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adaptacy · 7 months

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A Found Flame

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3) {Spotify Playlist}

Synopsis: Gale guides you through casting a fire bolt, but in your search to find a warmth to channel, you revisit a late night with him that stirs up an unfamiliar feeling within you.

A/N: Completely SFW! Just cute romantic stuff while I continue crackin' away at this fine ass dork I've been presented with. I might turn this into a much longer story, because the dynamic of Mentor!Gale falling for his apprentice has so much potential, from fluff to angst to sexual tension, etc... but for now, here's this :) and with a side of the ever-lovely Tara!

Song rec.: Witchcraft - Vian Izak (X)

Word Count: 2k

“Now, right foot further… further…” A hand comes to rest on your hip, and you feel a tap against your right ankle, guiding your movements. You glance down, distracted from your target, and your mentor lets out a soft chuckle, his free hand moving under your arm. Two fingers push up on your chin, realigning your head. Doing your best to follow his directions, your right foot shifts forward, inching awkwardly across the ground until you no longer feel his shoe against your calf.

“Should I aim for the head?”

“The head?” He laughs, his fingers pulling away from your chin, his arm outstretching to be parallel with yours, showing you where to position your own. “No, Tempus, let’s keep it simple,” he teases, pointing a finger at the torso of a hay-stuffed target, elderly chainmail armor lazily draped over its shoulders. “Eyes on the torso. And, please, do refrain from igniting my tower in a fiery blaze. These shelves took far too long to fill.”

“I know, I know, I’ve got it,” you assure, earning a mewl of disbelief from a tabby Tressym resting a few feet away from the target, her tail and front paws hanging off of an empty space on the aforementioned bookshelves.

“Mr. Dekarios, are you sure this is the safest we can be?” Tara purrs, her right wing twitching, likely anxious that you were bound to do exactly as he asked you not to and burn the whole tower down.

“I trust them, Tara. After all, books can only get one so far. Hands-on practice is far more valuable!” He encourages, leaning down slightly, enough that you can hear his breathing beside your ear. “Now. Steady. Focus… and picture it. A small flame, mostly harmless. Landing square on the torso, created from your very–”

“Ignis!” You shout, and Tara shoots up from where she was laying, bouncing away from the target and landing on a pile of books. Despite her reaction, there was no flame, though you swore you could’ve spotted a spark from your fingertip.

Gale lowers his arm, giving you a little more space, and he removes his hand from your hip, even taking a step back, perhaps a little too aware of the vicinity between your bodies. “Again. The pronunciation was exquisite, I must avow. Reach into your mind, no matter how far you must travel. Hear her whispers, channel the inferno within. Whether it be rage, passion, optimism – you must grasp the element, and feel the heat,” he explains, earning a small nod from you. Your eyes close, and you seek out the embers he spoke of.

Your mind wanders– it has to, if you truly want to tame the element, no part of your mind should be off limits. Though it travels to unexpected places. You most certainly find warmth, it just wasn’t the warmth you expected. It wasn’t a burn, yet it was a heat. One that hovered around your body, brought on by closeness to another, breathing figure. You could see books, and the moon, hanging high outside, the room coated with a gentle blue glow. It was strange, like you were inspecting a faded picture rather than experiencing a dream.

Hardening your focus, you grit your teeth. There was a purring, quiet, under the desk. Yes! You sat at the desk, seated on a small velvet stool, stationed next to a figure cloaked in purple. His arm, carefully positioned to allow you to gaze at and read along with the book he studied, brushing lightly against your shoulder. It couldn’t have been more than two weeks ago, during one of your late-night mentoring sessions, when he’d caught you sneaking around in the library, looking for something to keep your sleepless mind occupied.

Reminding yourself of the mission at hand, you search for inspiration, and find a lone lit candle towards the back of the desk, the glow encapsulating the two of you and casting light on the material you read. With a deep breath, you do your best to channel that candle. As small as it was, it seemed the most helpful component in finding the blaze Gale directed, and you exhaled.

“Ignis!”

Your eyes open, feeling a half-second surge of heat in your fingertips, and much to your surprise, a tiny flame shot out from your index finger, though it fell to the floor and sizzled out before it made it halfway to your target.

Still, it was enough to earn a chuckle and a series of short claps from your mentor, pleased with your performance even with as amateur as it was. “See, Tara? Hardly a threat to the books!”

The tressym’s wings stretch, and her body follows, leaning back on her haunches as she yawns. With a flick of her tail, she muses “Hardly a threat to anyone, for that matter! I’m quite sure a crocked kobold could muster up a drink stronger than that.”

“Oh, be patient, Tara. Everyone must start somewhere.” You spot Gale’s shadow waving his hand dismissively, before that shadow approaches yours, and you feel a hand on each of your shoulders. “I presume you found your root. Return, and study it. Learn it. Conform to it. Again.”

You inhale, and once more close your eyes, returning to the moonlit scene. The candle seemed dimmer, now, and you wonder if you’d somehow extracted the power from a memory. You’ve heard – well, read – about plenty of curious happenings related to the power and influence of the weave, but it was quite a different experience to feel those effects. You knew that you had focused quite closely on the candle, and yet it bore disappointing results. And now, that flame burned weaker.

It may be best to turn to other means of fuel. Your eyes scan the memory, contemplating the moon, before deciding it was far too tame, and far too distant to harness. The temperate coziness you felt in the moment pulses through you again, soothing your nerves, easing the racing of your heart. Warmth.

It doesn’t take you long to realize just where the heat originates from. Though neither of you were aware in that moment, or perhaps you merely glossed over the fact, you sat close; in order to read the contents of the book, you had to be near to him. And near, you were.

The time aided you, your fatigue stronger than your dignity, and allowed you to rest your head against his shoulder as you hardly managed to keep up with the lines of text, let alone truly process the material you were attempting to soak up. It was warm, despite the winter that hadn’t yet faded. He was warm. You’d been close with him before, though it was always fleeting. Accidentally bumping into him as you gathered materials around his study, or the second-long contact of your hands when you answered his fetch requests. Occasionally, when he guided your hand to some place in particular, over the ridges of a carved staff or the spines of books on his shelves. Even once, just once, that he’d allowed you to press your palm against his chest, his purple robe displaced just enough to expose the stain of the Netherese orb, which had produced an alarming heat from beneath his skin, and he’d felt inclined to share it with you.

But here, this memory, this occurrence, was hardly fleeting. He must have been willed by weary exhaustion just as well, because he didn’t shy away from the close contact. Instead, Gale rested his jaw against the top of your head, continuing to idly review the book he’d read countless times. You were sure that, if he had fewer things to concern himself with, he very well could have recited the lectures on dead gods from memory.

You hear a distant ‘mrrow’ of boredom and you recount your steps, regaining sight of your mission once more. You relax your body, only maintaining enough control to keep yourself standing, and your arm aimed. As you burn this sight, this time with him, and these feelings into your memory – should you ever need to recall the sight again, perhaps in future lessons, you want to be prepared – there is an airiness that wraps your body. Although you are planted firmly on a surface, both in the real world and in this vision, it feels as though you’ve been granted feather falling and have leapt from the balcony, becoming one with the breeze. And yet there is no chill, there is no bite from the rush of air, merely a dazing high.

His breathing is all you hear. Mellow and stable. You focus on the patterned flow, the delicate and inviting tepidity, the velvety brush of his clothes against your face.

“Love?”

Your eyes open, head swiveling around to face him, and he seems taken aback by your response. You aren’t sure you heard him right, and he isn’t sure you heard him right either, so he points behind you, head tilting slightly. Following his attention, you find that the target now displays a moderately-sized searing hole in the torso, near the right shoulder. You don’t recall announcing the spell, but it’s quite possible that you were too wrapped up in channeling the fire bolt to realize you’d casted it.

When your attention clings to the training dummy for too long, Gale steps into your peripherals, and you turn to face him once more. Again, he motions towards your successful delivery. “Flames and Fatalities, volume one, chapter four.”

“Red for rage, orange for survival, white for hope, pink for love,” you recite, easily recalling the information provided in one of the spellbooks Gale had you study several times over.

“Precisely. Your flame contained a pink hue,” he elaborates, and your gaze flicks over to the training dummy, and then back at Gale.

A familiar warmth brushes against your ankle, and you look down, finding a sassy winged creature at your feet. “At least someone in this tower seeks romantic companionship. Mr. Dekarios may very well have something to learn himself,” Tara purrs, and Gale releases a short sigh at her taunt, running a hand through his loose brown hair. “You used to be such a romantic. Though you seem much more of the hopeless kind these days.”

“Well, Tara, I don’t possess an acropolis of free time, I fear. Romantic pursuits do not fit into my schedule,” Gale attempts to defend, though Tara merely tilts her chin up and turns her head away from him, tail stiffening with antipathy. When you look up from the feline-like familiar, you find Gale eyeing you, splitting his sight away the moment your eyes meet, rendering you incapable of registering whatever strange emotion you thought you caught a glimpse of in his eyes.

You don’t like the taste of the unforeseen tightness in the air, so you clear your throat, looking around the study. “Hells, I forgot to tend to the garden yesterday. Does that sum up my teachings today?” You ask, looking back at Gale. He stares at the mannequin for a few moments more, and for a second, you fear that you’d damaged it too much, but then he releases a gentle laugh, dipping his head.

“Indeed. You performed marvelously. Go on, I’ve got artifacts to busy myself with. If you’re not back by the time I finish, I’ll put together a meal.” Gale motions for the main doors, and steps past you, approaching a mid-sized woven basket containing a staff, an enchanted dagger, and a pair of leather gloves shining a faint orange hue. You watch him, and he pauses as he lifts the basket, glancing at you from over his shoulder, his smile aged, though it held a certain pride in the catenary of his lips. “May I ask?”

Confused, you narrow your eyes. “Ask what?”

“Where did you find your flame?”

Allowing yourself a moment to think, you made sure to keep your eyes on him, and then you provide a nonchalant shrug. “I thought of my parents.”

Gale is still, his reaction a delayed one, before he widens his smile in a quick chuckle. “Charming. Hold onto that. It’s a solid base.”

You nod, and then finally turn around as Gale resumes moving the basket from the floor to his desk. You grab an empty basket of your own on the way out, disappearing and leaving him to his artifacts.

#baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale bg3 x reader #gale x reader

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bitchyycapricorn · 1 year

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Almost There

Peter Parker x Ghost!Reader

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.2K

Synopsis: Peter enters his apartment that night expecting to find an empty bed. But instead, he comes face to face with your transparent glowing figure.

Warnings: introduction fluff, angst, mentions of death and loss of family.

AN: not edited

Peter swung through his open window, allowing the breeze to carry him in. His limbs tired and his hair a sweaty mess under his mask. When he entered his room he expected to find it empty, not a figure of a girl on his bed, seemingly waiting patiently for his arrival. His eyes narrowed at the sight of you, unsure how you got into his 5th story apartment. He was also unsure of why you appeared to be transparent, your whole figure seemingly glowing in the moonlight. Peter took a step forward to the bed, about to speak before you broke the silence.

“You can see me can’t you?” Your voice was soft and soothing, barley above a whisper.

Peter hesitated to respond, unsure of what to make of your peculiar statement. Of course he could see you, why wouldn’t he be able to see you? “Yes?” Is all he managed to get out, still wracking his brain for some sort of answer.

“I’m surprised,” you reply wistfully, your gaze slowly lowering to the ground. “Most cannot, usually only the children.”

Peter hesitated again, still unsure of you words. It didn’t help that his eyes were playing trick on him. As your body shifted ever so slightly to better face him he could’ve swore you’re figure flickered. “Who are you?” He didn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he had hoped he would. Rather he sounded more nervous than anything.

“Y/N L/N, I died a few years ago in the elevator accident.” You averted your eyes, gaze focusing on the full moon outside rather than the boy in front of you.

Peter froze, your words seeping in. “You…died?” He had never felt so unsure of what he was saying as he did in this moment.

You looked back over to him, giving a small nod. “Yes, the elevator, it fell while I was inside. The impact killed me.” You dropped your gaze once more, this time focusing on his red bedsheets. “I’m kind of trapped here, I can’t exactly leave.” A frown settles on your face as you attempt to pick at Peter’s sheet, your fingers coming in and out of reality.

“I didn’t even know ghosts existed,” Peter replied honestly, focusing now on your fingers. You were able to freeze your body back into reality for some time, but it was exhausting and took away most of your energy. You look up at him once again, scanning his red and blue suit.

“Where do you go every night? You are never in bed, not like the last boy.” You frown.

Peter stepped towards you, finally removing his mask and tossing it onto his desk. Your eyes lock on his face, examining all of his features. You had only seen him from between the walls so far, and occasionally through the window while you were on the balcony. “I go on patrol,” Peter replied hesitantly. “I’m kinda Spider-Man.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “Spider-man?” You repeated.

“Like, I’m a superhero with super ability’s.”

A smile grazes your lips “Oh? So you are half spider?” You ask slowly.

“Well, yes and no. I have you know, like super strength and can climb walls and all my senses are really heightened.” Peter replies, struggling to explain exactly what he can do without sounding too strange.

A smile officially settles on your face as you consider his words. “So that is why you can see me. You have super sight. That is good, I have missed having company. My family moved after the accident, the memories too much for them.” Your frown returned, recalling the day your folks left.

“Could they not see you?” Peter asked, slightly thrown off that your family would just up and leave.

“People cannot normally see me. The exception is children. The little boy who lived here before, he was around five. I used to play with him everyday after school but then he moved. His parents were concerned that he was seeing things, which I suppose he technically was. It just hurts, I really cared for him and they took him away.” Tears would have been falling from your eyes if you had frozen yourself.

Peters eyes flickered down to the carpet as he played with his suit. “That’s really horrible, were they the last people who lived here?”

You nodded, going back to playing with the blanket between your fingers. “Yes, the man before that family was always drunk and yelling. He was very angry and often scared me, even if he could not see me.”

“Oh, that’s, I’m so sorry.” A frown had settled on Peter’s face as well. His heart hurt for your story, even if he was still freaked out that he had a ghost sitting on his bed in his room. Nothing about you would have made sense if it weren’t for everything he’s ever experienced with the Avengers, including going to space and fighting a purple alien.

Your eyes drifted back up to Peters, a sad smile on your face. “Won’t you join me…”

“Peter, Peter Parker.” He finished.

“I like the name Peter, won’t you come lay with me Peter? I’ve missed being near someone. And you’re always gone so late I rarely have a chance to come see you.”

Peter hesitates once again, feeling suddenly flustered by the fact you’d been waiting to lay with him. “You want to sleep with me?”

You nod, confused by his hesitation. “Yes, the young boy used to lay down next to me and we would tell each other stories before he fell asleep. His parents did not pay him much attention.” You feel your heart drop at the memory of the little boy you loved so dearly, wishing more than anything he would’ve been your son.

“I-I’ve just never had anyone share a bed with me before.” He replied honestly, still feeling alarmed by the thought.

“Oh, I do not have to if you are uncomfortable. It just helps,” You admit, suddenly feeling bad for requesting to lay next to Peter.

But Peter nods, deciding he would give it a try since you were merely a ghost after all. “Alright, let me get my pajamas on and I’ll join you.” Peter begins to strip out of his suit, expecting you to turn around as he did so. But your eyes stay glued to his muscular body, taking in how good he looked in that moment. It wasn’t until after Peter had his pajama pants and shirt on did he notice your longing gaze.

“I miss my body.”

“Were you staring the whole time?”Peter squeaked.

“Yes?” You watch as Peters face heats up a bright red in the moonlight. “Are you embarrassed? You look very good.”

Peter shuffles over to the bed at a loss for words. “Normally people don’t watch others change.”

“Oh, well yes I just, you started changing so fast.” You admit, crawling up onto his bed to get under to covers. Peter crawls in next to you, awkwardly laying there as you both settle in. You exert all your energy into making your body whole again, solidifying your body and appearance before cuddling up to Peter. He jumps slightly, shocked at the feeling of your cold but solid skin. “You’ll hold me won’t you? It’s been years since I’ve been held by someone else.”

Peter nods hesitantly, wrapping his arms around your body. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispers, dozing off to sleep almost immediately.

“Goodnight Peter.”

When Peter wakes the next morning you’re gone. He can’t help wonder whether it was all some twisted dream or if he would be seeing you again that night.

+++

TAGLIST

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asimplearchivist · 2 months

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𝓑𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓮

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ marc doesn't like it when you get hurt, even by accident. pairing(s) ☽ marc spector/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 1.4k a/n ☽ ⤏ my third entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter iii. ⤏ reminding myself that it's okay to keep things short and sweet sometimes. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽

You didn’t notice it until Marc’s thumb compressed the unexpectedly tender flesh just above the joint of your elbow, drawing a sharp yelp from your throat more from surprise than from pain. “Where did you pick that up?”

It was commonplace for you to shower with the boys after getting home from work for the evening, a habit started during one of Steven’s clingier stints months prior when you’d first begun to stay over at their apartment.

You shared that trait, occasionally wanting as much physical closeness with your significant other(s) as reasonably possible to disperse the nasty thoughts or melancholic feelings that would crop up in the back of your mind despite your best efforts. It helped significantly—to that you could attest. On the plus side, washing each other with gentle touches, indulging yourselves in amorous affections (those of which oftentimes got carried away to both of your benefit), and just having someone you fully trusted in such close proximity at your most vulnerable satisfied that once nagging loneliness that used to daily plague your greater consciousness into something far more manageable and docile. You had found your person (...people?), and you could rest assured that they would be there for you always—even at the times when you could scarcely summon the strength to raise your hands to wash your hair.

Marc had started to replicate that tendency soon after Steven’s initial timid request, claiming that conserving water saved money spent on utilities, but you knew better than that—you knew him better than that. You knew that he struggled to verbalize his needs and found it easier to disguise his self-determined ‘weaknesses’ under sensuality laced with practicality. He would often wait until you got ready to shower to join you. You figured that he suspected you knew his ‘accidental’ brushes and bumps and noticeably slow reach-arounds weren’t exactly accidental, but you decided not to comment upon it. You certainly didn’t want to dissuade one of the sole outlets of casual physicality he allowed himself outside of the bedroom.

So when you’d trudged into the apartment with takeout in hand that night, sleeves soaked in coffee because you’d bumped into one of the newbies while going to dump out the pot in the sink, Marc had immediately stood up from the couch to take the sacks. He’d tucked them into the microwave so he could reheat them later before escorting you straight to the bathroom. He’d lavished you the entire time, sensing without words that you were exhausted and didn’t have much energy to move.

“Oh,” you said, looking down as he released your arm and eyeing the tender place he’d spotted despite the poor lighting in the bathroom. You pressed it lightly with your fingertips, raising a brow—you hadn’t even noticed the faintest discoloration in your own skin, as it was barely visible. Your wondering at how he even saw it didn’t last long when you realized that he’d likely been decorated with hemorrhaging most of the time since he’d joined the military and could identify them easily. “I didn’t even…huh. I must’ve hit the countertop harder than I thought.”

Marc frowned, his furrowed brow lowered over his dark eyes as he scrutinized your expression. “You fell?”

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head as you slipped under the shower’s stream to rinse off the suds he’d lathered over your back. “New guy wasn’t watching where he was going coming out of the kitchen and I bumped into him. I was trying not to spill the coffee and stumbled. Bang, funny bone tickled, and I still got it all over myself. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn’t think I hit it that hard.”

Marc hummed, eyes dropping to your elbow as he reached for your shampoo. “Tilt your head back, baby.”

It wasn’t until later, after you’d both gotten dressed and eaten and settled into bed, that he brought it back up. “...He didn’t push you, did he?”

You cracked your eyes open despite the apartment being just short of pitch black. You rolled over to face him, twisting in his arms, and eased back enough to squint at him in the dark. The faintest illumination of street lights peeking through the windows highlighted the edges of his face, but his expression was cloaked in shadow. His tone, however—low and stern as though afraid to break the hushed, relative silence drenching the apartment—was indication enough of his dour mood.

“No,” you said carefully. “It was an accident. He’s super tall and lanky so he doesn’t always remember to check if someone’s in front of him.”

Marc’s hand spread over the small of your back, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of the t-shirt you wore, its hem having ridden up from your movements. “If he does it again, or if he tries anything…”

“He’s just an oblivious, sleep-deprived college kid, honey. He’s not out to get me.”

He grunted, wedging his other arm beneath you to leverage you against his torso. He tucked his chin over the crown of your head, his heavy sigh tickling the nape of your neck. “Can never be too careful. I never know if…you know. Someone’s hunting for old vendettas.”

You slipped your hand over his side so you could stroking soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “I’ll let you know if he gives me any trouble. I promise.” You pressed a kiss to the skin available to you while constricted within his borderline smothering embrace, which just so happened to be his clavicle. “I appreciate the concern, I really do, but you can’t worry yourself to death about me all the time. I can handle myself well enough—I think you know that better than most.”

“...I do,” he conceded reluctantly. “But it’s my job to worry.”

“And it’s also your job to trust my judgment. Trapping yourself in an endless loop of worst case scenarios doesn’t give you any more control of our lives than you already have, Marc.”

“Are you really quoting our therapist right now?”

“If that’s what it takes to get through that thick ol’ noggin of yours, then yeah.” You tapped his temple gently with the knuckle of your free hand. “All three of you make me feel the safest I ever have in my life. I know I can depend on each of you for anything I could ever ask. I’ll never forget that you’ve got my back.” You tilted your head to kiss his neck, feeling his pulse jump against your lips. “And, just for the record, you have me, too.”

“We know.” He squeezed you closer, almost crushing the air from your lungs. “I just never want to see you hurt. Again.”

You would never forget the look on his face when he fronted following the fallout of Jake cleaning up the rest of Ammit’s cult. The newly-introduced alter had patched you up already before relinquishing the body to his host, but you may as well have been bedridden in the ICU with how fervently he checked every last inch of you to make sure you were still alive. You hadn’t addressed the tears welling in his distressed eyes, and you’d only managed to calm him down by asking him to hold you so you could sleep some more. The adrenaline rush had fatigued you for a solid week afterwards and he and Steven both had hovered like mother hens.

He’d cradled you so carefully, like porcelain, mirroring the position you were in now.

“We’re careful about things,” you reminded him, “and you’ve got the god of the moon on speed dial. You can relax, Marc. I’m not going anywhere.”

He did, just so. You felt some of the tension drain from his frame the longer you touched him. At some point, he cupped a hand around the back of your head and began to thumb little circles behind your ear. The motion, combined with his rhythmic breathing, lulled you into drowsiness more effectively than melatonin ever could.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you mumbled, fighting the cusp of sleep long enough to voice your thought, “you can give me some fun bruises.”

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Marc chuckled, a raspy rumble low in his chest. “Go to sleep, baby.”

You were never one to argue with a good idea like that.

#fisara's codices #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moonknightevents #fanfiction #reader insert #marc spector #marc spector/reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector/you #marc spector x you #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fluff

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acescorazon · 6 months

Text

Title: Changes

Chapter: 10/?

Rating: M

Word Count: 2686

Chapter Excerpt:

At long last, he forces himself to look over at Crocodile, ignoring how his heart beats in his chest at just the thought of having to interact with him again. Crocodile looks…tired. His hair is a mess and there are bags under his eyes, and when he finally speaks, he has none of his usual arrogance in his voice. “I need you to make more bounties for the marines…” He mutters, putting out his cigar, and as he does, Buggy notices an ashtray filled with cigar butts. He called him in just for that…? Surely, he could have just had Daz tell Buggy all this information so they didn’t have to waste any time.

“Is that all…?” Buggy asks, already ready to get the hell out of the meeting room and far away from Crocodile. Much to his displeasure, though, Crocodile shoves a chair in his direction, “I wish.” He murmurs, “Have a seat, cl…” He sighs, pausing a moment before he finally finishes his sentence. “Have a seat, Buggy.”

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|

Buggy doesn't exactly need to be walked back to his tent. The island is peaceful and the only other people inhabiting it is Buggy's own crew, so if Mihawk wants to do this as a safety precaution… it's kind of pointless. There's not even any wild animals that could possibly attack Buggy, just Richie and Buggy's favorite feline would never do anything to hurt him.

Is this just another act of kindness? Is this just Mihawk trying his best to get on Buggy's good side…? Buggy takes a minute to consider the offer before ultimately agreeing to let Mihawk walk him back to his tent. Weird or not, Buggy wants to get on this guy's good side.

They head out of Mihawk's tent walking side by side, and Buggy tries to keep an acceptable distance from Mihawk. He doesn't want to be near him, but he doesn't want Mihawk to take things the wrong way and end up getting into a fight with him and ruining everything. And yet, no matter how much distance Buggy puts between them, they still occasionally bump into each other, only for Buggy to move away slightly, and have the whole process repeat moments later, and Buggy can't tell if it's his fault or Mihawk's.

There's yet another heavy silence between them until Mihawk breaks it, "The sky looks so beautiful tonight." He tells Buggy, who in return, looks up at the night sky. He's not exactly impressed. The sky looks kind of empty, actually, there’s not a full moon or a cluster of beautiful stars in the sky, just a regular, old, boring nighttime sky. “I bet it would be lovely to take a walk along the beach right now.” Mihawk says, and Buggy’s face scrunches in confusion. What…? Uh…Okay…he thinks a moment later, trying to figure out how to reply to Mihawk, “Uh, yeah…” he mutters in response, “I guess so.”

There’s another painfully awkward moment of silence after that before Mihawk sighs for some reason. Buggy is so confused, did he say something wrong or…? As they walk, they pass by the cafeteria again just as Alvida is coming out of the tent. She pauses as soon as she sees Hawkeye and Buggy, giving them both a weird look. Yeah…Yeah, Buggy doesn’t know how he ended up in this situation either… It’s all so weird, and he just knows that Alvida is going to ask him about it later.

He can hear her voice now: ‘What the hell? Don’t you hate Hawkeye? What were you doing taking a late night stroll with him?!’ Honestly, even if Buggy tells her the truth, though, he doubts she would believe him because even the truth sounds so ridiculous. Mihawk actually wanted to escort him back to his tent for some unknown reason, and Buggy, despite having bad blood with Mihawk, allowed him to do so… Everything is just so weird and hard to believe, and he doesn’t know how to explain the situation. He also doesn’t know how he should tell her or the others that he’s trying to be friends with Mihawk now, either, but that’s another problem for another time.

The pair come to a halt as soon as they reach Buggy’s tent, and turn to each other, exchanging awkward glances as they stand in front of Buggy’s room. Buggy’s still unsure what he should even say, but thankfully MIhawk speaks first, “Uh…That was nice.” He says, “We should have dinner again sometime…” He pauses a moment, and when Buggy shifts uncomfortably in place, so does Mihawk, “You know, for the sake of Cross Guild.”

Oh, he wants to have another awkward dinner with Buggy… He’s serious about this whole friendship thing and doing what’s right for Cross guild, huh? Buggy resists the urge to groan loudly, and instead gives Mihawk a small smile, “Yeah, uh… that sounds like a good idea.” He doesn’t care at all about Cross Guild, but he thinks he can tolerate a couple of more dinners with Mihawk if it’ll get him to stop hating him.

“Perhaps, we could have another dinner together this weekend?” Mihawk suggests.

“Oh, um…” Buggy thinks about the offer for a moment. Today is Tuesday, so that means if Mihawk wants to have dinner on Friday, then Buggy has three days to mentally prepare himself. But if he wants to have it on Saturday, that’s even better. Hell, if Mihawk wants to have dinner on a Sunday that would be just perfect, actually. There’s just one thing… “Are you going to ask Crocodile to join us again?” Buggy asks.

“…Yeah, i can ask him, but it’ll probably just be us two again…is that okay?”

Whatever. To be honest, Buggy would actually prefer it be that way. He really doesn’t want to see Crocodile. Crocodile hasn’t even apologized, and Buggy doubts he ever will. But that doesn’t matter to Buggy, it’s not like he’d even accept his apology in the first place, and if he never has to see Crocodile again, then that’s just fine. “Yeah, sure…” Buggy pauses and then afterwards turns to look up at Mihawk, “Uh… Goodnight, then?” He tells him.

“Goodnight.” Mihawk replies, but he lingers for a moment too long, looking like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. “Uh, i’ll see you later…” He mutters before finally turning around and leaving Buggy alone and with his thoughts.

Man, he’s been acting so weird lately… Buggy thinks, shaking his head as he goes inside his tent. As he gets ready for bed, his mind is filled with thoughts of Hawkeye. He just doesn’t know what to think anymore, but part of him is starting to believe that maybe Mihawk is being genuine and actually wants to start over again, but it’s still so weird, and Buggy doesn’t know if he should actually forgive him.

Mihawk might not be as bad as Crocodile, but he’s still pretty shitty. He’s called Buggy names, and beaten him up quite a few times too… So, why should Buggy ever forgive him for real? He thinks he’ll just have to learn how to tolerate him, but he definitely doesn’t want to spend every waking moment with Mihawk. He doesn’t want to have weekly dinners, or go to every one of Hawkeye’s training sessions with Buggy’s crew, or even hang out after meetings (If they ever have those again.) he just wants to do the bare minimum, something that’s just enough to get on Hawkeye’s good side and get him to stop tormenting him once and for all, and that’s it.

Buggy climbs into bed once he’s got his pajamas on and stares up at the ceiling, man, I just don’t get it… He thinks as he drifts off to sleep.

…

First thing in the morning, Buggy has to welcome some more recruits to the island, and he briefly thinks about showing his new children around, but he can’t be bothered. Not that it really matters anyway because halfway through introducing himself to his new crewmates and promising that their families will be taken care of, a rather tall and intimidating fellow peeks his head into his main tent, silently waiting for Buggy to finish what he’s doing.

Now, this person has never done Buggy wrong, but he’s definitely not an ally, and Buggy watches Daz out of the corner of his eye as he continues to act like everything is fine. There’s only one reason why Daz would show up in front of him, and Buggy already feels his stomach starting to turn. Why? What could Crocodile possibly want now? He thinks. He quickly finishes up what he’s doing and waves goodbye to the new members of his family before cautiously approaching Daz.

He takes a deep breath, trying to muster up a little bit of courage to talk to Crocodile’s right-hand man, “Ah, is there something you need, Daz?” He asks, but he already knows the answer that Daz is going to give him.

“The boss wants to see you.” Daz replies simply, and all Buggy can do is force a smile because he knew it. He just knew it. He knew that his break from Crocodile wouldn’t last long, and that he’d eventually summon him to do some trivial task.

God, he doesn’t want to see Crocodile, but he knows it’s pointless trying to argue with Daz of all people. If Buggy says he’s sick or busy, Daz will probably just ignore him and drag him back to his beloved boss, and just...he really doesn’t want to deal with that crap today. It’d be easier just to see what Crocodile wants.

Buggy nods, “Do you know what he wants?” He asks, and he hopes there might be a tiny chance that maybe he won’t actually have to see Crocodile after all, but, of course, he’s not that lucky. Daz shakes his head, “No, he just told me to come get you.” Yeah… Yeah, Buggy figured as much. He forces another smile onto his face again as he nods, “Okay, sure…I understand.”

You know, the day started out so great. He woke up feeling refreshed, breakfast was nice, and he got to meet a couple of new recruits, and those are all usually three signs that he’s going to have a good day, but now he’s not too sure. He follows closely behind Daz as he leads him to the meeting room, wishing that Daz didn’t insist on staying by his side and bringing him to Crocodile personally. Maybe then he could have a couple of more minutes to prepare himself to see Crocodile.

He wonders what he’ll want this time. Perhaps he wants a mansion built? Oh, or maybe he wants Buggy to find him one of those ancient weapons he’s so obsessed with. Or… Or… maybe he wants Buggy to pull the one piece out of a hat? Who knows?! There’s just so many different things Crocodile can demand him to do, the possibilities really are endless. Crocodile really is the worst, and if Buggy is so incompetent, then why does he always make him do things?

Whatever, he doesn’t care.

Before Buggy even steps foot into the meeting room, he’s hit with the strong stench of Crocodile’s cigars, and he tries not to make a face. He briefly wonders just how much time Crocodile’s spent in the damn meeting room, but his question is more or less answered the moment he goes inside. It hasn’t even been three weeks since that emergency meeting Mihawk called, but Crocodile has more or less trashed everything. There are papers and folders in messy piles scattered all over the table, and the floor is littered with balls of crumbled up paper, pens, and boxes with presumably more documents in them. What is all this crap? Buggy thinks.

Buggy stands frozen in place for a long moment, looking down at the chair in front of him. He… He doesn’t want to stay here, though. Why can’t Crocodile just make him a list or something? Or better yet, why can’t he have someone else do his errands for him? Why does it always have to be Buggy? Buggy’s useless and a fuck up. He never does anything right, and Crocodile can’t even stand to be in the same room with him. So why call him? It just doesn’t make any sense.

Crocodile pinches the bridge of his nose when Buggy remains motionless for a little too long,

“Please…is that what you want to hear?” No, that’s not what Buggy wants to hear, what he really wants to hear is: ‘You can leave.’ but it doesn’t seem like Crocodile has intentions of letting him go that easily. “Look, i need you to do a couple of things for me, just have a seat.”

Buggy stares at Crocodile for another long moment before slowly sitting down at the table next to him. He hates this already. He doesn’t like to be this close to Crocodile, especially not in a small space. And to make things worse, Daz leaves the moment he realizes he’s no longer needed, leaving the room to just Buggy and Crocodile.

“...How was your dinner with Hawkeye…?”Crocodile asks as he hands Buggy a manila folder. Why is he asking about that…? Why is he even making small talk with Buggy right now? Doesn’t he hate this kind of thing? “Uh…Good…” Buggy replies in a tight voice, not sure what else he’s supposed to say, not that there’s really much to say about his dinner with Mihawk.

“...That’s good…” Crocodile replies, “Anyways, in that folder i just gave you there are the names of marines that need bounties made, and i also made a list of ones who need their bounties taken off the market.” Buggy nods in response, hoping that Crocodile won’t have too much for him to do. “Also, i’m so damn tired of eating sea king for dinner, i need you to send a few of your men into the nearest town to gather some more food.”

Buggy nods again, “Uh… is that it then?”

“I also need you to send money to the families of all our recruits.”

“...Is that all?”

Crocodile stares at him with cold eyes, and the small act makes Buggy look down at the table and mutter a quick apology. “Look, clown…” Crocodile says, but then groans. He pauses briefly before finally speaking again, “Okay, listen…Buggy. I just need some help, okay?” But, again, why can’t he just ask Galdino or Daz, or even one of Buggy’s men to help him?! Why does it have to be Buggy? “Can’t Galdino or Daz help you out?” Buggy asks, cautiously, “They’re a lot more efficient than i am, right?”

“I already have them doing something.” Crocodile sighs, “Just, please, help me out a little.”

Crocodile’s making it seem like he has a choice in the matter, but that couldn’t be further from the truth, could it? Buggy is in debt to Crocodile, and whether he likes it or not he has to help him, He just wishes Crocodile would have used one of the hundreds of other men around the island to help him out instead of Buggy.

Still, he remains seated, making a list of all the things Crocodile wants to be done. Like always though, he wants way too much done and within a short period of time, and Buggy just knows that he’s going to get yelled at for something…or worse, but he doesn’t want to think about that.

Make new bounties, get more food, pay the recruits’ families, call the weapons’ dealer and ask if they have the guns he and Crocodile were talking about…Look into buying more boats… Order more shitty cigars…look into purchasing more land…Buggy reads his list out in his head, and fights back a groan. He feels like a damn secretary, and the worst part is, after giving Buggy all those orders, Crocodile turns to him and sighs before giving him one last command:

“Oh, and help me organize all my documents.” Good god, why?!

#cross guild #changes #my writing #i didn't beta read this but i think it's fine...dont quote that tho #i'll beta read it later akldsjklasjdaksdjasd #sorry if this ch is a lil boring.#also do buggys emotions ever make sense or are they confusing????

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trianna-phoenix · 1 year

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(Bowuigi human au)

Luigi could tell he was being followed, walking down a dark and empty street, he knew it wasn’t just his paranoia

His heart is beating so fast, he barely works up the courage to look behind him, and that’s when he finally sees the man

Wearing a black hoodie and jeans, he was staring directly at Luigi with a mean glare. He didn’t even look away as Luigi made eye contact with him.

The man was only a few feet behind him, he started to speed up, getting closer to Luigi.

Luigi could feel alarms going off in his body, a cold sweat overcoming him as his fight or flight kicks in to full drive.

Luigi ran, he ran as fast as his legs could take him. To his horror he could hear the pounding footsteps of the man running after him.

His mind went blank as he ran forward, distantly he could see a open shop, seemed like a bar.

It was the only building that was open on this street.

Luigi ran as fast as he could towards it.

There was a group of people outside, some big guys Luigi would never dare to even look at. But Luigi wasn’t thinking.

The closest one to him was also the biggest, some guy in a leather jacket, adorned with metal spikes. His hair must’ve been dyed red because Luigi would never believe it was natural. He wasn’t exactly standing alone, there were people near him, but none of them seemed to be talking to or even at him.

Luigi took a chance.

He ran over, not full in his right mind as he took his hand and whispered as loud as he could

“I’m being followed”

Bowser never really liked these bars, his friends would drag him to them once every blue moon but they were always so boring.

There was only so much standing and drinking he could do before he lost his mind.

Now, as the night was coming to a close, he stood outside with a few of those exact friends, some where waiting for their Ubers and bowser wanted to make sure they got home safe, him being the least intoxicated

Well actually, bowser didn’t drink at all, some stupid medical condition he developed after a few crazy years in college.

He huffed, sipping at a glass of soda as he mindlessly listened to his drunk friends ramble.

Bowser didn’t hear him approach before he felt someone roughly grab his hand, they held on tightly and bowser could see how hard they were shaking. They looked terrified.

Bowser just stared at them as they worked up the courage to say something.

He spoke quietly, barely a whisper, but bowser still felt a chill down his spine when they said their grievances

“I’m being followed” they held his hand tightly as they glanced down the street.

Bowser could see him, the man.

He had stopped running, clearly breathing heavily as he just stood there, staring.

Bowser set his drink down on a near by ledge, before pulling the shaking man close to his chest.

He looked about five steps away from a panic attack, trembling with wide eyes.

“What’s your name?” He asked trying to figure out what he should do

“L-Luigi” he struggled to speak over how intensely he was shaking, bowser placed a hand on his shoulder

“Well Luigi, let me take you home” he looked away from the man, still standing halfway down the street to look at the man in his arms

He had dark brown hair, wore a green shirt and a cardigan.

Luigi glanced up towards him, and bowser nearly stopped breathing. His eyes, they were bright blue, they looked like jewels. He’d never seen anything like it.

They were gorgeous.

Bowser blinked as he watched Luigi’s lip twitch, he seemed about to cry. Bowser didn’t want that at all.

“Is that okay?” He followed, worried he had made himself seem dangerous.

But Luigi nodded his head, stepping closer to bowser as the man tilted his head. It was eerie, how he hadn’t tried to move closer to them, but didn’t leave.

Bowser lived close by, just a street over, which is mostly why he hadn’t gotten himself an Uber.

“My house isn’t far from here, do you mind if we go there?”

Luigi shook his head and bowser immediately started walking with Luigi right in front of him.

His friends were too drunk to even notice him leaving.

(Anyway I don’t feel like writing anymore of this but feel free to use it as a prompt as long at you credit me)

(And yes they get home safe then bowser walks Luigi to his own place the next morning we’re Luigi gives him his number)

#bowuigi #bowser x luigi #bowigi #bowser #luigi #tw stalking #fanfic #fanfiction prompts

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this-witch-writes · 1 year

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I was think about steddie and that post going around about "intangible love" and the romanticism of unspoken acts of affection and the replies show how differently people react to that.

Part 1 (Show Don't Tell)

part 2, part 3

Steve Harrington's parents are distant (always emotionally and usually geographically) his only serious girlfriend wouldn't say she loved him, and most of his friendships were either surface macho things or a bunch of literal children. He loves Robin and they talk, they do, but she's not exactly mushy either. That actually is fine with her and the kids, but it's not what he's hoping for in a relationship.

Eddie’s parents said they loved him, said they wanted what was best for him, but it was just words. The person who actually loved him, who cared, who showed up when it mattered, hardly ever said much at all. Wayne knew how to make love understood. His uncle didn't have to say he loved him it was obvious with the hours he worked, how he hadn’t hesitated to make space for Eddie, to listen to him, and never ask him to change. Wayne always paid attention to his likes and dislikes, and Eddie thinks that kind is real love.

After spring break, Eddie was pleasantly shocked by the level of care Steve showed people around him, in those little actions that meant everything. Eddie gets so swept up in how Steve makes him feel that he doesn't even realise that Steve thinks that Eddie made the first move.

Steve had known he liked Eddie and tried to look out for him after spring break, but he was surprised when the guy kissed him. It was nice though, nice to be wanted, nice to be the one pursued and not doing the pursuing. It made him feel more confident than he had in a long time. He doesn't worry about the rest of it. When Eddie never wants to talk about how he feels, what him and Steve are to each other, Steve doesn't love it but he figures that Eddie just needs time.

It doesn't get better with time, it gets worse.

They've been dating for six months and Eddie wants to be over the moon. Steve is amazing and sweet and hot. They have so much fun together, but Eddie doesn't know why nothing he does is enough to show Steve that he cares. He notices the little things, favourite foods and flowers, times a joke goes too far with the kids and Eddie shuts them down. Eddie knows he's paying attention, but Steve still constantly questions it, asking how Eddie feels like he’s not bending over backwards to show it? He just wants to feel like he's enough.

Steve is lost. He can't make sense of Eddie. He's so caring, so attentive, and the way he acts... it can't just be casual to him, can it? But it took four months for Eddie to use the word boyfriend and only when repeatedly asked. He hasn't said he loves him.

Steve did.

Five months in, riding the high of Eddie saying “boyfriend” instead of using vague hand-gestures to define their relationship. Steve had been stressed from work and got soaked in the November rain only to come home to Eddie cooking him a beautiful dinner.

'I love you, Eds.'

Eddie smiled big and bright and kissed him. They kept kissing and it wasn't until the next morning that Steve realized Eddie hadn't said it back.

Steve waited a week before saying it again. Eddie seem happy to hear it, not uncomfortable, all smiles and kisses and promises to pick Steve up after work but... no I love you. Steve kept trying for a few weeks but eventually he stopped. He told himself that it was fine, he could wait, but he missed that feeling from the start, so confident that he was wanted.

Eddie knew Steve had been a bit quiet through the winter. He knew that he was missing Robin away at college, that the kids were busy, and that the holidays were tough for a lot of people with shitty parents. But he was still blindsided when he asked what was wrong and Steve looked him in the face and asked if Eddie loved him.

Did he love him? That hurt. How could Steve even ask that?

'Nothing's ever going to be good enough for his highness, is it?' He snapped at him, determined not to show how close to crying he was. He was just so tired. He’d been working all hours trying to save up so him and Steve could leave Hawkins and it was still not enough.

Steve blinked back at his boyfriend, the second person he'd loved who just refused him this most basic part of a relationship, who just couldn't seem to choke out the words even to humour him. Heartbroken and speechless, Steve walked the rest of the way home.

The next day Eddie worried. He'd expected Steve to call that night to make up, Eddie was big enough to admit that Steve was better at reaching out first to apologise. Eddie was good at words, descriptions, stories, but putting words to the messiness of emotions, not so much. When Steve didn't call Eddie decided that he'd been too harsh. So what if Steve was a little insecure sometimes? Eddie adored everything else about him, he was allowed to have a flaw. He drove to Steve's but no one answered. He had a key though and so let himself in

Downstairs was as empty as usual but Eddie got anxious when he saw a lot of Steve's things were missing from his room. There was a note on the desk on his desk he was too scared to read. Maybe Steve had been too upset to talk and needed to write it now for Eddie to understand.

'Eddie, I nearly couldn't go, but this isn't fair to either of us. I hope you find someone someday that you love as much I love you now, someone you love enough to get past whatever's holding you back. yours, Steve.'

Eddie didn't understand at all.

Continue: part 2, part 3

#steddie #steddie drabble #angst #steddie angst #intangible love #steve harrington #eddie munson

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slxsherwriter · 8 months

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Lost Strays

Fandom: House of 1000 Corpses / Firefly trilogy

Pairing: Developing Otis x female reader

Word Count: 2,424

Warnings: Kidnapping, blood, violence, Otis being Otis

Author's Note: Part two of the Supernatural Au I have created for Otis and his family. More of an understanding is established between reader and the family.

Freedom. That was what being out here without a pack afforded you. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Not any more. The Firefly family had become a makeshift pack of sorts for you. When you had broken away from your pack years ago, you had sworn off any sort of attachments and a pack. It was far more work and effort than it was worth. Plus, most didn't think the way that you did. But the Fireflys? They may be humans but they were far more creatures like you than anyone you had come across, kindred spirits. A proper pack in a way. Different from traditional ways, of course. You both stuck to your makeshift territories, respecting the drawn lines in a manner of speaking. The longer it went on though, the more those bonds strengthened and the figurative distance closed.

As the weeks went on, you became accustomed to chasing some prey into their domain and having them send one in return. A system that worked well and kept both ends satisfied. A routine of sorts, specific nights set aside to allow it should either of you have prey. A respect and mutual enjoyment of the few that did come through the remote area of Texas. Then again, the family never seemed to have any sort of issue drawing in anyone from town. A benefit more to you than it was to them when it came to the exchange system.

Tonight was not one of those nights. In fact, you had decided that you weren't doing much of anything. A nice soft spot on one of the gentle sloping hills had become your current home. Eyes closed, you simply basked in the rays of the moon and the peace that surrounded. That was until the sounds of dead grass crunching underfoot and desperate panting reaching your ears. Now, that wasn't something to be ignored. It was hard to tell which direction it was coming from at first. Almost an echoing of the sound in the empty space. Curious. Of course, they were easily recognizable sounds. Panic always induced the same sort of reaction in all prey animals.

With it not being a night for them to send someone your way though, you found yourself unsure what to make of it. Had someone managed to escape? That wasn't like Otis and his family. Before you could get to your feet, the sounds grew closer still. All before…

"Please! Help!" Ah, there it was. It seemed that perhaps one had indeed managed to escape the clutches of the homestead. A unique situation, one that you quickly needed to decide on how to handle. Violence could result in some tension between yourself and the family. As much as you longed in that moment to sink your teeth into soft flesh. Plus, there was no telling what they had already done to the body. It had taken two weeks to get the taste of chemicals and drugs off of your tongue. Bringing her back would likely result in more good will. So, bring it back. You just needed to figure out the best way to do that. And there wasn't a lot of time to get that sorted as the steps grew closer and closer. You were quiet, near silent as you moved towards the small tree line that dotted the land.

You needed to know exactly where the prey was coming from, which direction that the frantic movements were heading in. The individual would be disoriented and confused, another disadvantage for them and something so easy to play off of for you. But how?

With no car, there wasn't an option to play pretend that you had stopped because you heard the cries for help. Walking alone in the dead of night didn't create too many trustworthy explanations. Especially on the land that you called home. The best option would be to play pretend victim yourself. In a frantic panic, most lost their sense of direction. A few subtle nudges and you could have the little bunny heading right back to the proverbial wolf's den.

It was difficult to wipe the eager grin from your face. It wasn't often that you had to play victim, much preferring watching the abject horror and confusion as people struggled to figure out how your small frame could wreck so much damage. So, you were a little out of practice. Rolling your shoulders, it took a second to pick up on the direction before you were stumbling through the dry grass and dirt.

"Help!" The call out in return would hopefully grab attention and not make this woman second guess anything. She just needed to get close enough for you to grab her. In the dark, she wouldn't realize that you weren't bloodied or ragged looking until it was far too late. Human eyes were all but pathetic in the dark. Worse so when enough trauma had been sustained. Survival instinct was one thing but oftentimes, all the senses were so dulled that mistakes to capitalize on were abundant. Just as anticipated and hoped for, there was a response called out just moments later.

"Hello?" She was closer than she had been just seconds before. That was it, little lamb. Keep moving closer and closer. God, it was incredibly difficult to restrain yourself. But you could not let your need get the best of you. This kill wasn't yours. "Hey! Where are you?" How stupid could they really get? Sometimes they really made it too easy. The footsteps drew ever closer until you could finally lay eyes on the woman. She looked like she had been through the ringer, clearly running on adrenaline with the injuries that she had sustained. It would be the only explanation that pointed to her movements. A desperation to live. It was almost a shame to bring her back. Almost. The iron scent of her blood hung heavy in the air, the scent practically coating your tongue, testing your self restraint and control.

"Jesus Christ. What happened to you?" You stumbled a bit, knowing she wouldn't be able to clearly make out your lack of injuries just yet. A few more steps and she was playing right into your hand.

"I just escaped. They….they tried to kill me. They are crazy!" Now that she was within reach, you straightened your posture and snatched at her arm, a vice grip that wouldn't escape. Panic flooded her scent, eyes widened and she went to pull away.

"Shame for you that you didn't make it far enough to really escape. Counting your chickens before all the eggs have hatched. Really, you are all the same and it becomes so boring after a while."

"Let me go!" She struggled, thrashing against your hold and a growl erupted from you. Oh, screw this. You weren't in the mood to entertain a struggle if she wasn't going to be your prey. Her horror and desperation only grew as she watched the way that your features morphed and bones shifted. A clawed hand wrapped around her throat, releasing the hold on her arm. Weak human fingers clawed at your wrist, a fight for survival that was built into her very DNA. "Please…let me go. I don't want to die." The words were gasped out, behind the pressure you were applying to her throat. You just needed her to pass out to make bringing her back to the farm easier. And within moments, the struggle was slowing before muscles fell lax, causing you to loosen your grip just enough so you didn't end up killing her. Grunting and huffing, you tossed the body over your shoulder and began to make your way towards the property.

****

You had crossed over that imaginary border and were a few minutes from the farmhouse when you heard the cursing. Seemed that they did know that they had a missing plaything.

"She is long fucking gone by this point! Fuck. Just what we fucking need. Now we need to go out there and fucking find her in the dark." Otis. Clearly, he was agitated as all hell. "This is your fucking fault, Baby. I told you to leave her chained up downstairs. You better fucking hope that she hasn't gotten far." You could hear the indignant sound that came from the younger blonde, meaning she did not agree with the statement. You knew that the threat was fairly empty. Otis wouldn't harm family, even if he grandstanded about it.

"No way! It's not my fault that the fucking chain snapped in my room. Besides, RJ was in the living room when she ran through and got to the door."

"She never would have made that far if you left her where she fucking was!" Oh, this was not something that you wanted to get in the middle of but the presentation of the female should calm them both down enough that you could leave without being pulled into the family drama. You made sure to give a rumbling growl, not wanting to get shot. You had made that mistake only once when you had visited their home for the second time.

"For fuck sakes, I have to take care of everything," Otis growled out before turning his attention to you. "The fuck you want, Bunny? We got…" You watched as his eyes zeroed in on the body that you had over your shoulder, causing him to trail off mid sentence. Yeah, more important things to take care of, which happened to be the body over your shoulders.

Getting to the porch, you unceremoniously dropped the body down, a groan coming from her to let them know that she was still alive before even having to ask. Shifting back, you rolled your neck. The resulting pop brought a satisfied sigh from you.

"Caught a stray. You know, it's generally recommended to keep your pet's on short leashes." Baby snickered and Otis rolled his eyes but for once didn't have a snarled comment to bite back with as he leaned down to check over the body. "She's still alive. Didn't do anything but choke her out to make getting her back here easy. Wasn't my kill and frankly, if she continued struggling, I was going to ignore that and rip out her fucking throat." By now, she was coming to, though the blow she took when you dropped her may have helped that process out.

"Baby, take her downstairs and chain her the fuck up properly this time." Baby grumbled about the entire task but for once decided that she wasn't going to back talk Otis. Instead, she grabbed the stray by the hair and yanked the newly conscious woman to her feet.

"You aren't getting away again this time. You really fucked yourself…" Her voice trailed off as the door closed. Otis turned his attention to you now that you were alone, thinking for a moment before deciding to speak.

"Would have been an easy meal," he started off, almost offhandedly. Like he was goading you into something. At this point, you had been around long enough to know better.

"Learned my fucking lesson. Swear, I still taste whatever shit you drugged that last lamb with. Get why you do it, but don't want that shit on my tongue." A disgusted look twisted your features as you recalled the memory, enough so that Otis was outright laughing. Bastard would find amusement in it. You didn't put it past him to send the next lamb over to you loaded upon something. Just for kicks.

"Don't act like such a fucking baby about it, Bunny. Ain't my fucking fault that you got a sensitive palate and can't handle shit." You rolled your eyes. At least the return of his plaything had put the man in a seemingly better mood. "Well, fuck. You're here now. Come on in. Ma made some spare ribs and there are leftovers. Since you didn't get your kill tonight." The invitation no longer came as a surprise. The longer your relationship with the Fireflys lasted, the more it seemed that Otis actually saw you as a part of his pack. Or well, family since he didn't see it as a pack, being human and all. Or maybe he just saw you as a pet. It was hard to tell exactly what went on in his brain. Something that always kept you on your toes. An annoyance with anyone else but acceptable with him.

"She make it with that sweet barbecue this time?" You stepped closer, up onto the porch and leaned against the railing. One time, you had the meal one time, and while you preferred your meat much more raw without too much coating, the cooking that came from the matriarch of the Firefly clan had sold you.

"Do you fucking want them or not?" There was the attitude, though there was the hint of a smile on his face and anger didn't radiate off him like it typically did. Pleased, he seemed pleased with the interaction. Something that once more had the wolf preening, wanting to continue to please the figure that you now saw as alpha. Hardly something admitted aloud, or else the asshole would run with it. And frankly, while the attraction was there and things were coming along, you weren't sure if that was something you wanted to pursue. Besides, the last thing you needed to do was give him any ammunition to use against you.

"Yeah, I do."

"Then get that ass inside already. Christ, didn't fucking know you needed a personal fucking invitation." You chuckled and decided not to push your luck any further than you had the last few minutes. Opening the door, you were barely able to get through the threshold before the contact came, his hand landing a swift smack against your ass. An embolden move that had happened a handful of times before, though it still once again drew a growl out of you, turning your eyes to the man behind you. The entirely too pleased look on his face told you that he had been waiting for the moment. A brow rose, challenging you to say anything about it and the words caught in your throat. For once. Swallowing them down, you opted instead to roll your eyes and move further into the home as he had directed. Not because he had directed it, no. It was on your own volition.

"Asshole." Huffing, it was accepted as another development in your integration into the pack.

#slasher writing #horror writing #slasher x reader #bill moseley #slasher x you #bill moseley characters #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood fic #otis driftwood #otis b driftwood #house of 1000 corpses fic #house of 1000 corpses

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inawickedlittletown · 9 days

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Don't Make A Shadow Of Yourself (BuckTommy fic) - 3/?

Summary: "A man who's pure of heart...may still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright" - Howl (F+TM)

Throughout most of his adult life, Tommy had dealt with what he was. The duality of being a man and also an animal…a beast. Werewolves weren’t born, they were made.

Words: 3,329

Read on Ao3

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Tommy knew it was impossible for him to fly away, not with how little fuel was left on the helicopter. He wouldn’t be getting very far, in fact there was probably just enough for him to make it back to Harbor when the coast guard ship got them closer to shore. Still, he wanted nothing more than to climb right into the helicopter and stay there until he could fly away. The only thing that stopped him was how strange it would look if he did that.

Evan Buckley’s words, his question, repeated in his mind and it all went back to how did he know? How had Evan figured Tommy out when they’d barely interacted all night and why had Tommy handled things the way that he did, confirming everything.

He was distracted and in his thoughts, but he still heard the approach of footsteps.

“I’m sorry about Buck,” Eddie said.

Tommy turned to face him. Eddie’s hands were raised as if to show that he came in peace and he had a rueful smile on. Tommy didn’t know if he should put more space between them, except that Eddie didn’t come closer. Maybe he felt the need for space too.

“He gets a little excited,” Eddie said. “He doesn’t mean any harm.”

Tommy stayed silent, and it seemed that Eddie took that as permission to talk and not as a dismissal. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure how he’d meant it.

“I was bitten a few weeks after I moved to LA,” Eddie said.

Tommy didn’t know what he felt when Eddie said that. Relief. Surprise. What he did start to feel is a little different about Evan.

Eddie, barreled on: “I was still in the Fire Academy and there was a night when a few of us went out. The bar wasn’t far from my abuela’s house where my son was and I thought it’d be safer if I walked,” Eddie continued. He chuckled. “I nearly made it when I was mugged. I was a bit drunk, but I can fight and so I fought the guy. I definitely couldn’t afford to lose my wallet. He transformed right in front of me, gave me the shock of my life, and he bit me. Right on my arm.”

Eddie smiled at him and Tommy felt himself relax. There was something kind in his smile and as far as Tommy could tell he wasn’t lying. His heart beat steadily, calm.

“So you are—” Tommy trailed off.

“Yes. And Buck tells me you are too,” Eddie said pointedly.

It took a lot for him to nod. Outside of the few times a year he went near the Werewolf Division, Tommy kept to himself. None of the Werewolves he’d met there had ever clicked with him in any meaningful way past their shared lycanthropy. He didn’t have any close friends or family and as much as he disliked that most days, he also felt safer without disclosing what he was.

“Yes,” Tommy said. “I’m…yes. I, um, I got bitten while I was in the Middle East.”

“Oh,” Eddie said.

Tommy said it not just because it was what happened, but because he knew Eddie was military too. He wouldn’t have been able to tell that Eddie was a Werewolf without Eddie telling him as much, but he could tell immediately if someone had served.

“I don’t remember it,” Tommy said. “The chaos of everything that went on that night. I was brought back home and I was discharged and shoved at the Werewolf Division.”

“Wow,” Eddie said.

“I mean, it’s not the worst thing that could have happened out there,” Tommy said. “I like where I ended up.”

By the time that Tommy had clearance to fly back to Harbor, he and Eddie had bonded a little. Eddie confirmed that he’d been a medic in the Army, but they didn’t share stories about their experiences with that. There were just things that were better left unsaid and the understanding that immediately existed between him and Eddie warmed Tommy. They talked about Eddie’s son, Christopher, and about how they weren’t actually going to lose their jobs. That led to talking about what it was like to work as a pilot. Talking about the job was easy and Tommy could pull out any number of stories to share. What they didn’t discuss was the Werewolf thing and for that Tommy was grateful. He didn’t know if he could have talked about it.

Before he left, he spotted Evan sitting with Hen, practically glued to her side. He was adorable and that was not fair at all. He was just one big puppy. Maybe even literally. Tommy couldn’t be sure because Eddie hadn’t said, but he figured he had to be a Werewolf too. But what were the odds of two Werewolves working out of the same firehouse?

After a meeting with his Captain, a meeting that went too long and during which they discussed the whole thing in hypotheticals, Tommy finally got to leave. He drove home in a bit of an exhausted haze and then let himself into his very quiet, very lonely house.

The Werewolf Division encouraged getting familial support after a bite. Tommy had no one to tell, no one to support him. It hadn’t mattered then and it didn’t matter now, except that the 118 was a pack. He hadn’t known when he thought of them like that, that it was more true than not in the sense that they had at least one Werewolf. He hated the feeling it created in him, the swirling tightness of jealousy.

Tommy was friendly with everyone at the 217. They had a Secret Santa every year and they kept track of birthdays and took turns bringing in a cake, or a pie, or in one occasion a fruit construction. There just wasn’t much more depth past that. Their conversations were superficial at times and Tommy didn’t blame anyone, it wasn’t like he opened up to them much either.

Maybe that’s why he’d been so freaked out by Evan just asking point blank “how long have you been a Werewolf?”

He’d asked it like it was something he asked people all the time. Maybe it was. All this time later and he was still a bit wary.

When he got home, his hunger won out in order of what he needed first. After a plate of leftover pasta from a few days earlier, Tommy discarded his clothes by the door and walked out in the nude. He shifted as soon as he closed his door behind him and settled himself into his other shape. Tommy walked across the patio onto the grass and stretched his neck up to the sky. It was light blue with a few small clouds. Nothing exciting for LA.

His hearing caught the sounds of cars driving past, the guy mowing his grass a few houses down, and even the shrieks and laughter of the two little girls that belonged to the house across the street. Tommy didn’t hate it. He liked the noise, liked how it created a distraction for him. It was so different from the silence that existed inside his house.

He ran off some of the leftover energy, but plopped down in the middle of his yard for a while, head down on his front paws. He was tired enough that could probably fall asleep.

Tommy thought about the 118. Couldn’t help but picture Evan and Hen, how he’d looked almost like a puppy trying his best not to crawl right into her lap. Evan hadn’t approached Tommy out of any maliciousness and since Tommy was pretty sure he was a Werewolf as well, then it was probably best to clear the air.

He stayed outside a bit longer, not quite napping, but enjoying the sounds of his neighborhood.

When he got back inside, back on two legs, he grabbed his phone and decided to start by looking up Evan on Instagram.

His breath caught in his throat at the first image he saw. Evan was shirtless and there was no denying that he was absolutely delectable. His skin glistened and his chest was all taut muscle. His arms even unflexed showed off strength. He was squinting at something, face turned away leaving just his profile and the very distinct birthmark. It was so unfair how striking he was.

Tommy had to tear his eyes away from that picture, moving to another. In it Evan was fully dressed and in his arms was a toddler. They were both smiling wide. The duality of man. Adorable and hot.

There was a nice shot of Evan, Hen, Chim, and Eddie in front of a fire engine where Tommy became a little distracted at seeing Evan in his uniform sans turnouts. A few shots of food. A sunset. A child’s drawing. A few re-posted memes. A few more very distracting shirtless pictures and then a picture of him with a kid with curly hair and glasses.

Tommy stopped scrolling there and went back to the top. He hit message and promptly froze, thumbs millimeters from the screen.

—

His paws and legs were sure as Buck moved. He weaved past trees and felt the crunch of dry leaves and twigs under his feet. It felt amazing. Lifting his snout, he sniffed the air and could tell that Eddie wasn’t too far behind him. There were other smells too. Small critters in their burrows or up trees, the bird that chirped from above. Buck kept moving.

Eddie caught up to him a moment later, his dark fur was almost jet black and he nudged into Buck’s side as they came to a stop. The nudge was a question, in a way, and Buck answered by nipping at Eddie’s ear and then taking off at a run.

After getting back to the 118 from the coast guard ship, Buck had felt too hyped up to just go home. Despite needing to get back to Chris, Eddie had agreed to go with him on a run. A quick call to Carla and then Buck had driven them out to one of their usual haunts near the Angeles Crest Highway.

On the way there, Eddie filled him in on his conversation with Tommy. Buck couldn’t help but think about it as he dodged a thick tree.

“I don’t think he knows many Werewolves outside of the division,” Eddie had said. “He was in the Army. Got bitten during and discharged.”

Buck had done the math in his head, because he’d already figured out that Tommy had transferred out of the 118 right before Buck arrived to essentially take his spot. That meant that Tommy wasn’t a new Werewolf. He’d been one longer than him and certainly longer than Eddie. He wasn’t too surprised that Hen and Chim hadn’t realized when they didn’t know what to look for back then.

Buck slowed down when he got to a crop of trees that sat a bit closer together. Eddie bumped into him seconds later and Buck playfully bumped back. They play fought for a while, getting a gentle nip in here and a slap of a paw there until they were rolling in the dirt and growling at each other until they both just stopped, shook off the dirt, leaves, and twigs. Eddie pressed his nose to Buck’s neck and Buck nuzzled him back.

Eddie was smaller than Buck, but just barely. Buck just had longer legs. He’d been so clumsy the first time he shifted from human to wolf. Like so many other Werewolves, his first transformation happened at the Werewolf Division.

Buck had thought he was prepared. He wasn’t. The pain was agonizing. It felt like his entire body was on fire and he heard when his bones broke and reformed and he felt the growth of fur all over him like needles pricking him all over. His senses intensified, too, and he smelled everything. Heard everything. When it was over, he was on the ground, curled tight into himself and it took ages for him to uncurl. His legs were unsteady, all four of them. He fell more times than he was willing to admit before he got the hang of weight distribution and walking with paws.

After a while, they made their way back, Eddie leading the way. The sun was starting to go down by the time they made it back to the car. Used to transforming around each other, nudity wasn’t much of a problem. They transformed and got their clothes back on quickly. Buck found his phone and gave it a quick glance. The first thing that caught his eye was an Instagram notification.

Tommy.Kinard sent a message

“Forget going back to the station,” Eddie said as he buckled himself in. “You can just drop me off at home.”

“Uh, sure,” Buck said, eyes still trained on his phone. He didn’t click on it, instead dropping his phone into the cup holder.

“Everything okay?”

Buck nodded. He didn’t know why just seeing Tommy’s name made him nervous. He knew that Eddie could pick up on it, but when he glanced at him, Eddie just looked amused and Buck couldn’t tell if Eddie had managed to glance at his screen before it went dark in the cup holder.

“What?” Buck asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Eddie said.

—

Hi, Evan. I was wondering if we could meet.

The message sat unread. Logically, Tommy knew that Evan was probably busy. It hadn’t even been twenty four hours since they set off to find the cruise ship. He set the phone face down on the small round side table in his living room and focused instead on his tv.

Growing up in a home where the only thing his parents ever did was fight, Tommy had found solace in movies. He would turn on his tv and drown out the sounds of the latest argument with whatever he found playing. Most often than not, it was some type of romantic comedy. There was a simplicity to them, the predictable nature of a romcom and the idea of happily ever after. Tommy found it comforting.

After his bite, when he was back on US soil and renting a tiny apartment, he’d binged on rom coms. Those he’d missed while he was deployed and the favorites as well. It had kept him going until he made the decision to become a firefighter.

So, after the day he’d had, Tommy had already gone to Netflix and put on the first rom com to pop up. My Best Friend’s Wedding wasn’t exactly a happily ever after movie, considering Julia Roberts didn’t end up with the guy, but Tommy kind of liked it because she was happy despite that.

Tommy spread himself out on his couch and he watched the antics on screen and he tried to pretend that he wasn’t listening for a notification from his phone. Or that his mind didn’t keep drifting to Evan again.

It was just that it was kind of funny. Who just asked outright if someone was a Werewolf. Thinking back to who Evan was and what their whole night had entailed, he wondered what it was that had given him away. What was it that had made Evan notice? After all, Tommy hadn’t noticed or even realized that Eddie was a Werewolf. It was only afterwards when he saw the way Evan sat with Hen that he’d even thought for a single moment that Evan could be a Werewolf and he still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t just reading into things.

Did Tommy himself have wolf like mannerisms? Things that he just didn’t know about that gave him away? Then again, Eddie hadn’t known right? Just Evan. That was more than a little curious.

The strange piece of him that was mostly a romantic made Tommy feel a little bit flattered too. Maybe it was also the rom com watching part of him, admittedly, because if Evan had figured out he was a Werewolf then it was because Evan had been paying attention to him even while they were on one of the most insane rescues that Tommy had ever been a part of.

On screen, all the characters had started singing and Tommy let himself smile. Maybe George was also a big reason for why he loved this movie. Was he one of the first gay characters that Tommy had gotten to see in a movie? It was entirely possible.

The song was just ending when his phone pinged. Tommy grabbed it at once.

FirehoseBuckley sent a message

He had it open in seconds.

Sure. I’d love to meet. How does coffee sound?

Are you available tomorrow morning?

Tommy knew he was grinning. He had no idea why he was so excited, or why he thrummed with nervous energy. He hadn’t even felt like this the last time he went on a date. It was the Werewolf thing. It had to be the Werewolf thing.

He sent a message back right away.

Tomorrow 9am?

He got back an address and a thumbs up. Tommy let out a breath.

The next day found Tommy walking up to a nice looking cafe. It was small and simple, with just a long L shaped counter that displayed breads and pastries. A line had formed in front of the cash register and Tommy immediately found Evan, who seemed to know he was there the moment he walked in. Tommy took him in. He looked different without the turnouts, in jeans and a button up shirt that was just a little too tight on him. Tommy couldn’t help but think about his time on Evan’s Instagram. He could easily picture what lay beneath the shirt and that was not a place for his mind to be at the moment.

“Hey,” Evan said when Tommy joined him. “Good thing you got here, I was going to have to take a guess on your coffee order. Probably wouldn’t have gone well.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “What would you have gotten me?”

Evan’s lips quirked into a smile. “I have no idea. Safe bet would have been a regular medium drip with a selection of creams and sugar.”

Tommy hummed.

“But I don’t know, maybe you’re one of those people that likes their coffee with a shot of espresso. Pumpkin spice. Or maybe a mocha. Hot or cold, there’s just no knowing what I would have ordered.”

Tommy didn’t know where the ease came from. Not that he didn’t find talking to people easy, or that he wasn’t used to small talk. Sometimes that was required on the job — the helping people stay calm in the middle of a crisis which meant distracting them or keeping them talking. He was more than used to that. He just hadn’t known what to expect when it came to Evan after their last interaction.

Once they got to the front, Evan ordered what seemed to be just a regular latte.

“I’ll pay for his too,” Evan said and motioned for Tommy.

“Oh. No. No, Evan, I should be paying for it.”

“I owe you,” Evan insisted. “Put my foot in my mouth and all. Now, order your coffee. I’m taking notes.”

Tommy let out a sigh. “Fine.”

Tommy had gotten used to drinking coffee after he became a firefighter. It wasn’t his drink of choice, and the stuff they got in the Army had been so awful that Tommy didn’t think he could ever taste something as bad. Getting used to it, though, didn’t mean that he actually liked it. It served it’s purpose on the job especially since he abhorred all those energy drinks that had gotten popular. He ordered a matcha latte since it was on the menu and was happy to see the way that Evan was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“A tea guy,” Evan said. “Noted.”

#911 fic #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #tevan #kinley #werewolf au

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coffinscore · 3 months

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Our Coffin-bound birthday.

"Can you believe it Andrew spending my 20th locked up, Fucking parasite-filled, No cake or anything" Complained the pacing figure behind him. "Do you think there's any way I could convince the warden to bring me anything sweet, Literally anything at this point!" Pacing continued as well as complaining you could almost see Andrew's eyes rolling as he heard his 'dear' sister kicking the door "I get it already! Stop being so loud leave the goddamned door alone already!! Geez congrats and all but can you ever fucking be quiet" Snapped Andrew he was sick of it all! They had been trapped a month so far, Rations were running low and he was sick of Ashley's complaining

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine today!! You haven't even wished me a happy birthday yet to be complaining like that!!" Ashley yelled back she wasn't exactly in the best of moods today either "I know you didn't give a shit about me, but could you not get on my ass for once!!" Tears welled in the birthday girl's eyes as she yelled with a pout stomping away to the two's shared room. "Asshole!!!" She screamed out slamming the door and flopping onto her bed holding her moon pillow tightly to her chest. "At least pretend you give a shit about my day here.." She thought to herself as she closed her eyes not that it stopped her tears. What else was she expected to feel today? Other than shitty another wasted day and her birthday being a wasted day stung badly. Mom and Dad didn't care to call it was expected, But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. Not as much as it hurt for her own brother to avoid her.

Quite some time passed as Andrew sighed still placed on the seat of the couch. Of course he knew he was the first to wish her happy birthday every year. Who said he didn't have any surprise plans what she didn't know wasn't hurting her right? Right?? Incorrect he had to make this quick before she died of a broken heart. Putting his head in his hands he mentally prepared himself for the berating he would get when he walked into their room. Getting up, he finally went to get the little surprise he had wrapped up like old molding food in the deep freezer. What else could it be besides a stale lemon-flavored muffin frozen solid as a rock. A small smile traced his lips as he reminisced when this became a little tradition of the two's so long ago. He quickly walked over to the cabinets to get a plate out placed it on and threw the blunt weapon of a snack cake in the microwave. Carefully he watched the timer before it made that horrendous loud beep. It looked like shit, "It was perfect for her" Andrew chuckled thinking to himself as he began looking for a candle.

"Dumbass.." Muffled words came out onto her pillow as she began to smell something familiar. Shooting up her heart began skipping a beat almost thinking she was hallucinating the scent due to hunger and rage combined. "Andrew..?" She called out rather calmly compared to how her former mood had been. Moving to seat herself on the edge of her bed she contemplated if she should storm in there but she sat waiting. And her waiting paid off! Before she could finish her thoughts in came her brother holding a mushy-looking muffin with two candles on top, Pink and green lit up just like her face even if she looked more stunned than anything. Weight shifted on her bed as her other half sat next to her handing her the plate with soft smile on his face "Happy birthday Ashley. I could never forget the day you came into and ruined my life~" She laughed hard at his obvious tease to raise her mood light drops still falling from her eyes but out of a warm happy feeling instead. "Way to save face for being kind to me asshole." Teasing back a warm smile on her face as she moved closer blowing them out before she could even be given the okay wishing to herself in the process.

"H-Hey you were supposed to wait for the okay!" Andrew said sighing at her, He knew he couldn't have stopped her even if he tried, She was happy, An more dangerous beast than her rage. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders he sighed. "Sorry your day is just us stuck in this hellhole." He sympathized he knew she didn't mean anything by her outburst earlier he would have lashed out too if he was in her position. Watching as Ashley unwrapped and split the muffin in half surprising him. "What sharing with me~" Teased Andrew as a piece was handed his way. "Who knows how long it will be before get something like this again.. So take it before I change my mind" The younger blushed lightly her kindness was truly something special when you earn it. He happily grabbed the squishy treat leaving a little kiss on the side of her head noticing her little jump. She always seemed confused when he showed her proper affection, He'd be lying if he said he didn't find it cute.. Moving to take a bite the texture was shit but that's okay the two were still enjoying it either way wrapped in each other's company in this never ending coffin.

#scorestales #the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #andrew graves #ashley graves #short story #i would actually die for these two i hope you all know that #they have taken over my brain im so sorry im flooding the tags with writing

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delimeful · 1 year

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a still-glowing ember (2)

warnings: g/t, remus pov-typical violence/gore/innuendo, ignoring one's needs/magical burnout, self destructive behavior, hypothermia, death mention

If Remus didn’t find his brother soon, he was going to burn this stupid forest to the ground.

He decidedly ignored the way the night’s cold was seeping into him, frost biting deep enough that he probably couldn’t even conjure a spark, let alone a flame.

That wouldn’t stop him. He’d figure out how to start a fire the human way if that was what it took.

(And afterward, if Roman’s spark had already extinguished by the time he found him– he would find him– Remus would figure out how to burn to death the human way, too.)

They’d never be able to come back to this valley, anyhow. Remus had snatched three whole territory markers from a shifter as he headed north, using the decision-making process that had gotten him labeled ‘a danger to himself and others’ at his first colony.

What could he say? Roman was the closest thing he had to impulse control.

He’d considered going back for another one– the temperature drop as the sun set was killer, literally– but stealing foxfire was the sort of thing one couldn’t repeat without getting gleefully disemboweled by a pissed-off fox shifter, and who would track down Roman then?

Already planning exactly how he’d make fun of his brother for losing to a measly storm, Remus flapped his wings sharply, sending another wave of warmth through them and ignoring the way the cold pit in his chest deepened a bit more.

It didn’t matter. He’d always wondered what it would feel like to gutter down to ashes, anyhow.

The world’s most torchable forest continued to look the same no matter how far he flew, all thick-trunked trees and mossy undergrowth that he’d normally be eager to taste test. There was barely anything resembling a breeze, so the murmur of rustling leaves had been completely overtaken by the hum of insects and distant calls of night birds.

The lack of wind was just another stroke of bad luck. Normally, without any drafts to coast on, sprites would find a perch to occupy. He couldn’t glide for long, meaning that his half-frozen wings were working twice as hard to keep him in the air.

He had to keep moving. Roman was out there somewhere, perched in one of these identical trees or flitting from branch to branch in his own search. If he actually cared that Remus was missing, that was. Remus’s brain was beginning to suggest otherwise.

Maybe he’s glad to have the chance to get away from you, his mind offered. You should hunt him down and break his wings into little frozen splinters.

There was a heavy thud and rustle nearby, and Remus veered towards it, because investigating things that could potentially murder him sounded way better than listening to the squishy gray matter in his skull.

The source of the commotion turned out to be a sizable bear, shuffling its way down the trunk of a large tree. Remus circled around the scene on quiet wings, taking in the practiced movements of the beast.

Oh yeah, that could definitely murder me, he thought, successfully sidetracked. In a single hit, even. One of those paws probably weighed as much as three of him.

It was a moon bear, he was pretty sure, just barely able to see the telltale sliver of cream fur on its chest in the dark of the night. Not one of the more carnivorous species, boo.

No idea what it had been doing up there, but he didn’t have time to pursue the distraction any further.

With all the turning, his glide had shifted to more of a controlled fall, and he flapped his wings a few times, ignoring the way the bear’s attention shifted towards his direction. The flaps were frustratingly weak, slowed by encroaching icy numbness, and he forced another surge of warmth through them.

His spark pulsed painfully, and in the next moment, his vision blacked out entirely.

His wings flailed out to try and brake automatically, but vertigo had struck like a viper, and he could hardly tell up from down. There was wind in his ears now, which probably meant that he was currently hurtling towards a very splattery end.

He’d always said he wanted to go out screaming and covered in someone else’s blood, but he couldn’t even draw breath to yell, his whole body struggling to right itself amidst the pain of nearly burning himself out.

There was a sudden impact against one wing, hard but thin– a branch? Any semblance of direction vanished as he tumbled head over heels through what felt like an endless stretch of bush. Each stinging lash hurt, but by the time he hit the ground, his momentum had slowed enough to make the impact totally agonizing instead of extremely fatal.

He lay there for a few long moments, stunned or possibly paralyzed. He couldn’t really tell if the snapping sounds had been the branches around him or all of his bones. Slowly, his vision began to fade back in, each blink bringing a new arrangement of black spots.

Distantly, he finally registered an odd sound, one that was gradually growing closer.

Snuffling.

Oh, right. The bear.

Moon bears weren’t particularly active carnivores, but their primary meat intake was carrion. He remembered because he’d thought it was extremely funny, and also an excellent fact to gross Roman out with.

Remus attempted to twitch a wing, and failed miserably. His whole body felt like it had been tenderized into a paste.

… He was pretty sure he counted as carrion, at this point.

Getting eaten by a bear was a cooler death than hitting the ground because he forgot how to fly, at least.

The rustling of leaves intensified as something began pushing past the bush’s branches, presumably searching for him.

There was the sour taste of misery on the back of his tongue, knowing that if Roman was still alive out there somewhere, Remus had abandoned him with not even a corpse left behind. It was his own fault, he thought with a pang of aimless violent fury. If he’d been smarter or quicker or more reserved about his search, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

He was distracted from the impulse to bite down on his own arm– half to vent his anger and half because if something was going to eat him, he wanted the first bite– by the sensation of something soft and warm grazing him.

It was like his body remembered it was freezing all at once. He leaned against the warmth despite himself, his breath catching as a new wave of involuntary shivering agitated every bruise and bump he had, and struggled to think past the sensation.

The thing grabbing him wasn’t a bear mouth, he realized, mildly disgruntled. There were no teeth. Only a bunch of flexible, appendage-like protrusions poking through the brush and curling around him.

The mystery of it all was the only thing keeping his mind off his shrieking nervous system as his battered frame was steadily pried free from the bush’s tangled grasp. He stared down at the fleshy lump settled across his chest like a band and abruptly realized he was looking at a fingernail.

A hand. Had a human somehow grabbed him? Remus blinked, dizzily sinking into the warmth of it. Maybe they could help him with the forest fire. He’d been planning to set something on fire human-style, hadn’t he?

“Try to stay awake. Your body temperature is dangerously low,” a low, measured voice informed him.

Remus hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes until he opened them to the sight of a considerably larger face looking down at him. Not human after all, going by those fangs and the round, fuzzy black ears atop the stranger’s head. Where had he seen those ears before…?

The stranger had continued talking, not that Remus had caught any of it, and was now levering his arm up between two fingers and pressing on it. It felt gentle, but sensations could be deceiving in the cold, so it was totally possible he was about to watch his humerus get snapped in two. The stranger was staring at him expectantly now, as though a question had been asked.

Remus didn’t have an answer, but having finally figured out just what kind of shifter was holding him, he did have something to say. Inhaling past his bruised ribs, he tilted his head back against the palm he was resting on to make eye contact.

“You’re beary hot,” he managed, and with his piece said, proceeded to immediately pass out.

–

Remus woke up to fur in his mouth.

“Pfah,” he said, coherently.

The fur underneath him twitched, everything swaying slightly as though wherever he was laying wasn’t exactly solid ground. He was also sweltering, which was a great state for him to be in if he didn’t want his spark to go out from overstress. Really though, how much fur did one have to inhale to start coughing up hairballs?

There was a careful oversized breath, and then the surface below him abruptly shifted to something much flatter and smoother. Fabric, Remus realized, his cheek pressed against distinct woven threads.

“Hello,” a voice rumbled through him, large and close. “You’re on top of me. Please don’t be alarmed.”

Remus waggled his eyebrows blearily, still too disoriented to even contemplate being alarmed. Besides, he didn’t startle easily. He was normally the one alarming.

“Did you at least buy me dinner first?” he asked, his delivery weakened by the instant pain that blossomed in his chest. “Ow.”

“My apologies,” the voice replied. “I was unable to reduce the bruising of your ribs, since applying ice would have only worsened your condition. I did not prepare any dinner, because you were unconscious.”

Either this guy had the best deadpan in the business, or the innuendo had completely flown over his head. Remus was delighted regardless.

He struggled to push himself upright, his entire body protesting severely, and a giant hand lifted into his line of sight, hurriedly curving around him as a supportive measure. The feeling was familiar, and Remus went rigid as he recalled exactly how he’d gotten here.

“Where are we?” he asked, all traces of his lackadaisical attitude gone.

If the stranger was surprised by his sudden intensity, he didn’t show it. “My home. It’s a cave near the northwestern edge of the valley, and I brought you here after seeing–”

“You motherfucker,” Remus swore, and twisted to bite down on the stranger’s hand.

The fingers contracted briefly, but surprisingly enough, didn’t collapse down to instinctively crush him.

“Ow.” The stranger’s voice was insultingly monotone about the attack, which admittedly hadn’t even broken skin. “Stop that. There’s no need, I don’t intend you any harm.”

Seeing that his best efforts weren’t cutting it, Remus unlatched his jaw and craned his neck to scowl up at them. “Forget harm! You kidnapped me while I was in the middle of something!”

“Yes,” they replied dryly, “dying. I noticed.”

“How long has it been?” Remus asked, shoving to his hands and knees. “Is it still night?”

There were two hands hovering anxiously over him, now. “Not long has passed. There are still several hours until dawn breaks. Why?”

“Because I’ve got a featherbrain brother to find,” he said, “so sorry to smash-and-dash, stranger, but you’ll have to abduct me to your cave against my will another time.”

The stranger went quiet for a long moment, during which Remus painstakingly managed to push himself up to a standing position, though his wings were limply dragging behind him.

He couldn’t really see very far before his vision went blurry, so he wasn’t sure entirely where the exit was, but he could figure it out. It was a cave, after all: either he’d find the opening or he’d walk endlessly deeper and deeper into the earth like a dumbass.

Before he could successfully balance well enough to take a step towards one of those destinations, though, a shadow fell over him.

“My name is Logan,” the shifter spoke up, “and I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

As easily as a breeze would pick up a leaf, Logan scooped Remus off his feet back into his cupped palm.

“Nobody ‘lets’ me do anything!” Remus snapped back, thrashing as best he could against the grip. Seeing as he currently had the strength of a newborn kitten, it didn’t do much. “Come on, you can eat my corpse later, I’ve got time-sensitive shit to do!”

The comment earned him a minor twitch. “I have no desire to eat your corpse. That would defeat the entire purpose of this venture, which is to prevent you from becoming a corpse in the first place.”

“My corpse, my business!” It was frustrating to know that if they had met in normal circumstances, Logan was exactly the sort of stiff-backed repressed nerd that Remus would have delighted in teasing. Almost as frustrating as the fact that the dork wouldn’t let him go!

With a huff, Remus gave up on avoiding agitating his wounds and threw himself into struggling with no care for bodily harm.

“Listen to me,” Logan tried, sounding slightly more harried. “Your internal temperature is only barely beginning to recover. If you expose yourself to the frigid weather outside for any longer–!”

“Oh, I’ll expose myself alright,” Remus snarled, because what was the point of nonsensical threats if they couldn’t also be saucy? “Roman is out there in that weather!”

“And you’ll be no help to him if you choose to freeze to death out of simple, ignorant stubbornness!” Logan literally growled, the noise vibrating through Remus and lingering in the back of the shifter’s chest. “I will help you search once you’ve stabilized, but until then, you are at my mercy.”

Remus stared up at him, in utter disbelief that someone could make playing nursemaid to a sprite sound so threatening.

Logan’s expression softened, but his grip remained firm. “I refuse to sit by and watch such foolishness. I won’t be made to explain it to your brother.”

Maybe it was the way his words assumed Roman’s survival after Remus had spent the whole night imagining the worst, or maybe Remus was just exhausted enough for a rational argument to have an effect on him for once.

Either way, he clearly wasn’t winning this fight. He let his body flop limply against Logan’s hand with no little amount of petulance.

“If you don’t help me search, I’ll learn how to perform surgery on giants just so I can fill your organs with flesh-eating wasps.”

Logan took the concession for what it was, and only raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to lock me in a room with the wasps? My flesh would be eaten either way, right?”

It was the perfect question to distract himself with. Remus launched into a heated defense of the differences between external versus internal flesh consumption as torture methods, barely noticing as Logan carefully moved his limp wings back into a more comfortable resting position.

The shifter kept asking questions as he cupped his hand against his chest, creating a cushion of warmth on all sides. Remus kept talking even as drowsiness began to set in, a sprite cradled up against the heartbeat of a bear shifter. Heh. He had always wanted to cuddle something that could maul him.

Remus knew the warmth rekindling in his chest was his spark. Still, it felt a little like hope, too.

… Blech, Roman had been rubbing off on him.

He’d have to return the favor once they were reunited.

#sanders sides g/t #fantasy au #ts remus #ts logan #a still glowing ember #asge #my writing #writing #i almost forgot it was saturday. shout out to bk forever

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thorns-and-rosewings · 6 months

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So I have decided to essentially just write out what ideas have come to me for my Reaper Killcode, he's got his own little AU now that I will just call the Reaper King AU 💀 I will warn this is a looong one. Though I will answer questions about this just like with Seraphim AU🔥 if anyone's interested:)

I will write more out later as I sadly have some other stuff to get too atm... 😅

TW: Definitely going to be touching on some darker topics here, particularly murder and abusive situations so you've been warned.

Part 1...

1) Reaper Killcode is created by Ruin from the wreckage of Solars Moon, as his Killcode was active and could be salvaged from the remains.

2) However upon his activation and coming to consciousness... He pretty much disregarded Ruin immediately. Moving forward only to appease his bloodthirsty coding.

-Ruin did not like being disrespected, but he couldn't deny that Killcode was undoubtedly going to create havoc as intended... Although he still voiced his annoyance to the dust bunnies later...

3) Killcode went on a slaughter that would shame even Bloodmoon and eventually he finds his way to Stitchwraith... And it ends badly for Stitchy. As going up against Bloodmoon was one thing, but KC is a very different beast. And Stitchwraith gets murked... Rather gruesomely at that.

-The scythe Ruin gave him broke during the fight, he later customizes it to function in smaller form, more like Deaths scythes from Puss in Boots.

4) Upon killing Stitchwraith, Killcode takes the core from his body and incorporates it into his body. Strictly for cosmetic purposes, as he is unaware of the cores importance or nature.

5) Conveniently at that moment Bloodmoon broke into Stitchwraiths new lair looking for payback... Only to find a twisted heap of metal and his resurrected former father figure. To which he even kinda fell on his ass in surprise before screaming 'Father?! You came back from the grave?!'

6) That made Reaper KC pause... Being called a father genuinely made him stop and it stirred something in him. Something he didn't understand... But it wasn't unpleasant.

7) Long story made short, KC takes Bloodmoon under his wing and they leave together to go create chaos and havoc.

8) Killcode grows to genuinely care and is protective of Bloodmoon. While the Bloodtwins are more on the wary side of their new 'father' as they are far to used to being tricked into being someone else's tool... let alone how things ended with the previous KC.

9) As time goes by Killcode develops a set of morals that grow to govern how he kills his victims and he sets out three 'Laws' that both he and Bloodmoon must abide by.

-Never kill children

-Never kill anyone truly incapable of fighting back

-Never kill anyone you are indebted too

10) Naturally Bloodmoon HATES any kind of rules. But... The fact these are not just rules for Bloody, but he's giving himself these rules as well makes it slightly more tolerable. And again, Bloodmoon can TELL how powerful this KC is and how they still need to play things safe...

11) Ruin eventually starts to antagonize Killcode with electric shocks, similar to the system he built into the twins. This gets KC seething mad and he and Bloodmoon come storming back to the Pizzaplex Daycare looking to kill Ruin, but he will happily start killing anyone in his path so... Bad times are about to be had.

12) However luck is on the side of the Celestial family and they manage to knock Reaper Killcode and Bloodmoon into the portal and send them into a random different universe. Not only (Hopefully) ending the threat of the murderous duo, but also getting the core far away from the Creators grasp.

-Boy was the Creator miffed at that...

13) Deposited in a random new universe with seemingly no way to return home, the first thing Killcode knows that they need to do is to assess exactly where they currently are and what they will do next.

14) Turns out they were teleported into the middle of a National Forest/Park in another universe. It's a large mountainus region with a few different hiking trails and camping areas. There are also old mine tunnels and caverns particularly within the largest mountain in the very heart of this region.

15) There are also several small towns in the vicinity of this park, between this and the plentiful amount of tourists and park staff it was only natural that Killcode and Bloodmoon choose this location to be their new home.

-They set up their actual home in one of the most spacious caverns inside the mountain and furnish it with a few items that they can scavenge.

16) What is also interesting is that this region is also home to a unique breed of wolves that can only be found here. Called 'Moon Wolves' due to the unique patterns within their fur. The breed is marked 'Critically Endangered' due to immense poaching and overhunting. Killcode grows very fond of these wolves and essentially tames the pack. Especially one of the larger wolves, which he names Muerte.

-They're his dogs...

17) At first Bloodmoon isn't too fond of this. As he's definitely not fond of animals he can't kill. But that changes as he sees this one of the smaller wolves that bears a unique, yet ugly deformity... Essentially having two heads...

-That one becomes Bloodmoons puppy...

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aniwahstan · 1 year

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The one where Regulus knows that Remus is a werewolf

“How?” James scratches his head trying to remember if he perhaps slipped one of the nights that they shared wine or whiskey. Perhaps he talks in his sleep and Regulus failed to mention it.

“James.” Regulus rolls his eyes without looking up from his book. “You have made some weak excuse to not spend the night with me nearly every full moon for two years. I actually thought maybe it was you until I found out you're an animagus yourself. Werewolves can’t be both. Did you know?”

Regulus is sometimes too perceptive for his own good. James truly thought he was getting away with it. He figured he would have noticed if Regulus had suspicions. He’s far too skilled in his control. In keeping his secrets hidden. James would have been none the wiser had he not plainly admitted he knew about Remus’ affliction moments before.

“I did know that,” James responds. He’s impressed. And mildly annoyed that Regulus holds so much of his knowledge privately when James feels like an open book.

“I assume my brother and Peter share your ability?” Regulus asks it nonchalantly, and leaves James stunned once again. He really needs to get better at keeping secrets.

“Erm…” James fills the space with the awkward word. Regulus is enjoying seeing him squirm under the pressure of revealing all of his mate’s crimes.

“No offense, James, but if anyone is wise to the fact that any of you are an animagus, they’re going to figure out pretty quickly that you all are. Sirius calls you Prongs, for Merlin’s sake. You all call Remus Moony. Not exactly subtle nicknames.”

It’s a fair point. When they created their nicknames in fourth year, it hadn’t occurred to them that it was a tell. They were young and naive. They thought they would remain the untouchable Marauders forever. The nicknames have become so ingrained in their friendships it’s second nature to switch back and forth between their given names and the nicknames regardless of their present company. James makes a mental note to remind his mates to use caution with them moving forward.

“Does it hurt having to carry around all that information all the time?” James relents to the fact that he may never be able to keep a secret from Regulus. He’s too observant. Too clever. Regulus' lip quirks up as he continues reading his book. James knows he won’t acknowledge nor accept the compliment. He pulls his face from the book and forces him to look up at him. He kisses the forehead that contains Regulus’ brilliant mind.

#jegulus #regulus always be one step ahead #james potter #regulus black #starchaser #jegulus fic #marauders #remus lupin #jegulus microfic #James is impressed and scared of how smart his bbg is

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 7 months

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Sketchbook Week Day 6 - Feast For The Eyes

Summary: Johanna is a cake artist who makes the most beautiful cakes in town. One day, she meets a new client who sounds a lot less certain about what she wants than she would have liked to be. And not just about her cake order, unfortunately.

Notes: Written for the @sketchbookweek day 6 prompt - Artist

Though tbh at one point this begins sounding like it was written for sun/moon. I promise it wasn’t, idk what happened (jk I do know. I got carried away by the fact that I dyed the docs in which I wrote this a pastel yellow and the symbolism and association got away from me)

Read it on ao3

They say you eat with your eyes first.

The saying had never made a lot of sense to Kaisa, to whom a frozen meal was the extent of her abilities in the kitchen. Food was just a way to keep her body up and moving, an obligation for when her hands started shaking and she felt grumpy all of sudden. If she stretched it, she could even go as far as saying that it was an excuse to spend time with the people she loved.

But this. This wasn’t food. Not like Kaisa knew it.

This was art.

The cake shop had been recommended to her by her wedding planner, and now she hadn’t a clue how she hadn’t heard about it before. Just looking at the showcase from the sidewalk had her gasping, and walking inside made her actually scared she’d damage some of those cakes just by existing near them. Kaisa was surrounded by piping work that flourished into almost realistic flowers, carved modelling chocolate figures that could very well have been found inside a toy store, tempered chocolate sculptures she was certain an engineer would have a hard time making. That was to say nothing of the colours, the drawings, the rice paper details, and the sheer height of some of the cakes she was looking at.

Yes, this would be it. Their cake would have to come from this shop, because Kaisa was sure nobody else would be able to do a better job of it. Whatever she ordered would be the best, and that was just perfect because the best was exactly what her bride deserved.

Adeline was already being put through the hardship of marrying her, after all.

The last drop for Kaisa was when she saw a cake that simply acted as if gravity was a mere detail it could ignore, with it’s icing covered in perfectly piped flowers and weeds and a watering can on top of it raining down ‘water’ upon the garden of buttercream, like it was being held by an invisible hand.

“Shut up!” She whispered to herself as she inspected the cake much closer than she probably should, trying to find the structure that was holding it up for the sake of her own sanity, but to no avail. Her soul damn nearly jumped out of her body when she heard someone chuckle behind her. She’d been so enthralled by the cakes that the thought to check if there was anyone by the counter hadn’t even occurred to her.

Kaisa jumped away from the cake - it felt like being caught red handed even if she had just been looking - and turned in the direction the chuckle had come from. It had indeed come from behind the glass counter, inside of which there were even more cake models. A woman stood there, gazing at her with amusement twinkling in her eyes. Mortifyingly, Kaisa’s first instinct was to say something extremely rude like ‘get out of here!’. She didn’t, of course, but she was beginning to feel like she’d stepped into some sort of cake wonderland. There was no way that woman was real. With her kind warm eyes and perfect auburn curls, skin rosy and peppered with the odd freckle, apron smeared with icing and buttercream of different colours making her look like a walking rainbow. Not to mention that her height made Kaisa feel small, not like a mouse or a bug but more like a queen’s loyal subject.

There was no way this woman was real. She looked more like a fairy, or maybe an angel than like a human being. And yet, she fit perfectly inside the cake shop, like she was the ultimate creation inside of it.

“Like what you see?” The woman asked with a smile, and of course, of course, her voice sounded like honey and warm chocolate ganache. Kaisa would deny it to her grave, but she blushed deeply at the question, terrified for a couple of mortifying seconds that she’d been caught staring at the woman’s beauty - while on the hunt for a wedding cake, of all things - before realising that she’d been looking at the cakes.

“Oh, yes!” She amended as quickly as she could, knowing that the moments of stretched silence weren’t ideal and that she’d been at fault for letting them exist at all. “These are - I’d say impressive, but that doesn't even begin to cover it. Like, wow. I can screw up a box mix cake, so you can imagine what looking at these feels like to me.”

It seemed to have been enough to remedy her awkwardness, because the angel at the counter smiled at her. Encouraged, Kaisa continued, stepping closer since she supposed it was generally what you did when you had to talk to another person. Even if that meant feeling the effect of that so very warm gaze even more strongly. Certainly that was why her face was heating up.

“Seriously, I have no idea how come I had never heard about this place before. Though it probably has something to do with never leaving my house.” She was fully aware that she was rambling by now, but the angel’s smile never dimmed. “My compliments to the chef, or whatever it is I’m supposed to say. Tell them that if they decided to credit their talent to some divine miracle I’d be more inclined to become religious, or something.”

At that, the other woman threw her head back and laughed, and fuck Kaisa had been right. She hadn’t been to church since she was very young, but that had to be what a heavenly choir sounded like. There was a single beam of direct sunshine making it through the trees on the sidewalk and the cakes in the showcase, and it hit the angel across the face making her brown irises shine with golden specks. Kaisa was reasonably sure she wasn’t making it out of this cake shop alive.

Except she was, because she was in love with someone else. That was enough for her. It should be enough for her.

“Message delivered.” Said the angel with a quirk to her lips. Kaisa blinked.

“What, this quickly?”

When a raised eyebrow was all the answer she got, Kaisa entertained the possibility of melting into a puddle of goo. Slamming her forehead on the glass counter also felt like a viable option, though she could see the merits in simply running away as well.

“Ugh, sorry. I’m not generally this much of a mess.” A lie, clearly, but the angel didn’t need to know that. “It’s just nerves, I guess. So you’re the owner of this shop?”

Extending one hand towards Kaisa, the woman smiled again, and she’d have to stop that, she’d really have to stop that because otherwise Kaisa might just drop her heart by her feet. There was flour and some other colourful smudges on her hand, but the librarian paid it no mind as she took the handshake.

“Yes, I am! I’m Johanna, it’s a pleasure to meet you. How can I help?”

“I need a cake.”

She was proud of herself for not saying something like ‘the pleasure is all mine’ (no way she’d be able to make herself sound not so bizarrely sincere saying that) and to even be able to speak at all after getting a name for the angel. Johanna. It was fitting. Warm. Reminded her of apple picking in the autumn. She was not, however, proud that she’d told the cake baker, in a cake shop that she needed a cake. It reminded her of all the patrons who had ever come to her to say they needed a book (in the library, to the librarian) and had earned an eye roll from her. Johanna, however, only nodded.

“Just to eat, or decorated as well?”

It surprised Kaisa that there was even a choice. She would never have thought to offend the woman’s artistic skills by just wanting to eat one of her cakes.

“Decorated, I suppose. It’s for, uh, it’s for my wedding.”

There was a long pause. Johanna’s smile seemed frozen for a second, and then it widened into a grin. Happy for her, of course she was. Why would a stranger feel at all disappointed that she was getting married? Or, an even better question, why would Kaisa care?

“Oh, congratulations! I suppose you’ll want a custom design, then?”

Will she? Kaisa had no idea, she just knew she’d been put on cake duty and was trying to do a moderately decent job of it. She was willing to trust absolutely anything the woman in front of her told her about it, though, so she just nodded.

“Yep. That’s about right. We’ll have about fifty guests, I guess.” Not that Kaisa even knew that many people. She’d invited her mother, sister, and best friend. Also her bosses, even if they sucked. Best to not let them know she hated them, and all that. The rest of them were all Adeline’s, seeing as her extended family all kept in contact with each other and their community was actually knit very tightly. Kaisa was happy for her, of course, but she didn’t really look forward to an evening of being introduced to people whose names she’d forget not a minute later. “I know that and our favourite cake flavours. I was hoping you’d be able to help me with the rest of the details.”

Though she’d almost been expecting to be called an idiot and told to come back when she had a clue about what she wanted, Johanna merely nodded. “Alright! Well, generally for custom designs I like to sit down with my clients for us to come up with the cake together. If that’s fine by you, you could come back - tomorrow, maybe? - and we could go over some ideas. I’m afraid I can’t be of help right now since one of my employees had an emergency so I’ve been having to double as a cashier today.”

“Oh, no worries.” I’ll see her tomorrow too! “That’s understandable.”

Johanna flashed her a grateful smile. “Why don’t you take our catalogue with some of the cakes we’ve made? Maybe it’ll help you know what you would - and wouldn’t - like.”

After she accepted the offer, Johanna crouched down and rose back up holding a small booklet that looked just a little worse for the wear. Kaisa thanked her for her time and wished her good luck getting through her short staffed day, and left with an appointment for tomorrow morning while decidedly not thinking about how she’d felt like she’d been hit by a jolt of electricity when their fingers brushed when she took the booklet.

…......

Kaisa let herself plop down on the couch of her dim one bedroom apartment. Technically, she’d been living at Adeline’s for a couple of weeks now. Most of her stuff was there already. But she hadn’t been able to make herself put her flat up for sale. Adele never questioned it, of course. Sweetheart that she was, she wouldn’t poke at Kaisa for something that brought her comfort, especially since that thing was the first home she bought for herself. Still, Kaisa felt the need to rationalise it. To tell herself she was waiting for a good opportunity. That maybe they’d find an use for a flat even though her future wife had her own house. That it was simply a fruit of her resistance to change that made her cling to the place she’d lived in for the better part of a decade. She rationalised if, because she was running from what she knew to be the truth.

That she was having second thoughts, that some part of her wished she’d never moved out at all.

It was far too early for this, Kaisa thought with a groan. This kind of doom thought pattern was reserved exclusively for after nine p.m. and the sun wasn’t even down, yet. She dragged herself around, making groaning sounds worthy of a low budget zombie movie, and forced herself into the shower. Any hopes of the hot water helping her to feel anything that wasn’t hollow were washed away alongside the dirt of the day (and flour, and buttercream), and she stepped out of her stall with her skin red from the heat.

Some of her comfort items had remained at the apartment, vestiges of a moment of sudden genius and self awareness when she’d been packing her stuff. She’d known she’d be back, and she’d known she’d be back when she needed those things the most. So Kaisa put on her fluffiest, worn down pyjamas and grabbed some of her plushies, dropping them by the couch on her way to the kitchen. After brewing herself a hibiscus tea, which she brought along to the living room, it was finally dark outside. So not yet nine, but late enough to feel sorry about herself, she supposed.

It used to be so much easier. She loved Adeline, she genuinely did. The woman had been her closest friend (considering Kaisa’s other friend and her antisocial tendencies, she’d really been Kaisa’s best option) for years, since they were studying Library Sciences together. They’d been by each other’s side all throughout the process of getting their first jobs, Kaisa at the municipal library and Adeline as a city hall archivist. It had been her arms that had held her through the hardest spots of her life, and her smile that she’d been faced with whenever she had good news.

Adeline was the funniest person she knew. The woman was kind and patient without a fault, and her excitement could light up entire cities. She was trustworthy, reliable, and understanding. Kaisa had absolutely no qualms whatsoever about the fact that she wanted her nearby her entire life.

So why did she feel like she was walking towards her execution?

She’d been the one to pop the question. She had kneeled before Adeline during a dinner at her favourite restaurant and asked if she’d have her hand. Yet now she counted the days with looming dread. The fluttery feeling in her belly weren’t butterflies, and she had no idea what to do about it.

Adeline was perfect. But since the reality of til death do us part had begun sinking in, Kaisa had begun to wonder if she was right for her.

Dating was one thing. They were young, still, and dating someone you don’t really have chemistry with was normal. To be expected, really. You tell yourself that either it will show up, or that you’ll both eventually find someone whose edges fit yours perfectly. But they were getting older, slowly but surely, and Kaisa couldn’t think of a single good reason to leave such a good woman, and neither did she want to put off an event she wanted to happen in her life, so why not? It had seemed not only like a good idea, but like a logical progression. It should not be eating away at her heart like it was.

Kaisa feels rotten for it. She was lucky enough to have found such an amazing person who actually puts up with her. It was beyond selfish to expect some sort of chemistry as well. She didn’t even know what that was, or what she’d been expecting. That whole sparks flying and heart stopping thing only happened in movies and fanfiction (heavens knew she’d written and read her fair share). Love in the real world was a choice. One she’d keep making every day until one day, hopefully, she actually deserved to be called Adeline’s wife.

The cake store’s booklet all but glared at her from where she’d left it at the coffee table. Like a fool drinking water to stop themselves from drowning, she picked it up.

…......

Kaisa showed up at the cake shop the following day, this time with an appointment and an actual idea of what she’d like. The cakes were no less impressive at a second glance, so it took her a second to orient herself once inside the baking paradise and realise that the face behind the counter was a new one.

“Hello!” Chirped the man, tall and lean with brown skin and long, slick, almost greyish black hair. “How may I help you?”

The unexpectedness of having to deal with someone other than who she’d come here to see gave her pause for a few seconds. The man was kind, though, and his face was carefully blank as he waited for Kaisa to gather her bearings. Eventually, she managed.

“I’m here to see Johanna?” She sounded way less certain than someone who had scheduled a meeting should. “She’s going to help me with a cake.”

The man raised his eyebrows in understanding, and gestured for her to come behind the counter. “Oh, she told me to expect you! Kaisa, is it?”

She nodded.

“Well, I’m Raven. Nice to meet you, miss, she’s waiting for you in the resting room. Past this door to the right.”

Following his instructions, Kaisa allowed herself further inside the bakery, past a wooden door that opened up two other options: forward into what was clearly the kitchen, since the double doors that guarded it didn’t go all the way up to the ceiling nor all the way down to the floor, allowing Kaisa a peep of the warm colours inside, and of the tops of towering stacked cakes. That, combined with the scent of clover and cinnamon and the clatter of pans was explanation enough. The other option was the one she’d been instructed to take, and she did, knocking on the door to the left, white paint peeling slightly at the bottom, before poking her head inside.

True to Raven’s word, Johanna was indeed inside and sitting at a wooden table. She opened a radiant smile to Kaisa as soon as her mind processed who she was seeing, and immediately got up to greet her properly.

Which was warmly, apparently. Everything Johanna did was so bright that Kaisa half wondered if the way her skin was feeling hot in her presence was just the beginning of a first degree burn. The baker got her to sit down on one of the other softly worn down chairs at the table, which made Kaisa realise just how homey their resting room was. There was a couch, also somewhat worn, and a couple of shelves with folders and recipe books. Pictures all around the walls, as well, a few showcasing cakes, but most of them being just Johanna with her staff. Two stood out as being the bigger ones; one of those seemed to be the shop’s opening day, a selfie that caught both the bakery’s front and the smiling faces of Johanna, Raven, and another man she hadn’t yet seen (but had heard his rattling about in the kitchen), with curly dark brown hair falling over most of his face and covering his features. The other one was a portrait of a single person. A young girl, blue hair tied back in pigtails, gap toothed and wearing a brown sweater that was entirely too big for her. She was looking at the camera - or, more likely, whoever had been behind it - with adoration.

“My daughter.” The baker said when she noticed Kaisa staring at the picture, and the librarian hastily turned to her to apologise for prying, but didn’t even get so as she was instantly faced with Johanna’s proud smile. “She’s at a friend’s house right now, but you could have caught her. She likes hanging around bothering Tontu or asking Raven questions.”

Kaisa tried to return her smile, but it was virtually impossible to do so, at least when you were her. The lopsided thing she offered could never have the thousands-of-gigawatts-generating power that Johanna’s had.

“She looks lovely.” Kaisa said, knowing in her bones that no one who had been raised by the woman in front of her could be anything but. Her heart squeezed a bit as she thought about a young person following her mother and friends around, all bright curiosity and eager gasps.

Adeline didn’t want children. They’d had this conversation, of course, and Adeline had stated that fact without any doubt whatsoever, and Kaisa had stuttered and assured her that the same went for her. And it did. Kaisa knew she wasn’t competent enough to be trusted with a child. It was fine. There was no reason to be acting weird about it.

“So-” Johanna said after thanking her and narrowly avoiding going on a rant about her daughter’s virtues to the new client, producing a notebook out of thin air. “Tell me, what do you have in mind?”

Not even trying to pretend she knew what she was talking about, Kaisa began listing off her ideas in the hope that Johanna’s expert mind could shift them into something doable. Even that was made harder by the fact that the angel kept staring at her throughout the entire explanation, though. She’d have had an easier time if her gaze had shifted to the notebook at least once, but it must be her modus operandi to give her clients her full attention, at least for that first part.

By the end, what they had was an idea about the flavours (tiers of chocolate and coffee for Kaisa, and others of almond and milk cream for Adeline), the decision of not having a shorter cake that was actually to eat and a taller cake that was just for show and simply decorating the smaller one, and that said decoration should include stuff that was reminiscent of the two of them.

What said “stuff” included, however, was a much harder question to answer. One which luckily Johanna seemed experienced in since she expertly stopped Kaisa from spiralling into a panic about not knowing what could even be said about her and her fiancee.

“What are you two like? Personality wise, I mean.” She prompted gently, and thinking about that was a lot more straightforward than trying to come up with symbols that represented them. That Kaisa could do.

“Oh, Adele’s intelligent and sweet.” She said with ease. Listing Adeline’s merits came as easy to her as reciting a poem. For all her anxiety, there were few people she’d even dare to compare to her bride. “She has so much energy, and for someone so nerdy and with supposedly boring interests, she has a ton of friends. Suppose she’s just likeable like that. Enjoys going out with them, being outdoors. I’m-” a miserable, lonely bastard. “- more introverted. I only really talk to a handful of people, and she’s one of them. She doesn’t tire me like most people do.”

Johanna had been watching her throughout her explanation, her smile growing bigger. She had one of those smiles that made her eyes look smaller when it pulled up her cheeks.

“Oh, you’re like the sun and the moon!”

The affirmation gave Kaisa a stop. It made sense, didn’t it? Yet the more she thought about it, the less it seemed to fit. It wasn’t that… well matched between them, she supposed. Which was just as well, she didn’t need that sort of thing. Sure, Adeline was a ray of sunshine, but for some reason, it felt wrong to give a meaning like that to what they had. Like it could put too much pressure on their bond and make it break when it couldn’t live up to the expectation.

Maybe they were a sun and a moon, but Kaisa didn’t feel like they belonged in the same system. She didn’t feel like they even belonged in the same galaxy.

Which was fine. They were the best of friends. They worked well together. No ill aligned stars made a single difference when it came to that. They were fine.

“I don’t think I’m romantic enough to go making these associations.” She answered at last, because explaining what was actually going on inside her head to the poor baker was not within the realm of possibility.

“You never know! The right person might awaken a side of you that you never knew existed.” She cooed, her smile turning compassionate. “But if it’s worth anything, I don’t go out much, either. Not many friends, other than Tontu and Raven.”

She blinked. It was worth something. A lot, really. Though she insisted she’d outgrown those insecurities, it still felt like a personal failure that her social life was virtually non-existent. But if Johanna was in the same situation, maybe she’d missed a memo and having few friends and staying home was what cool people were doing these days.

“What, you? Really?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “I would have guessed you had a line of people waiting to get to listen to you.”

Dial it down, her mind screamed at her, her mouth snapping shut as she processed how inappropriate she’d just been. That’s way too fucking much.

The angel blushed, making Kaisa worried she’d made her uncomfortable for a moment. If that was the case, she’d simply be left no choice other than to drown herself in the nearest body of water, unfortunately. No forgiveness for hurting a divine being, she supposed. But then the woman opened up a different type of smile, one that spoke of gratefulness and shyness at the same time, timid and leaning more to one side than the other.

It was just as beautiful in Kaisa’s eyes.

“Not many people think a single mother is the height of fun, I’m afraid.”

Kaisa’s heart skipped a beat when that sunk in.

Oh.

“Their loss.” In a rare moment of clarity, Kaisa just stated that and shrugged. She hadn’t a lot of experience with that sort of situation, but she figured that Johanna must have received far too much pity and fake sympathy which she didn’t need. Kaisa wasn’t going to add to that.

She didn’t catch the way Johanna stared at her in something akin to awe for a split second, but she did notice it when the baker made her attempt to get back on track, shaking her head and putting on her best customer service voice once more.

“Anyhow. Maybe we could focus on what you have in common, then!”

Kaisa sagged against her chair. “Well, we both like books-”

…......

Kaisa goes straight to her mother’s, after that, because it’s Saturday and she doesn’t have another excuse to not go back to Adeline’s house. It should be their house, now, but it didn’t feel like it. And she knew she’d only feel tainted if she dared to go in, look at her bright eyes and accept whatever she’d suggest as a way to pass their time, after having spent the better part of two hours pining over another woman. So she goes to Tildy instead, because the elderly’s sharp mind and quick tongue wouldn’t make her feel any better at all, not in the state she was in, but at least it wouldn’t be unfair to Adele.

It went as well as could be expected. Tildy had been cooking dinner when she arrived, and since Frida was busy with homework in her room, Kaisa put herself at her service without even having to be asked. Not that she knew what she was doing in the kitchen, that much we’ve established already, but following instructions (after decoding what Tildy meant, that is) was something she was well versed in.

That meant, of course, that she was more than close enough to her mother for her to pick up on her unease. That was made even easier by the fact that Tildy had been (literally) staring into her soul for the past few months, ever since she’d announced her plans to ask for Adeline’s hand. It confused Kaisa to no end. Her mother had always seemed to like Adele, since they were friends and also when they became girlfriends, and that much didn’t seem to have changed. Yet, at every chance, she hinted at something Kaisa truly didn’t understand.

It was off putting, after an entire life of understanding Tildy’s idiosyncrasies and oddities, to not catch the one that was aimed at her.

“Still haven’t changed your mind about a bachelorette’s, I suppose?” She asked when the quiche she’d been making was finally in the oven, after having tried to pry out of Kaisa why she looked so downcast and if everything was fine for nearly an hour.

The librarian chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, yeah. Me, my mother, my middle school aged sister, and a hyperactive weather reporter. Great party, that would be.”

Giving her a stern look that at least partly tried to convey ’I’m very fun at parties’ (which Kaisa didn’t doubt, but she truly was the only one in the list that was), Tildy scolded her. “Darling, don’t patronise yourself. You have many other friends you could invite.”

That made Kaisa openly snort, letting herself fall down to the same familiar couch where she used to read when she was a teenager.

“Such as?”

For the first time in known history, Tildy did not have an answer to that.

Kaisa went home after dinner. Her home, the little apartment that still smells like tea and lavender instead of peonies and vanilla and makes her feel incredibly lonely. She listens to cliche romance songs, and doesn’t think about her bride.

…......

For some reason, which she suspects has a lot to do with character flaws she can’t even name, Kaisa shows up at the cake shop again a few days later. She reasoned with herself that checking in on the cake’s progress was a reasonable enough excuse, even if she didn’t think she’d have the gall to just straight up ask Johanna to see what had been done so far. With her complete lack of skill in tone regulation, it would be all too easy to sound pushy if she did so.

No explanations were necessary, however. When she arrived, she didn’t come face to face with Raven, on his own in that part of the shop like she thought she would since she figured that must be his job. Instead, Raven was there, but he was looking anxiously at where Johanna and the other man she hadn’t yet personally met were carefully setting down a cake that was at least a metre high. As soon as she caught sight of what was happening, she held her breath just like all the others were doing, and a collective sigh of relief was heard when the cake was balanced perfectly on top of the stand.

“See? Told you it could hold.”

“You’re a madwoman, Johanna.”

“I appreciate the trust, Tontu.”

Raven cleared his throat loudly, causing the bickering bakers to turn to him, only to then look at Kaisa when he pointed at her and mouthed ‘client!’

The blush on Johanna’s face was entirely a result of the effort of carrying such an enormous cake, she was sure.

“Kaisa!” The woman squeaked happily. “I was just thinking about you!”

Fatal blow. Many dead, hundreds hurt, et cetera et cetera. Kaisa looked around as if anyone was going to offer her a script or at least a couple of options of what to say in that situation. Nobody was so kind, though, so she was left scrambling for something normal to say.

“You… were?” Nailed it.

“Yes!” Johanna brushed her hands against each other, making specks of powdered sugar fall to the floor. Tontu walked away to the back of the shop mumbling about cleaning the floor and something else that Kaisa didn’t get. “We were experimenting on a new pastry, and it’s your favourite flavours. A croissant with cocoa in the batter and a tiramisu inspired filling.”

Kaisa must really be a sight to behold, standing uselessly around with a huge question mark on her forehead. Johanna simply kept staring at her with that same kindness, while Raven began looking like he was pretending to not be in the same room.

“Wait, you bake?” Realising the downright idiotic question that was, she immediately amended. “I mean, beyond cakes?”

“We do!” Johanna chirped with a flourish of her hand that, Kaisa realised, was meant to point at a glass showcase in which she had never realised there were not cakes, but many different pastries. Which also brought her attention to the fact that there were chairs and tables inside the shop, which would make no sense if it were only a place to order cake in.

She really was fucking stupid, huh.

Though truth be told, she probably deserved some credit. Everybody’s vision blurred around the edges when they were staring directly at the sun. Kaisa opted for the easy way out: awful humour.

“Damn, you can decorate, you can actually bake tasty stuff, is there anything you can’t do?”

Johanna put her hands on her hips, and deadpanned with a completely straight face.

“Simple maths.”

Kaisa had no other option than to throw her head back and laugh.

“Fair enough. I’m quite useless at it too.” She admitted, thinking about how she’d been asking Victoria for help with her taxes - resulting in her having to trust that the woman wasn’t making her commit fraud, a huge risk to take - ever since she began having to pay them. “And I don’t even have the excuse of being an artist to make up for it.”

The baker’s eyes were twinkling when she looked back at her, a smile dancing on her lips. “You’re far too kind. They’re just cakes.”

As if anyone could ever be ‘far too kind’ to her. All the goodwill one could offer this woman wouldn’t be enough. An angel like her could only ever deserve more. “They’re masterpieces. You’ll do well not to insult them like that when they can hear you, it might decrease the morale around here.”

Johanna choked back a laugh, making Kaisa marvel at how her horrendous sense of humour apparently… hit its mark with this woman, somehow. Heavens knew she must be way too clever to actually think Kaisa was funny. Some traitorous brain cell offered her the thought that Adele only laughed out of politeness and affection most times, an ‘oh, Kaisa, you’re so silly’ type of sentiment. She quickly cut that synapse short.

Unexpectedly, as soon as she stopped laughing Johanna pulled up the chair that was closest to her.

“Sit down. I’ll get you one of them to taste.”

“Oh, that’s really too kind-”

“No, I insist.” The gentle tone still somehow left no room for arguing. Kaisa had the alarming realisation that she’d do anything this woman told her to. “It was, after all, inspired by your order. Just fair that you get to approve of it.”

“Oh?” Kaisa lifted her eyebrows playfully. “And what guarantees you that I’ll approve of it?”

When Johanna passed by her on her way to the other side of the counter, they couldn’t tell who was to blame for the back of their hands brushing against each other.

“Oh, you will.”

Kaisa shouldn’t have accepted the courtesy. She shouldn’t have sat down to eat it and compliment the pastry. She shouldn’t have been so glad when Johanna sat down in front of her. She shouldn’t have spent the better part of three hours talking to the woman, then. And if she did, she shouldn’t have kept noticing how extremely kind she was, and smart, and funny, and how they played off of each other in a way that made her think they’d never run out of things to talk about. And when she got up to leave, she shouldn’t have felt tempted to hug Johanna goodbye, or to brush a stray curl away from her face.

She shouldn’t. But she did anyway.

…......

Kaisa went back to the house, after all. Not their house, not her house, not even Adeline’s house. She’d taken to thinking about it as just that, the house, a miserable thing that belonged to no one and was only there to remind her of how ungrateful she was.

But that was just Kaisa, wasn’t it? Life could be a bed of roses and she’d still find a way to complain about the thorns.

Adele had been there, gentle and sweet as ever. They’d ordered in and watched a movie, and didn’t even pretend to argue over which to pick, knowing the point wasn’t really what they were watching so much as passing the time. Come morning, they had waffles for breakfast - Adeline could moderately cook - and discussed the book they’d both just finished reading.

‘Discussed’ might not be the appropriate word, however, for the conversation that involved essentially just agreeing with each other’s opinions. It hardly lasted fifteen minutes.

Which was good. It was fine. This sort of lining up of opinions meant there would hardly ever be any major disagreements in their married life.

So why was Kaisa now organising the romance books as if the tomes had personally offended her?

Ah, well. It was because they were full of drivel, of course. Ridiculous notions about there only being one way to do love right, about something as silly as destine being more important in a relationship then effort. They were pathetic. And maybe the fact that she’d read so many of them when younger was the reason why she now felt so unsure about a perfectly fine marriage.

Which she’d asked for.

One book escaped her clutches when she’d been holding it on top of the ladder, falling down with a thump to the ground; Kaisa bit her fist to stop herself from screaming in frustration. She climbed down hastily, part of her mind figuring that falling down and breaking her neck would be an easy way out of everything, to pick up the copy of Wuthering Heights.

The book had fallen cover down on the floor, falling open with the collision. The page it was in still had the pencil underlying of an uneducated borrower on one paragraph, dragging Kaisa’s eyes to it.

“He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.”

Kaisa closed the book and shoved it in the nearest open spot, messing up the entire shelf’s organisation.

…......

The bakery’s phone number had sent Kaisa a message to let her know her order was ready to be picked up. It made her spend the entire rest of her day with a heavy heart she couldn’t explain, like this last visit was more binding than the walk down the altar would be. She was told she could arrive after leaving the library, even if it would already be after hours according to their schedule.

She almost hoped to find no one there, so she could postpone this even if just one more day. No such luck. The lights inside were dim enough that no one would mistake it for open, but bright enough to make out the shape of Johanna, sitting by herself at one of the tables with her focus on a sketchbook she was doodling on. When Kaisa rapped her knuckles on the glass door, she immediately looked up and got up with a smile to unlock the door.

The baker took her inside the kitchen, this time, which Kaisa held as an honour. Certainly she wouldn’t have been allowed into the space where all of Johanna’s passion blossomed if she hadn’t somehow proven herself trustworthy.

“You must really love what you do-” Kaisa mused out loud, not even bothering to pretend to only be there for her cake as she looked around openly at the space. “-to be this good at it.”

To her surprise, when she stopped admiring how much more of an art atelier than a kitchen the place looked and turned back to Johanna, the baker was looking at her. Or staring, more like. Her gaze was so intense that Kaisa had the impression she could physically feel it on her skin.

Which was silly, of course. But if she was helpless to do anything but step closer, well. Did anyone ever blame the planets for orbiting around the sun?

“It was a sort of therapy for me, at first.” Johanna admitted, guiding Kaisa’s gaze to a workbench that seemed to exclusively have realistic cakes which used mimicking techniques to pass for other foods and objects. “I began when I was a teenager and not in the best spot. I took to baking whenever I felt stressed.”

The woman hugged her own middle, staring down at her cakes even as Kaisa walked to her side, as if she was cold. Which Kaisa thought was insane. No one so warm should be capable of ever even feeling chilly.

“And, well, when you do something so often, you inevitably get good at it, I suppose.”

Kaisa didn’t know what to make of her forlorn voice. “You go to great lengths to avoid admitting you’re just plain great at what you do. I’ve been cooking for myself for years and I’m still a fire hazard in the kitchen. It’s not a linear logic.”

Johanna’s only reaction was a quick, forced quirk upwards of the left corner of her lip, but Kaisa couldn’t see it. She continued speaking, because anything was better than this feeling that Johanna was sad and because she knew it would be her last chance to talk to this woman. After the wedding, she wouldn’t be able to come back there. Not ever. It just wouldn't be fair. Not being able to avoid falling for someone when she was in a committed relationship was one thing. Allowing those feelings to develop was entirely another.

“It’s better than what I do when I get anxious.” She remarked. “One of these days I’m going to run out of fix-it fanfic to read.”

The way Johanna suddenly looked at her and blinked with a confused face made her fear that she was about to have to explain what fanfiction was to another adult, but then she let her eyes fall shut and laughed genuinely, and yes, that was much better, even if she was laughing at her.

Though, for some reason, Kaisa didn’t think she was.

“At least your coping mechanism doesn’t get your blood sugar levels dangerously high.”

“No, but it fucks up my sleeping schedule, so it’s kind of a pyrrhic victory, isn’t it?”

One auburn eyebrow was lifted. “What, like you can’t stop and pick it up again the next day?”

“When I’m halfway through a hundred thousand word slow burn and having to make it past the angst part of it? Absolutely not. Would you leave a cake overnight in the oven?”

Johanna chuckled and shook her head in a way Kaisa’s battered heart wanted to think of as fondly, and her spirits were immediately lifted at having cheered her up from whatever had been bothering her even if now that meant they’d have to stop talking and actually get to business. Talk about a pyrrhic victory.

Her arms were still around herself, though, which meant that when they walked further into the kitchen for her to show her the cake, Kaisa could barely spare a thought to the jaw droppingly beautiful creation. Not when Johanna was so clearly gripping into her own arms in a way that had to be bruising.

Yet the angel maintained her smile.

She showed her how it had turned out with that perfect customer service voice that Kaisa hated for how robotic it sounded, even if she reminded herself that she was just a customer. They’d agreed on the toppings not being the brides, since that was a tad too cliche for them, but rather it was a modelling chocolate model of the tree under which they’d had their first date. The buttercream was a light orange, Adeline’s favourite colour, with accents of gold leaf in flower shapes. There were other details on the cake, references to books they both enjoyed, to the university they’d gotten their Masters at, but what Kaisa couldn’t stop thinking about, when she did manage to pay attention to the cake, was the obvious care that had been put into every detail.

Kaisa swallowed down a lump in her throat. It did not go away.

When she managed to get out of her own head for long enough to realise that Johanna was probably waiting for a reaction, she opened the brightest grin she could manage - hoping it was not, in fact, a grimace - and sang her honest praises to it. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong, though. Johanna only seemed to grip her own arms tighter.

Though Kaisa offered to help, Johanna carried the cake to the counter in the cake shop on her own. Probably for the best, too, considering Kaisa’s known lack of upper body strength. There, she placed the cake inside a box that was meant for safe carrying.

Kaisa had already paid for half of the cake upfront, and now took the exact sum that had been missing from her pocket. When she lifted it up for Johanna to take, the baker shook her head.

“Don’t.” She said simply, and Kaisa frowned.

“What do you mean, ‘don’t’? Johanna, it's your payment.”

“I know.” The woman opened a smile completely at odds with the sheer sadness in her eyes. “I don’t want it. Consider it a wedding gift.”

Mouth opened to protest, Kaisa found herself at a loss for words as Johanna placed the box on her arms. If Johanna hesitates before letting her take it, then either she doesn’t notice it, or she takes it as the woman wanting to be sure she has a proper grip on her creation and isn’t going to drop it as soon as her hands go away.

Instead of a vehement denial of the gift, Kaisa found herself saying something so corny that she’d cringe whenever she thought back to this moment in the future.

“How can I repay you?”

Johanna’s voice, no matter how much she tried to hide it, was strained when she spoke.

“Be happy. Please.” She blushed when Kaisa actually let out a small gasp at how honest she sounded. “Goodbye, Kaisa.”

As the bride walked away, she couldn’t help but feel she’d be indebted for the rest of her life.

…......

She could not go through with the wedding.

Kaisa was a creature of habit. Of planning. Of sticking to an idea to the world's end once she decided on it. So it was no walk in the park for her to come to that decision.

But she did, because if a situation was dire enough that she couldn’t ignore it, then things were very bad indeed. She hadn’t been able to go back to Adeline’s house after picking the cake up. She’d gone home, cried herself into a truly apathetic state, and scourged ao3 for a nice, long, fix-it fic about star crossed lovers. The first few she clicked on annoyed her, one had no paragraph breaks and another seemed averse to using commas, but eventually she found a well written story that scratched her itch.

She supposed she’d gotten very demanding in her tastes, lately.

She’d woken up sleep deprived and miserable, naturally, which made for as good of a day at the library as you might imagine. A patron asked for a romance book recommendation. She gave them a copy of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and pretended she didn’t hear it when they mumbled that that was a tragedy and not a romance.

Weren’t all love stories?

Back at her apartment, she called her best friend even if just to listen to a voice she knew instead of the same songs on repeat.

“Victoria, you’ve been married for a long time.”

“That I have.”

“How did you know you were in love with her?”

“I started asking myself questions like ‘how do I know I’m in love with her?’”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.”

By the third day in which she couldn’t bring herself to go back to Adeline’s, her fiancee messaged her, asking if everything was alright.

Kaisa had never been a good liar.

“I’m not sure.” She typed and strangled a sob as she started the next message. “I think I need to talk to you”

Her heart hammering on her chest, she attempted to lie on her side in her bed, facing the wall, and catch some sleep. Meaning she didn’t see it when her screen lit up with an answer.

“Me too.”

…......

The atmosphere was tense when they met up for brunch the next day. It was entirely Kaisa’s fault, though, because Adeleline was being perfectly sweet and Kaisa was just walking around like there was a rain cloud over her head.

“Alfur said that the bakery where you ordered the cake has great pastries! Why don’t we go there?

Kaisa shivered, and looked down to hide her shameful blush. “Better not. It’s too far.”

Theirs was not a conversation to be had over coffee and bagels, though, so they ate - and for a couple of minutes, it was easy and pleasant like it had been for so many years, like Kaisa had gotten her best friend back when she didn’t even know she’d lost her - and then went back to the house. Truth be told, Kaisa’s legs felt so weak as she followed her bride inside that she was proud of herself for making it without collapsing on the floor in a guilty puddle.

She hadn’t done anything wrong. She knew she hadn’t. But she still felt like she’d stabbed a loved one’s back and the loved one was smiling at her nonetheless.

They sat down on the couch, not even pretending there wasn’t an elephant in the room but rather inviting it to step closer and step on their heads, maybe. What were crushed skulls next to a broken heart? Memories of reading together, of watching movies, of talking about their days flooded their minds as they dared themselves to be the bravest they ever were.

“This is hard.” Adeline said, and Kaisa could only nod as she stared with an unfocused gaze at nowhere in specific. “What if we both say what we want to at the count of three?”

That could go terribly wrong. But Kaisa had always been helpless to humour her. So she allowed her to count down the seconds, each accompanied by a stronger beat of Kaisa’s heart, until one came and it flew out of her mouth before she could think twice.

“I can’t go through with the wedding.” They both said, exactly at the same time.

The silence that follows is nothing short of stunned. They turn to look at one another, sporting similarly wide eyes. Except Kaisa’s lips are parted in surprise and Adeline’s are beginning to shape a smile. Something like static is buzzing inside the librarian’s mind.

“Well, this might be a lot easier than I thought.” Her bride chirps. “Why don’t we tackle the ‘whys’ this time?”

Kaisa nodded dumbly, feeling like at any moment people with cameras and microphones would jump from behind the furniture and announce that it was all a prank.

No one did.

And when the countdown was done, they braced themselves for this time dissonant admissions.

“I fell for someone else.” Kaisa said with her eyes shut tight as Adeline breathed out “I’m aromantic.”

When they looked at each other then, Kaisa looked even more floored, and instead of smiling Adeline began to openly laugh, filing the living room with the joyful sound.

“What the fuck?” Kaisa exclaimed, gaping. And then her brain began trying to process the information, and the other woman’s laughter began getting to her and she repeated, this time with mirth and a confused grin. “What the fuck?”

“I'm sorry!” Adeline had to make an effort to stop cackling at their honestly ridiculous predicament, moisture gathering at her eyes for all the right reasons. “I only realised it recently. I mean, I’ve always known, but I think I was avoiding it. And lately I’ve had reasons to try to understand my feelings better. I don’t think I’ll ever feel romantic attraction towards someone. But I’ve come to realise that that’s different from queerplatonic attraction. Which… I do feel for someone.”

Kaisa nodded, listening intently and doing her best to showcase it though her body language as well.

“And I also noticed that that’s slightly different from friendly love. Which is how I feel about you.” Adeline took her hands; they had always been warm and delicate. Now they felt a little bit sweaty, and it made Kaisa relieved to know she wasn’t the only one suffering with nerves. “I know there are aromantic people who marry their friends, or their platonic partners. Whatever form of love brings people together is more than valid, I’d say. But I know it’s not what you signed up for. I know you’re a hopeless romantic, even if you try to deny it. And sure, we work well together because we respect and like each other so much. But I’ll give you honesty, Kaisa, because I care about you and I feel like we’ve been lacking on that front. I don’t think I want to marry you.”

They breathe for a moment, and it’s the most free they’ve felt since they could remember.

“I am so happy for you, Adele.” She’s still a bit stunned, but it’s beginning to make sense. A lot of moments from the course of their relationship were, to be honest. She had gotten the feeling that Adeline had been containing something, that she’d been forcing herself to go along with a plan she didn’t want, but she’d always brushed it away as being her own paranoia about being unlovable. How could Kaisa not be happy? This was her best friend, and she was finally out of her cage. “This must have taken a lot of introspection and certainly a lot of courage. Thank you for telling me. Both for trusting me with this information and for being so honest about it.”

Adeline squeezed her hands. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t trust you with, Kaisa. You’re still the person who I’d have agreed to spend my life with. Being aromantic doesn’t change that.”

She squeezed her hands in return, trying to convey all her feelings of fondness and gratefulness at the same time. It all made sense, then. They weren’t the sun and the moon; there was only one sun in Kaisa’s life and she had made her peace with it at last. Adeline was, truth be told, too sweet to be something as blinding as the sun.

It had been right in front of her the entire time: Adele was the earth. Calming and steady, the only one among them all that could actually hold life. Adeline was safe. She’d always been Kaisa’s anchor, and something told her she’d remain so even after this entire ordeal. She kept Kaisa in orbit with her gentleness, her encouragement, and now, with her bravery.

Kaisa could cry. She must be a weird sight, looking at her (former?) bride with so much open adoration when they’d just admitted to not want each other in that way. Adeline scrunched up her nose in a way that told her she was about to be silly.

“So…” She drawled. “Who’s your girl?”

Kaisa scoffed. “I thought you were my girl”

Adeline laughs again, and how come Kaisa hadn’t realised she’d been doing that so rarely lately? “Come on, Kai. I’m not the one who fell in love with someone else.”

“I know, I know, I’m just… relieved. I thought I was going to lose you.”

With a gentle smile and without letting go of her hands, Adeline bumped their knees together. “You’re never going to lose me, Kaisa. I may not be in love with you, but I do love you. Very much. You’re so special to me and I’m so glad we had the self awareness to talk about this before we could go through with the wedding and it actually got in our way.”

A weight dropped from Kaisa’s heart, as if gravity had been abolished and she was finally free to float. The moon could never lose the earth. But she couldn’t deny that her glow came from the sun, either.

Kaisa swallowed, unable to resist the urge to look away as she blushed with the admission. “The baker. Who I fell for, I mean. But I promise we never-” She rushed to defend herself, even if she didn’t know what from. “I wouldn’t-”

Adeline squeezed her hands again, knowing that would ground her, a perfect gravitational center. “I know, Kaisa. I trust you.”

It was all Kaisa could do not to let herself slide down from the couch all the way down to the floor in sheer relief. Not even in her best dreams could she have imagined that conversation having gone so well. And then her brain picked up on something else from Adeline’s speech.

“You… said you have a crush on someone? A queerplatonic one?”

It filled the librarian with a sadistic sort of glee to see Adeline being the one who turned a shade of beet red this time. She loved it when she wasn’t the one on the spot.

Adeline nodded. “Our wedding planner.” She admitted shyly, making Kaisa lean back on the couch and laugh.

“Alfur? Damn, Adele, at least I didn’t fall for a guy!”

Giving her a playful shove, her (definitely former) bride grinned. “Are you a biphobe, now?”

“Will it make telling everyone we’re calling off the wedding easier if I let you think so?”

Somehow, such a heavy topic didn’t feel like a minefield anymore. It felt like when they were younger and did stupid things just to see if they could get away with it, like writing utter nonsense on their essays to find out if the professor even really read them. It felt like they’d laugh about it, not only in the future, but as soon as each new remark came. It felt easy. It felt like friendship. Adeline giggled again, rolling her eyes fondly.

“Can’t believe you had the gall to suggest we have brunch somewhere just because Alfur recommended, just to then throw around the news that you have a crush on him.”

The archivist gasped and looked at her with completely feigned hurt. “And you had the gall to deny me my pastries because you’re in love with the baker!”

“That’s fair. Guess we really were made for each other. Platonically.” Kaisa smiled softly, already planning on bringing a selection of Johanna’s pastries for Adeline to try as soon as everything was cleared up.

“Does that mean I get my best friend post back?”

“Obviously.”

She punched the air in victory. Whatever the opposite of a pyrrhic one was, this time. Kaisa didn’t think there had ever been a win-win situation in the universe that had been so perfectly aligned. “I’m going to rub it in Victoria's face that she’s been demoted again.”

Kaisa laughed again, allowing a pleasant feeling to unfurl completely on her chest and make her feel giddy with it. They were going to be fine. They were all going to be fine.

“I really do love you, Adele”

“And I, you, Kaisa.” She says as brightly as she grins. “And I’m not ever going to marry you.”

…......

A few days later, Kaisa used her lunch break to take the walk from the library straight to the park in front of Johanna’s bakery.

She thought about going inside, but what the hell was she going to say? Show up during her work hours and say “my wedding was ruined before it even began and it’s all your fault, thank you so much”? That didn’t sound like a normal thing that normal people did - not that she’d know much about that - so she let herself fall to one of the dark green benches, the paint peeling at some places and making bubbles in others.

It was a nice day. Couple of clouds, just enough for the sun to not be hitting her directly. Even the birds were singing nicely. It felt like the perfect set up to go reenact a Hallmark movie, but she knew she was procrastinating. What was the hurry, though? She wasn’t on a timeline anymore. There was no special date looming in her future in which her entire life would change. She was, in fact, back to square one. Back to wondering ‘could anyone ever love me?’ and ‘am I even capable of maintaining a relationship?’

She supposed she’d have her entire life to answer these questions, now.

But before that, she had to make this stop.

Honesty had gotten her this far, after all.

Not that she was making any progress on that front. The relief from knowing she wouldn't have to force herself to do anything combined with her typical fear of failure came together to make a very potent tranquilliser, apparently. She sprawled herself on the bench, resting her head against the back of it, and allowed the rays of the sun to warm her, eyes closed and mind wandering.

When suddenly she felt the heat cease, and light was no longer making it past her eyelids, she opened her eyes to see what the matter was. She’d been expecting a cloud. Her heart began hammering in her chest when what she saw was a different sun.

“Kaisa? Is everything okay?” Johanna asked with her hands twisting in front of herself. That made sense, Kaisa thought. She should have prepared herself for that. She must be quite the image, thrown on some bench in front of Johanna’s workplace. Of course the dear woman would come check in on her.

“Yeah, thank you.” And then, because she quite literally had nothing to lose, she added. “My wedding was called off.”

Johanna blinked, looking around as if she expected to find some explanation to what she’d just been told. Kaisa managed a tired smile, lifting her left hand for her to see for herself that there was no longer a rose gold band in it.

“Oh.” She breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Kaisa said, shrugging. “She's my best friend. We aren’t fit to be anything else. We’re both glad to have decided to abandon ship.”

The cogs in the artist’s mind seemed to be working, and she frowned, something undecipherable flashing in her eyes. “So you’re… happy?”

“I guess I am. Happy to have called it off, sure. Happy to be back at my old apartment. Happy I won’t be getting a hundred new names worth of extended family to memorise.”

Johanna failed to hold back a snort.

“I could be happier, though, I suppose.” Kaisa said with all the recklessness of someone who had just found out that sometimes, when you asked for things, you got them. Who could ever have imagined? “There’s a reason I noticed I couldn’t go through with it, after all.”

She’d never allowed herself to appreciate how beautiful Johanna was. She’d noticed it, of course, much against her will, but she had cut those thoughts short before they could become something to feel guilty about. She didn’t need to anymore. She could let herself be fascinated by how her hair curled perfectly, by the couple of freckles dotting her skin, by her strong looking hands and the rosy bottom lip being bitten down on in her confusion.

“Oh?” She breathed, sounding like she didn’t know what else to do. Kaisa sent a prayer to any deity that could hear and sat up straighter.

“At the risk of making a complete ass of myself, would you like to pop over mine for tea someday? I’ve got this delicious cake by an amazing cake artist just waiting there, and it’s far too big for me to eat on my own.”

The birds sounded awfully loud during the silence between the invitation and her answer. It was the first time Kaisa reached for something she really wanted, telling herself that it wouldn’t matter that she’d lose it eventually, not if the other option was never having it at all. She had no idea if she’d ever manage to strike Johanna’s interest. Much less if she’d manage to keep it, should she be allowed the chance. But if she were, then she had no doubt it would be the most awe inspiring eclipse of her life.

Johanna shifts her weight between her feet. It doesn’t look like she’s going to say no, but judging by her face Kaisa doesn’t really fancy her chances either.

“I have no idea what kind of person you are.” She stated, not at all accusingly. Kaisa shrugged.

“Naturally.”

“But kids are good judges of character.” Kaisa lifts her eyebrow in askance. “And I trust mine. Hilda’s inside the shop. Would you come in and meet her?”

Suddenly feeling that reckless sort of bravery be replaced by giddiness, Kaisa stood up so quickly she was afraid she was going to faint for a second. “May I?”

Johanna nodded, face scrunched up as she attempted not to smile. Kaisa made no such effort.

“If I pass her judgement, will you go out with me?”

With an exhale, Johanna glanced at Kaisa’s hand, debating whether it would be weird to hold it.

“I’m not a very smart person, Kaisa.” There was no time for her to protest against that ridiculous lie before Johanna shook her ground. “I think I’m going out with you either way.”

Johanna was the sun. Kaisa knew that, because she was the moon, and who could ever be a better judge of that than her? But anyone who happened to be passing by them could easily switch them up. Few things had ever shone as strongly as the smile on Kaisa's face.

#... if you got to the end of this plz read my end notes on ao3 #it's too much to put in the tags but I think theyre amusing sjkdksdf #essentially though: this verse's Kaisa song is High Infidelity. Johanna's is Speak Now. Adeline is onto some ivy shenanigans #but evolves to ME! before either of the other idiots #theyre all living in their own Taylor Swift song and not talking about it KJSDFKJFD #sketchbookweek #my fic #fic: ffte #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda

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