? Back when Ladybug outed her in front of you? You’ve known she’s a liar all this time.”

“I didn’t think her lies would hurt anyone, okay?” Adrien says. “And I didn’t want her to get akumatised again. I thought she’d just get herself caught in them and out herself. I didn’t think she’d go so far as to get Marinette expelled…”

“Or get me akumatised for the second time,” Kagami says. Adrien can’t quite tell whether there’s an accusation in there.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m a dick. That should’ve been the snapping point for me, but all I did was warn her to stay away from you and my other friends.”

“Yes. That should’ve been the snapping point for you.”

When Kagami doesn’t say anything more, Adrien frowns at her. “So…?”

“So what?”

“Will you help me?”

Kagami sighs. “As annoyed as I am at you, Marinette’s my friend and Lila’s still out for her blood. I’ll help you. Besides, I still owe Lila after that photograph stunt that she pulled.”

Adrien’s shoulders slump. “Thank you, Kagami.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We have to manoeuvre Lila into a corner by getting proof from someone who could irrefutably call out her lies. And for that, we need the help of a certain someone.”

.

“Me? Help Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé scoffs. She dabs the final bit of green nail polish onto Sabrina’s pinky finger, then screws the brush back into the bottle while Sabrina fans her nails dry. “Adrikins, you know I’d do anything for you –”

“It’s not just for Marinette,” Adrien says. “I’m the reason Marinette’s back at school. I had to make Lila fix the mess somehow.”

Chloé narrows her eyes. “Adrien Agreste,” she says slowly, “what did you do?”

“Is that why Lila was in that photoshoot with you?” Sabrina pipes up. She immediately scoops up the bottle of scarlet nail polish when Chloé extends her hand.

“Well…yeah,” Adrien says. “Lila asked why she should help Marinette. I…might have made a deal to be her friend if she did.”

Chloé blinks. Then she blinks again, and then she pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

“Of all the utterly ridiculous – Adrien, you should’ve come to me in the first place! I might hate Dupain-Cheng, but if I’d known you were going to sell your soul for her –”

“Enough with the lectures, alright?” Adrien says. “I got enough of that from Kagami when I asked her for help.”

“Tsurugi?” Chloé wrinkles her nose.

“Yeah. What’s your problem with her?”

“Nothing, nothing. Look, alright, I’ll help you expose Liar Rossi. I owe her for that time she utterly humiliated me, anyway.”

“And you know I’m with you too!” Sabrina says.

“Yes, we’ll probably need you to make sure that such a busy diplomat is available when we need her,” Chloé says and Sabrina beams.

“You’re the best, Chlo,” Adrien says. Chloé smiles rather smugly.

“Oh, no need for flattery, Adrikins. Just meet me at school tomorrow with Tsurugi. The more kids of rich and powerful parents we have, the better.”

.

“Look, I’m not sure –” Mr Damocles tries to say.

“You haven’t even investigated how those answers got into Marinette’s backpack,” Kagami says with crossed arms. “Or the necklace into her locker. And if Marinette didn’t take them, it stands to reason that someone planted them.”

“Which is exactly what she said before you expelled her,” Adrien says.

“You heard Miss Rossi – she has a very rare disease –”

Kagami snorts. “She doesn’t have a disease. She’s a compulsive liar. No disease is making her do all this. And for that matter, why does Lila get to claim any of this with no proof?”

“We pride ourselves on believing our students, Miss Tsurugi.”

“Like you believed Marinette?” Adrien mirrors Kagami’s crossed arms. “I even tried to point out that Lila was lying, and you wouldn’t hear it.”

“Have you even consulted her mother?” Kagami says. “With as many illnesses as Lila has, the logical thing to do would be to seek extra advice on accommodating her. And as far as I know, every other disabled or chronically ill student has to have supporting paperwork.”

“Miss Rossi’s had a very hard time –”

Chloé scoffs. “Wait, so you’ve got this ridiculous rule that someone has to prove they’re disabled or sick, and you don’t even hold Lila to that rule? Incompetent, utterly incompetent!”

“Miss Bourgeois, please –” But Mr Damocles is wilting under the three-pronged attack of Adrien, Kagami, and Chloé.

“I’m sure my daddy would simply love to hear about this,” Chloé says. “Expelling one student and not believing her, while believing another student because of a sob story! No one will want to send their students here if they hear that.”

“Especially if the son of famous fashion designer Gabriel Agreste and daughter of renowned fencer Tomoe Tsurugi happened to lend their support to Chloé,” Kagami says.

“No! No! Please!” Mr Damocles babbles. Excellent. Now they’ve got him where they want him. “What do you three want?”

“For you to call Mrs Rossi,” Adrien says. “We want to talk to her about Lila.”

“I don’t think I can just –” Mr Damocles says. Chloé pulls out her phone. “Okay! Okay! I’ll call her!”

“And I think we should move this to the classroom,” Chloé says. “I’m sure the other peasants would love to hear this. But don’t tell Lila what’s going on or she’ll lie her way out of it.”

“But –”

Chloé starts to dial a number.

“Alright!”

The four of them head for Ms Bustier’s classroom. Class has already started, so Ms Bustier is in the process of writing on the board, and she beams when they enter the room.

“Ah, Adrien! Chloé! I was wondering where you two were!” she says. “I thought Sabrina would be with you, but I suppose she’s just sick or late.” Her brow furrows when she catches sight of Kagami. “Aren’t you in Ms Mendeleiev’s class?”

Kagami just stares right back.

“How rude,” Mr Damocles tuts.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kagami says. “But since no respect was shown to Marinette when she was accused of cheating and stealing, I didn’t think I needed to show any in return. I wasn’t aware that it was common practice in France to humiliate a student in front of their entire class over an accusation rather than pulling them aside quietly.”

The way Marinette’s eyes light up at this defence of her leaves Adrien’s insides warm and fluttery. He never realises just how much he treasures that light until it’s gone. Watching her nearly give in to Hawkmoth is probably one of the most horrible things he’s ever seen in his life; next to watching Ladybug get captured over and over again during his stint as Aspik or believing that his lady was dying when Mayura had summoned that Ladybug sentimonster.

“We’ve got some, uh…business to address, once our guest arrives,” Mr Damocles is saying when Adrien tunes back in. “For now, why don’t you two take your seats, Miss Bourgeois, Mr Agreste?”

“I don’t think so,” Chloé says. “We’re fine here.”

“What’s going on?” Ms Bustier says. No one answers her.

It only takes about ten minutes after that for a rather flustered Mrs Rossi to arrive, her coat thrown on hastily and haphazardly, with Sabrina in front of her.

“What a morning!” she exclaims. “Everything’s been disappearing – my keys, my purse, everything! It’s as though the universe didn’t want me to go to work today. I’m grateful that this young lady’s father offered me a lift and that she was lovely enough to guide me here.”

Sure, the universe. Or a certain redhead. Adrien peeks over at Chloé, whose smile is almost proud as Sabrina slips into her seat.

“Mamma?” Lila gasps. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Ivan says.

“Um – ahem – these students wish to talk to you about your daughter,” Mr Damocles says. Mrs Rossi’s brow furrows.

“You called me here for schoolchildren?” she says. Adrien glances at Chloé and Kagami, playing a mental game of chicken, but the look in their eyes is very clear: he got them into his mess, so he can step up.

“Sorry to trouble you, Mrs Rossi,” Adrien says. “My name’s Adrien Agreste –”

“Ah, Adrien!” Mrs Rossi’s face lights up. “My bella’s boyfriend! Lila simply can’t stop talking about you!”

“Mamma –” Lila tries to say.

“Excuse me?” Chloé says.

“His boyfriend?” Kagami adds.

“Not likely,” they chorus.

“Chloé and Kagami are right,” Adrien says. “I don’t know what Lila’s told you, but I’m not and I never have been her boyfriend.”

“But Lila wouldn’t lie to me! She’s my little angel!”

Angel. Yeah. Right. More like the devil. “Ma’am, she’s been lying since she set foot in this school,” Adrien says. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Marinette trying to conceal her incredulous smile. “She tried to lie to me about being descended from a fox superhero called Volpina. She’s been lying to our class all year.”

“She posted photos of herself kissing Adrien without his consent,” Kagami says.

“But that doesn’t sound like Lila at all…” says Mrs Rossi.

“Ahem.” Mr Damocles clears his throat. “These three raised an, uh…excellent point. Now that I’ve finally got you here, I was wondering if you could provide us with a full medical history for Miss Rossi. Purely for accommodation purposes, of course, so that we can ensure that she’s given a quality education.”

“I already told you –” Lila says.

“Medical history? Accommodations? Lila doesn’t need accommodations!” Mrs Rossi says. “She’s healthy as can be!”

“But she said she’s got tinnitus from saving Jagged Stone’s kitten on a plane runway!” Alya says. “Our whole seating arrangement was reorganised to accommodate her!”

“No, wait, it got miraculously cured by Ladybug,” Chloé says. “Her bestie.”

“Oh, and don’t forget the arthritis!” Adrien says.

“And her disease that makes her lie uncontrollably,” Mr Damocles says. “She did tell me that herself when confessing to accidentally framing Miss Dupain-Cheng for the theft of –”

“Stop! Stop!” Mrs Rossi clamps her hands over her ears. Mild guilt starts to bubble in Adrien’s gut – what is he doing, bombarding the poor woman – but his resolve is steeled at the reminder that he’s doing this for Marinette. Who was nearly akumatised and is the only other person in their school who hasn’t been akumatised, as far as he knows. The only reason she wasn’t was because of that freak scarlet akuma retreat!

“Something tells me she’s been lying to you as well,” Kagami says.

“None of this is true!” Mrs Rossi’s got a wild look in her eye, like her world is slowly unravelling around her. “Lila doesn’t have tinnitus! Or arthritis! She was never on a plane runway! What sort of irresponsible mother do you take me for?”

“She also says that she’s Ladybug’s best friend,” Adrien says. “I’ve been so worried for her ever since she said that! What if Hawkmoth targets her to get to Ladybug?”

“We keep our friendship on the downlow!” Lila protests.

“But you gave Alya an interview for her Ladyblog!” Marinette says.

“Ladybug? Lila was akumatised on her first day here!” Mrs Rossi says. “How could she be friends with Ladybug? And what were you thinking, broadcasting something like that on the internet and endangering my daughter!”

Alya swallows and looks down, blinking rapidly.

“Mamma, they’re just trying to gang up on me!” Lila’s eyes fill with crocodile tears. “Ever since Marinette was simply horrible to me –”

“Dupain-Cheng “apparently” stole test answers and Rossi’s grandmother’s necklace and pushed her down the stairs,” Chloé scoffs.

“I didn’t even touch her!” Marinette says.

“Yeah, I know,” Chloé says. “You’re disgusting. You’re a little princess. You’re the least likely person to do something like that.”

“Thank you…?”

“Lila’s grandmother’s necklace?” Mrs Rossi says.

“Yeah, it’s a fox tail!” Rose says.

“And she tried to claim that it was a Miraculous,” Adrien says. “But Ladybug called her out for lying.”

“You knew?” Nino exclaims.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I thought Lila would eventually get caught in her own lies and people would see and then she’d get to change without being humiliated. But after she got Marinette expelled?” Adrien looks Lila straight in the eye. “I know she doesn’t regret anything she’s done.”

“A Miraculous?” Mrs Rossi says. “I think I’d know if a piece of magical jewellery was a family heirloom!”

“And how could Rena Rouge be a thing if it really was a family heirloom?” Kagami says. “Everyone knows that Ladybug gets the Miraculouses from another location when she needs help. And Lila still has the fox tail necklace, which means that either Rena Rouge is an elaborate prank, or Lila’s “family heirloom” is a fake.”

Alya winces at that for some reason.

“But we’ve never had a fox tail family heirloom,” Mrs Rossi says.

“We do! Nonna just never told you!”

It really is interesting to watch Lila flail and try to protect her lies, even now that the whole class is openly staring at her with scepticism in their eyes. Huh. Adrien could get used to this. Maybe there is something to being actively involved in justice.

“I can’t believe this. I simply can’t believe this.” Mrs Rossi turns to Lila with severely squared shoulders. “You told me that the school was closed down due to akuma attacks and that’s why you missed all that school!”

“She told us that she was travelling overseas!” Rose says. “And that she was invited to Achu by Prince Ali!”

“I never said that he personally invited us!” Lila says.

“Yeah, you did,” Nathaniel says. “You just said that you didn’t get to see him.”

“Prince Ali? I’ve never even met him, and neither has Lila!” Mrs Rossi says.

“So, you really don’t know Steven Spielberg?” Nino says.

“Or Jagged Stone?” Juleka says.

“No!” Mrs Rossi says hysterically. “Why would my daughter know famous musicians and directors? I’m a diplomat, not an actor or a filmmaker!”

“Miss Rossi, I believe we have a lot to talk about,” Mr Damocles says rather coldly. “And I would like to thank Mr Agreste, Miss Bourgeois, and Miss Tsurugi for bringing this to my attention.”

Adrien tries not to snort. Yeah. Right. Mr Damocles is just trying to save face. But if it clears Marinette’s name and exposes Lila, he’ll just stay quiet for now and let Mr Damocles take this one.

“But Marinette’s been bullying me!” Lila says. “And now she’s got her friends to gang up on me too!”

But that’s apparently one lie too far.

“Marinette? Friends with Chloé?” Alya says.

“Please,” Alix snorts. “Those two would tear each other’s hair out before even looking at each other nicely.”

“I wouldn’t have helped Dupain-Cheng if Adrien hadn’t requested me personally,” Chloé drawls, examining her nails. “Sabrina, you really need to learn how to paint nails properly.”

“Sorry, Chloé!” Sabrina says.

“Come on, Lila,” Mrs Rossi snaps. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, young lady!”

Lila sniffles as she gathers her bag and treks down to the front of the classroom, with everyone’s scorching gazes on her as she passes them. Once she’s next to Adrien, she says, “How could you do this to me?”

“Because you hurt my friend,” Adrien says. His eyes move to meet Marinette’s, and she flushes brilliant red and snaps her head down to look at the desk. “Marinette’s very dear to me, and she’s not the only friend you’ve hurt. And I told you never to hurt my friends, Lila. Ever.” He leans in and whispers one word. “Checkmate.”

[desperationandgin]

Strawberry Wine (Part 1, chapter 6)

Rating: Mature

Author: desperationandgin

Previous Chapter

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: A beach trip.

Chapter Six: Sand and Sea

I had somehow convinced Uncle Lamb I needed to go to Inverness in order to poke about shops, and by the next afternoon, I’d bought a bathing suit that was both tame enough that Lamb didn’t balk, and short enough that it made me blush to think about wearing it for Jamie. It was white, with crisscrossed straps in the back, and didn’t quite fall to mid-thigh; the front was keyholed for a glimpse (but not direct viewing) of my chest.

Coy, but not rude.

I’d had no idea then that three days later on a hot and lazy Saturday morning, Jamie would be driving me to a loch to swim. Or so I thought; he’d told me to wear my suit under my clothing, so that’s what I’d done. Now, I was sitting in the passenger side of his truck with my feet on the dash, crossed at the ankles, while we rode with the windows down.

“How far is this lake?” I asked as I tried to estimate how long we’d driven. It seemed like at least a half-hour, perhaps more, had passed.

“No’ too far now, Sassenach. I wanted to go out of the way a bit, our first wee trip together,” he explained with a grin that held so much more. He was excited about something, I could tell, but I assumed it was enthusiasm for the day. For a while, I closed my eyes and listened as music filtered through his radio. Jo Stafford sang on about promising to never part on warbly AM waves, and I drifted until Jamie’s hand reached out to brush against my wrist. He didn’t speak at all, and I smiled before turning my head to look at him.

That’s when I noticed (through his window first, then mine) that the rolling hills, which had given way to sprawling fields and countryside, were now flat grassland. The further we drove, the shorter the grass grew until there was nothing but sand. In the distance, blue sky melded with the deeper blue of water, and I looked at Jamie again in surprise.

“This is the ocean.”

I heard him snort a little. “Aye, they should give ye a medal for your braw detective work, Sassenach.”

I smacked him lightly against the side of his leg, even while I was unable to take my eyes from the beautiful scenery once the truck finally came to a stop.

“Ye told me the last truly clear memory ye have is of the beach,” I heard him say quietly, and I could feel his eyes trained on my face as I stared, unblinking at the view. I was afraid if I turned to look at him, I would cry. When I said nothing, he continued. “...So, I thought it would be nice to surprise ye and make more memories. New ones, ye ken.”

At his explanation, the lump in my throat only grew and I blinked quickly, but I was still silent.

“Sassenach, if ye’d rather go back, ‘tis no problem, we could stop, eat on the way home,” he offered, and I found myself shaking my head, but I still couldn’t look at him.

“Claire, I’m sorry if I hurt ye.”

His voice was so quiet and gentle, and he sounded so worried, that I finally looked at him and tried desperately to find my voice. “No, Jamie, it’s not--you--” My voice wavered and just before the dam broke, two other words left my mouth.

“It’s perfect.”

I couldn’t pinpoint why, exactly, I was dissolving into tears, but I buried my face in my hands and wept, trying to apologize to him in gasping sobs. I’d never cried like this over my parents, not in at least a decade. I’d lost them so young, and I loved Lamb so completely for the life he gave me, that when I ached for a mother and father both, it was for momentous occasions. For some reason, being at a beach (when I’d been to plenty of them before now) because Jamie remembered a half-forgotten memory completely undid me.

I felt rather than saw him move, and without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms and held me as I cried, the embrace warm and protective. Even as I tried to pull myself together, in the back of my mind I noted that we fit this way, as if I were a missing puzzle piece that fit directly into his hold. He whispered to me in a language I knew nothing of, but his words settled over me anyway, like a warm blanket wrapping around my heart, determined to comfort me. After a few minutes passed, I finally took a deep breath and let it out, wiping at my eyes and sniffling.

“I didn’t mean to cry like that. I’m not even sure why I did, it was just--this is so wonderful, Jamie,” I babbled, blinking quickly to not cry again. “I think this is the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Jamie’s smile was understanding and soft, though it seemed his eyes were tinged with a bit of sadness at my words. “Ye should have someone who wants to do kind things for you every day, Sassenach.”

Reaching out, I let my fingers thread with his.

“I do.”

We stayed like that for another five minutes or so, until the unmoving air inside the truck felt stifling and we clambered out, walking down to the beach with towels draped over my arm and shoes dangling from my fingertips. Once a spot was selected, Jamie trudged off to rent an umbrella while I spread out towels side by side and finally removed my summer dress to reveal my swimsuit. By the time Jamie returned, all evidence that I’d ever had a meltdown was gone; in its place, a serene smile touched my lips as I laid in the sun. When a shadow blocked the heat building on my skin, I squinted up at him while shielding my eyes until our shade was firmly in place. Like this —me, flat on my back and a giant Scot towering over me — I felt impossibly small, but I grinned. “You look a hundred feet tall from down here,” I hummed merrily, shifting as he lumbered down beside me and fell to his side, propped on an elbow to face me.

“Maybe I’m a giant, Sassenach.” His finger reached out to lightly drag across my shoulder.

“You are. I haven’t met a single other Scot as tall as you.” Reaching out, the backs of my fingers lightly dragged across his cheek. “It’s all that Viking blood.”

He parroted the word viking back to me, and I felt the low vibration of it as he somehow managed to roll the ‘v’ against my lips. Then, he pulled back to appraise me in my bathing suit. Feeling myself blush under his gaze, I delicately cleared my throat. “Do you like it?”

My voice seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and he blinked owlishly at me. “‘Tis a verra fine suit, Sassenach.” Even as he spoke, his fingers seemed drawn to the keyhole, my breath catching as he touched what curved flesh he could see. “Verra bawdy of ye, Claire.” His words sounded serious, but I could see the way he tried to duck his head and hide a smile.

“Bawdy! I’ll have you know I’m considered quite respectable.”

“No’ by anyone who’s seen ye in a bathin’ suit.”

I laughed loudly and shoved at his chest. When his laughter joined mine, I basked in the harmony of it before repositioning myself so that my head laid on his shoulder. “Really though, is it too much?”

Raising his head, I felt him land a kiss in my hair before he laid back again. “Nah. I reckon it’s exactly enough.” Idly, I wondered if he knew I picked it with him in mind and smiled to myself.

We looked up at the clouds for a while, picking out shapes. What I thought a dragon, he thought a camel. When I told him he was ridiculous, he kissed me hard and with a wet smack before calling me a wee snot. He made me laugh, and I him, in return. This is what it’s supposed to be I thought to myself. As we lapsed into quiet comfort to listen to the sounds around us (the waves, children shrieking, random bursts of cheers, hooting and hollering), I let myself reminisce about past romantic interludes. Not to dwell on a specific person, but on the moments. Surely there were things that’d made me interested; common interests, usually, or perhaps alcohol had been the only common denominator. Either way, I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt wholly wanted. Part of it was my own fault, I knew. I had a tendency to not attach myself to people or places because I never stayed long, but Jamie was different from the moment we first spoke. He made me ache to see him again the moment we parted, and when we were together, it was as if a flame always stayed alight somewhere in the very core of who I was; a beacon, calling him home.

Lazily, I slapped my hand toward my bag, pushed his discarded shirt out of the way, and pulled out a well-worn copy of Around the World in 80 Days. Opening it to where we’d left off (A new pastime while he ate lunch had been to read in the hayloft. Our feet always dangled lazily as he munched on food, I read, and he shared slices of an apple with me.), my voice began to relive the adventures of Phileas Fogg. When I was done with my chapter of reading, Jamie and I traded, going back and forth. After his chapter (and as he handed the book back to me), he spoke.

“Soon enough, we’ll be the world travelers, Sassenach,” he mused aloud.

“And we’ll have much longer than 80 days. Although, we could go to more than one place in about...what, two and a half months? Depending on how long we stayed in one location.” I tilted my head up to peek up at him. “What were you thinking in that regard?” I couldn’t keep the enthusiasm out of my voice, letting the book rest on my stomach.

Jamie made a contemplative sound in the back of his throat before answering. “Long enough to feel as though we immersed ourselves as deeply as we could. Three weeks? Even a month, perhaps.”

“That might feel nearly like what my life has been so far,” I told him with a soft, fond smile. “We stayed quite a bit longer, of course, sometimes over a year when sites were rife with artifacts.” I reached to pick up the book again. “Imagine reading this on a beach in Greece.”

“We have tae read Greek myths on a Grecian beach, Sassenach,” he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes fondly at him and already thought the story of Persephone, Queen of the Underworld and Goddess of the harvest, would be perfect. My attention returned to the book and I began reading, my voice soft between us; it told a story only for our ears, my cadence lazy as the sun made me feel slow-paced and leisurely.

“Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and freshness,” I read, and was suddenly aware of the tip of Jamie’s finger ghosting across the apple of my cheek. I didn’t stop reading, continuing as he kept his hand close.

“Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama, the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes.” This time as I read, his finger lightly glided across my eyebrows, then dragged down the bridge of my nose so that I had to stop reading.

“May I help you?”

His smile was just as lazy as my reading. “Keep goin,” he encouraged, dropping his hand again.

I cheated, skimming ahead to see where this was going, to see what he might do next, and the words made me swallow heavily before continuing. “Her teeth, fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops in a passion-flower's half-enveloped breast.” I knew that something was coming, I simply didn’t know what until he pushed the book down and leaned over me, kissing me slowly at first, then deeper. I was now flat on my back, and while he seemed unbothered about the fact that we were on a very public beach, I weakly pushed at his bicep.

“Jamie, we can’t,” I murmured. Sure enough, a glance to my left and a woman was looking at us in disdain. Giving our fellow beach goer a tight smile, I (much as I didn’t want to) pushed Jamie away from me and eyed him. “Behave.”

“No promises,” he warned.

Once he was on his back again, I placed myself once more into his arms and dramatically picked the book back up. I held it with a sense of purpose, lest the annoyed spectator beside us think we were doing anything but reading. “Her delicately formed ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the lotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda.” One of his fingers lightly traced the shell of my ear, and then, along the hand that rested on my stomach, he dragged the backs of his fingers across mine. He couldn’t reach my feet, and so the exposed curve of my hip had to do.

I could feel my heart beating a bit faster.

“Turn to face me, Sassenach,” he urged, halfway sitting up himself until I moved. Then, he laid on his side again and I faced him. Propped on one arm, I held the novel in front of me after we’d scooted as close to one another as we could.

“Her narrow and supple waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom--” My breath hitched as Jamie reached out and dragged a finger from one hipbone across my stomach, doing exactly as the sentence described and cupping my waist. Then, his fingers moved to my breasts, hovering just over a hardened peak. He couldn’t touch me here, not really, but I could feel the very tips of his fingers just barely graze a covered nipple.

It was enough to make me whimper, but I soldiered on. “--where youth in its flower displays the wealth of its treasures; and--” I paused again, then hissed. “Jamie.” The pad of one finger had dragged slowly between my thighs, making me ache at once with want.

He shook his head. “Dinna stop.”

The warmth that flooded the very core of me must have been noticed by him. He groaned lowly in the back of his throat and briefly cupped his hand to me before pulling back quickly, catching himself.

Breathing heavily, I finished, finally. “--beneath the silken folds of her tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor.” Even in that short amount of time, he couldn’t keep his hand from me, gravitating to my breast again, cupping and squeezing briefly.

“We can’t, Jamie, not out here.”

Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and wet his lips. “Who would have kent Jules Verne could inspire a cockstand?”

At that, I laughed so hard that the woman beside us had a completely different reason to be annoyed.

To cool down, I suggested we go swim for a bit. We walked together with our pinkies joined, hands swinging as I looked up at him only to see my grin matched his. Once in the water, we were content to float as we held hands, letting the water gently ebb us close, then float us away until our arms were fully outstretched while holding onto one another. Always, we were brought close to one another again before we were forced to break apart completely.

After we’d had our fill of the water and the sun dried us thoroughly again, I slipped my dress back on before Jamie led us back to the truck, and I assumed we would simply go back to Lallybroch. Instead, he drove us into the nearby sleepy beachside town, and we stopped in a pub to have a late lunch and a pint. Then, we moseyed through the quaint area, leaving our transportation behind and exploring the various shops. In one, I bought a floppy straw hat (”To wear when I watch you work outside,” I’d said.), and in another, we separated to browse. It was an antique store, full of old things that had been deemed old enough to sell at very expensive prices. Still, as I looked, I was struck by a blue vase sitting on a glass shelf. It was beautiful but nothing wildly unique; it was a simple vase, but I wondered what it would be like to be so sure I wasn’t packing up and moving on that I could buy home decor.

“Do ye like it?” came Jamie’s voice behind me. Rather than startle, I leaned back and into his arms as he rested his chin on my shoulder.

“I don’t know. I don’t dislike it. It’s only that I’m realizing I don’t know what it’s like to have one place you fill with all of your things. And then, no matter where you go, you return home.”

Quiet for a moment, Jamie turned me so that I was forced to look up at him.

“I’ve decided, Sassenach, that home doesn’t need to be a place. As long as I’m wi’ ye, I’ll be home.” He was serious and reached out, twisting a sand-crusted curl in his fingers. He was impossibly sweet, and I melted into a kiss with him until the proprietor cleared his throat. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed he shot a wink at Jamie as we left the store.

“Are ye ready for the last place on our tour?” he asked me, raising my hand to his lips in a soft kiss.

“Oh, aye,” I replied with excitement before he pointed across the street. There was a storefront with the words Confectionery & Ice Cream Parlorpainted in gold on the window, outlined in white. More from my past, more new memories to make, and I squeezed his hand in mine as I looked up at him. Right then, something swelled in my heart nearly to bursting, and I ached to hold him close. It was something I’d never felt before and I wanted to lean into it, to give in and sink into what bliss would be like with him.

“Come, Sassenach. We’ll buy some candy, have an ice cream, and then be on our way home. We’ll be there just in time for supper.” He did give me a sweet kiss on the forehead, finally remembering to keep it tame.

I let Jamie pick candy for me, unfamiliar with traditional Scottish treats. He picked something called taiblet which he said was a type of candy made from condensed milk, sugar, and butter, then flavored with whiskey. When I took a bite, it was a bit like fudge or even brittle, melting in my mouth. After bagging a few more things (Edinburgh rock and Tunnock’s sweets), we went to the counter and paid for not only our candy, but two ice cream cones as well. His flavor of choice was a chocolate-vanilla combination, mine a scoop each of strawberry and vanilla. We walked slowly back to the truck together as we ate our ice cream, unhurried. I felt warm but carefree and light, so pleased with the day that I might as well have been floating. We couldn’t hold hands due to shopping bags and dessert, but every now and then we swayed into one another and lightly bumped shoulders.

Finally in the truck again, I leaned over to give Jamie a deep, soulful kiss full of gratitude — and hints of more —before pulling back. When I looked at him, I knew he saw me. He could see every part of me down to my marrow, and it terrified me, made me breathless in an incredible way that let me know being with him was absolutely right. “Thank you. For today, for all of it. This was perfect. It was more than perfect, really. I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

He reached out and cupped my face. “Ye’ll have tae get used to it eventually, aye?”

I couldn’t even answer him without being worried my voice might break, so I nodded and leaned forward so that he might kiss my forehead. He obliged without missing a beat, and then I settled into my seat again. As he drove, I let my mind wander, closing my eyes as I thought of each place Jamie and I might go one day. After Greece, I wanted to show him my favorite places in Cairo, then go with him to the mountains of Colorado to trade scorching heat for winter relief.

The next thing I found myself aware of was the passenger side door opening and Jamie lightly moving his fingers through my hair. Opening my eyes, I turned my head to look at him, blinking. As my mind cleared, I realized we were back at Lallybroch already and I let out a huff of a laugh. “I fell asleep.”

“Aye, ye did. But now I ken ye dinna snore, at least,” he teased, helping me out of the truck. Soon, though, he had me pressed to his side gently with his hands on my hips. “After supper, Sassenach, meet me near the strawberries?” he requested against the curve of my jaw while thumbs slowly rubbed circles against my skin through the dress.

My belly tightened in anticipation at the mere thought of what we’d do on the riverbank as night swelled around us, and I nodded in agreement.

I wanted to scream when the night didn’t go at all the way we’d hoped. Jamie’d been able to get out of post-supper conversation easily enough, but Lamb specifically asked me to sit and discuss one of the many battles between the Scots and Norwegians in the thirteenth century. I looked helplessly at Jamie, but he smiled in understanding, explaining that he would be off reading for the rest of the evening. It was a way to know I could come to him when I was done, and we’d go to the river together. My attention was completely unfocused, but even while giving a lackluster showing of conversational skills, Lamb kept me occupied until the rest of the house had gone quiet and still around us. It wasn’t until the clock struck eleven P.M. that I realized how late it was.

Yawning and stretching, I feigned exhaustion (it wasn’t a full-blown lie; I was tired from the sun and water all day--not tired enough to forget about the promise of more tonight) at the late hour and dismissed myself with a kiss to my uncle’s cheek. Knowing Jamie had planned to lay in bed, I glanced at his door once I was upstairs and realized the light wasn’t shining under the crack. Deflated and disappointed we’d have to wait another full day, I went to my room and bathed the beach away in the adjacent bathroom before changing into a nightgown and crawling into bed. Disappointed as I was, my mind still wandered in the dark, thinking of the way he’d seemed unable to resist reaching out to touch my curves. His hands seemed to want to write sonnets and blaze fires across my skin at the same time, and I wanted to let him do it freely.

It wasn’t only thoughts that wandered as a hand slipped beneath the bedsheets and pushed my nightgown up, shifting to glide my fingers across coarse curls. It wasn’t going to be what I truly wanted, and with an exhale of frustration, I sat up in bed and weighed the odds that Jamie was still awake. At worst, he was already asleep and wouldn’t hear my knock.

Slipping out of bed, I quietly opened my door before walking two rooms down the hall and lightly rapping against the wooden barrier between us. It was so light I was sure there was no way he could have heard it, and held my breath in anticipation. I could still feel the way his hand cupped and fit so perfectly between my thighs, and I could still feel the way his gaze had burned straight into me when he realized I could undo him with words alone.

That was the same gaze that greeted me when the door opened; no one else would bother him so late. For a moment we merely stared at one another; and for my part at least, I was already picturing him naked, clothes discarded on the floor.

Reaching out, he offered to let me in.

With a shy smile, I took his hand and stepped into his room, closing the door quietly behind me.

NEXT CHAPTER