#here's to hoping none of my art files disappear this year

[bunnies-n-bowties]

✧ First artwork of the Year! At the end of January...time sure flies. Anyway!! I realized recently that I have never drawn Princess Peach before, which is a crime because she's a big inspo for my persona and my aesthetic. ✧

✧ So, I decided to draw her in some of my outfits! Yippie! ✧

[nicksolemnlyswears]

May I please request headcanons for Han meeting and falling for a high-ranking female U.S. soldier who’s cynical about love and relationships due to being badly hurt in the past?

pairing: han lue x agent!reader

words: ~3k

warnings: none

notes: thank you for requesting! i hope this is what you were hoping for and you like it! had to include elle on this, she's a great side character!

-Mr. Nobody was the one to reach out to Han. Giselle was their link. While he and Giselle were not in contact for a long time he knew about Han and his talents so meeting with him seemed like the reasonable thing to do.

-After that first meeting Mr. Nobody almost disappeared, he was not the one Han was in contact with anymore...it was you. Mr. Nobody had many things to do so he assigned you to watch over Han. With his deal with Mr. Nobody, Han could live his life in Tokyo freely but he had to be available for any mission you might need him for.

-You have worked for Mr. Nobody for years. He found your background in the military extremely valuable. Not only were you an incredible soldier but you had other valuable skills. Technology, martial arts, multilingual, psychological warfare... the military had trained you well and Mr. Nobody reaped the benefits of their hard work.

-The time came when you called him. He met up with you in a small ramen place you discovered on your last trip to Tokyo.

"What's this about?" He asks, observing you carefully. He didn't fully trust you at first, he barely knew you. You're link to Mr. Nobody was the only indication he had that he could trust you.

"There is a device Mr. Nobody wants you to recover here in Japan," you tell him casually, sliding a file in his direction. Leaving him to read you grabbed the chopsticks on the table to dig into your food.

"Project Aries," he reads, ruffling through the sheets of papers. There were photographs as well both of the people who invented it and the artifact.

Grabbing the napkin from the table you nod and dab the corner of your mouth, "A Japanese couple developed it. If it falls in the wrong hands it can allow them to control anything in the world as long as it runs in code, including-"

"Weapons," Han finishes for you.

"Exactly," you say, taking a drink of the glass in front of you. "The device is kept in their home. It should be a simple in and out mission."

"Why me and not you?" He asks, closing the file and looking up at you. If the mission is as easy as you say shouldn't you have been able to see it through?

Mr. Nobody talked wonders about you but you didn't seem like much. He had never seen you in action, though. He refuses to believe your pretty face was the thing that got you far in this field. Han would be a fool to think like that.

"I have many things on my plate right now and Mr. Nobody trusts you," you shrug, leaning on the table to hold his gaze. Han had an opportunity here to work for an elite force and he was already questioning their authority. She doesn't owe him any explanations.

"Alright." Han clicks his tongue, standing from his seat and leaving the ramen shop.

-Your relationship at first was purely professional. Every so often you'd meet up, exchange mission details and go your own separate ways. Simple.

-As time went on and a year turned into two those meetings extended into drinks and dinner. Living the life of a secret spy can often become lonely. Han felt it most when he faked his death. All those friends he made in Tokyo he was forced to leave behind.

-The only people he had was you and Elle, who he had taken under his wing after her parents were murdered. He's glad he was the one to take the mission, if not he worried another agent wouldn't have been as open to saving the little girl.

-His cleared up schedule consisted of training Elle and becoming a sort of parental figure for the young girl. They only had each other now.

-You found yourself playing the role of a maternal figure in her life because whenever Han had to go on a mission she was under your care. Elle was the key to Project Aries, there is no one better to babysit her than you.

-Slowly with time you and Han became partners in crime, literally. Both started trusting each other so much so that you began including Han in your missions. You trusted him with your life and God knows he needed to go out more.

-In your eyes, you were friends, but in Han's you were something more. He had developed feelings for you, it did not happen over night yet it still caught him by surprise. It was Elle who made him realize.

"When are you going to ask her out?" Elle asks him from her spot on the couch.

You had dinner with them for the third time this week and it's only Wednesday. Elle has been here through it all, their professional phase and their know friendly phase. She's seen the shifts in their relationship and now she can see another one on Han's face.

"Ask who out?" Han questions, glancing at her from the kitchen were he was doing the dishes.

"You know who," Elle rolls her eyes. "The only other person you talk to other than me."

"Why would I ask her out?" Han raises an eyebrow in question. He's been stuffing his feelings down...way down, making him clueless they're even there.

"Because you're whooped for her!"

"You've been watching too many K dramas. I'll have to cut you off from those," Han chuckles, ignoring Elle's words.

"How can you be so blind? You literally count the hours till you see her again," Elle exclaims. She cares for Han, he's protected her for a few years now. Elle wants to see him happier than he is now and if you're that, then be it.

"Shut up, twerp," he dismisses her, shaking his head.

Elle was right though he does count the hours till he sees you again. In fact, you're always on his mind.

-You were blind to Han's feelings because you weren't looking for anything romantic. You've been hurt one too many times in the love department. So you swore to live your life on your own, you don't need a man to distract you and leave you stranded and hurt.

-It's why Mr. Nobody liked you as well, he knew you were unlikely to form romantic attachments. Hence, you wouldn't be held back in dangerous situations. Not that you were reckless, but the enemy would not be able to hold anything against you.

-One night you make a mistake. You had been out celebrating with Han over another success. You both went to dinner and then to a club to drink your night away. Somewhere in between the dancing and the careless smiles you fell tangled in his sheets.

-Han was equally drunk as you, mind turned off. Elle's words hung in his head to make a move and ask you out, but he kissed you instead. You reciprocated and the rest is history.

-Your night was fantastic to say the least. You let go of any reluctance and allowed Han to be close to you temporarily. You trusted him enough for that.

-When Han woke up the next morning he was disappointed. You weren't there as he'd hoped. You must've sneaked out in the early morning.

-That's the thing though you, let him close temporarily and that window closed as soon as you stepped out of his apartment. You're not looking for a relationship you just needed to let off some steam, celebrate, have fun.

-But your fun was his pain. This wasn't another one night stand for him. This meant something and you reciprocating that kiss meant something to him.

-He reached out to talk that same day but you wee off in Europe. Mr. Nobody sent you off on a mission that afternoon. You were out of Tokyo and MIA for three whole weeks.

-When you return and you meet up with him for lunch you act as if nothing happened and it peeves him.

"Hey, Han," you chirp, lifting your sunglasses and letting them hold you hair back. You were sporting a cut on your eyebrow, no doubt a result from your mission. There were bruises littering your entire body.

"How was the mission?" Han asks, trying to calm himself. He doesn't want to jump straight into it, afraid it'll scare you away.

"It was a bitch. In the end we caught them though, guess that's what matters," you laugh, looking through the menu.

"Can we talk?" He then says, calling your attention.

"What about?" You ask, glancing up from the menu.

"About what happened three weeks ago," he responds, his fingers tapping against the table. Times like these he wishes he had a cigarette.

"Oh that! What about it?" You say nonchalantly. You didn't realize that night was something to talk about. It was great but it was meant to be only for a night.

"Just curious if it meant something for you?"

"It was a one night stand Han there isn't much to it. Did you want it to mean more?" Your eyebrows knit together. It never crossed your mind it meant more to Han. You had assumed you were on the same page.

"Yeah, I did. I thought we had something, a connection maybe," he admits, avoiding your eyes. He's spilling his guts to a woman who doesn't reciprocate. How more humiliating can this be?

"We're friends, Han. I thought we both knew it was just a fun night."

"And that's all I'll ever be, right?" He grits, angry. He's not angry at you but at himself for being stupid enough to think you could ever feel the same.

"Yes, that's all we'll ever be."

-Han decided it was best if things went back to being professional. He took a step back and only did what was asked of him. No more dinners, no more drinks, no more casual texts during the day. He needed to protect his heart.

-He pretended not to care when you left for missions. He forced himself not to wonder every hour of the day how you were doing.

-You confront him one day. You had finished handing him his assignment and as he stood to leave you held his wrist stopping him. He looks at you questioningly.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you," he rolls his eyes.

"Really because we haven't gone out in a while," you point out. You instantly noticed how your friendship with Han changed and you wished it hadn't.

Han was your only friend. You worked with many people and you respected and appreciated them but they were colleagues. Not friends.

"It's for the best. I'm just looking out for myself," Han responds honestly. There's no use in lying to you.

"All this because I friendzoned you?" You scoff, crossing your arms.

"You don't understand. You only see me as friend but I see you as more and pretending to be your friend hurts me because it's a reminder I can't have you." His tone rises with each word said. The last past being exclaimed.

-His words stung, but you understood so you accepted it and let him go. You don't have another meaningful conversation until you're staking out watching over a Yakuza member. You had time to think and had something to say.

"You know me rejecting you isn't because of you." You keep your eyes on the building across the street, afraid of looking over at Han.

"I didn't ask," he mutters.

"Listen, please," you sigh. "I've been in relationship before and not one has ended in 'good terms.' I've never been the one to finalize a relationship either. In my experience, people take and take and they never give back. I used to be a serial dater, Han. Each time, I ended up hurt. I didn't know how to be by myself and once I learned I swore off dating. I convinced myself I didn't need anyone else."

Han hangs on to your every word. He understands where you're coming from but cutting yourself off from relationships must be one of the stupidest things he's ever heard.

"You can't let a relationship be determined by how it ended. Relationships are a collection of moments by two people and you should be able to appreciate both the good and the bad. Learn from it. People grow and their feelings grow as well. Some people are meant to be in your life to help you grow and become a better version of yourself." Han tries to offer you some insight on your dilemma.

If he thought about every relationship he's had and how they've ended he would have enough reason to stop dating himself. It would restrict him, though. He likes the feeling of being in love with someone and he doesn't want to sacrifice it just to prevent getting his heart broken.

"All I wanted was to grow with someone, Han. Together. And, yet they all crushed me down, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces of the mess they made," you shake your head.

-Did you have feelings for Han? Yes, you did and you made sure to hide them where they couldn't be heard or seen. His confession made it even harder as you kept thinking if it would be worth a shot.

-You trust Han, but you also trusted all those other boyfriends you dated. You refuse to be hurt again and loose him at the same time. The problem is you're already losing him.

-All you need is a sign. Something to push you and accept Han into your life completely.

-The sign you asked for came in a horrible form. You were on a mission and it had gone upside down. There was shootings, racing in the streets of Hong Kong, and lots of fighting.

-All of it ended up with Han being held at gun point. The barrel pointed at his head as someone held onto him. You were on overdrive desperately trying to find a way out of the situation.

-For once, Mr. Nobody was disappointed in you. You let the bad guys go to save Han's life, something you had never thought of doing in your career. Your rational thinking didn't work, had you been on your right mind you would've found a way to save Han and take down the bad guys at the same time.

-After you had done your briefing and gotten patched up. You met Han outside. He was almost reaching his car, he had to go back to Elle.

"Han wait," you call for him, jogging to catch up to him.

"I though you had gone home," he says.

"No, no, I was only getting a scolding from Mr. Nobody," you try to laugh it off. Were you really going to do this?

"Thank you for that. For saving me." This mission was different you chose to save Han rather than capture the bad guys. You played it off like it was the only way, yet he knows that's not the case.

"I would do it as many times as it's necessary," you admit a soft smile on your face. "Han, can you give me another chance," you ask, your eyes pleading for him to say yes.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm tired of hiding my feelings away and pretending i only see you as a friend," you say shakily, moving closer to him. "Please, tell me you haven't moved on."

"How can I move on from someone like you," Han sighs, closing the distance between the two of you.

-He pours every feeling he's felt for you into the kiss. He has to admit this kiss feels much different than the time you were both drunk. It's better, because it truly means something for the two of you.

-Han promised to never disappoint you and he fulfilled that promise. The both of you grew together and never apart. All this time you just had to take your time and find the right person. You didn't know it was Han at the beginning of your relationship but as the years went by it made itself crystal clear.

-For years you cursed at the word love and swore off relationships. You're glad Han made you see reason because if not you would've missed out on a lot.

-You would've missed out on Han's soft morning kisses, his hand on your back as you walk side by side, his whispers on your ear about how good you look, the looks he throws you across the room that you can only decipher.

-You would've missed out on the most fantastic relationship of your life.

-Mr. Nobody liked when you were alone but there is something about having someone to get back to that enhanced your performance. He'd glad you found someone to fight for.

-Elle was ecstatic when she learned of your relationship.

"It's about time!" She screams when she catches the two of you kissing.

"Elle..." Han warns her.

"What? You guys were always making googly eyes at each other and didn't do anything about it," she huffs moodily.

"We were not," you tell her with a giggle. If Han was crazy over you, you were insane over him. Once you allowed yourself to fall for him, you went all in.

"Yes, you were. Especially you with your fluttering eyelashes and the hair flips," Elle teases.

"Alright, that enough cupid," you mutter, not wanting to give her the satisfaction that she was right.

You were in love with Han Lue all that time, you just needed a little push to get over yourself and your cynicism on love and relationships.

[novus-ordo-seclorem]

Someone who shall remain anonymous because even my brother doesn’t know i have a tumblr:

“ First I want to say, I noticed some of your past journals about deleting your FA or not feeling like you're good enough to stay here. Please don't! You definitely are good enough. I wish I could draw as well as you! Stick to it, challenge yourself, find new subjects or species to attempt, study other artists' processes.. There are so many ways you can work towards getting to a level you DO think is good, and you already are! I think it's common amongst almost every skillset. Artists think their art is crap, Programmers think their code is sub-par, Athletes.. well I can't speak much regarding sports stuff but you get the idea. The more you stick to it, the better you'll get- even just naturally. And here's where my second thing comes in. And please, don't show this to him.. I've known him for like, 17 years. We met in a game called Furcadia in 2005 or so, maybe a couple years later. He seems to be incapable of sticking to.. anything! As soon as something frustrates him, he almost always literally destroys it. It's a love/hate relationship with technology that I've never been able to help him through. And I've tried, with mixed success. He just goes from 0 to 100 in a beat. And it's so hard to watch. He'll scrimp and save to like.. buy a VR headset, or build a nice PC.. and then fxcking smash the thing as soon as something doesn't work right. I swear, that fox troubleshoots with a hammer and his fists. He flip flops between being so desperate to have these nice things, to smashing them. It really kills me every time. I am so caring of my stuff, I appreciate what I can get. I dunno, I am not sure what the point of this message is. Just a little history I guess. I hate to say it, I was happy when I heard about your reunion.. but this is pretty much the outcome I predicted with the hope I was wrong. I thought, maybe finding this kindred spirit, a blood relation with so much in common, he might finally end up on a good path. But nah, he's stickin' to the same one I guess. I at least, can say, I don't think you need to worry much about him if you've cut him off. He may try to reach out again in a few months, or sooner, seemingly better. But it will just happen again. It always will. He's ragequit the Internet so many times, deleted all his accounts, disappeared.. just to come back like nothing happened. This usually results in "hey, do you still have xy or z? I deleted everything". And I always do, I've repeatedly saved so much art and data and stuff knowing he'd want it back.. Uhh, back to the point- I don't think he's gonna like.. go creeping around your house or anything. Though, honestly I can't say that with certainty. If he does start trying anything wonky or there's a confrontation, you should just do the normal thing and file a report. There are less eyes on him now than there used to be, and I don't think that's a good thing. None of what I've said here is or was an attempt to vouch for him or anything like that. I'm pretty much done with it at this point, I've deleted his credentials on any of the services that I run myself, and for the last time. I won't be replying if and when he makes his next comeback. Such a beautiful thing finally happened to him, and he trashed it. I just hate to see what a wrench he's thrown in your life. I hope this message helps in some capacity, and would hate if it makes you feel worse! D:”

----------

To put it all into context, last week my biological sibling found me at my job.  After confirmation (he had a picture of us when we were little ones in his wallet), we got to talking. And I heard more... and more... he’s a lot of things, including a reborn kitsune (fox spirit), and he draws his own comics in this very odd comic-y style...  he’s very intelligent, can program stuff- a vibrantly intelligent autism-spectrum man.  But he has a lot of negativity clinging to him and due to his upbringing, When I’m not working and i feel ready to talk to him again, I want to help him overcome these things... but I have to also remember to look after my family.

He’s already gotten upset with me and blocked me. Destroyed a $2000 computer.  I feel like... great. All of my family is ruined and fucked up... I hate it.  I can’t deny i really just hate it and I should have expected my brother to be a bit of a lunatic... but so am I.. just in a different way.  

I don’t know where to go with any of this... just going to play it by ear. And If I never post here again, ever, I’m probably dead or something.

More to come.

[shrimppebbles]

Happy New Year!

hello lovelies, here I present to you a very slight reason that I have been on a large hiatus: I made a save file!

this is a project that has taken me way too long, but I'm happy I can get it out right as I hit 100 followers!

currently only willow creek, all the details and download for the save and an update will be under the cut …

A Few Requirements:

this world is cc free!

you will need a computer that can run the sims somewhat decently, as this is very sim and item heavy, with lots of decor and such

not all packs are required, but these are the ones I own: Expansion Packs- I own all EP's except Get to Work Game Packs-Dream Home Decorator, Parenthood, Strangerville, and Jungle Adventure Stuff Packs-Bowling Night Stuff, Tiny Living Stuff, Paranormal Stuff, Laundry Day Stuff, Cool Kitchen Stuff

I made this using UI cheats extension but your world will function w/o it, I just recommend it generally

The Basics:

all of the willow creek lots are brand new — this means no renovations

there are THIRTY-TWO new townies and all existing townies have been given an updated wardrobe

there are also ELEVEN pets added to this save as well

the world starts in the Fall and with aging OFF

Some Specifics:

the very left lot in Crawdad Quarter is a combination of both a museum and library—since the lot is so big—it is functional as both, so simply go into world edit and change it between museum and library

I have also added a vet clinic and a pool to Willow Creek, to make it a little easier for your sims to visit those lots

there is one unowned house in every neighborhood and each increases in price point for your sims to move into

Magnolia park now has full accommodations for weddings, including an arch and full outfitting's for caterers and mixologists, as well as toddler potties and a "dog park"

The Fun Stuff:

there are a few name easter eggs that I've added that I hope you find funny

all the new households have their own stories and skills

there is also lore within some individual townie families—unfortunately however, once a household is removed from the favorited townies tab, all their relationships with townies outside of their household disappear—so no relationships between different townie households

Other Screenshots:

One last thing- if you use my save file and make any gameplay posts with it, I would love to see them! you can tag me or just use the tag #shrimpysavefile

Now what you've been waiting for ...

Download(sfs)

How to Install

before installing, it is strongly recommended to back up your saves and tray folders incase anything were to happen

download the file and unzip the folder

take ONLY the slot inside of the folder and place it into your saves folder, here is a the location: Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 4\saves

if there's a popup about a save with that name already existing, DO NOT replace it, that is a save of your own, you can simply change the number of the save in the name

open up your game and there should be a save called "The Shrimpy Save," click on it and run the save as normal

if you wish to play multiple separate saves and don't wish to redownload the save, simply click "Save as" in the options menu

Have fun Simming!

Just other stuff:

if you are unable to download the world for whatever reason, the majority of the lots are for download on my gallery ShrimpPebbles, although none of the townies are—so if there is a lot you see from the map or a townie set you would like to download and don't see on my gallery, shoot me a message on here and I can upload the lot/household on the gallery at my soonest availability :)

update on the situation for this tumblr: I am currently six months out from graduating HS, so school and work has been busy this past semester and has limited how much I post and make, but I recently left my job at an unnamed big craft store and so I should have more time for hobbies and such, like this, so hopefully I can begin posting more <3

Thanks to anyone who reblogs or likes my stuff! ya'll are amazing

@maxismatchccworld

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns​, my beta @demisexualemmaswan​, and my artist @cocohook38​. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part  is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @xhookswenchx​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @spartanguard​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @carpedzem​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @lassluna​ @distant-rose​ @courtorderedcake​ @winterbythesea​ @thesschesthair​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @batana54​ @it-meant-something​ @xsajx​ @therooksshiningknight​ @gingerchangeling​​

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded. 

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours. 

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. 

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath. 

*************************************************

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped. 

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him. 

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake. 

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car. 

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat. 

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside. 

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

*******************************************************

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward. 

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break. 

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now. 

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won. 

************************************************************

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on. 

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home. 

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps. 

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind. 

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep. 

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb. 

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position. 

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek. 

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual. 

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.” 

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes. 

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

[whatisthiscontentyouspeakof]

Guardian of Light

AO3  First I Next

Chapter 1: The End of a Chapter

(Age 3)

Marinette was young when she was taken. As the years went by she would forget the details of the day she was taken. All she’d remember was a child screaming, a carousel, and the feeling of fear she felt the time she met her Master. 

It made sense that she didn’t remember since she had only been three at the time. It was her Maternelle classmates, Chloe’s birthday, and the spoiled girl had demanded that the class celebrate her birthday in the local park, Place des Vosges. That was fine with Marinette, she liked the park, especially since it was just across the street from her parents bakery that they lived above. 

Chloe, unsurprisingly, was throwing a fit after another classmate had bumped into her, spilling their juice on her brand new shoes. The teacher was trying to calm Chloe down as she flailed on the ground, screaming at the top of her lungs. 

Marinette, one who natural enjoyed quiet situations, found herself drifting away from the scene to somewhere more calm and quiet. She wandered over to the carousel where some of her classmates were playing. None of them seemed to have noticed Chloe's meltdown, having too much fun playing by themselves. It looked like the perfect place to be.

She was almost there when she bumped into an older, frail looking man.

“Sowwy,” she mumbled, still not the best at pronouncing her ‘r’s’ or talking with people she didn’t know, not that she was supposed to be good at the second one. She moved to step past the man to join her classmates but before she could get more than a step away, the man grabbed her arm. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an interesting aura?” the man asked her. Not knowing what to say, but knowing she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers (unless they were her parents' customers and they didn’t ask her questions about herself), she just shook her head. “Quite the creative soul. I bet you’re quite the artist,” the man continued. Marinette started trying to gently pull her arm away, starting to feel creeped out. How did the man know art was her favourite subject or that the teachers had told her she was the best artist in the class. “Yes, quite the creative soul indeed, one that would be a good match for Tikki, but you have a darkness in you. One that would work well with Plagg as well, with the proper training of course. Yes, yes, you’ll make a good guardian.”

Marinette was now trying to pry the man's fingers from her arm, but the man had a stronger grip then what his appearance would suggest. “My Maman said I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” she told the old man. “Pwease let me go.”

“Good advice indeed. I’m sure they’ll be great parents to their next kid,” the man said, making no move to release her arm. “Unfortunately you’re not going to be there to see it. You’re going to be coming with me.”

“Let me go,” Marinette said as panic filled her. Unfortunately the panic stole any power from her voice, making it come out as a desperate whisper. 

The man crouched down so that he was eye level with the three year old. “I told you that I can’t do that Mariette,” the man said, his voice quiet so that only she could hear what he was saying. “And here’s the thing, if you fight me, I may have to go over to your parents bakery and hurt them. Do you want that Marinette?”

Marinette shook her head, for the first time in her short life, feeling genuine fear. She could’t find the words to even ask the man how he knew her name or that her parents had a bakery.

“Good, because I don’t really want to have to do that but I will if you don’t listen to me and I’m suer you don’t want to be the reason your parents get hurt.” The man said before straightening up. “Now I want you to hold my hand as we leave. If anyone asks you, you are my granddaughter. If you try anything funny, or that will draw attention to us, I’ll make sure that you never see your parents again.” 

Marinette hesitated a moment before grabbing the man's hand. Unnoticed by anyone, the two of them left the park. It would be years before Marinette would step foot in Paris again. 

 Three hours later, when parents were picking up their children from the park, Sabine made her way over from the bakery only to find her daughter nowhere in sight. The teacher and the other parents that were there at the time helped Sabine look around the park to try and find her daughter but it was quickly discovered that Marinette was no longer there. The police were called, and a search was set up around Place des Vosges and across Paris for the three year old. People were interviewed but no one had noticed anything strange or a little girl wandering off by herself.

Over the next few weeks the investigation continued as the search became national news. Tom and Sabine temporarily closed their bakery, using every waking moment to try and find their missing daughter. They made TV show appearances, talking about their daughter, about what she was like and that if anyone had seen her to please come forward. And if someone had taken her, to just bring her back and they wouldn’t be in any trouble, they just wanted their daughter back. 

But it seemed as if no one had seen their daughter; that she had disappeared into thin air that day in the park. Four weeks, and no leads later, the police had to call an end to the investigation. The case file would stay open but the police had other cases with actual leads they needed to focus on. The second a lead came in the police would start working on the case again, but until then it was put on the back burner. 

Another two weeks passed as Tom and Sabine desperately searched for their daughter before they had to take a step back. They were getting short on money and had to reopen the bakery or end up going into debt. The two of them still search in every free moment they had, running themselves ragged between the search and keeping the bakery running. Six months later their friends sat them down and told them that they needed to step back and let go a bit. Marinette wasn’t just going to appear out of thin air. They told the couple that the two didn’t have to give up any hope that their daughter was out there but it wouldn’t do her or them any good if they wired themselves to an early grace. As much as Tom and Sabine wanted to continue looking, feeling like they were giving up on their daughter otherwise, they could see what their friends meant. They could still hope that one day they’d be reunited with their daughter but for now they needed to move on and heal.

Three years later the police changed the file from open to unsolved, changing Marinette’s status from Missing to Missing and Assumed Dead.

Next

[blu-archer]

Cold and Comfort

Sickie: Hybrid Jungkook

Caretaker/s: Taehyung/Hosoek

Snz and comfort based. 

Poly pairing. 

Alternate universe

Magic and hybrids are a thing, this is technically a universe that I write in often but I’ll probably categorize it differently from my previous Yoonmin based one... 

I thought I’d post this since it’s been sitting in my files for a while, it’s probably not great and feels a little unfinished but I’m going through some stuff so it’s probably not going to get better than this... so yeah.. Sorry for any grammatical errors

Word count: 4894

****

Perfect. Because a storm was exactly what he needed right now.

Jungkook sniffled meekly as he burrowed his face further into his scarf, glaring tiredly at the icy rain that flooded the streets just outside the safety of the campus Fine Arts building. His studio class was technically still in session, but after trying and almost completely abolishing the wood block that he needed to carve his image into for his print media class, Jungkook was calling it quits almost two hours early.

His head and throat ached in a way that could only mean one thing, and he really didn’t appreciate the timing. 

His printing project was due in just over a week and his lecturer already had it out for him for the amount of times he’d had to skip class or post pone meetings due to clashes with his minor dancing course. He couldn’t exactly help it though. It wasn’t his fault that his schedule tended to overlap a lot.

Jungkook stepped closer to the double doors, huddling behind the one that had remained shut in order to limit the amount of cold wind that entered the building. It was pouring buckets outside. The entire sky was painted a dark charcoal grey, making everything outside seem a lot more depressing and gloomier than what it should have been. It also didn’t help that while Jungkook was quite padded for warmth, his coat and jacket were not waterproof, and he did not think to bring an umbrella.  

To be fair it hadn’t been raining when he’d left that morning.

He sighed heavy and rearranged his scarf so that his droopy, black ears managed to just slip under the material, making his neck marginally warmer. Ultimately he could wait for Yugyeom or Jaehyun to finish with their classes, while they didn’t have a car they did store umbrella’s in their lockers by the dance studio’s, but that would be a while still. And he couldn’t call any of his friends or boyfriends because they were all either working or out of town and he didn’t really want to make them come out of their way for a distance that would literally take him thirty minutes to walk through. It would honestly take them longer to get to him than it would for him to get home. He really just needed to stop over thinking the cold and rain and just walk now. He knew he was getting sick anyway, he could already feel the heaviness settling into his body, so a quick walk probably wouldn’t make it that much worse. Hopefully.

Before he talked himself out of it or his lecturer could possibly come and find him hovering in the hallway instead of class, Jungkook stepped out into the brisk and awful weather. He hugged his arms around himself and tried to stick close to the buildings so that he had some form of shelter, but there was nothing that could really shield him from the immediate sheet of icy water that smothered and drown him with each step he took.

So maybe walking hadn’t been the best idea.

His body trembled until it had finally reached a peak point of numbness about halfway back home. He had crossed over the bridge by the highway and was beginning to weave his way through the streets that held all of his favourite cafes and stores, but there was no stopping for anything today. It was like a spell had been cast over the town so that no one even thought to wonder outside. He had only seen a few cars as well, none of them stopping in their journeys – not even slowing down when passing by the soaked bunny hybrid. There was one car in particular that had driven so close to the sidewalk that the puddle it had gone through had shot up high enough to smack straight into his face. If the rain and wind hadn’t been so loud Jungkook was sure he would have been able to hear the water in his shoes squelching with each step.

He tucked his chin deeper into his chest, rubbing a wet hand against his nose as the cold caused a ticklish buzz in his sinuses. He could feel cold rivulets streaming down his ears, leaving him feeling uncomfortable and heavy headed.

He really hated the rain.

 Eventually he turned up at home, walking up the three flights of stairs with shaky caution after he’d slipped on the first few before sighing at the relief of being sheltered and indoors when he finally reached the corridor that held their shared apartment. He sniffled and shook as he fumbled for his keys, taking far longer than usual to find the right one for the door. His neighbour had passed him with a look of sympathy as she carried on to her apartment, seemingly coming back from fetching her small child from school. He accidentally dropped them when he tried to slip a key into the lock. He could feel his neighbours gaze one final time before she disappeared, in which he then promptly sneezed deeply when he bent to retrieve the keys from the floor. After a few more shaky attempts he managed to get the door open, taking off his soaked shoes and bulky layers as soon as the door was shut and locked behind him, almost immediately sneezing twice into his fist from the warmer change of temperature.

Jungkook let out a wet sniffle and groaned as he shook his head to try getting rid of some of the water that had soaked into his ears and hair. It was mostly unsuccessful. There was now a puddle of water in front of the door where he had been standing and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care about the trail he was leaving as he went down the passage to steal clothes from Tae.

He took his time in the shower, just standing under the hot water while his skin turned red and he burned the chill out of his skin. It was only when he started to feel light headed from the heat that he decided to get out, drying quickly to avoid the cold before changing into the softest baggiest clothes that Tae owned – it also happened to be Jungkook’s comfort clothes and had been since he and Tae had first started dating in high school. There was something about the scent and feeling of the material that made Jungkook feel completely and entirely safe. Perhaps it was because Taehyung had had the set of clothes for so long, and Jungkook couldn’t even begin to associate the items with anything besides his childhood best friend.

He scrubbed his hair with a towel, not feeling up to the effort of blow drying it, before grabbing the fluffy green blanket from Hobi’s wardrobe to drape around his shoulders. He needed something from both of his boyfriends, needing something with their scents. Hoseok had claimed that the blanket had magical properties purely because his mother had given it to him when he had studying overseas for a year, and it had kept him from most of his homesick thoughts or general dips in his mood. And therefore, it had quickly become a shared item for whenever one of their household felt down or off, there had even been a time when Jungkook had stolen and nested with it before Hoseok had moved in with them. It had been mildly embarrassing at the time, but if anything, it had helped ease any concerns Hoseok had had when he had first decided to try a relationship with two people – no longer fearing if Jungkook had just been tolerating him for the sake of Tae.  

The bunny got to work on heating up some of the left-over pizza from the night before, grabbing a carton of banana milk from the fridge before finding his phone that had surprisingly fared well, despite how wet it had gotten from his walk.

Skipping past the group chat that he had with Tae and Hobi to avoid any unnecessary concerns, since he didn’t need Tae to know he had walked through a storm when the witch wasn’t anywhere close to check on him, he shot a brief text to Taehyung asking how the little workshop that Namjoon had taken him to for the day was going, then switched to Hoseok’s contact.

 To: ~♥Sunshine☼~

Hobi, left studio early. Wasn’t feeling the mood… When are you coming home? It’s cold.

 From: ~♥Sunshine☼~

One more class, then solo session with a senior. How’d you get home? Gyeomie ask Jackson to drop you?

 Jungkook cleared his throat gently, taking his newly heated food from the microwave so that he could sit in the lounge and sprawl out on the couch. He looked at his phone again to see that Tae had answered him as well.

  To: ~♥Sunshine☼~

Walked. Yugyeom was still in class.

 From: ~♥Tae♥~

Learning so much! I met this really cool person that owns a crystal shop, so I can restock on things while I’m here. Might be home a bit later than planned but will definitely be back tonight! Love you!! Give Hoseok kisses for me when you get home!

 From: ~♥Sunshine☼~

Bun…

Jungkook quickly sent a ‘stay safe’ to Tae before he tossed his phone aside so he could focus on nibbling his food with little interest while he played some anime softly on the TV. He snuggled down in the cushions to get comfortable and emptied his mind of any stressors that had been plaguing him.

He doesn’t quite remember at what point he had fallen asleep, he hadn’t done much besides lay around or make coffee since returning from class, so he hadn’t expected to be able to slip so easily into resting, but he wasn’t complaining about it. He’d been stressing enough over his upcoming assignments that sleep was a blessing that he hadn’t been getting enough of right now.

*

Jungkook rolled over on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around himself as he did, hoping that he would just go back to sleep. He rubbed his face into the blanket, scrunching up his nose as something tickled at his sinuses. He sniffed and tried to ignore it, but when he realised that it wasn’t going to subside he pushed himself up right. Squinting in confusion as he realised what he had thought was still natural light was in fact fluorescent, the TV had been turned off as well. He frowned with a sniff. He was waking up enough to realise that it had gotten dark outside and that meant that he probably wasn’t home alone anymore. Which… would make sense.

It took a few moments for him to get to his feet. His head had spun for a bit before he chanced putting any effort into being vertical, but he did manage to stand and stretch – not waiting a second longer before grabbing the blanket once more and wrapping it around his shoulders. Making his way to the kitchen to find water, his nose twinged once more and he snapped forward sharply with a throaty “Huhe’TSHhh”, merely tightening his grip on that blanket before he ducked down again.

‘Heh’ehhhshheww … Heh’eehhhTCHsheww!’

“Bless you, Kookie.”

Jungkook sniffled and blinked blurrily into the kitchen space, only noticing that Hoseok had been seated at the table going over what he could only assume had to do with the dancers students.

“Thangks.”

Hoseok’s brows were furrowed with concern as the bunny hybrid just made his way towards the cupboard to drag out a glass before taking it to the fridge to find cold water. Jungkook wanted to cringe at how wet his sniffling had now become but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“How you feeling?” Hobi asked, concerned but toned down enough for the bunny to know that he disapproved of his actions. The elder glanced away briefly to continue checking his exam schedule, not looking at Jungkook as he said, “The walk must have really gotten to you.”

“mmm…” Jungkook gulped down his water before he discarded the glass and moved so that he was behind his boyfriend, rubbing his face gently into the crook of Hobi’s neck even if the dancers body language had first implied that he was mildly annoyed. “I’ve been feeling off all day. But it’s worse now, my head hurts.”

That caught Hobi’s attention. He twisted in his seat so that he could hold his hand to Jungkook’s face. “You’ve been sick all day? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you even go to class?”

Jungkook shrugged. “If I said something then Tae wouldn’t have wanted to go to that workshop thing, or you would have tried to get the day off, even though you’ve been trying to work at the school as much as possible for your students right now. And anyway, I was hoping that I would be able to get some work done. I didn’t think it would rain.”

“Oh god, you walked in that while sick?” Hoseok pulled the hybrid into his arms so that his head rested on Jungkook’s shoulder. “My poor bunny, I swear you’re going to shave years off of my life with how easily you just disregard your health. Have you at least taken something?”

Jungkook grimaced. Hoseok let out a heavy sigh before getting to his feet and tugging the hybrid back to the couch that he had fallen asleep on earlier. Because of course Jungkook wouldn’t have taken something. Of course he would have waited until someone came home, and would have not bothered to mention anything about how he had felt before then – always quick to not be any form of immediate inconvenience.

“We don’t have much of anything left from last time… I’ll call Tae to pick something up, hopefully somewhere is still open.” Hoseok left Jungkook after covering him with the blanket, moving into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a box of allergy meds and a thermometer. “I know it’s not much, but if you want to take something now…”

Jungkook didn’t complain, merely dry swallowed two pills before allowing Hobi to slip the thermometer under his tongue. He pulled the blanket tighter around him  as he coughed – lips drawn tightly together to avoid spitting out the device before it was ready. Hoseok took a seat beside him, running a hand up and down the length of Jungkook’s spine. He peered at the hybrid with a heavy, concerned gaze as he waited patiently for the small alerting beep – pulling the stick from Jungkook’s mouth when he did finally hear it. His concern didn’t ebb.

“You’re a little warm… but that’s not particularly surprising.” Hobi murmuring, watching Jungkook’s lips fall into a soft pout and his ears droop further into his face. Hobi peeled some of the blanket back,  having to tug it a bit when the bunny gripped tighter, and half pulled Jungkook into his lap so that they were both covered by the fluffy green warmth.

He sent a somewhat lengthy text to Taehyung with stern instructions before he let his arms become a frame around the larger boy that had pushed himself into his chest. A wet nose pressed to his neck.

Hoseok sighed but didn’t put forth any humorous complaints like he usually would to lighten the mood, he had a feeling as much as Jungkook would probably try laugh at them, he wouldn’t necessarily appreciate them. So, he merely embraced the other, kissing at his hair line as the bunny drifted off.

 ….

Hoseok had been catching up on some series when Jungkook had woken up, wanting to shift positions so that he could lie length ways on the couch and use Hoseok as a pillow while he slept – which had maybe lasted an hour before he had begun to cough and rub at his nose insistently.

“Do you want to sneeze maybe?” Hobi asked gently as he ran a hand over Jungkook’s ears. “It might help…”

Jungkook whined and sniffled into his boyfriends lap. It had to have been over three hours now since he had taken the allergy meds and he was a mess.  The itchy feeling wasn’t leaving him and he wanted to sleep, or at the very least be able to focus on whatever series Hobi had put on. He rubbed his nose into Hobi’s stomach with very little progress. Hoseok took to slowly running his hand up and down the length of Jungkook’s left ear, hoping to send some sort of content through the hybrid.

It was mostly working, Jungkook sighed and relaxed his tense body. While he was still feeling the active buzz in his sinuses, a familiar warmth flooded his system and he was left uncurling his tightly pulled in body as the fuzzy sensations started to travel down his spine.

Hobi smiled. He easily forgot how soft and submissive Jungkook could be when he wasn’t feeling well, it wasn’t something that Hoseok particularly enjoyed to see, since the hybrid was usually sick or in pain, but it wasn’t all bad. Especially from the caring side of things. It wasn’t terrible to have Jungkook cling to him or Tae and seek general comfort and closeness more than being keen on isolating like he himself usually did. Or at least he usually tried to. Living with Taehyung and Jungkook had taught him that there was no running from cuddles.

Jungkook gave small pleased ‘hums’ as Hobi gently began to rub at the soft ears, moving in massaging circles from the bottom all the way up. When he reached the base, Jungkook subconsciously raised his head to push his ear harder into Hobi’s fingers. His body giving a light tremble as Hoseok laughed and focused his attention on where Jungkook’s ears met his hair, enjoying the soft sounds that escaped the bunny.

“Is it good?” Hobi asked teasingly when he noticed Jungkook’s foot twitching into a tapping motion on the couch. He wondered what it felt like. He had always been too shy to ask Jungkook about what he went through each time he or Tae played with his ears or tail, despite being in a relationship with the bunny for almost 2 years now and seeing that what Jungkook felt was clearly one of pleasure, he just couldn’t bring himself to ask the details. As a human he’d probably never understand it properly, and he didn’t want to seem jealous of it or something – because he wasn’t. He was just curious, and he’d much rather be able to be the giver if it meant seeing his bunny writhe and moan at his touch.

He’d have to remember to ask Jimin, maybe he could give a better explanation and pointers than what the internet did.

Jungkook moaned as Hobi found a particular spot right at the base of his ear, the bunny had been leaning into it so much that he was holding himself almost upright with his arms propped under him, hovering over Hobi’s lap now. His mouth hung open a bit with heavy breaths and glazed eyes peered through dark lashes. Hoseok rubbed harder, watching as Jungkook sniffled persistently and shivered against him.

“You okay still?”

“mmmhh, it’s good…jus-just ti-ticklish..” he sniffled wetly. “I’b gonna  sne-hih-sneeze.”

Well this was new, but not entirely unfamiliar territory. Taking pity on him, Hobi started to rub at the other ear as well. A deep bubble of heat burst through him as he watched Jungkook’s expression switch from pleased to downright euphoric. His breath stuttering and hitching as Hoseok become more determined in his activity. Jungkook was so beautiful, even when he looked like a mess. It was a hot mess, one that Hoseok had been a participant of creating. It didn’t take much longer before Jungkook was crumpling into his chest, tears brimming in his eyes.

Heh’ ehHHESHEW! ISHHHEW’uh Heh’EHHTCH’ahh… Hih..snf… Hiehh’TCHshhiew!

“Bless you.” Hoseok could feel the spray settling on the visible skin of his collar bone. “Are you done?”

Jungkook sniffled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh that forced him into a bout of soft coughs. “It still.. ugh.”

“Tickles? Should I fetch you tissues? We can coax them out if you want…”

Jungkook didn’t answer verbally, just sunk his face back into Hoseok’s neck while his hands clung to the elders shirt with an iron grip. That was as much an answer as he was going to get.

**

They remained in that position, both having fallen asleep at some point, until Taehyung came sneaking into the house later that night.  The witch winced as he accidentally bumped into the trellis of plants by the door that Jimin had gifted him a year ago when he was shaking water droplets from his hair. The sound resonating through the silent apartment with more volume than he would have liked. His wince returned as he realised that Hoseok was blinking wide, blurry eyes through the darkness in his direction, the only source of light being the T.V. that his boyfriends must have forgotten to turn off.

“Sorry, it’s just me.” He reassured softly before flipping on the passage light so that Hoseok could see him better without bothering Jungkook too much. Tae lifted up a large, damp paper bag that hadn’t been able to fit in his backpack with the other materials he’d bought throughout the day.  “I got some stuff. Most of the places had closed already but I found this one pharmacy that had just closed and convinced one of the workers that it was extremely vital that I got medication and stuff, so he let me inside for a bit. Praise that guy. Much thanks was given. A saint amongst people.”

Hobi let out a soft chuckle at Taehyung as shuffled closer to set a gentle kiss against his temple before leaning down and brushing the hair back from Jungkook’s face to press a kiss too his forehead as well. 

The witches brows drew together at the slight heat that radiated off of the hybrid. He ran his hand through the bunnies hair, giving a gentle scratch at his ears as he watched Jungkook cuddle closer to Hoseok in his sleep. The blanket that covered them slipped down a little and Taehyung was quick to tuck it back under Jungkook’s chin.

“Is he feverish? This came on so quickly, he seemed fine earlier.”

Hobi yawned widely, shifting in his seat but not making a move to push Jungkook off. “I thought so too, but he told me that he woke up feeling sick. He also left class early and walked through that storm to get home.” He sighed and Taehyung’s brows raised with surprise, his mouth slightly ajar as if he wanted to say something but no words came out. “I think we can be grateful he isn’t worse. I gave him some allergy med’s since its mostly his sinuses that were bothering him and that’s all we had, but they didn’t last very long. He was miserable for a while before he got to sleep. I don’t think he ate much today either…”

“…Should we give him something now?”

Hobi bit at his lip. He knew hybrids could tolerate certain things a bit better than  humans could, but he still didn’t like the idea of giving the bunny medication on an empty stomach. And eating at this hour… it must be at least close to eleven pm now.

“ If we feed him now he is probably just going to get nauseous. I don’t want him to feel worse..”

Tae nodded in agreement, still carding his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. “We can make a nice breakfast tomorrow and give it to him then. I got some new herbs and crystals, so I’ll make him some new charms as well. For you too.” Hoseok smiled at Taehyungs concern. “You still have classes tomorrow right? Yoongi is still out of town so I don’t really have to go into work. Namjoon is probably sick of me hovering anyway. Between him breaking jars and me doing the wrong measurements and methods, Yoongi may just bury us alive when he gets back.” He chuckled nervously, but Hobi knew that Tae had mixed feelings of disappointment and worry when it came to his work. “I just mean, I’ll be able to stay with him.”

“I know.” Hobi replied, staring at Tae’s downward gaze. “I think we’ll both appreciate the effort, Tae. I’ll try get home early, but it will probably be just the two of you in the morning. Just email his lecturers.”

 “Of course…” Tae pressed another kiss to Jungkook’s forehead, then to Hoseok’s lips before the elder broke into another yawn. “I’ll pack this stuff away quickly then we can head to bed, just give me a second.”

The witch disappeared, not trusting himself to try to levitate anything like Yoongi had taught him -he was still only getting it right a third of the time. So it took a bit longer than he planned, but he eventually packed away the food and goods that he’d gotten and left his charm materials and medication on the table to be dealt with in the morning. He re-entered the dim lounge to see Hoseok gently shaking Jungkook to a somewhat state of consciousness so that the elder could get up.

When Jungkook let out a deep whine Tae moved beside them and slipped his arms under Jungkook’s legs and back to lift him up. It was a bit of a struggle at first, since the angle was weird, but he bumped the bunny up in his arms to get a better grip and then carefully carried him to their room down the hall. Hoseok was a bit slow to follow, taking a moment to stretch and get life in his legs before he joined them. Jungkook buried his face into Tae’s shoulder as the lights in the passage forced him further into the land of the living.

“Tae…?” Jungkook sniffed, then pushed harder against Taehyungs body. “Eh’hii’ehSHHieww. Eh’iishieww!... … ‘m sorry.”

“That’s okay, Bun. Bless you.” Tae murmured. His shirt was still a little damp from the rain when he had to climb the stairs anyway. “Let’s get you to bed, Hobi is bringing your blanket so you can stay warm and comfortable.”

Jungkook nodded before sneezing again. Behind him, Tae could hear Hobi’s soft blessing and sloppy, half asleep movements as he used furniture and the wall to no doubt help him walk. Taehyung forced himself not to grimace at the delayed thought of how both of his boyfriends had kept him in the dark about things for most of the day. Hoseok had probably been exhausted from his classes and yet he had chosen not to bother Tae with any concerns until it was late, and Jungkook had acted like nothing had been wrong at all when he’d spoken to him earlier…

He kicked open the bedroom door with a shake of his head, walking into the dark room with perhaps a bit too much force. He was being dumb. This wasn’t necessarily about him, and he knew that. It’s not what he was supposed to be focusing on.

He set the hybrid down on their bed, opening up the duvet and encouraging him with little pats to roll towards the center, before he went and grabbed the ‘magical’ blanket from Hobi who was still only halfway up the passage – sparing an embarrassing chuckle as Tae picked him up as well – so that he could give it to the bunny before he started to look for it.

“You should change.” He said once he had set Hobi down and left him to handle settling Jungkook with gentle pats. He tossed some sweatpants and a T-shirt at Hoseok, before grabbing his own pajama’s to change into. “How was school?”

Tae listened to Hoseok tiredly ramble on about his students and the upcoming exam preparations while they both got dressed for the night. Overall, it sounded particularly stressful, and some of Hoseok’s kids weren’t the most hardworking – even if they had the talent to be amazing. Hobi more often than not would break down in spiralling rants about how they needed to work harder or at the very least pay attention in class. Honestly, Taehyung couldn’t fathom who wouldn’t be interested in having Hoseok teach them. The man was one of the most passionate people he had ever met, it was actually what had drawn him to the human. Of course now there many other traits that he loved, but Hoseok’s passion would always be his first.

He added a brief skim of his daily events, knowing that even if Hoseok was trying his best to pay attention, the elder needed to sleep more than he needed an immediate recap. Tae merely ended his tales by saying that it was ‘Knowledgeable and fun’ before he ruffled Hobi’s hair and jumped onto the bed, cuddling up to Jungkook’s sleeping figure. He imitated the bunnies deep snores and earned muffled laughter from the elder as he joined them on the other side of the bed.

“Good night TaeTae.”

“Sleep well, Hoseok.” Tae murmured. The lump in his chest from early slowly melting away as sleep dragged him into darkness.  

[trashfor-imagines]

How I Met Your Mother Father: Haikyū Edition! | 3

Ft. Daichi / Sugawara / Asahi / K. Ukai

Summary: How you met your husband-o! This is also the last part. Let me know if you’d like to see any dating / wedding / married life scenarios with any of the boys I featured in this HIMYMF series. I’m also not afraid to write something a lil spicy spicy dirty for these boys either, you just have to reply / message me what you want. ;) Warnings: None. Sorry for any typos. I’ll be going back and editing. :)

Part 1: Ft. Kuroo / Bokuto / Akaashi / Yaku Part 2: Ft. Oikawa / Iwaizumi / Ushijima / Tendo / Semi

-

Daichi Sawamura

A shove from behind sent you flying forward onto the ground, rolling your ankle on the way down. A cry escaped your lips from the pain and tears pricked at your eyes as you felt your knee get skimmed from the sidewalk.

A series of shouts became louder and were fast approaching. Glancing up, you watched as the person who had knocked you over scramble to his feet.

You tried to move out of the way quickly as a police officer tackled them back down. Another officer slowed to a jog, kneeling beside you while a third went to help the first officer make the arrest for petty theft from what you could tell.

“I’m Officer Daichi. Are you alright?” he asked, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder. He had sweet brown eyes and a kind smile on his face. Looking him over, you felt your mouth go a bit dry.

Hot cop.

You were today years old when you realized that men in uniform could do it for you.

“I... my ankle hurts,” you managed to say.

His eyes widened and he looked at your feet. He asked for permission before checking out your ankle. The hiss you made when he barely touched you told him it was most likely a sprain.

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Since you were injured, I’d like to get a statement for some paperwork. Is that ok?”

You nodded, allowing him to help you up. He was extremely thoughtful and careful with you as he took you to the hospital, holding your hand and making sure you didn’t place too much weight on your injury.

He stayed with you, even after he was done with his paperwork, and the two of you conversed.

Conversation with him was so easy and felt natural. He was quite enigmatic and mature, but every once in a while he’d let his silliness slip, telling jokes to make you laugh.

You talked about everything from your childhoods, your likes and dislikes, beliefs and motivations, work, and honestly no topic felt out of bounds.

When he offered to walk you home, you knew he was doing more than just his civic duty, but you couldn’t say anything other than yes.

You wanted more time with him.

“Miss (Y/N),” he spoke, taking his uniform hat off and holding it in his hands. “I don’t want to abuse my position, but could I freely call you and take you to dinner some time?”

And that was how you and Daichi Sawamura met, confidently marrying a year and a half later.

Sugawara Koshi

It was your first day of school.

Teaching that is.

You moved to Miyagi for an open teaching position for the First Grade.

Last year you were a teaching assistant, however the school didn’t have a classroom for you or a position teaching First Graders so you had to look elsewhere for work.

Invigorated by the excitement of your future here, you were all in and threw yourself into your lesson plans completing them within the first month before school began.

When you saw your classroom, you spent a two days decorating the ceiling of your classroom to reflect the solar system, hanging homemade planets and sticking glow-in-the-dark stars carefully so if you looked closely you could see the constellations.

You had 30 students, so you purchased picture frames, planning for the students to paint or draw something so you could hang them up on the blank wall. You had other art projects for the kids so they could decorate the classroom throughout the year, like making suncatchers and growing their own plant.

On the chalkboard, you wrote out the aisatsu (morning greeting) you wanted your kids to learn, as well as their homework for the first day: “Good morning. If we try, we can do it. Let’s do our best today.”

With your classroom organized how you liked and prepped for tomorrow, you headed to the teacher’s room to review your lesson plans.

The teacher’s desks were grouped in fours and personalized in their own ways. On your desk were a couple of succulents, textbooks for your classes, a cute twin bell clock, an architect desk lamp, and a framed photo of you and your parents the day you graduated from university. Your office supplies were neatly locked away in your desk drawers.

“Hello, you must be (Y/N) Sensei. Welcome,” sounded a kind voice across from you. “I’m Sugawara.”

Looking up, you watched as a man with light grey hair, hazel-brown eyes with a beauty mark under his left eye, and a gentle smile, set his things down on the desk in front of you. Quickly you stood, bowing politely before extending your hand. “It’s so nice to met you, Sugawara Sensei.”

“Just Sugawara will be fine,” he laughed, shaking your hand.

You smiled sweetly. “(Y/N) is fine for me as well.”

“First Grade as well then?” He motioned to the cluster of four desks you were a part of. “We get grouped together by year.”

You nodded, sitting down when he also made a move to sit. “That’s right. I’m really excited. I can’t wait to meet the other teachers.”

“Well between us,” he pointed at the desk beside you, “Yamasaki’s much older than us and usually sleeps at his desk.” He then pointed at the desk beside him. “And Nakamura is also older than us and I’ve noticed she doesn’t get along with other women.”

Your lips formed an O, surprised at this insider information. “Thank you for the warning.”

“We’ve got to look out for each other,” he replied, tidying a few things before picking up his briefcase. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

You could hardly sleep that night, excitement refusing to let your mind rest. When morning came, you were a bit early to school, a coffee and variety of pastries in hand. Dropping your things off at your desk, you left a note on the pastry box, letting Sugawara, Yamasaki, and Nakamura know they should help themselves, before dropping a few things off at your classroom desk and heading to the school gates to line up with the rest of the teachers.

“(Y/N)! Over here.” Looking around, you spotted Sugawara waving at you, that same gentle smile on his face.

“Good morning, Sugawara.”

“Good morning. I hope you have a great first day.”

“Thank you! You as well.”

You enjoyed greeting the students as the filed in through the school gates. They were so cute with their bright yellow bucket hats and wide eyes. It was almost too easy to tell who were first graders.

“Cute, right?”

You glanced at Sugawara and matched his happy smile. “Absolutely!”

When the gates closed, Sugawara asked to walk you to your classroom. It turned out his class was right next to yours.

You went through the morning routine with your class before helping them get settled in and assigning cubby holes and desks.

“Okay students, let’s get along, ok?”

“Okay (Y/N) Sensei!” You almost swooned at how sweet they were.

“The best way to get along is to get to know each other right?”

“Right, (Y/N) Sensei!”

“Today we’re going to go outside and learn how to make friends. Then at the end of the day, you’ll vote on your favorite person to be the class representative. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, (Y/N) Sensei!”

Lining your students up, they quietly held hands and walked in a straight line as you directed them to the grassy school yard that your classroom over looked, a volleyball in hand.

Having them form a big circle with you, class began with introductions around the circle consisting of their names, age, what was a dream they had for their future, what their favorite food was, and what was their favorite hobby.

Sitting in the grass, you started a game where you rolled the volleyball to a student and you would ask them a question about themselves, then they’d roll the ball to someone else and ask them a question. This game went on for a few hours and they were having so much fun, laughing and getting along.

Glancing up at the school building, you thought about how lucky you were to have such a sweet and well behaved class. A figure in a window caught your eye. It was Sugawara. He had opened the window and was leaning against the sill, grinning down at you.

He made a gesture down to you and your class, as if asking “What are you doing?” You bit your bottom lip as you smiled, throwing your hands up and shrugging back at him. Shaking his head, he ducked back inside his classroom, the smile never leaving his face.

Soon, the class went back inside and had lunch. Nap time was after that. Finally at the end of the day, you had them draw pictures you could frame and hang on the wall, and held a class election.

When school was over, you reminded them to do their history book reading for tomorrow and said goodbye to each student individually as they left the classroom, allowing them to hug your legs and say goodbye while you gave them a gentle pat on the head and told each one they did great today.

Leaning against the door frame, you sighed softly, smiling as the last of them disappeared.

“They’re great aren’t they?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smiled as Sugawara approached you, leaning on the door frame opposite you, the toes of your shoes touching. “They really are.”

It was the end of your first week and the day ended the same, with each student hugging you goodbye and you telling them they did great. And just like every day this week, Sugawara leaned on your classroom’s door frame and chatted with you.

“You really have a special way with them.”

“Yeah?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s true. Even the other first grade students have started whispering about you.”

“W-What? Really?"

He began to list off the whispers he’s heard. “(Y/N) Sensei’s so kind. (Y/N) Sensei’s so fun. (Y/N) Sensei’s cool. (Y/N) Sensei makes me feel good. (Y/N) Sensei’s the best.” He paused, glancing up and meeting your eyes, “(Y/N) Sensei’s beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a faint blush staining your cheeks. “Oh.”

“I’m inclined to agree with our students,” his voice dropping low so no one could overhear.

And that’s how you met Sugawara and began dating, marrying two years later.

Asahi Azumane

“Who’s that guy?” you asked your friend who was the project manager running this photoshoot. You adjusted the settings on your camera, eyes dancing between the numbers you were programming and the man in question.

He was insanely tall and physical build was quite intimidating. You wondered if he was a delinquent in school as you snapped a series of test photos, using him as your subject.

“Asahi Azumane. He’s the apparel designer. He created the line you’re shooting today,” she responded, barely glancing up from her phone. “And don’t even think about it.”

“What? Are you worried about me? Is he a bad boy?” you asked, wiggling your brows at her in jest.

She paused and looked you in the eye seriously, before bursting into a loud fit of laughter and walking away. “Let’s get this started already!”

An irritated expression settled onto your features before you cast Asahi another glance, snapping a few more candid photographs of him.

The shoot was long. Drama with the models. You weren’t concerned though. Your rate was hourly and they were paying you big yen for this spread. No, you were more concerned with the tall babe hanging out at the snack table.

Adjusting your camera strap like you were wearing a crossbody purse, you moseyed over to the refreshments, picking up an assortment of things before standing next to the man casually.

“So you designed this line?” you asked. You almost dropped your plate when he jumped in surprise.

“Aha... Sorry, just, you’re asking me?” He smiled awkwardly, clearly embarrassed of his reaction.

You looked at him incredulously, before laughing, gently bumping your hip against the spot just below his own. Good grief he was so much taller than you. He was absolutely your type.

“Yeah. I don’t usually get to talk to the designers when I do these types of shoots. It’s usually an assistant, project manager, or a marketing rep, so this is a really cool moment for me.”

He smiled with more confidence, relaxing visibly.

“So... Tell me about what your vision for this whole line is.”

Just as he became fully confident and the two of you had finally gotten the conversation flowing freely, it had been thirty minutes and it was time to wrap up. You kept in mind your conversation with Asahi and used your knowledge and skillset to capture what it was he envisioned.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get to speak to him again.

You didn’t reach out to your friend to bother her about Asahi; you just weren’t that type of girl. Instead you resigned yourself to sighing thoughtfully as you daydreamed about him every once in a while, staring at the photos you’d taken of him in secret.

It was a week after the shoot when your friend called you to meet at her office to pick up your check. You were wondering if you should dress to embarrass her or not when you realized that you might run into Asahi in the same building. Fashionable it was; you even added heels.

You walked confidently into your friend’s office building, slipping into the elevator and pressing the button for her floor.

Glancing up as the elevator sounded, you sighed - someone was just getting on. You wore a bored expression as the doors opened, but the person standing there immediately changed your attitude.

He looked at you with realization and smiled as he stepped in. “Miss Photographer,” he spoke, his voice friendly and kind.

“Mr. Designer,” you greeted cheekily.

“It’s good to see you again.” He pressed for the floor above your destination. “I saw the photos you submitted. I really loved them. The pictures were exactly what I was hoping for. And I heard marketing is really impressed with your work. I might have overheard them tell the project manager she should hire you again.”

“I think you should give yourself more credit,” you spoke, leaning your head back against the elevator wall. “I wouldn’t have changed my approach if I hadn’t spoken to you.”

Asahi blushed and the two of you started to banter, but you were an observant person and you almost wondered if this man realized he was flirting back with you.

He gravitated closer to you, also leaning against the wall beside you. You watched from the corner of your eyes as he shifted closer and closer before his arm finally touched your own.

Bingo.

The elevator bell pinged your stop and you quickly pulled a business card from your purse and slipped it into his front pants pocket bravely.

“Call me and ask me out, okay? Or I’ll come down here looking for you,” you teased, walking backwards out of the elevator.

“W-What?” he floundered, blushing as he watched you with wide eyes.

You sent him a wink, “Don’t let me wait too long, okay?”

The doors closed and you were absolutely pleased with yourself.

And that’s how you met Asahi Azumane, going on a date two days later and marrying three years after, but this time, you didn’t have to ask.

Ukai Keishin

“Excuse me, do you have-”

“We’re out,” was the dull and bored cut off reply from the employee, his feet propped up on the counter and his face hidden by the newspaper he was reading.

Are you kidding me? Aha!

You snatched the bandaids and alcohol wipes off the shelf, walking up and setting the items on the counter. Your voice was monotone as you spoke, “Found it. Thanks for your help.”

He lowered his newspaper to peek at you before bursting out in large gestures, scrambling to his feet. “Is, uh, is this it for you?” It was almost cute how he was trying to be cool.

“A pack of Cherry cigarettes,” you replied, pulling out your coin purse.

“You know... it’s a bad habit,” he said, grabbing a pack and placing it on the counter.

“Says the man who reeks of smoke.”

“Touché,” he replied, staring at the counter and realizing he definitely messed up his shot.

With a sigh, you brushed your hair behind your ear, “They’re not for me.”

“Oh...” He tried to peek at you inconspicuously. “Boyfriend?”

“If you must know, they’re for my father.”

“Oh!” he visibly perked up at that. You had to restrain yourself from laughing at him.

“So what’s my total?” you asked when he hadn’t said anything for a while.

“Right. It’s 950¥.”

“Thank you,” you replied, pulling out some coins and bills.

“Keishin! Keishin, is that a young woman I hear?” a voice from the back room called out. There was some shuffling of footsteps and the man behind the counter visibly stiffened. “Keishin! Is she single?”

“Mom! Please!” he yelled back.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh, but you couldn’t stop your lips from stretching into a smile.

“Keishin! Don’t yell!” An older woman poked her head out, her eyes landing on you, “She’s beautiful!” She quickly beelined to you around the counter, bowing deeply to you.

“Oh... thank... you,” you froze, unsure of what was happening. You glanced at the man behind the counter - Keishin, you assumed - who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Young miss, my son looks rough, but he’s really a good man. He’s not the smartest, but he’s very strong and has a good heart. He’ll treat his future wife very good. Please consider him.” She stayed bowed and it was getting extremely uncomfortable.

He leaned over the counter and whispered, “She won’t get up unless you give her an answer. Sorry about this.”

You observed the way he looked at his mother and it struck a heartstring. He didn’t look mad or annoyed, or anything of the sort. You could just see that he loved his mother very much.

Turning back to older woman before you, you sighed softly, resigned, and bowed to her in return. “Ma’am, I will consider him.”

The two of them looked up at you in shock.

“WAIT YOU WILL?!”

And that’s how you met Ukai Keishin, marrying exactly one year later.

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Eleven - How Time Flies

Word Count: 2222

Author’s Note: Big time jump time! Whoop! Also, to those on my tag list: I’ve put you down below but I don’t know if you’ll get the notification or not. I tried reading up on it, something about accounts being hidden by some setting or other... IDK, hope you still see this ok!

WARNING: none.

For previous chapters click here.

March, 2007.

A lot can happen in a year, well, ten months.

And despite phone calls and emails back and forth between you, Jim and Pam, there was a lot you missed.

After Casino Night, Jim had transferred to Stamford within a week, taking on their Assistant Regional Manager position, and after some careful consideration, Pam called off the wedding, and broke up with Roy. It was a shock for everyone including Pam, but after what happened with Jim, she realised two things:

1. She wasn't in love with Jim. 2. She didn't love Roy either.

You had helped her move into her new apartment, which was coincidentally the one you were packing up. Jan had talked to Corporate for you, and you had been selected as one of Dunder Mifflin's foreign agents, and you packed your stuff up into storage a day after Pam's cancelled wedding, and flew out to Vienna that evening.

Jim started dating one of the girls from the Stamford branch, Karen, Pam started back at art classes, taking the Dunder Mifflin designer course in New York on weekends, Ryan and a new temp took over your and Jim's spots on the sales team, Dwight got even more annoying (as reported by Pam). You had developed and quit a smoking habit at least twice, and spent the past 300 days flying from Berlin to Paris to Madrid to wherever else, collecting a small but secure list of European clients. But you all kept in touch as best you could, all doing your best to move on and up.

Things started changing when Josh from Stamford got a job at Staples. Necessary downsizing was going to close the Scranton branch permanently, but the departure meant Stamford ended up closed instead, and their staff were transferred to Scranton, reuniting Jim and Pam after months apart. Jim had phoned you about it months ago, waiting until you were at work in Madrid to call.

"Halpert? Isn't it like, 11 at night back home?" You asked, typing away at your computer as you spoke, pulling out a dictionary to remind yourself of a French phrase.

"I'm back at Scranton... And I saw Pam and, well..." He stopped, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I've moved on. Officially. Karen and I are doing great and now, Pam and I are actually back to where we were. Friends..."

"I'm really happy for you Jim... It took a lot of you, she knows that." You smiled, glancing over to your colleague Miguel, who tapped his arm. You glanced at the clock. "Shit, I've gotta head for a meeting. Can I talk to you tonight?" You asked.

"Sure... We need to get you back on US soil, Y/N. Doesn't feel the same here without you." Jim said softly, and you bit your lip.

"About that..." you muttered, but Miguel was getting impatient. "Got to go! Love ya, bye!" You set the phone back on the receiver and grabbed your coat, rushing after Miguel to your next business meeting.

—

"Do I think it's unfair that Y/N got to go to Europe?" Dwight looked into the camera. "Of course I do. Not only was the job never publicly advertised by Dunder Mifflin, they sent her to the home of my ancestors without so much as a thought of me. Dwide Shroode, my great grandfather, was a man of great honour in Europe."

"Are you going on about Europe again? Dwight, she went to Spain... And we're all pretty sure your great grandfather was a soldier under Hitler during the war." Pam called from her desk, and Jim chuckled.

"He was a war hero!" Dwight said in defence.

"Criminal... Losing side become war criminals." Jim corrected with a wink to the camera.

—

"Había sido un placer hacer negocios con usted, señor." You said with a smile, shaking hands with the client, following Miguel out of the room.

"You were right to wear that top..." Miguel muttered as you both headed out to the waiting car. You were fast approaching a year as an international agent, and Miguel had been there since day one.

"Wow. Thanks Miguel." You rolled your eyes, and the pair of you stopped before breaking into laughter. "Fuck yes I was right. At least half my clients are with us because of my rack." You chuckled, getting into the car.

"Ready for the Vienna meeting?" He asked, the car pulling out and starting the trip to the airport. Your bags were in the back, your files from the temporary office packed up for you by an intern.

"If it leads to what I think is happening, then yeah... Scouting for a year is long enough." You commented, and Miguel nodded. He was from Spain, brought on by Dunder Mifflin from a third party company to help out with convincing new clients: he knew the right restaurants, the local dialect, the customs. When you had arrived, he spent a week running you through things you should be doing to secure clients.

"I'll miss you when you go." He said decidedly, and you smiled back at him, relaxing into your seat. It really had been a great year. When you were about halfway to the airport, you phone rang, and Miguel slipped in a pair of earphones so as to not eavesdrop.

"Hola, esta es Y/N de Dunder Mifflin. ¿Como puedo ayudar?" You answered the phone, only to hear English on the other end.

"Y/N, it's Jan."

"Oh, hi Jan. What do I owe the pleasure?" You switched to English, your smiling disappearing when you heard her sigh.

"I just got word... The Vienna meeting isn't looking like good news for you." She sighed, and you sat up.

"I... I've made more sales than anyone else in the Europe group..."

"I know. I know... I wanted to phone, in case they tried some stunt and let you go now that they are closing the division." She said slowly, and you nodded, trying to think.

"Why are they closing us down anyway?"

"The company took at gamble with the project to begin with, and want to shift one of our branches in the north east into an international business headquarters, teach the staff already there how to deal with the clients you've amassed." Jan explained. "Money's tight, and Upper Management can't reason a new branch opening in Vienna."

"And I'm not being moved to the International Headquarters?"

"The chances are slim..."

"Then, what do I do Jan? If they let me go here and I don't get transferred..." You started to panic, and Miguel glanced over, now concerned.

"Y/N, Y/N... Don't worry, I'll be looking on your behalf. Just... Just get through today, and fly back here the minute the meeting is over. We'll sort it out in New York, ok?" Jan assured you, and you thanked her before ending the call. Jan was your corporate contact, and after she had got you the position in Madrid, she had been keeping you up to date with decisions made back home. Up until then, everything had been looking positive for the Europe branch. It was out of the blue, but at least you knew now. You could expect the worst.

"Everything ok, Y/N?" Miguel asked, and you sighed.

"I'll be in New York by the morning..." You said, and he nodded, understanding that the worst was coming. You both fell silent after that, through the drive to the airport, and security, and on the plane. You needed to think over your next steps, and spent the time on the plane writing in a small notebook, drafting a CV, just in case it was needed.

—

"Michael, Michael please..." Jan spoke over the speaker phone, interrupting Michael's corny opener. "This is about Y/N."

"Oh right, how is the traitor?" Michael asked, still pissed off by your leaving the Scranton branch. Jim overheard Michael and Jan, and ended his call, leaning back to listen in through the ajar door.

"They are shutting down the Europe project, and I realise the merger has filled up all the vacancies in your office, but I'm looking for some options for her." Jan said, and Jim beckoned Pam over to listen in.

"You shouldn't-" Dwight started, but the pair shushed him.

"She betrayed me... But wouldn't you just put her in with corporate?" Michael whined, and Jan let out a loud, long sigh.

"The information I have is that... Well, they're laying off the entire Europe team. Giving their work to the Rochester branch. Quick and easy way to save money." Jan admitted, and Jim and Pam shared a look.

"Even if we did have space in Scranton, we wouldn't want her Jan." Michael said quickly, lifting the phone and ending the call. He noticed the shuffling outside his door, and got up, flinging the door open to see Jim and Pam scrambling back to their desks, pretending they hadn't heard a thing. He looked around for a few more moments, shutting his room door and hiding himself inside.

The moment he was gone, Jim walked up and over to Pam. "Pam, you helped arrange Y/N's flights out, didn't you?" Jim asked, and Pam nodded. "Think you could find out when she's getting home? We could go meet her at the airport?" Jim suggested, and Pam smiled brightly.

"I'll see if I can find the info. You send her an email, see what she says about the whole thing. We need to know how down in the dumps she is." Pam ordered, and Jim tapped into her desk, heading back over to his computer, smiling over to Karen as he sat down.

They had been based in Scranton for a little while now, started dating, and Jim had explained his old feelings for Pam. And Karen understood, all of it. In fact, they were better than ever now. She came over after a half hour or so.

"So, tonight... You free?" She asked, leaning on his desk. Jim stopped typing and gave her a smile.

"I can't tonight, Pam and I are going to pick up an old friend from the airport... Do you want to come?" Jim offered, and Karen shook her head.

"It's fine, but you owe me, Halpert." She smirked, heading over to her desk.

—

And just like that, you were out of a job.

Corporate had tried to be nice about it, sure, and offered a severance package, but what you wanted was somewhere to work. If your life had gone differently, then severance and a chance to stay in Spain or Austria for the rest of your life would have been great, but you had only ever had Dunder Mifflin.

No college, no family. You barely scraped through high school and now all you had to your name was a suitcase of personal effects and eight years or so with a company that was downsizing. And as much as you wanted to believe that loyalty, dedication and language skills were going to get you a job, it was more likely that you would end up working in a fast food restaurant and couch surfing.

Jim had sent an email, telling you he had heard, but you didn't even have the energy to respond.

Your flight home was long, and you spent most of it staring out a window and picking at airplane food, wondering how in the name of God you would move forward from this. Maybe Jan had an idea, she had been a mentor to you while you were away, offering sound advice in times of trouble.

It's not like you could even go back to Scranton. The Stamford Merger had bulked out the workforce, there was more of a sales team in that Pennsylvania branch than there was in the whole Europe project. And you weren't looking to be squeezed in out of pity. You had self-respect.

After a sleepless flight, and landing at JFK as the clock struck 11 that night, you didn't feel good about being home. You didn't feel good about anything.

You grabbed your bags, your phone flashing with voicemails from Jan and a text saying she would talk to you tomorrow as you turned it back on. A drink would be nice, but terrible for the morning to come. A fresh set of clothes wouldn't kill you...

You stopped off at the bathroom, searching through your case to find a nice top and jeans, changing into something that made you feel more comfortable. You let your hair down out of the tight bun you had locked it in, and took a moment to look in the mirror.

Things had changed in a year. You had dyed your hair a little darker, your skin had tanned, you had lost some weight. The bags under your eyes were too visible, so you quickly shuffled through your makeup and pulled out some concealer, and tidied your face a little.

Maybe a drink would be good, stop having to flirt in Spanish... You fastened your suitcase back up and headed out, dragging your suitcase behind you and heading for the exit into the main airport building.

"Y/N!!" Two voices shouted, and you turned only to be tackled into a tight hug, two sets of arms wrapping around you and cementing you as officially 'home'.

--

Tags: @imsuperawkward​ @rosie2801 @onceuponahuntersrealm 

[junggoku]

Lemon Curls and Latte Art - Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

book: Open Heart

pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Nina Valentine)

word count: 6,679

summary: Ethan’s been having a tough time with a case and desperately needs some coffee and time away from the hospital. His small impromptu trip to his favorite coffeeshop may just become more than he expected. (Alternatively: local doctor man goes to get coffee. Gets roasted for 5 minutes straight by cute barista.) A coffeeshop au

A/N: Soooo first and foremost, I’m super excited about this. I’ve been surprised at the lack of coffeeshop au’s in this fandom so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I’d like to give all my love to the wonderful @namkook​ for keeping me sane through this whole project and for helping me every step of the way. I love you and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you for putting up with my constantly annoying you with this. I typically don’t like my writing, I’m so proud of this one and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did when working on it. Without further ado, buckle in and enjoy! She’s a long one wheew

Sometimes it was easier to just drown it all out. The rustling of the nurses as they moved about. The moans and groans of patients as they anxiously waited for their diagnoses. The shrill voices of interns trying to suck up to him to better polish up on their resumes, instead of focusing on their damn jobs.

On that particularly busy afternoon, Dr. Ethan Ramsey felt it was especially crucial that he drown out all the background noises and forget about his surroundings for a moment, if he was going to hang onto his sanity.

He had been pouring over a patient file all morning, having reached an impasse. When something like this happened, it was best for him to go out and clear his head. Sighing heavily, Ethan pushes out of his leather chair, leaving the mountains of scans and paperwork behind him as he closes the door to his office with a resounding thud.  

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

Day 1

The chime of the bell above the door signaled his arrival into Derry Roasters, a soft click of the hinges punctuating through the air as his eyes adjusted to the gentle lighting in the quaint coffee shop.  

The scene was completely opposite the hospital, with almost all of the tables here being empty save for an elderly man in the corner with his book. It seemed the cafe was experiencing a quiet afternoon, soft music playing from the small speakers lodged in the ceilings.

Whenever Ethan was stuck with a case he couldn’t quite figure out, he found himself wandering to the coffeehouse, a humble mom and pop establishment that made decent coffee. It was a step up from the caffeinated dishwater the hospital cafeteria served and he didn’t hate it at the very least. It was also close enough to the hospital that he could get to it by foot, but far enough that none of the gaggle of bright-eyed parrots interns would follow him to kiss his ass.

Crossing the distance of the room up to the front, Ethan stops right before the register. Having seen not one soul behind the counter, his hand found its way to the small silver bell waiting by the tips bucket, ringing it albeit impatiently. There was normally always someone waiting up at the front, the usual barista－a short and kindly old lady, her slightly stout face adding to the welcoming atmosphere－felt it necessary to be present at all times to best serve customers so they did not have to wait long. So much for that. Their service is going to shit.

A bright ding reverberates throughout the shop, ricocheting off the walls. With a purse of his lips, he waits for a few minutes for someone to respond to the bell, the dimple in between his eyebrows growing more prominent the longer time stretches.

About to forgo the coffee and just head back, his ears pick up a foreign sound coming from somewhere. Is that...singing?

Singing was perhaps too generous a term. There was a faint humming emanating from behind the door that led to the back, and his ears tickled as it continued for a few more seconds, before the door swung open and a figure stepped out.

Ethan’s train of thought stutters for a brief second as ice blue eyes meet a warm chocolate brown, wide and doe-like staring up at him in surprise.

She’s new.

Silence envelops the room and Ethan finds himself studying the woman in front of him as he does with everyone, an occupational habit he’s honed over the years.

Long, dark brown hair cascades over her shoulder like a wave, a pair of chocolate brown eyes to match the curtains as they peer up at him, a hint of curiosity in them. The new barista is donning a polo the color of mustard paired with the black apron of the coffeeshop. His eyes glance over the silver name tag that brandishes the name “Nina”. Next to the tag, a small frog pin sits crookedly, the silver lining a bit dim from what he expects comes from overwear.

In his musings, he doesn’t notice the barista, Nina, pursing her lips, “Are you going to order something or are you just gonna stare at me all day?”

Shaken out of his thoughts, he raises a brow at the bland tone of her voice, before deciding to ignore it, “The Vienna.”

Slipping his card from his wallet, he sets it down on the counter as she rings up his order, sliding the piece of plastic back to him once she’s finished.

Wordlessly, he starts moving over to a table nearby when she pipes up, “What? No ‘thank you’?”

He spins around, a brow quirked as he meets her eyes. The slight curl of her lips tells him she’s mocking him and his lack of a response.

“Thank you.” He speaks, voice flat and face unimpressed. Her lips twitch.

“Gee, you’re a real charmer, aren’t you. I do need to know if you want this here or to go,” Eyes lit with mirth, Ethan itches to end this interaction and head back to the hospital. So much for that break.

“To go.”

The smirk doesn’t leave her face as she turns around and gets to work, and Ethan is eternally grateful for the conversation being over.

A few minutes pass by before he hears his name being called. Striding to the pick up station where the barista placed his order of Vienna in a styrofoam cup, her cheeks lifted into a winning smile, one she must use on all her customers.

Ethan picks it up promptly, the desire to get back to work coursing through him strongly the minute he glimpses at her face (his mistake) and finds that she’s still staring at him with a strange amusement lighting her eyes.

“Hope it's to your liking, Dr. Ramsey.”

“How do you know my name?”

Nina raises her brow, and throws a look at the elegant Dr. Ethan Ramsey, etched into the fabric of his white doctor coat, “I’m assuming that’s your name since it says so on your coat. If you were trying to go incognito, maybe lose the coat next time.”

With a wink, the barista spins around and disappears behind the door to the back, not giving him time to answer to her quip. Something pricks at the back of his mind as he watches her go. Casting a quick glance down at his coffee cup, the letters Ethonk are scrawled on the curved surface, and he couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or groan. More the latter probably.

Sighing for what was possibly the millionth time today, Ethan tightens his grip on the cup and makes his way out, feeling more annoyed than when he had come. I’m not coming back here.

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

Day 2

Why am I here?

He sincerely had no idea why he found himself lingering at the front of Derry Roasters a few weeks later, shoes avoiding the crunch of leaves under his feet as a delicate autumn breeze curls through his hair and rustles the pages of the book he had nestled in his arm.

Ethan had initially planned to not come here again for a long while, having no desire to run into that impudent barista from last time, Nina, her name was.  

Annoying.

Shaking away the thought, he pushed the front door open and strode into the cafe, the click of the latch bolt falling back into its frame announcing his arrival once more. The shop was fairly empty again at this time, being so long after the busy lunch rush hour.  

As usual, Ethan made his way up to the register, but his steps faltered for a half second when he noticed a new addition to the counter by the pick up area: a small potted cactus, its thorny arms appearing almost golden bathed in the gentle autumn light streaming in through the windows.  

A little curious, he continues walking and taps the bell once when he makes it to the front.

Unlike before, the door leading to the back whipped open almost immediately after the ding, and out came the petite barista, long brown hair tied into a loose ponytail today. Small specks of what looks like cream powder dotting her cheek and on the sleeves of her peach-colored blouse, the brunette saunters over and plants herself directly across him.  

Chocolate doe eyes instantly find his blue ones and Nina flashes him an amiable smile. Or it would be amiable if it weren’t for the twinkle of mischief he catches in her gaze. He bites back a mental groan.

Ethan opens his mouth, prepared to just tell her his order quickly so he could leave, when she beats him to it.

“Did you see Henry?” Her voice is a little hushed, conspiratorial. Bemused, his eyebrows furrow in place of a question.

“...Henry?”

The barista nods her head in the direction of the pick up station, eyes darting to the potted plant he saw earlier and back to him, “Henry!”  

He’s not sure how to respond. Nina waits for a few beats before crossing her arms across her chest, ogling him for a reaction, “We just got it yesterday. I thought it’d be nice to spruce up the place,” She leans forward, her apron brushing against the register.

“You don’t feel a connection with it?” She pursed her lips, brown eyes twinkling with mirth. The furrow in his brows deepens, not quite enjoying the way she was eyeing him.    

“Why would I feel any connection to a cactus?”

“Well, you are one emotionally,”

Ethan lets out a short scoff, his expression wholly unimpressed, “We’ve had a grand total of two interactions.”

“And the two were all I needed to know everything,” Nina tosses him a tiny smirk, seemingly relishing in getting under his skin, a frown beginning to mar his features. How tedious.

Sighing deeply and already feeling exhausted, Ethan ignores the quip and barrels forth, “The Vienna.” He tosses his card on the surface of the counter, almost impatient as she gingerly grabs it and rings him up, saying nothing more all the while.

Not giving her an opening, Ethan snatches his card out of her grasp the minute she’s done, and turns around to find an empty table far away from the register.

“I’ll bring it over to you when it’s done,” He hears behind him as he continues moving.

Settling into a table in the back corner of the coffeeshop, Ethan sinks into the leather chair and opens his history book, determined to ignore and forget his interactions with the barista so he can take a break. Why he came back here when he already predicted this happening was beyond him. He won’t repeat the mistake again.

A few minutes later, Ethan feels a presence in front of him and peeks from his book to find Nina placing his cup of Vienna on the table. Turning his attention back to his pages, he reads another line from Robert Service before glancing back up.

She was still standing there. Hands clasped together in front of her chest, Nina was peering down at him, blinking innocently.

“...Is there something wrong?”

“No,” She answers, giving a slight shake of her head in emphasis. She still didn’t move.

“...”

“...”

“...Did you want something?”

Her expression shifts promptly, fixing a saccharine smile his way and a sense of dread creeps up his spine.

“Well you see,” Nina sweeps an arm around the expanse of the room, where only one other patron beside him was sitting in the opposite corner, tapping away on their laptop, “no one’s really here.”

He feels a budding headache pricking, “And what does that have to do with me?” He asks, tone flat.

Her large smile widens a little more, “I’m bored and you’re the most entertaining thing here.”

There’s a brief moment where the two of them did nothing, a staredown ensuing with the only sound coming from the ceiling speakers and the tap, tap, tap of the laptop.

Pressure behind his eyes growing, he brings up a hand to scratch at his stubble. Yes, he really regrets coming here today.

“Well what do you want to do then?” The defeat in his voice is evident as Nina starts shuffling over to the chair opposite him, appearing so pleased with herself Ethan could only breathe out another sigh.

“If it’s cool with you-”

“It’s not,”

“-I’m just gonna hang out here with you,” She plops into the leather recliner and beams at him, eyes scrunching into two crescent moons. Huh. “Besides, I’m doing you a favor really.”

His annoyance fading just a smidge, he eyes her, distrustful. Closing his book with a small thud, Ethan leans back, sinking further into the plush material.

“How on earth is you neglecting your work and bothering me when I’m trying to read you doing me a favor?”

Nina flicks her chin at the cover of his book. The glossy surface catches the warm rays of sunshine drifting in through the windows, the text Comrades!: A History of World Communism almost swallowed whole by the natural light.

“I am doing you a favor,” The steam from the coffee mug wafts up and swirls in the air between them, “I’m sure you’re already busy being a doctor full-time, I’m giving you a chance to take a break from your communist endeavors so you can actually enjoy your down time.”

Seeing no point in disagreeing when she looked determined to stay there, Ethan takes a sip of his Vienna, the liquid still warm and settles pleasantly on his tongue. Over the top of the cup, he catches Nina leaning forward slightly as though waiting for his reaction.

Putting the mug back down, he turns his head to the window, content on ignoring her still and watching the people strolling up and down the street outside.

Her quiet voice breaks him out of his reverie, “What’s it like? Being a doctor?”

At the question, Ethan turns his gaze on the barista, finding her peering at him with a mix of curiosity and...admiration?

He shrugs, “It’s alright.”

“...That’s it?” Her head tilts to the side, eyes widening as she silently urges him to elaborate. He’s not sure why he’s humoring her, but he relents and continues.

“It’s...it gives me opportunities to figure out the mysteries of the human body. To find ways to conquer and defeat the things that defeat us,” He keeps his gaze on her, watching as the brunette follows his every word like he’s telling her some universal truth.

Nina nods, seemingly soaking in his explanation and satisfied with it, “That sounds really cool. You’re like a hero,” She laughs a little, a tenderness in it that confuses Ethan, but he doesn’t say anymore on it. Hardly.

A beat of silence falls over them again. There’s no awkwardness in it though and Ethan’s content to let it stretch on.

“I wanted to be a doctor when I was younger.”

The spell is broken and Ethan’s attention is now directed solely at her, the barista tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. When he doesn’t speak, she continues, “Always wanted to help people. It just seemed like the perfect job for me to defend those who were fighting for their lives. For their second chances.”

The small frog pin on her apron gleams as she fidgets, light from outside hitting its metallic surface.

“Why didn’t you?” He finally asks, albeit hesitantly, “Become a doctor.”

A wistful look crosses her face and she smiles, “My brother’s health deteriorated and he  collapsed as I was graduating from high school. Things just never worked out,” Nina pauses and considers the room, Ethan noticing for the first time that the other customer had left, no more tap tap-ing sound to be heard.

“But it’s whatever. I like working here. And at least I get to keep my sleep schedule,” She jokes, eyes landing on him again.

Ethan doesn’t speak for a long moment, holding her gaze. At the lack of reaction, Nina begins to squirm, appearing nervous, but doesn’t prod him.

Finally, he finds his voice, uncharacteristically timid, “This place is lucky to have you.”

A blink and a beat later, and a glowing grin stretches across Nina’s face. She chuckles, a soft pink flush dusting her cheek.

Waiting another beat, Ethan clears his throat and begins to move, grabbing his book and nudging the now-drained cup of Vienna away, “I should head back. I have work. At the hospital.” He holds back a grimace. Moron.

Nina tilts her head, the action releasing a couple of strands to fall from her ponytail, “I would hope so, since you’re wearing your white coat,” She snorts when she sees the unimpressed expression on his face, “Go save lives, Dr. Ramsey.”

With that, the barista turns and heads back to work, humming softly as she goes.        

A feeling he can’t place courses through him, sending a slight shiver up his spine as he steps out into the street. Just a chill. With that, Ethan makes the familiar walk back to Edenbrook, the gentle breeze returning and dances through the soft locks of his hair the whole way.

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

Day 3

“Quit stalling already and drink!”

Grumbling, he lifts the cup to his lips, taking a cautious sip.  

The silence settles throughout the room, and Nina leans forward just a little bit, in an attempt to gauge his reaction. He tries to keep his expression blank.

“...Well?”

“...”

Ethan lets the silence linger for another moment before bringing the cup back to his lips. Slowly, a smile begins to bloom across Nina’s face, bright and smug, “Heh. So what’s the verdict, Doctor?”

He refuses to give her the satisfaction of a reply, instead determined to keep his eyes trained on the inside of his coffee cup. His ears pick up a tinkle of a laugh.

“I told you you’d like it,” The barista giggles, her eyes forming crescent moons, as she attempts to stifle the full force of her laughter. Placing a hand on her hips, Nina gazes at him, her self-satisfied grin making a home on the corner of her lips. Ethan decides, right then and there, that he hates it endlessly.  

He especially hates how that cheeky ass smirk makes her eyes sparkle more.

Releasing a bone-weary sigh, Ethan sets the mug down on the table and leans back in the chair, training ice blue eyes on the brunette across from him, “I tried it. Are you going to tell me what it was now?”

Still beaming, Nina sinks down into the soft leather chair opposite him, hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind her ears. Crossing her legs, she glances down at the drained coffee cup, “Espresso Romano. As you can probably guess, it’s a shot of espresso with a slice of lemon served on the side and rubbed on the rim.”

A soft calming song plays in the background, the notes resonating through the air and floats around them, framing the little pocket of the world they were occupying. Nina looks back up at Ethan, holding his gaze as she continues, “The lemon’s zestiness brightens the drink and cuts off the bitterness. Which, no offense, but that looks like something you could use some help with.”

Biting back a retort on the tip of his tongue, he picks up the discarded lemon curl, long fingers absentmindedly playing with the garnish. The silence settles once more between them as he takes in what she said.

In a voice so quiet he’s hoping she doesn’t pick up on it, the words leave his lips: “It’s decent.”

The crescent moon smile she gifts him with tells him that she heard it loud and clear. He doesn’t say anymore, but he doesn’t need to. She hears the rest of what he left unspoken.

“Such a way with words. You really should’ve been a poet instead of a doctor,” Amusement never leaving her eyes, she leans over to pick up his mug and plucks the lemon peel out of his hands, dark brown hair falling over her shoulder at the movement. Soft afternoon sunlight streams in, bouncing off the tan of her skin and for a brief moment, she looks like she’s glowing. Ethan frowns, averting his attention to the space behind her instead.

Humming quietly, Nina stands up and turns, the soles of her white Converse squeaking in protest. Tossing him one more knowing smirk, she begins her trip back to the register, the arm of his empty cup resting on the crook of her finger. A minute later, she disappears through the door into the back area, the gentle music from the ceiling filling up the room in her stead.  

Ethan releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and glances back out the windows overlooking the street, the faint taste of lemon still sitting on his lips.  

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

Day 4

The coffeeshop feels a bit different in the mornings, fresh dew and the gentle rise of the sun blanketing the room, wrapping it in a peculiar warmth. The lack of customers at this time adds to the ambiance, though Ethan doesn’t pay much mind to any of that at the moment. Instead, his attention is aimed at the disheveled barista in front of him and the mayhem surrounding her.  

The next time Ethan walked through the doors of Derry Roasters a week later, he was met with what he could only describe as chaos. A collection of discarded coffee cups littered the counter and drops of milk and cream dotted the floor all around Nina. The brunette ran a hand through her long hair frustratedly, apron stained with liquids.

A quick explanation told him that she had been attempting to perfect the craft of latte art, though Ethan would argue that you can’t perfect something you didn’t even have the basics for. Recognizing that her skills were abhorrent and wanting to please customers, Nina had made it a habit to arrive at the cafe very early in the mornings, where she could practice in solitude. And that was what he had walked in on when he dropped by, having thought to get coffee before his shift later that day.  

He watches her struggle with the milk for another minute, bumbling around like a newborn, before peeling off his white coat, a strand of hair falling just over his eyes at the motion. Nina turns at the rustle beside her and is greeted with Ethan’s tall figure peering down at her handiwork.

Startled, she takes a half step back, eyes wide in surprise, “What...are you doing?”

In place of a response, he rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt and helps himself to one of the aprons hanging on the coat rack by the back area.

“Watching you spill milk on yourself like an infant is getting painful. I used to work as a barista through undergrad so I remember some things...” He pauses, gazing inside one particular mug that was housing what resembled more creamy vomit than coffee, “...though I’m skeptical if it could even help you at this point.”

The flat tone of his voice must have irritated her, as she shoots him a mild glare, a cool determination flashing in her eyes, “That sounds like a challenge, Doctor.”

“It definitely will be.”  

A couple hours later, the work area resembles a battlefield, thermometer and portafilters thrown haphazardly all over the counter, milk and coffee powder strewn across its surface in reckless abandon.

Ethan shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest and focused intensely on the mess she’s making, “You’re not doing it right.”

Nina groans, the sound tickling his ear. Her grip on the pitcher slackens which promptly spills more of its milky contents all over the counter.  

“I’m doing it exactly as you said. You just suck at teaching,” She mumbles, tsk-ing a little at the new addition blooming on her apron. Taking in the growing clutter decorating the counter, Nina lets out a sigh before turning to Ethan, “This feels hopeless.”

“Giving up already, rookie?” He quirks up an eyebrow, a corner of his lips twitching.

She stops and blinks at the nickname, but doesn’t comment on it further, “No!...Just. Ugggh,” With a loud whine that sounds awfully like a puppy’s, Nina sets the pitcher down, knocking it into the thermometer that was sitting nearby. Placing a hand on the surface of the counter, Nina leans into it, sagging with disappointment. The chagrin expression on her face so directly contrasted her usual bright grin that it makes his chest throb strangely.

Clearing his throat, Ethan glances back down at the mugs, highlighting all her failed attempts. Despite the mess, he could still see her progress, the more recent works showing slight improvements.

With a flick of his fingers, he starts selecting some of the cups out of the batch, “These aren’t too bad. The shape is starting to take place.”

Not looking entirely convinced, Nina skeptically eyes the attempts he singled out.

“You sure?” She points to one, “This one looks like a bad rendition of the Scream.”

Gently, Ethan nudges the pitcher and the thermometer towards her, voice quiet but firm, “It’s an upgrade from the foamy blob you made earlier. You’re getting there. You just need to keep working on your technique.”

Releasing a sigh, Nina relents and pours more milk into the pitcher, readying for another round.

Delicate sunshine slants through the windows and catches on the tips of her hair as she bends forward, eyes narrowed at the face of the thermometer. Ethan keeps a watchful eye on her movements, leaning towards her a fraction more.

Despite the intensity coming off of Nina as she tackles the task, Ethan feels curiously light, as though the usual restlessness humming under his skin was dimmed. Hovering a little closer, the weak scent of apples from Nina’s hair tickles his nose, as she turns to heat the milk. Grabbing the steam wand, she inserts it into the liquid and turns it on, the thermometer clinking onto the side of the pitcher.  

When she gets to the part of pouring the milk into the coffee, the hand holding the steamed milk trembles slightly as she tips the wide-mouthed cup of the espresso forward in her non-dominant hand. Stepping ever closer and settling right behind her, Ethan leans his head down until it practically rests on her shoulder, her back to his chest, and brings a hand forward to steady her grip.

At the contact, the warmth of her skin spreads through his fingers, scalding in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

This close to her he can hear the intake of breath, the slight shudder in her voice as she continues, concentrating on the feeling of his hand and the milk as it spills into the espresso.

Morning light grows warmer as the sun rises up higher in the sky, and Ethan loses track of time as he watches Nina pour the foam, successfully forming an asymmetrical flower. The minute she finishes with the last drop, the barista sets the pitcher down, staring wide eyed at her work.

Turning her head slowly, she fixes her stare on him, a look of utter disbelief on her face, “...I did it.”

Ethan’s lips quirk and he nods once, “You did.”

There’s a pause as it sinks in.

“...Oh my god! I did it!” Elated, Nina leaps towards Ethan, throwing her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oof,” He braces himself at the force of her knocking into him. Letting out a snort, Ethan finds himself chuckling at the brunette’s joy, a small feeling of pride spreading through his chest, having spent all day trying to get to this point.

The moment lingers, Nina’s arms still wrapped around Ethan’s broader frame, the thumping of her heart beating against his rib cage. In a tiny, slightly muffled voice, “Thank you.”

Tilting her head up at him, she awards him with a gentle smile, the softness of her face accentuated by the tender curl of her lips, “Seriously. It was thanks to your help today. Guess you really are a good teacher,” Nina quips, a levity about her now that made it difficult for him to look away.

Ethan smirks, “Of course I am. I’m good at everything.”

The barista rolls her eyes all the way up to the ceiling, “Glad to see you’ve got a strong ego.”

“Was it not earned?”

“...Okay yes, but it doesn’t mean you have to be annoying about it,” She grumbles, lips forming a pout.

It takes Ethan another minute to realize that neither of them had moved, the both of them still wrapped around each other. The warmth of her skin bleeding through his shirt, the faint apple scent of her hair tickling his nose once more and he unconsciously leans down.

Nina’s eyelids flutter as she moves towards him, and soon he’s close enough that he can count every speck of caramel in the brown pools of her eyes. The pink of her lips. The small shudder of her breath. Every second that ticks by is another he’s falling...Wait, what?

Ethan jolts, his thoughts crashing to a stop, his entire body tensing. Sensing the change of mood, Nina halts as well, pulling back slightly to look at him, brows furrowed in concern, “Are you alright, Ethan?”

No. He doesn’t respond as he starts extricating himself from her grasp, peeling away from her. The groove in between her eyebrows deepen as Ethan hurries to place some distance between them.

There’s another moment of silence that blankets over them, but this one is different. It’s tense, making Ethan’s gut churn a little.

“...Did I...is something wrong?”

Unable to meet her eyes, he holds back a grimace, hearing a tremble of hurt in her voice as she asks. He stays silent for another beat before glancing in her direction, not meeting her gaze, “No, it’s just. It’s...I gotta go. My shift starts soon.”

Not waiting for a reply, Ethan yanks off his apron, roughly throwing back onto the rack before hastily grabbing his white coat and rushing out the door, never once turning back to look at the barista, whose eyes never left his back as he briskly walked off back to the hospital.      

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

Day 5

“You’re still here, Ethan?”

At the sound of the voice, Ethan looks up from a patient’s x-rays he’d been examining, finding his colleague, Dr. Baz Mirani, standing in the doorway of his office.

Throwing a quick glance at the wall clock, it read 11:54 p.m.

Damn. It’s this late already? He’d completely lost track of time.

Rubbing a tired hand over his chin, Ethan releases a sigh before packing up his things, and leaving his office for the night, brushing past Baz on the way out. He wasn’t going to be able to do much more tonight.

A full effect of autumn had taken root and blanketed across the town in the past month. Stepping out in the night, Ethan lifted up his face, the scent of the fall leaves and cool evening air caressing the tip of his nose. As he moved closer to his car, a restlessness buzzed under his skin and he was unable to shake it no matter how much he tried.

He’d been feeling this way for about a month now. Ever since then.

A flicker of brown eyes and soft smiles crosses his mind and a gnawing apprehension sits in his throat, one that feels suspiciously like guilt. Guilt and...something else Ethan doesn’t want to define yet.

Sighing once more into the autumn night, he reaches his car door, ready to go home to his bottle of scotch waiting for him. The feeling continues to nip at him though, and he pauses when reaching for the handle of his car, the weight in his backpocket feeling much, much heavier.  

Maybe...He suddenly...felt an urge for some coffee.

Before he could talk himself out of it (this is a bad idea), he leaves behind his car and takes off in the direction of the coffeeshop, his footsteps slow and effortful.

The lights are still on when he reaches Derry Roasters, the blinds of the windows all pulled down save for two that overlook the counter. His eyes immediately land on the barista, sweeping away at the floor on the other side of the register, expression tight and disappointed.

The guilt started to creep back in at the look on her face.

This really was a bad idea. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk to her yet, after his abrupt exit last time. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, but he certainly wasn’t today.

Backtracking, Ethan began turning back in the direction from which he came, but the movement catches her eye and right away, Nina glances up, brown eyes connecting with blue ones. Ah shit.

Seeing him, the barista’s expression tightens a fraction more, a cool gleam flashing across her eyes, and she frowns before beckoning him to come in with a quick nod of her head.

A weary sigh leaves his lips as Ethan ambles over, the ding of the bell ringing out like it was announcing his execution. The minute he walks in, Nina folds her arms across her chest, still wearing her black apron over the pale blue sweater she donned today.

“Did you need something?” She asks after a long, tense moment.

He doesn’t reply, the lump in his throat growing as he hears the familiar line, ones uttered by him not too long ago. The circumstances in which they were said so different.  

She presses forward when he doesn’t speak, “You haven't been around much lately.” It sounds a little like an accusation.

“My coffee machine’s working again. So I didn’t really need to come here anymore,” He tries to hold back a grimace at how calloused he sounds.

Nina’s frown morphs into a glare and Ethan’s sure he’d rather be toughing it out in the Amazon right now than having to be the object of this woman’s current woe and ire. He’d rather be anywhere else.

He regrettably continues to dig his own grave, “There wasn’t much else this place could offer since I could just get coffee from my office now,” Why the fuck-  

“Well sorry I don’t have much to offer a world renown doctor,” A tinge of bitterness laced in her tone and he holds back a wince.

It was strange how easy it was for him to deal with the people at the hospital, never finding any need to mince words with idiots with fat pockets, and vultures trying to increase their profits at the expense of others. With his patients, always doing his best to be honest with them as they faced their own battles everyday, fighting for their lives. But here, in front of this woman who miffed him and intrigued him to no end, Ethan always found himself hesitating and clumsy with his words.

He stays quiet for too long and his silence, his lack of anything annoys her.

“You really are a cactus,” Nina mumbles, tightening her grip on the broom, keeping her eyes trained to the ground.

Taking a steadying breath, the barista glares pointedly at the crack in the floor before speaking up again, “You’re always like this, you know. I’ve talked to you like five times, and even I can tell you what you’re like.”

He doesn’t speak, the tension in the air making it difficult for him to cut through, his throat closing.

Nina holds up her hand, dainty fingers curled into a fist before she begins counting, “You always have to be sarcastic or ironic about something,” She lifts up a finger, “You’re always grumpy and kind of an asshole,” She puts up another finger, “You’re so closed off it’s sometimes so hard to talk to you because I have no idea what you’re thinking,” She pauses, ticking off another finger as the edge of her glare starts to fade, “...You never say what you mean. You’re so emotionally constipated and you make a habit of running away. You can’t just admit you like something and you always have to find a roundabout way to-”

During her tirade, Ethan had inched closer to her, slipping out what he had hidden in his back pocket. In one swift motion, he presents it to her, shoving it right under her nose and effectively cutting her off mid-rant.

Nina blinks, staring down at the trinket. A small frog keychain sits in the palm of his hand, the plush material appearing velvety under the beam of the ceiling light.  

“...What?”

His other hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck as she peers up at him, wide-eyed and confused at the gesture, “I saw it a while ago. I don’t know why I thought of you but I bought it.” He nods at the pin clipped dutifully on her apron, right next to her name tag.

A long stretch of silence envelopes them and Ethan’s not sure what to classify this one. It didn’t feel comfortable nor was it tense like before. The brunette continued to stare at the item in his hand before gingerly, almost shyly taking it into her hands, rolling it a bit between her fingers.

After another long moment, she speaks up, “My brother...always liked frogs,” Voice airy, she keeps her eyes on the plush and continues, “He got sick a lot, and they always made him feel better. So I would always be wearing them and bringing them to him whenever he got sick again.” Nina glances up at him finally and he notices her eyes glistening with emotion.

“He’s alright now, but I guess old habits die hard. I’ve grown attached to frogs myself,” She chuckles.

Ethan watches her, blue eyes lingering on her frame before finding his voice again, “I’m glad your brother is fine now. You’re a wonderful sister.”

Nina remains quiet, eyes still fixed on the gift and Ethan’s not sure why he feels the need to keep going, “I found it in the gift shop at the hospital.”

There’s another pause as Nina freezes again. As the seconds stretch on, Ethan’s worried he overstepped. Maybe don’t tell her that. Preparing to backtrack and excuse himself from this scenario, he readies an apology on his lips, when he’s interrupted by the sound of a snort.          

She’s...laughing?

Bemusement takes over his face as he blinks, watching as the barista starts curling over, laugh growing in intensity and volume. One peek at his face and she’s launched into another fit.  

Nina continues to laugh, her body shaking as the amusement runs through her small frame. Ethan stands there silently, not sure what he should be doing as the barista keeps giggling, hand clutching the keychain tight in her grip.

Finally, after what feels like ages, Nina’s laughter subsides, fixing her posture and settling her gaze on him, something that Ethan can’t define sparkling in her eyes.

A fond sigh leaves her lips as she regards him, “You make it hard to stay mad,” She lets out, voice delicate like a whisper.  

Nina links her hands behind her back, expression happy and radiant, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from her. In his daze, he doesn’t notice her moving, approaching quicker than he has time to form a coherent thought.

Nina practically skips towards him, closing the distance between them. Ethan almost reflexively took a step back, the sudden proximity shocking him speechless as he catches the caramel flecks in her eyes, sparkling and utterly captivating.

“So,” Drawing out the one syllable, Nina’s eyes crinkle into those familiar crescent moons, as she lifts herself up on her tiptoes and leans towards him, noses almost touching. Ethan finds himself rooted to the spot, completely at a loss before her as her eyes reflect like stars.  

“Are you gonna ask me on a date or what?”  

Fin.

taglist: @openheart12 @ethandaddyramsey @noboundariesplease @drethanramslay @ethanramseysgirl @senseofduties @messrprongs @x-kyne-x @ethxnrxmsey​ @newcolonies​ @choices-love-affair​ @sekizincimektup​ @nooruleman​ @fightingtheinevitable​ @kaavyaethanramsey @agent-breakdance​ @blueacacias​ @edith-eggs1​  

[lovelyirony]

stranger with maybe rhodeytony in an au where rhodey and tony drift apart after MIT because obie pressures him to cut ties,,,and then they meet again after a couple of years and its breaks tony's heart that the man he loves has become a stranger?? actually yk what this isn't a prompt because its so specific and i feel rude asking you to write smth so specific but yeah i have this idea and i wanted share it with you

no like this is a good idea 

-like maybe they’re really good friends and tony can’t help but look at him as if he’s hung the galaxy 

-because someone like rhodey is so special in this lifetime, how couldn’t he have moved the stars? looked like a god returned, gently touching down to earth and looking at tony as if he has all of his love and attention 

-tony makes a mistake. 

a big one. 

-tony kisses rhodey behind a door and then it’s found out and well--obie finds out 

-obie advises that tony ditch rhodey and tony won’t because why the hell would he? 

-but people talk and obie spreads it around and people look at rhodey who has to staunchly deny it because he needs this position badly and tony pleads with him not to go because bad things happen 

and rhodey gives him a look because his family found out and his dad is “disappointed” and his mother is looking at different times to go to church so that no one has to look at her and 

“Bad things have already happened. Will this really make a difference?” 

Rhodey knows it’s cruel but he’s feeling cruel and Tony’s face goes slack because why had he trusted Rhodey? Why was he the one who moved stars and invented new constellations? 

“I guess not to you,” Tony says, voice sharp and biting. “Have a hell of a time in Air Force.” 

It is done. Severed. And Obie pats Tony on the back and says there are lots of pretty girls in the world because he didn’t need someone like Rhodey to...taint his role in society. 

“You mean taint my role in the company,” Tony bites back. “The only reason I’m even here is because Howard wants the business to stay in the family and nothing else. If I wasn’t his blood I’d be kicked to the curb by the time I was eight.” 

(And Obie gets a strange look on his face. A strange, strange look.) 

But Tony does what the future does: he tries to move on. And it’s hard because everything reminds him of Rhodey these days, down to his music taste and how Dum-E keeps looking for someone else and sometimes when he gets up Tony almost feels a press of a familiar body against his and he’s not home. 

This wouldn’t be his home anyway. They’ve fucked it completely up. 

No one talks to Rhodey about the rumors. The last time someone tried to, Rhodey had them flipped over to their backs and his teeth were bared with threats dripping down into the face. 

He’s terrifying. He’s one of the top recruits the superiors have seen, and he doesn’t seem to necessarily give a damn about anything but the mission. 

“That’s all that matters,” Rhodey will say, and they like that because secretly it feels horrible to send men off to die but if you can convince them that they themselves don’t matter in place of a nation, then you’re pretty set to go and you can tell the grieving family that and hopefully none of them see past it. 

He remembers the jokes that Tony used to say, the way that he cooked breakfast in the morning. He misses Tony. But he feels the shame burn at the back of his neck when only his sister will write him letters usually, and he moves on. 

You move on. And you hope like hell that whatever is following you doesn’t keep up your own pace (or give you nightmares). 

-

Years pass. Tony still thinks about Rhodey. Rhodey still thinks about Tony. 

No one calls Rhodey “Rhodey.” He goes by Jim. 

They engineer their crossing-paths to avoid each other or barely glance. 

(Tony thinks Rhodey still looks gorgeous. 

Rhodey still likes the way Tony talks with his hands.) 

- 

Tony Stark disappears. 

Rhodey knows he’s alive. He fucking knows it. Everyone says it’s a great mystery, he’s the next Jimmy Hoffa or Amelia Earhart. 

He manages to convince the US military that it’s not a waste of time to look for perhaps the man that could help save the world one day. 

“Is this personal?” One of the commanders asks. “I’ve heard certain rumors.” 

“Rumors,” Rhodey responds flatly. “Are you also in the habit of believing stoned out teenagers when they call in aliens, Commander?” 

“No.” 

“Then there’s your damn answer.” 

-

Tony is alive. He’s also incredibly pissed that he’s stuck in a cave and will most likely die, but he’s doing his best to ensure a possibility of not doing that.  

He remembers Rhodey telling him at MIT that he could survive just about anything after Tony fell down two flights of stairs in a frat house with nary a scratch. 

Different circumstances, although the cave is probably about as dirty as a frat house. Hell, it might be cleaner. 

Yinsen knows about him. About how Tony might still be in love even if he resents him and how really he understands the situation and how scared he was, but now’s not the time. 

-

Rhodey sees an explosion. He starts flying. 

There’s a man walking alone. Shirt over his head, stumbling. 

“Get your canteen out and have it ready, I think we found him,” Rhodey barks. 

His heart soars despite his plea for it not to. 

Tony is weak. He falls into Rhodey’s arm and it feels like home after a long time to him, but that’s not--it’s not quite right. 

Jim doesn’t say anything. He gets Tony to the helicopter and leans him against a seat and has someone else pour water for him. 

“Thank you,” Tony rasps out. 

“You okay?” One of the soldiers, Walters, asks. 

“Better than the damn Friends reruns,” Tony pants. 

Rhodey hides a laugh. 

- 

Tony gets back home to a silent home and he’s happy to just lay down and let Jarvis be concerned about his fluid and food intake. 

“Your heart...you created a new one?” 

“Helped,” Tony says. “Better for me, right?” 

“Depends on your definition, Sir.” 

Tony supposes that that is correct. 

He goes to a base to talk about his capture because they want to know all about it and how he escaped. 

Tony doesn’t feel much like saying that. He instead listens to men call Rhodey “Jim,” and realizes that life cannot go back to what it was and that Jim goes for drinks on Fridays and avoids looking at Tony on purpose for a variety of reasons, but Tony thinks one reason is that Tony nearly ruined his life. 

He also announces that he’s stopping weapon production because there’s a rat and that’s just not a legacy he wants to upkeep. 

“Until you find the weak link?” Rhodey asks. “You know that the company is the top provider for the US military.” 

“Permanently,” Tony answers, tone clipped. “My past is war, my present does not have to be. I’m sure you could get Hammer cheaper. Just like in college when it came to Smirnoff or Grey Goose. Might be a bit shit at times, but gets the job done.” 

-

Tony leaves and aches to ask Rhodey about what happened between them, but that’s not really something that he should be asking so he doesn’t and instead he leaves. 

But then two days later they send Rhodey. 

“I hope they know this is the least effective way to convince me,” Tony says. “And it’s not going to work.” 

“That’s what I said,” Jim says. “But they don’t listen.” 

“Well come on in if they’re wasting your time and mine.” 

Jim notices that there are no personal touches. Art is not picked out by Tony because he knows that Tony secretly hates modern art because it doesn’t feel like anything to him. There are sleek counters and no pictures and Tony is tired and wearing an old MIT sweatshirt that looks like....

It’s his. 

“How are you?” Jim asks awkwardly. 

“Oh I’m doing just peachy,” Tony answers, voice tight and strained. “How is the army treating you? You having a hell of a time?” 

“So far.” 

It’s silent after that. 

But Tony’s been thinking and Rhodey knows he’s never silent for long. 

“Why was the military looking for me?” 

He stops.

“You’re a valuable asset.” 

“That’s not it,” Tony says. “I’ve read their files on disappearances. I’m as good as dead when it came to the Ten Rings. So what happened?” 

“I knew you,” Rhodey answers. “I remember that you had a weird affinity for surviving through all kinds of bullshit. So I didn’t really think that you had died.” 

Tony pauses. 

It’s an awkward silence. 

“Okay,” Tony says. “Okay.” 

-

Rhodey goes back and says that Tony managed to get a few good shots in. 

He doesn’t say anything about Iron Man and shoots down suspicions that it’s Tony Stark, who he calles “Tones” sometimes if he’s slipping or tired. 

He also gets called Rhodey. 

It’s really not a surprise when he submits his two-week-equivalent and starts in Stark Industries as one of the rocket scientists. 

(And if there are rumors that War Machine is Colonel Rhodes, he’s not exactly going to confirm or deny.) 

[talpup]

Lost Song:10

Summary: The war between the Dragons and Griffons ended 233 years ago, and both races right along with it.

Or so it was believed. There are three individuals that will soon change that.

Kai is the last of the Dragons and he seeks to take what he sees as his rightful place and rule over all of Oblvi. Meanwhile, Shouta, the last Sphinx, wants nothing more than to do his job; keep the peace and and teach the young Fourth’s to hopefully avoid the mistakes of their ancestors. And Teris, a Foundling who is just trying to understand and survive in this strange new world that is supposedly her own.

All three have their own wants and desires, but Kai’s plans, Teris’ existence, and Shouta's past mean that none of them may get what they want.

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Notes: Flashbacks/memories are in italics. I decided to give Pops a name.  Ryuu.  For those of you who haven't read BNHA Vigilantes.  His Purple Highness is a character from there.

10.1

Shouta entered the library of his Ilca dorm carrying a stack of essay’s to grade.  His student's complained every time he assigned them homework.  As if they alone suffered.  If anything, they had it easy.  They only had to write a single paper.  Where as he had to grade them all. He set down the pile and frowned at the top page. ...And try to decipher Kaminari’s handwriting, he thought with a tired sigh.

Shouta shuffled the Venti-High Elf’s essay with its chaotic scrawl to the bottom of the pile and sat down. At least he had the next few nights off from patrol.  Though it was doubtful he would get any rest from the time off. Not with members of the Council arriving and the truth of Teris being a griffon needing to be guarded.  If anything, he’d probably get even less sleep than usual.

The thought of Teris had Shouta reaching into his pants pocket in search of the item he had been carrying around for two days.  His hesitance was illogical and had to end. With Elders of the Council arriving later this evening, he could no longer stall.  He had to give Teris the gift today.

A soft humming growl reverberated in Shouta’s chest.  Not gift, he corrected himself. Why did he keep on thinking of the thing as a gift?

He growled again at the other, far more crucial failing on his part. With the Council Elders arriving this evening, Shouta should've given the thing to Teris this morning.  But the infuriating woman had had been spoiling for a fight.  And with the little sleep he had invaded by dreams of her.  Shouta, in his irritation, had given in and snapped back. Because of that he had held off giving Teris the bracelet. He couldn’t say why, but he didn’t want to give her the gift in anger.  It’s not a gift, Shouta told himself inner voice stern in it’s scolding. It’s a necessary thing for her protection.

Shouta entered Nedzu’s office.  “You wanted to see me.”

“Yes. Please come in and have a seat. We have a concerning issue.  Tea?” The Director of Traverseen Hall offered.

Shouta sat before the Hybrid’s desk and shook his head.  When Nedzu didn’t even make himself a cup, Shouta realized just how serious the matter was.

“I’ve been informed that some Elders of the Council will be coming to Traverseen Hall.  They wish to see the Foundling’s.”  Nedzu said.

The heckles on the back of Shouta’s neck rose in protective aggression and worry. “Teris…  There a those on the Council that will know her for a griffon at first scent.”

Nedzu nodded.  “I’m aware.  It’s not an easy thing to tell a Fourth's species by scent alone, especially when both parties are in human form.  But there are those on the Council who were high ranking in the Griffon Court and dealt with griffons often and closely enough to know Teris is one at first whiff.  While a few others would be able to do the same, having specialized in hunting and stalking out griffon locations for the dragons. If one such Elder is part of the group that’s coming.  I fear there is little we could do to stop them from taking Teris before the panel.  And we both know what that would mean.”

Shouta's chin ducked, teeth baring in a snarl that was hidden by his capture weapon.  Teris was his. He would end anyone who dared tried to take her from him.

Nedzu went on. “It’s why I called you here.  I’m aware the Dryad King found a small library of books near where he discovered you.  And that he kept those books secret from the Council, gifting them to you as your inheritance as the last Sphinx. I was hoping somewhere in that small portion of what remained of the vast stores of Sphinx knowledge is something that could assist us in this.”

Shouta had barely been able to focus on teaching his class that day.  When the school day finally ended he had filed out quicker than his student's.  He had missed dinner and evening lesson with Hizashi and Teris. Having called in a favor with Nemuri to cover his patrol, Shouta had spent a sleepless night locked in his chambers scouring the books in his personal armory for something to help. An hour before sunrise, he had found a solution.  If he combined a specifically forged charm and overlayed a certain spell on it…  The following night had been another sleepless one.

An echoing clang of metal hitting metal sounded from deep within the bowels of Traverseen Hall.  Even in the middle of winter the furnace room was as hot and sweltering as hell.  The place was windowless and dark.  The sole light of the furnace fire throwing long flickering shadows.

Tired and slick with sweat, Shouta set down the hammer and examined the layered mix of salted iron and shining silver.  He pushed back his plastered hair and wiped the sweat from his brow with a leather gloved hand. One more turn in the fire and a few more hits of the hammer, and the charm would be complete.

The cuff bracelet he was making could've been made from of any metal.  It definitely would've been easier and far quicker if he opted not to blend two separate metals.  But given the dangers Teris would face on the patrols she and Hizashi would go on with him, Shouta found it illogical to waste the opportunity to add other layers of protection.

Sweat rolling down his bare chest, Shouta smiled, pleased with how the gift was turning out. He frown at the cuff. Why did he keep thinking of it as a gift?  It wasn’t a gift.  It was a necessity.  He wasn’t doing this to court Teris. He was doing it because the Council was coming and Teris needed protection from being sniffed out as a griffon.  Him making this thing had nothing to do with his care for her.  He had no care for her. The only reason he was doing this was because it was his responsibility as Ilca leader to see both Teris and Hizashi protected.

Shouta didn’t dare ask himself if he would’ve put the same amount of time and effort into making the item look perfect and pleasing if it were for Hizashi's protection instead of Teris’.  Shouta did his best not to examine his thoughts where Teris was concerned. Why would he?  Teris was an annoyance he’d rather not think about at all.

Black pants hanging low on his hips, Shouta stepped back to the fire.  It was cathartic to thrust the confounded item he kept thinking of as a gift into the blaze.

Humans might’ve needed protection against the furnaces heat and sparks.  But even in human form Shouta didn’t have to worry about such things.  The only thing he had to worry about was getting this right the first time.  While he had enough material in the stores of his personal armory to make the gift.  He only had enough for one attempt.

Shouta turned the long tongs, evenly heating the salted iron and sliver.  More strands of inky black hair fell from the messy bun.  The escaped dark waves clung to his face and neck. Sweat sizzled on his body and evaporated.  It rolled down his chest and pooled in his navel then continued on and caught in the dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

Thoroughly heated, Shouta pulled the red hot metal from the flame and returned it to the anvil.  The firelight highlighted the rolling muscles of Shouta's back as he took up the hammer and lifted it.  He brought it down with a clank and mass of sparks.

With the charm forged he now had to place the overlaying spell on it.  But something made him pause.  The charmed bracelet would muddle the scent of the wearer’s species.  While the spell would stop the charm from interfering with the wearer’s personal scent.  It meant that Teris would still smell like herself; but she wouldn’t smell like a griffon.  But what if one of the coming Council members were so familiar with griffons that muddling the smell of Teris’ species wasn’t enough?

If he added a few strands from his mane.  No.  The underlying scent of a Fourth’s species became stronger and much more prominent in their true form.  Such a powerful scent of hereditary marker would garner attention in itself.  But if he were to add some hair from his human form, the charmed bracelet would carry and muddle his species scent along with Teris’.

Shouta hummed, pleased at the thought of Teris having a part of him so close. He frowned.  What kind of silly youngling thought was that?  Why would he even want Teris to keep a part of him close when he couldn’t stand and didn’t want to be near her?  Growling, Shouta blamed his exhaustion. He rubbed his tired eyes and read over the instructions for making the charm to be sure the addition of his hair would work.  Satisfied that it would, he pulled the tie holding his hair back.  The dark, sweat drenched locks fell with a plop.

He smirked at the thought of how Teris would react if she knew she would be wearing his unwashed hair around her wrist.  But it was more than a petty vengeance.  His beastly scent would be more potent this way.

Shouta reached up and sectioned out a bit of hair from the nape of his neck.  Mind wandering back to the thought of Teris keeping a part of him close, Shouta carefully braided the strands unaware of the smile that crept onto his face.

Shouta stared down at the bracelet in his hand.  Like all creators he easily picked out every minute flaw in his creation. Even though he had been careful in braiding, and selected the best portion of the strand to use. His critical eye found the braid sloppy. It’s weave marginally tighter at one end of the cuff and looser at the other.

At least he had done a bit better with the actual metal work.  The layers sandwiched silver and salted iron so thin a Fourth would have to be in their true form and squinting to see them.  The cuff looked like one solid piece.  The salted iron giving it a charcoal color.  While the silver gave it a sheen.  His braided hair looked like a decorative black metal detail. And with the charm finished, its spell set in place, it may as well have been.  Even in their true form, only a small handful of Fourth's would be able to see it as the hair it truly was.

Shouta ran a calloused thumb over the bracelet.  He wondered if Teris would like it.  The clock in the great room chimed the hour.  Teris would soon be returning from her lessons with Kai.  A slight nervous excitement bubbled up inside him.  He scolded himself.  This wasn't a courting gift.  It was something he had to do protect Teris from the Council.

What if she did more than not like it?  What if Teris rejected it?  Maybe he should have Hizashi give it to her.  Teris would surely be more accepting of the bracelet if given from Hizashi instead of him.  A low growl rumbled in Shouta’s chest at the thought of Hizashi giving Teris the gift he had worked so hard on.

Shouta stared at the bracelet and sighed. Truth is getting harder and harder to ignore, he thought.  He shook his head and told himself to shut up.

It’s an illogical waste of time and energy to continue attempting to deny the truth, his inner voice continued.  You’ll have to face the fact of it sooner or later.  Why this stubborn insistence on delaying the inevitable?

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shouta told himself.

Stop trying to convince yourself otherwise.  Just admit that you want her, his voice of reason sounded. This blatant denial of facts is childish and doesn’t suit you.

I don’t want her.  I can barely stand her, Shouta argued with himself.

Then why worry if she’ll like the cuff and accept it?

You’re right, he told himself. It’s a necessity not a gift.  As her Ilca leader, I’ll simply order Teris to wear the thing.

That’ll certainly warm her to you and win her favor, his inner voice taunted.

What do I care if Teris warms to me, he thought.

You did proposition her with seeking release, he told himself.

That was simply so I wouldn’t have to go to Nemuri.  It’s not like I asked Teris to mate or be companions, he reasoned.

You wanted to though, his voice of reason pressed.

No. I didn’t, Shouta thought getting annoyed with himself.

You were disappointed when Teris turned down your offer of release.

Release, he thought. There’s no feelings involved with that.

There can be, his rational side argued.

Yeah, well, there wouldn’t have been if Teris accepted, he told himself.

You should ask her again, he thought. With her around you’ll be needing release more often.  You need it now. No doubt she’s needs it too.  Maybe after you give her this gift…

The main door to the dorm opened drawing Shouta’s attention and ending his inner argument. He rose to his feet and exited the library.  The sight of Teris made him pause.  She was beautiful.  Lips slightly swollen and redder than usual.  The ends of her hair damp and wetting her shirt.  Wait… The smell of sex carried across the great room and assaulted his nose.

Shouta growled, heckles rising.  The light excitement he had felt upon seeing Teris darkened and disappeared. His heart clenched. Chest aching as if physically wounded.  Incisors lengthening Shouta pressed teeth painfully together, trying to get himself under control.  The image of biting down and ripping Kai’s throat out danced in his mind along with other far less desirable scenes of Teris and Kai together.

A faint burning red mixed and tinted his charcoal colored eyes. He was kill the Dragon for taking what was his.

She’s not yours, his inner voice of reason taunted. You don’t even want her.  Remember?

Right, Shouta gruffly thought.  He had no interest in Teris.  No desire to take and claim her and make her his.  She was free to seek release with whomever she pleased.  The only reason it mattered to him was because Teris was a griffon and Kai a dragon.  That was why he was upset.  No.  Not even upset.  Just concerned.  As Teris’ Ilca leader, it was his duty to protect her.  And Teris had just unknowingly put herself in further danger by seeking release with Kai.

Teris’ nerves were still on edge from the encounter with the red winged man.  Relief instantly filled her at the sight of Shouta.  His presence alone made her feel safe and secure.  Shouta would know what to do and how to deal the winged man.

Teris rushed across the room to him.  “Shouta--”

Shouta stepped back with a hard blowing exhale.  The smell of sex and Kai on her was too much to handle. He couldn’t bare it.  He shoved the bracelet at her, letting go without a care if Teris had a grasp on it or not.  “For you.”

Teris fumbled with the item thrust at her.  She didn’t even look at it.  “Okay. But first--”

Shouta made his way to the still open door.  He needed to get away from the stench of Kai and sex on her.

“Shouta! Where are you going?  I need--”

“I don’t care what you need.  Either deal with it yourself.  Or wait till I get back.”

Teris stared after him, hurt and angry by his dismissal.  She wanted to ask when he’d be back.  Wanted to yell and demand he stay and listen.

Shouta slammed the door behind him.

Teris jumped, startled by the resounded sound.  Left alone with her worry and growing anger.

10.2

Even after a long hot shower Kai was still upset he hadn’t been able to bring Teris back to his rooms and properly tend to her. Though she had assured him she was fine with a quick cleansing dip in the hot springs, he had wanted. Needed. To do more. It was his own propensity for cleanliness, mixed with the instinct to care for his chosen mate that had left him angry and distressed about his inability to properly tend to her.

Next time, Kai thought as he buttoned up his shirt. Next time he would show Teris what a good, caring attentive mate he would make her.

His cock stirred at the memory of Teris beneath him.  The feel of her tight silken heat was something he would never forget and couldn’t wait to feel again. His eyes closed remembering the way she had moaned and cried out his name.  He frowned recalling how she hadn’t been blushing or nervous at the start. Even in the heat of the moment with beastly instincts running high from the chase Teris hadn’t behaved like a virgin.

A growl bubbled in his chest. It was cut short by a knock at his chambers door.

“Enter.” Kai called, tightening his tie in place.

The door opened revealing Hari.  “Master Ryuu has been seen on his way.  He will be here shortly.”

“All work has been stopped?”  Kai questioned, wanting to make sure.

Hari nodded.  “All work ended late last night, just as you ordered.  The Ilca has informed your followers to cease and conceal all doings until they have been told it is safe to begin again.”

“Good.” Much as Kai hated having to pause his efforts to reclaim the lost Dragon throne. Continuing them while members of the Council were here would be reckless and foolish. Especially when one of the visiting Council members was the man that had found his egg and raised him.

Kai exited his room and walked down the long hall. Hari turned and followed a respectful half-step behind the Dragon.

“I hope it’s alright.  I took it upon myself to order the Ilca to busy themselves elsewhere this evening.” Hari said.

“Excellent. There’s no reason for them to meet Ryuu anyway.”  Kai’s eyes slid to Hari.  “Though if they do happen to find themselves in his presence they are to show him every level of respect.”

Hari nodded.  “Of course, Sir.  Master Ryuu is the reason you are here to give us purpose and hope.  He deserves the utmost respect for that.  I will make sure the Ilca knows it.”

“He’s a kind man who might suggest you stay with us.  But we both know you have work to do.  So after I introduce you, take your leave.  Understood.”

“Yes, Sir.”

A knock on the door sounded just as they reached the great room.  Hari quickened his steps to answer.

“Master Ryuu.  It’s an honor.”  Hari bowed.  “Please.  Come in.”

Ryuu looked about the Ilca dorm.  The space seemed to expand and contract, perspective changing in direct response to his focus. He had known Traverseen Hall had been built by some of the most powerful Dwarf clans a thousand or so years before the rise and rule of Dragons and Griffons.  But that didn’t make it any less impressive to finally see the ancient and powerful magic the place was imbued with.

“Do you ever walk around in your true form in here?” Ryuu questioned, a desire to try himself welling up.  As a  Tengu, his true forms size wasn’t hugely different from his human form. Still, to see and experience how the space altered to accommodate the change…

“That would be unseemly.  You raised me better than that.”  Kai said.

Ryuu’s eyes fixed and focused on the Dragon. A warm smile sprung to life.  “Kai. My boy.”  He looked the young Dragon over.  “Not such a boy anymore.  Look at you.”

Kai cleared his throat, glad for Hari’s preemptive removal of the rest of his Ilca.

Ryuu smirked and glanced out of the corner of his eye at Hari.  “I’ve embarrassed him.  He was never good with being fawned over.  Now praise.  That’s a different matter entirely.  Kai’s never had any issues with being told how smart and special he is.”

Hari ducked his head and looked away, uncomfortable.  He could feel Kai’s molten eyes on him.  Judging and waiting for reaction.

After a brief moment, Kai spoke.  “This is Hari.  My second.”

Well aware Kai was subtly telling him ‘enough’, Ryuu inclined his head.  “And I’m sure Kai’s told you all about me.”

Hari bowed again.  “Master Ryuu.  It is an honor.”

“You already said that my boy.  Are you looking to make this old Tengu blush?”

Kai felt the beginning of a growl at Ryuu’s informal address.  It didn’t matter whether Ryuu had called Hari ‘my boy’ because the Tengu already felt a warm favor toward him.  Or simply because Hari was introduced as his second.  Kai didn’t like it.  Ryuu was his mentor.  Hari his second.  His things didn’t converse or bond without his say.

Even though the Ilca dorm was empty save for them, Kai extended a hand toward one of the private sitting rooms.  “Shall we sit.”

Ryuu nodded and stepped in the direction Kai had gestured.  He stopped when Hari bowed and turned away.  “You’re not joining us?”

“He has work to do.”  Kai answered for him.

“Ah. Of that I am far too familiar with.  Even here work follows me.” Ryuu said, entering the sitting room.

Kai paused, respectfully waiting for the Tengu to sit first.  “If I may ask.  What brings you here?”

Ryuu’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.  “They didn’t tell you?”

Kai stared across the coffee table.  A tight tenuous smile graced his lips. “I am rarely told anything.”

Ryuu chest lifted and fell in a sad silent sigh.  He wasn’t some deluded old man that thought if people were more kind and welcoming Kai wouldn’t being looking to reclaim his throne. But he liked to believe that Kai would’ve softened and responded if he was treated with less guarded animosity simply for being a dragon.  And yes, Ryuu was aware of Kai’s plans to claim the lost dragon throne.  Even if Ryuu’s clan of spies hadn’t reported hearing such whispers.  He knew Kai too well having raised him.

“We are here to meet the Foundlings.”  Ryuu said, speaking of himself and the other Council members he arrived at Traverseen Hall with.

Kai blinked, pretending this was news.  Just because that Rat Director hadn’t informed him of anything didn’t mean his wasn’t fully aware of things.  He simply had wanted Ryuu to be the first to bring Teris up.

“I was charged with the females Foundling’s instruction.”  Kai said.

A proud smile tugged at Ryuu’s lips.  “So I’ve been told.  What can you tell me of her?”

Kai took in a breath, resting forearms on knees.

Ryuu’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly noting a subtle change in Kai’s expression.

“She’s smart.  Clever and capable.  Eager to learn and able to retain what she’s read or been told.”  Kai could go on forever talking about Teris’ desirable attributes.  But he didn’t want to appear like a lovesick fool.

“High praise coming from you.”  Ryuu commented.  And it was true.  Kai was a hard man to please.

Wanting his mentor to properly meet and get to know his chosen mate, Kai offered. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing her during tomorrow’s gathering.  But if you wish, I could have her join us for dinner tomorrow evening.”

Thinking of the reason he and the others were here, Ryuu nodded.  “I would like that.”

Kai inclined his head.  Glad to have his plans so easily set.  Now all he had to do was invite Teris who would surely and readily agree.

Oblvi Facts 1

(aka info dump cause I’m a lazy writer who’s not making the effort to fit this seamlessly into the fic)

A bit about Dryads:

Dryads of Oblvi were one of the first earth Spirits in existence.  Like Venti, they are elementals.  Though not the Elemental of earth.

They are ruled by either a king or queen.  Their current ruler, His Purple Highness, is also an Elder on the Council. His reign as King began 380yrs into the 867yrs Dragon-Griffon war.  And he has ruled as the Dryad King for a total of 711yrs.

Dryad’s do not mate/bond.  It is against their nature and something they are incapable of doing.  Occasionally Dryad’s will take on or become companions with one or more Fourth’s.  But as a whole they simply seek and provide other Fourth's with release.  Unmated Fourth's or those lacking a companion will often seek a Dryad out for release.  Though not compelled by their nature or some order to accept a Fourth seeking release.  A Dryad will rarely, if ever, turn the seeking Fourth away.  Release/sex is not needed for a Dryad to live.  But it does provide many benefits to the Dryad, their home tree, and consequently surrounding flora.

A Dryad’s home tree is the tree they were born from.  It more than houses their soul.  It is their soul.  The only way a Dryad can be away from their home tree for more than a day is by taking and carrying a cutting of their home tree.  Even then, if the cutting were removed for whatever reason the Dryad would weaken, wither, and die sooner than the usual day they could survive away from their home tree. This is why the chosen Piece of Their Person for all Dryad’s is a cutting from their home tree.

Since a Dryad’s home tree is their soul, the physical and emotional state of a Dryad will effect their home tree.  This is most noticeable when having sex.  As a Dryad’s arousal heightens flower buds will appear on the cutting and home tree.  During the act, those buds will grow. Upon orgasm/release the buds will blossom and bloom.  The magic imbued within the pollen of a Dryad’s release will carry on the air and spawn a reaction in the surrounding plant life causing those plants to blossom and flower in kind.  While it’s not necessary for a Dryad’s sexual partner to orgasm for this to happen.  Their partner's release does strengthen the magic in their pollen thus creating and supporting further life in the area surrounding them and their home tree.

10.3

Along with her own personal quarters, Nemuri had a different set of chambers where she took Fourth's seeking release.  While she wouldn’t have minded allowing some of her regulars into her personal space.  Having separate rooms was all together easier for a number of reason.  Not the least of which was the feelings of one of her three companion's.

Poor Sekijiro. Tonight was suppose to be his night.  But when Shouta who rarely sought release and always scheduled appointment several days in advance had shown up without one, Nemuri couldn’t send her friend away.

Thankfully she had been the one to answer the door and had been able to tell Sekijiro of their evenings delay without Shouta hearing.  Cause let’s face it, Shouta had already been apologizing and trying to leave despite his clear need for release.

The Sphinx's level of control amazed her.  As a Beast still early in his prime one would've expected Shouta to come seeking release at least once a week if that little.  Yet it had been months since Shouta had last sought her out.  And she knew for a fact Shouta didn’t have agreement with anyone else to seek release from.

Speaking of agreements.  Along with scheduling before hand, despite Nemuri telling him it wasn’t necessary, Shouta had a list of set rules.  Lists of preferences or strict no’s were rather common. But Shouta's list was extensive.  Nemuri supposed it was part of Shouta's nature as a Sphinx to want to be prepared for every possible outcome.  Never mind his need for control as an apex alpha.

Despite one of his rules being no cuddling after, Shouta always provided other forms of aftercare.  It was an unnecessary thing.  And most who sought release didn’t do it.  If she needed tending after Nemuri had her companion's for that.  But whether it was because they were friend's.  Or Shouta was simply such a caring lover it bled through even in this professional setting of release. Shouta always asked if she needed anything.  If he had tied her up, his calloused hands would smooth over her body seeking out tense muscles or knots to message away.

Shouta hadn’t tied her up this time.  There had been no scene to lengthen his release.  There hadn’t even been much foreplay.  Not that Nemuri was complaining.  Shouta always satisfied. And tonight was no different.  Already having one orgasm, Nemuri was well on her way to a second.

Panting and sweating Nemuri's nails raked up Shouta's strong arms encouraging him along.  She delighted in the way his biceps quivered and rolled under her touch.  Shouta growled.  His powerful hands gripped her hips, holding her still.

The head of his cock hit that spot inside her. Nemuri threw her head back and moaned.  Her sensitive pussy clamping down around his thick pulsing length.

Shouta's hands tightened, fingers digging into Nemuri's flesh, adding a delicious pain to her pleasure. Nemuri moaned again.  Shouta’s betraying mind once again wondered what Teris would sound like.  His teeth scraped over and bit into his bottom lip wanting to bite at Teris’ tender flesh. He wanted to feel Teris dig her nails into him. Wanted to hear Teris moan and scream his name.  He would mark her and claim her as his.  Would feast on her lips and…

The cutting of Nemuri's home tree laid at the base of her throat jostling with Shouta's every hard, deep thrust. Three new dark purple buds sprung out near the already blossomed flowers.

“Fuck.” Shouta cursed, thrusts growing ragged and rougher.

Nemuri's back arched, pressing her breast into Shouta's large groping palm.  He tweaked and twisted her nipple.  She moaned again.  The coil within her tightened further making her vision go white.

Shouta's eyes squeezed further shut.  Teeth gritted, he shook his head.  It wasn’t working.  Why wasn’t it working?  Balls heavy and tight.  Cock throbbing and ready to burst.  He was so damn close to cumming.  But it wouldn’t happen. Why wouldn’t it happen?  Why couldn’t he cum?

Growling, Shouta stopped.

“Wha--” Dazed by her impending orgasm, Nemuri lifted her head.

“Sorry.” Shouta mumbled.

Despite the set rules Shouta had about no kissing or touching of the face or lips, Nemuri reached out to cup his handsome face.  It was an instinct born of desire to help her friend and happened without thought.

Shouta jerked his head back.  He grabbed her wrist and pulled it away. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you.”

Shouta let her go and pulled his cock out of her wet heat. He rose to his knees, chest rumbling with a noise of disapproval. Deep voice stern, Shouta shook his head. “No.  You know I’m not looking for connection or affection.  Merely release.  Nothing more.”

Arousal fading, the purple buds on Nemuri's piece withered and fell away leaving only the blossomed flowers from her first orgasm. “I’m well aware.  I just thought that with everything going on you might need something more to help you along.”

“Going against the boundaries I set isn’t going to make me less tired or distracted by the Council’s presence.”  Shouta said, face expressionless.

Nemuri blinked rapidly eyes rolling in her head. Is that the excuse he was going with?  They both knew full well him being tired and distracted had nothing to do with it. Still, he was right about her crossing a line.  It didn’t matter how pure or earnest her reasoning was.  It had been unprofessional and wrong.

“I’m sorry.  I overstepped. It won’t happen again.”  Nemuri said.

Shouta gave a curt nod of forgiveness, the matter over and forgotten the moment she said it wouldn’t happen again.

Nemuri propped herself up on elbows.  Her piece fell safely between her breasts.  The cutting of her home tree hanging by a smooth, shining cord of black leather.  “But if you ever want to properly kiss or allow the touching of faces.  I would be okay with it.”  She shrugged. “Who knows?  It might make what you were imagining feel more real.”

Shouta's eyes sharpened.  The rest of his face an expressionless mask. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not offended.  Plenty of Fourth's seeking release close their eyes and pretend to be with someone they favor.”

“My eyes were closed because I’m tired.”  Shouta said.

“So you were falling asleep while fucking me?  Now that would offend me.”

Shouta sat on his haunches and sighed. He knew Nemuri had been close and felt guilty for leaving her in want.  “I could finger or go down on you.”

Nemuri smiled gently.  Shouta was such a sweet, caring person. Not that many knew it.  Seeing only the cold hard exterior of indifference Shouta displayed to protect himself. “You already gave me one release.  This was for you, Shouta.  What’s going on? Why couldn’t you finish?”

Irrational as it was Shouta refused to accept the known facts on why a Fourth was unable to finish.  He rose up and moved from between Nemuri's legs to sit on the edge of the bed. “This arrangement works because it’s of benefit to both of us.”

“This arrangement works because you tell yourself it’s of benefit to both of us.”

Shouta looked back at her.

Nemuri sat up and shrugged a shoulder. “It’s true and you know it. Even if I didn’t have three companions.  There are countless others who regularly provide me with release when they seek it for themselves.”  She looked over Shouta's strong, naked frame and smiled.  “Not that release with you isn’t some of the best I have.”

Shouta huffed.  He shook his head and looked away.  Wavy dark hair fell across his face hiding the light blush Nemuri's praise evoked.

Nemuri got out of bed and slipped on a robe.  “So what’s the matter?”

Shouta took the tissues she offered him and wiped his softening cock clean of her arousal.  “Just tired.”

Well aware of the same facts Shouta was blatantly ignoring, Nemuri challenged. “You’ve been tired before and always finished.”

Shouta tossed the tissues in the bedside trashcan and reached for his clothes.

“Does it have anything to do with a certain member of your Ilca?”  Nemuri pressed.

Shouta’s head snapped back to her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Nemuri smirked at the Sphinx's furrowed brows and bared teeth.

Fingers fumbling with his pants zipper, Shouta muttered.  “This has absolutely nothing to do with Teris.”

“Who said anything about Teris?  I was talking about Hizashi.”

Shouta's eyes narrowed.  He didn’t need to see Nemuri's dancing blue eyes to know the Dryad was toying with him.  He could hear the smirking tease in her tone. “This has nothing to do with anyone.”

“Fine. But I’m here if you need to talk.”  Nemuri sighed.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”  Shouta brusquely pulled on his long sleeve shirt.

“As you say.”

Shouta suddenly softened. “Sorry. I didn’t check. You need anything.  Water?  Warm towel?  I could draw you a bath.”

Nemuri smiled in thanks. “No, Sweetie.  I’m good.  Just gonna take a quick shower and meet Sekijiro.”

“Alright then.” Shouta turned and made for the door.

Nemuri opened her mouth to ask one more time if he was alright, but stopped.  There was only one reason why a Fourth in their prime wouldn’t be able to finish.  Shouta knew that just as well as she.  If he wasn’t ready to admit to it there was little she could do to help. At least at the moment.

Shouta walked through the long hallway of Nemuri's Ilca dorm.  Lost in thought it took him a moment to register Sekijiro’s presence.

Waiting for Nemuri to finish with her unexpected caller, Sekijiro had left the doors to his rooms open. It was bad enough he had to suffer sharing Nemuri with her two other companion's.  Never mind the Fourth's that continually called on her for release.  But tonight was suppose to be his night alone with her.

Having heard Shouta exit the hated chambers Nemuri used for those seeking release, Sekijiro moved to stand in the doorway of his quarters.  The smell Nemuri and sex on the Sphinx invaded his nostrils.  His red eyes glowed.  A deep, dangerous growl echoed through the long hallway.

Sekijiro would’ve thought that as a beast Shouta would understand. Or at least have sympathy for his situation. It wasn’t as if the Sphinx didn’t know about his predicament. Badly kept secret that it was.  There wasn’t a single Fourth in Traverseen Hall, aside from the student's, who wasn’t aware Sekijiro was emotional mated to Nemuri.  That as hers and hers alone Sekijiro couldn’t have sought release elsewhere.  Even if he wanted to it would've been useless.  He wouldn’t have been able to finish.

Shouta inclined his head in stiff greeting as he passed. “Kan.”

“Aizawa.” Sekijiro growled out between clenched teeth.

Bad as Shouta had felt for Sekijiro.  He had seen it as the mans own fault for falling in love with Nemuri when Dryad’s were incapable of mating.  It had struck him as irrational that Sekijiro had let his feelings grow to the point that the Vampuric Gargoyle was essentially one-sidedly mated.  That was until tonight. Until Shouta discovered first hand that no matter the effort you didn’t always have a say in who you fell in love with.

10.4

Teris had grown more and more furious as time progressed.  How dare Shouta leave like that when she needed him.  Of course Hizashi, ever the peacemaker between her and the ill-tempered Sphinx, had tried to soothe her anger saying Shouta was probably on edge about the Council’s arrival.  So what?  For some reason everyone at Traverseen Hall was on edge about the Council’s arrival. Far as Teris saw it that didn’t excuse Shouta’s behavior.  Kai never would’ve ignored her and walked out like that.  Kai would've listened and…

Teris shivered.  She had never seen Kai act violently.  But something told her the Dragon was more than capable of doing so. She pushed aside the foreboding feeling and inner knowledge that she never would've gone to Kai about the winged mans kiss, and continued pacing the great room.

She hadn’t told Hizashi about the encounter with the strange winged Fourth either.  Hizashi had only stopped by the dorm to change and get ready for his date with Oboro.  Teris hadn’t want to ruin his time by worrying him.  Or worse have Hizashi call off the date to stay with her until Shouta returned.

It wasn’t really that big a deal.  Angry as Teris was about the unwanted kiss.  It had been the look in mans eyes that truly disturbed her.  The sharp dissecting gaze that seemed to pierce deeper than skin and bone. Like she was some sort of puzzle to examined and solved.

Teris unconsciously rubbed the bracelet Shouta had given her. The act brought a calming comfort.  Her muscles relaxed then tightened when she caught herself.  Teris growled and pulled her hand away from her right wrist.  A petulant urge to take the thing off welled up inside her. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Why had Shouta given it to her?  More like threw at her, Teris thought with a huff.  ”For you.” Shouta's gruff words as he thrust the bracelet toward her replayed in her mind.

Teris looked down at the bracelet for the hundredth time.  Not overly large or ornate, it held a reserved, subtle beauty. Her fingers traced over the braiding wondering what metal had been used for the decorative detail.  The thing was flawless. Certainly the finest piece of jewelry she had ever owned.

With another growl, Teris made for the door.  Waiting around here was driving her crazy.  The night was nice.  Maybe a stroll would take her mind off everything.  Besides, the last thing she wanted was for Shouta to return and discover she had been waiting for him.

Teris opened the door and walked straight into the Sphinx.  She crashed into Shouta's solid chest and stumbled back a step.  Strong arms wrapped around and steadied her.  The smell of sex and someone she vaguely recognized as Shouta's fellow Ilca leader friend Nemuri burned her nostrils.

Face an inch from hers, Shouta stared into Teris’ wide eyes.  Her mouth was slightly open, warm breath ghosting over him.  She had showered and changed.  The smell of Kai and sex was gone, leaving her scent alone to delight in.   Shouta’s humming purr went unnoticed by Teris who pushed and pulled away.

“Get off!” Teris tripped over her feet and stumbled again.

Shouta reached to steady her.  Teris slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”  Teris hissed through bared teeth.

A low displeased sound came from Shouta's throat.  The known facts were wrong.  There was no way he loved this irritating, ungracious woman.

Teris’ gut twisted, heart aching. Was that where Shouta had been?  Having sex with Nemuri.  Had it been a scheduled meet up for release?  Or just something that happened?  Both prospects were equally upsetting.

Why, she asked herself.  You had sex with Kai only few hours ago.  What’s it matter who Shouta seeks release from?

It matters because I was unsettled by that winged man and needed him, Teris thought.  Shouta's my Ilca leader.  He’s suppose to be there and help in times of trial.  If he left in a rush when I needed him just to—  Her mind stopped, forcing the abhorrent image of Shouta and Nemuri from her head.

She took shallow breaths through her mouth trying to lessen the sicking stench of sex and Nemuri from invading her senses.  Needing fresh air more than ever Teris took off down the hall.

“Teris. Get back here.”  Shouta stared after her a moment.  When she didn’t stop and return he stormed after her.  His longer stride saw him quickly catch up.  “Where are you going?”

“Away.” Teris puffed, trying and failing to pull ahead of him.

“It’s late.  Get back in the dorm.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Teris…” Shouta’s hand brushed her arm.

Teris spun right hand swinging out.

Shouta grabbed her wrist before the slap could connect.  Teeth bared he pulled Teris to him by the forearm he held. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You! You’re what’s wrong.“ Teris accused, free hand pushing against Shouta’s firm chest.

Shouta stood immovable.  His eyebrows knitted together. “Me?”

“You with your face and hair and way you move.  That voice that makes me—“ Teris didn't know if she caught and stopped herself.  Or stopped because someone was approaching.

“No!” The man approaching complained. “Don’t stop on my account.  I just love watching confessions of love.  There’s nothing better.  Well, there is.  But I wouldn’t watch that unless you two invited.”

Shouta stiffened.  His eyes darted down to Teris’ wrists.  Relief washed over him.  She was wearing the bracelet.  A warm exhilaration blossomed in his chest.  She was wearing the bracelet.

Shouta’s thumb brushed over the metal made warm by its contact with Teris’ wrist. The spell broken when Teris pulled her arm free of his hold and turned on the newcomer.

Shouta did the same.  The both of them telling that a there had been no confession of love because neither felt anything of the sort.

The Dryad King smirked at the way the two spoke over each other in their rush to assert their mutual dislike.  This era’s youth sure were curious.  Why did they insist on making everything so difficult? Granted in his day there had been a war raging.  The youth of his time having serious matters to contend with. Still, was this ages young ones that in want of tension and spectacle?  Surely they could find meaningful trial elsewhere. Love was suppose to be easy.

Shouta stopped.  He frowned at Teris who continued on for a time.

“Your Highness.”  Shouta inclined his head to the tall, slender man. “Are you lost?”

The Dryad King placed a manicured hand to his exposed chest. The buttons of his dress shirt undone all the way down to his tailored vest. “I came to see you, Shouta.”

“We’ll be seeing each other at tomorrow’s afternoon gathering.” Shouta said.

The Dryad stepped ever closer.  His footfalls eerily silent on the wooden floor.  Teris noted the mans apple green shoes perfectly matched his three piece suit down the shining gold embroidery that depicted lush swirling leaves.

His Purple Highness shook his head and sighed in disappointed disapproval. “You’re always so gruff and distant, Shouta.  No wonder you and your lady friend are unwilling to accept the truth of your love.” Shouta and Teris opened their mouths but His Purple Highness went on.  “It’s been years since we last saw each other.  Can you blame me for not wanting to wait to see how the young Sphinx I found and finished raising is getting on?”

Teris turned to Shouta.  “This is His Purple Highness?”

Shouta heaved a tired sigh and nodded.

“You’ve hear of me?”  A large beaming smile cracked the Dryad King’s face.

Teris looked back at the man and blinked. He was…  Different from what she expected.  Though she couldn’t really say what she had expected.  Certainly not some ostentatiously dressed man wearing a dark purple wizards robe over an impeccably tailored skinny cut suit.

The Dryad wagged a finger at Shouta and tisked in teasing censure.  “Have you been sharing story’s of me, Shouta?”

“No.” Shouta deadpanned.

His Purple Highness looked at Teris.  “Whatever he’s told you.  I swear it’s a hundred times more salacious.”

The man stopped in front of Teris.  He held his hand out, knuckles up.  Teris quirked a brow.  Did the Dryad expect her to kiss his ringed fingers?  He was the Dryad King.  Maybe it was expected protocol.  Kai had never mentioned what to do when faced with a species royal leader. The only time he talked about them was to dismiss and belittle their authority.

She glanced at Shouta for direction. Shouta gave a small, subtle shake of his head.

Relieved, Teris gripped the Dryad’s fingers and shook his hand.  “Nice to meet you.  I’m--”

“It’s you.”  His Purple Highness breathed.

With the smell of sex and Nemuri perfuming the air, His Purple Highness hadn’t registered the woman’s scent. But when Teris had moved, her scent had wafted through the air and tickled the Dryad King’s nose. Her scent was warm, fresh, lovely. And the underlying scent of her species…  Muddled as it was, His Purple Highness wouldn’t have been able to tell what she was if he hadn’t smelled this particular Griffon before.

It was early spring.  Snow still clung to small shaded patches of earth. The Dryad King walked through the forest alone.  Nature was a living thing.  If left alone for too long it would grow sinister and violent.  This forest had been void of life for quite some time. Why? What was warding the lesser creatures away?

His Purple Highness followed his senses.  Pulled to the thing that was keeping everything else at bay.  Green shoots of new plant life sprung up and spread in his wake.  Deep in a cold stone cave he found him.  A young Sphinx frozen in time by a Gargoyles stoning spell.  The boy was hold something.  Clutching it in his hands.  His small frame curled around it as if to protect it.

A feather.

Not just any feather.

Stoning spell removed the young Sphinx was slow to wake.  It gave the Dryad King time to realize the youngling held a griffon feather.  As he plucked the speckled grey and white feather from the Sphinx's tightly balled hands the Griffon’s scent wafted through the air, tickling his nose.

His Purple Highness had hid the feather for Shouta’s safety.  Even then it had taken calling in several favors and making countless promises for his fellow Elders on the Council to agree to let the Sphinx live.  Even now Shouta was watched.  The ax hanging over Shouta's head ready to drop at the first mistake he made.

Eventually Shouta forgot about the feather he had been found clutching to his heart. Yet even without it, the Sphinx had managed to find his Griffon.  And with her, the dangers His Purple Highness had tried to protect Shouta from.

Love was suppose to be easy.  But that didn’t mean it always was.  Sometimes love came with great hazard and difficulty.

This fic will have a LOT more world building than my others.  Please feel free to comment or send me an ask if you have any questions.

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special thank you to those who have left comments and/or reblogged. They really mean a lot.

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going.  Your friendship means the world to me.

[littleprongsgirl]

luminescence lll

Monday that day of the week hated by children and adults that day that brings us back to our monotonous and routine life I do not even like Mondays but but this narrator knows a certain brunette with a rather strange fondness for the aforementioned day, well it is in none other than Lizzie Dupont, the Monday fanatic girl, in her words - they seem ethereal and pleasant to me - said the brunette every time they asked her why her big smile at the beginning of the week and well that brings us back to now with Lizzie donning a pair of black heels over her unusual bee stockings for her date with Principal McGonagall at the Three Broomsticks Pub and then touring the castle and taking her things to her new office.

Lizzie took her bags, locked her apartment, and adjusted her beret to make an appearance that would lead her directly to a hogsmade alley less than a block from the pub.

"Hell why didn't I think of doing a spell to shrink this before," she said referring to the suitcases while she spelled them to be the size of her pocket-much better

The young woman took her purse and went to the door of the pub to enter and find the director mcgonagall sitting at a table in a corner away from the hustle and bustle

-Professor McGonagall a pleasure to meet you -said Ła smiling brunette

At that time the director was somewhat surprised by the girl's colorful appearance since let's say it was not how she imagined her at all, at that moment Minerva took a look at the girl inspecting her, first she noticed a simply braided brown hair accompanied by a striking red beret which matched the girl's coat which was the same carmine tone and then noticed the striking stockings of a bee print with some heels which you could tell that they were trying to give it a serious tone to the outfit (which really didn't meet his goal). But at that very moment the teacher decided to give it a try for two simple reasons, the first was that over time she had realized that impressions could be a treacherous double-edged sword and the second was that she had already lost hope regarding it. to the subject of magic history and the peculiar looking chestnut was his best option.

-well miss Dupont as you know I am the director mcgonagall and we are here to discuss the agreements of your contract and to tell you about the work- said the woman while Lizzie nodded- well I see in your resume that beauxbatons graduated with impressive grades for later graduate in history of magic and literature at the academy in paris -the chestnut nodded again- according to this then I work in a museum in magic paris for 2 years and then spend a year working in a magic bookstore, right?

-if teacher also take a couple of courses in restoration of magical art and pedagogy at a muggle university

-I have to admit that she has an impressive resume I just want to ask her something -the brunette nodded- tell me why she wants to work as a teacher being able to take many more exciting or more glorified jobs

-well to be sincere, consider the work first of all because my friend Fleur and my little goddaughter reside in London but beyond that I accepted the job because let's say that I have always been a big fan of children and I feel that I could achieve that These children and youth will be motivated with respect to history and literature using less conventional methods.

- At that moment McGongall smiled slightly and knew that he had made the right decision and that in front of her there was a young woman with a true vocation as a teacher - well, it seems to her if we go to see the castle -

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

In an office in the department of aurors Harry Potter was sitting reviewing over and over the same file trying to find the logic to the strange disappearances of people in magical London, these had already been more than 4 months and 20 victims tormenting the aurors since there was nothing that connected them apart from the fact that with each victim a valuable object disappeared from their houses but apart from that there was nothing else that connected them.

-Burning your eyelashes Potter? -Asked Wilson, the current head of the department of aurors-

-no, I'm just trying to find something to connect them -said the jet and then sink his head into his arms, already quite frustrated-

-Potter calm go to a bar take something dance for a while look for a sexy girl or boy I did not judge and have fun for a while, as you go you will end up with a severe nervous breakdown and that is the last thing I want for my best auror

-Well I think a drink would not hurt me and I have not been to hogsmade for a long time I could go for a fly there must be a lot of movement as it is already August 29

-That's going and tell me tomorrow, and if you want you can arrive an hour later because of the hangover since, being honest, we both know that you haven't taken a vacation for 3 years.

-you are a great boss

-Yes but remember that I am also your friend, now go take your things and go I do not want to see you until tomorrow myopic.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“All Friends Again” || YEAR 3 – Ch.25 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

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Day posted: 10/6/2020

Word count: 2, 841

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

Hey guys! Sorry I didn’t update last Friday! I’d been way too exhausted with a bad night’s sleep to write anything. I’m working on time management this month so I hope to have these chapters done before the morning I’m supposed to post them XD I miss being ahead by like ten chapters XD

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Heather and Hermione sat by their salamander log staring at Ron and Harry laughing obnoxiously about something. She rubbed her hands over the fire and fed the salamander more dried leaves.

“When will they get over it?” Heather said, trembling under her cloak. It was mid-January morning and Hagrid had thought it a great idea to have them all sit in the chilly air and frosted grass feeding the fire-loving creatures some leaves.

Hermione shrugged, pulling her eyes away and setting her jaw. “They can be mad for however long they please. I’m far too busy to worry about them.”

Hermione was right. She was far too busy. Her workload had started to affect her sleeping schedule and every day they were spending less and less time together. They only really talked now during the classes they shared together and a bit after before parting ways, which left her feeling alone.

During Defense Against the Dark Arts Heather overheard Harry asking Professor Lupin about the lessons he had promised them. They were scheduled to work on it Thursday after dinner in the History of Magic classroom. She wrote that down and decided she didn’t care if he was mad at her. She deserved to learn the same spells as him.

The bells rang and Hermione and her packed their bags quick and left the classroom before Harry and Ron. They were halfway down the hall when Hermione’s bag ripped.

“Do you HAVE to bring all your books at once?” Heather helped her gather her fallen textbooks.

Hermione sat at the feet of a suit of armor and sighed. “Yes. You never know when you’re going to need something.”

Heather heard Ron’s voice as they exited the classroom.

“Does he still look a bit ill to you?”

Harry nodded. They were walking their way.

“What d’you think’s the matter with him?”

“Tuh,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ron and Harry paused and turned around to look at them shoving books into Hermione’s ripped bag.

Ron frowned at them. “Why’re you tutting us?”

She didn’t want to make their fight worse and quickly spoke for Hermione. “We weren’t. It was nothing.”

“Yes you were. I said ‘What d’you think’s wrong with Lupin?’ and she – ”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione rolled her eyes again making Ron red with anger.

“Fine. Don’t tell us then,” Ron snapped. He pulled Harry with him and they both disappeared around the corner.

Heather looked at Hermione. “D’you… You know then?”

Hermione looked at her with narrowed eyes. “That he’s…”

Heather grinned. “The floating orb. And being sick every month.”

Hermione smiled. “Yes. The symptoms are practically the same as the text.”

That was their way of confirming to each other that the other knew as well, without giving it all away in case the other was only pretending to know. They finished repacking the bag and headed their separate ways. Hermione to wherever she normally went and Heather to the Slytherin common room to hang out with Pansy and her friends and Draco preferably if he was there.

Thursday came around and after dinner she made her way down to Professor Lupin’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he called back.

She opened the door and smiled. “Evening Professor.” He was finishing up grading some essays and smiled at her. “I was wondering if I could join Harry on his lessons? You did promise us both.”

He nodded, “Of course. I don’t see why not… er, I’ve noticed you two aren’t hanging out recently. Are you two alright?”

She gave her best smile. “Of course.”

He didn’t look too convinced but asked nothing more. Together they walked down to the History of Magic classroom. Harry was running late which was good, since he didn’t know she’d be joining him. She sat at a desk, looking at the carrying case Professor Lupin was heaving onto Professor Binns’ desk, when Harry entered.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked immediately.

Professor Lupin looked to her and she responded. “It’s both our lessons. We both asked for them.”

Harry rolled his eyes and made his way to a desk.

“Right then… I’ve found a boggart to work with – took some looking but I found it inside Mr. Filch’s filing cabinet. When we aren’t using it I’ll store him under my desk, I think he’ll like it in there. Are you two ready?”

Heather nodded and looked at Harry who tried his best not to grumble at her and nodded too.

Professor Lupin looked at them both. “Right... Harry why don’t you go first? Wands out.” He waited until their wands were out. “The spell we’ll practice is advanced magic – far beyond Ordinary Wizarding Levels. In fact it can be hard for even experienced wizards to get it right. It’s called the Patronus Charm. Heard of it?”

Heather nodded, “Yes. I have at least.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at her. “How’s it work?”

The question wasn’t aimed at her but she couldn’t help showing off. “It conjures a patronus. It’s like a shield that wards off dementors, among other uses.”

“Very good, Heather. A full patronus is a guardian, almost, and it doesn’t exactly ward them off… more so feeds them while you get away. It’s a projection of positive force that the dementors can feed upon – except the patronus doesn’t feel despair when being fed on.” He rested his wand in both hands and looked at each of them. “You two may not be able to conjure one, at least not first try. Keep that in mind.”

“What’ll it look like?” Harry asked curiously.

“It’s different for everyone, isn’t it? There’s no way of knowing until you conjure it.”

“Precisely. And to do that you must focus on a single, very happy memory.”

Heather frowned. A ‘very’ happy memory? Did she have any of those? She supposed arriving at Hogwarts every year is the happiest ones she has. Or maybe winning the house cup? That one was a good one.

“The incantation is as follows…” he cleared his throat and turned towards the case so they could copy his wand movements. “Expecto Patronum!”

“Expecto Patronum,” they repeated and pointed their wands like he was doing. Nothing came out of their wands.

Professor Lupin turned. “You’re both concentrating on your happy memories?”

They nodded and tried again. Heather focused on the feeling of seeing the castle for the first time after the summer holidays as the train neared Hogsmeade and it came into perfect view. “Expecto Patronum – Expecto Patronum – Expecto – ”

Something silvery swooshed out of Harry’s wand, like silvery gas. It was small, yet far more impressive than Heather’s nothing.

“Did you see that? Something came out! I almost had it!” Harry was smiling wide.

“Very good!” Professor Lupin nodded. “Heather why don’t you keep trying while Harry gives the boggart a go.”

She frowned and turned away, focusing on winning the house cup first year. Everyone was cheering and she’d earned enough points to keep them in the lead. She’d been so happy and proud then. “Expecto patronum!” She stared at the end of her wand but nothing came out. She thought of making it onto her Quidditch team. “Expecto Patronum!” Nothing.

She heard a thump and turned to see Harry fallen on the floor and Professor Lupin making the dementor turn into the moon and putting it back in its case.

“Harry, are you alright?” Professor Lupin knelt beside him, helping him sit up.

“Yeah.” Harry rubbed his head. Professor Lupin handed him a chocolate frog and Harry bit into it. “It’s getting worse… This time I could hear her clearer… And him – I heard Voldemort.”

Professor Lupin looked paler than normal.

Heather crossed her arms. “Maybe we should stop for today then.”

“No! We’ll keep going. I will. If dementors show up for the Ravenclaw match I need to keep them away.”

Professor Lupin nodded. “Heather… Have you gotten anything to happen? Are you ready to try?”

Heather looked at her wand and shook her head.

“I’ll go again. I’m fine.” Harry stood.

Professor Lupin walked over to the case again and gripped the lid. “Ready?”

Heather turned around again, huffing to herself. Why weren’t her memories making her happy enough? She was happy then… But none of them were making her feel happy now. There was too much going on in her head. How could she be happy about winning the house cup her first year when she’d lost it their second. And as much as thinking about Quidditch made her happy, she was still feeling very bitter towards Ron and Harry for not checking to see if she was alright when she fell.

She raised her arm and thought of being told they were wizards. “Expecto Patronum!” Nothing wooshed and nothing silvery came out. They were told together, walking into a whole new world together, they were all they had, and now Harry was mad at her over a broom? None of these memories were making her happy. Just angry.

THUMP. Harry was on the ground again.

Professor Lupin shook his shoulders. “Harry? Harry wake up. Harry.”

Harry mumbled something and fixed his glasses. “I heard my dad… I’ve never heard him before. He tried to – he took on Voldemort himself, trying to give my mum time to run for it... Giving her time to save us.”

Heather looked at Harry, and for the first time in several weeks, he looked at her without anger in his eyes. There were tears there, running down his cheek and he quickly wiped them away.

“You heard James?” Professor Lupin looked distant, eyes staring out at nothing.

“You knew him?” Heather asked.

Professor Lupin looked at her, nodding. “We were friends at Hogwarts… We should end for tonight. This spell might be too advanced.”

Harry stood, shaking his head. “No, no! I can do it. I’ll give it one last go. I’ll just think of a happier memory.”

Professor Lupin nodded but Heather didn’t want to stay there any longer. Every time Harry failed he talked about their parents. It exhausted her to push unwanted thoughts and feelings out of her head. She was tired and sad, and just wanted to go to bed.

“I’m going to go… Good luck Harry.” She walked out of the classroom and wiped a tear from her eye after the door had closed.

Deep down… she wanted to know what he sounded like too, but those were memories she knew she’d destroyed a long time ago. She stopped halfway down the dungeon stairs and sat. It was close to after hours and everyone was normally inside already, so she didn’t think anyone would bump into her on the stairs. She let a tear run down her cheek, and then another one, and another. She dropped her face into her hands and started crying, not knowing what she felt or why.

Why did she feel so… angry? Not just at Harry, but towards her parents as well. She couldn’t even bring herself to call them anything but her ‘mother’ and ‘father’, distancing them from her heart. But they gave up their lives for them, sacrificed themselves to keep them safe. Wasn’t the least she could do to show them love is call them ‘mum’ and ‘dad’?

She sobbed. Did she even love them? She loved Harry, with all her heart… But did she love her parents? They were gone. And didn’t it hurt to love people that are gone? That you can never get back? If Harry died… would she stop loving him too?

She heard a door open – Professor Snape’s office – and quickly wiped her tears. She stood and continued down the stairs, meeting him at the bottom.

He stopped. “Potter. Is it so incredibly hard to remember that you are not to be outside the common room after hours?”

Heather avoided his eyes, knowing hers were red and puffy. “Sorry, Professor.”

He must have sensed he couldn’t break her further because he all he said was, “Get inside,” before continuing up the stairs.

Heather ducked into the common room. There were still people around so she went straight for the girl dormitories and decided to take a long bath. Right before bed Cindy offered her more berries, seeing she was looking a little sad, and Heather accepted. She fed them to her toad and watched the berry juice drip down his little toad chin and stomach.

The month of January went by slowly and February rolled in even slower. Hermione was now too busy with classes to talk after any lessons, saying she had no time. Harry had been continuing his lesson with Professor Lupin by himself and apparently was finally producing more than just a bit of silvery gas. Professor Lupin kept asking her if she’d join them but she always declined. Maybe if something very magnificent happened to her she’d join with a new ‘very’ happy memory, but currently, life was as it always was.

One February morning, on her way to meeting Hermione outside the Gryffindor common room, she saw Ron, Harry, and Hermione making their way down the stairs together. Heather stopped and looked at them as they came towards her.

“Oh.” She crossed her arms and stared at Harry. “We’ve made up then have we?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I got my firebolt back – ”

“Which was perfectly fine,” Ron interrupted.

“Well it might NOT have been,” Hermione snapped.

Heather stared at the obvious tension growing between Ron and Hermione.

“Scabbers is gone and Crookshanks might be to blame,” Harry filled her in.

The four of them made it to breakfast and sat together at the Gryffindor table. When she looked back at the Slytherin table she saw Pansy glaring at her. For several weeks they had been sitting together, mutually benefiting off each other’s popularity, but now Pansy was alone and unable to keep up any Quidditch talk by herself.

“Explain the blood then!” Ron was yelling with a mouth full of toast. “Blood on the sheets and ginger hairs all over! Explain!”

Hermione had a book up between her and Ron. “Well maybe you just aren’t looking hard enough.” Ron scoffed. “Have you checked under ALL the beds?”

“Oh, UNDER the beds. I’ve only been looking above them because of Scabbers ability to FLY!”

Harry looked at Heather and sighed. “Pass the jam?”

Their fighting got worse after Herbology. They were all studying in the library when Hermione suggested Ron was just prejudice against her cat ever since Crookshanks chased Scabbers out of the Magical Menagerie.

“Only a maniac would buy the cat that almost ate their friend’s rat!” Ron closed his book and left the library.

“Hermione – ”

Heather knew what Harry was about to do and shook her head at him. He ignored her.

“Ron did find blood where Scabbers normally sleeps and I don’t think those ginger hairs would have stayed there since Christmas. We’ve been walking around and sweeping the floor with our socks.”

Hermione shut her book. “Oh I knew you’d side with Ron! First you’re both mad at me about the firebolt and now you’re mad at me about something Crookshanks DIDN’T do – ”

“Where IS Crookshanks?” Heather regretted asking almost immediately.

Hermione’s face went red. “I’m very busy and I can’t work with everyone talking,” she said shrilly. She got up and left the library as well.

Harry and Heather stayed to work on their potions essay on Undetectable Poisons.

A day later and the Weasleys were trying to cheer Ron up, seeing he was thoroughly devastated about Scabbers. During breakfast all but Percy were sitting around him, patting his back and offering him candy.

“Think of his death this way, at least it was quick and painless. He’d been off-color for ages, losing hair and all that. One swallow and his misery was over.”

“Fred!” Ginny hissed.

“Oh come on. You always said he was very boring. All he did was sleep and barely eat and sleep some more. Now you can buy a new rat,” George shook Ron’s shoulders a bit.

Ron lifted his head from the table. “He bit Goyle for us! He put that disgusting sausage finger in his mouth for US, remember?”

Heather and Harry nodded.

“A true hero,” said Fred while biting his cheek to keep from laughing. “And now the scar on Goyle’s finger will stand as a lasting tribute to Scabbers’ memory.”

Surprising to no one, Fred and George couldn’t manage to cheer Ron up. Maybe Ron was doomed to remain sad for the rest of the year without Scabbers. He did say he’d never be happy again. Heather told him at least then the dementors would leave him alone and he did nod appreciative.

Mopey Ron was a new normal they’d have to get used to, but Heather was far happier now. She was back to being friends with Ron, she had Harry back, and Hermione was talking to them – except Ron – so everything was almost like normal.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

                          Chapter List

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[yeats-infection]

@sqvalors tagged me in a lil writing meme... if you’d like to participate please do and tag me! 

ao3 name: fluorescentgrey but i also post some things as drglass (dr. glass is the second song on the fluorescent grey EP by deerhunter, so if i make another pseud it will be likenew, then washoff, etc.) 

fandoms: about two thirds of my fics are harry potter or star wars but there are a lot of random little goodies. currently i have shifted into the terror (2018) mode. 

number of fics: 59 right now... i will throw a party when i get to 69... 

fic i spent the most time on: this is funny because some of these technically took me like six months or more of working on them extremely intermittently... namely, bone machine. the series in the garden has taken me the most time generally... and in that, minuet did take me several months of working really hard while i had a schedule / commute that was not conducive to having a creative practice... 

fic i spent the least amount of time on: hilariously, literally my most popular fic by ninety miles, the witcher PWP that i wrote out of spite in two or three hours. 

longest fic: the source codes series... particularly heelstone which is 102k. i wrote these two stories in a single summer like a crazy person and i hate talking about them because i find them WAY too gooey. honestly, that’s why they are so long. it’s all the gooeyness!!!!!! 

shortest fic: yes, the answer is the witcher porn again (this silly thing is going to be the answer for many other questions in this little meme but i’m just going to stop talking about it while i’m ahead). the west end is just about 50 words longer and is much better and is a much better and more interesting story. 

most hits: we’re just going to pretend it’s sex and dying in high society, which has the second most hits. this is certainly due to the fact that @wolfstarwarehouse hypes this story a lot for which i am endlessly grateful! 

most kudos: recovery position has the second most kudos so let’s go with that one! i have been very touched by the response to this story, though i do personally like the sequel beachcoma a little more... i understand why not everyone wants to read it because it is a little more bittersweet. but it also comes from my soul. 

most comment threads: the two stories in the source codes series are leading here, because i only posted two chapters at a time so that i would get maximal validation, lol. 

most bookmarks: in order to talk about a story i haven’t talked about yet, the rosary has the fourth-most. i think this fic is truly my r/s swan song... i said everything i wanted to say and did everything i wanted to do. it’s a really good mystery/noir story that i didn’t think i could pull off until i did! and i love the OCs in it who have sort of manifested these secret headcanons for me that i may expostulate upon someday. thank you to @piovascosimo for the inspiration to write it. 

total word count: 1,000,478. lol! 

favorite fic i wrote: cannot possibly choose but probably the top five in order of date posted are: desperado, a handful of dust, doom town, beachcoma, jump into the fire

fic i’d rewrite / expand on: i already said all of source codes because it’s way too gooey, i also could make hard time killing floor blues a lot tighter, and a memoir of the flesh deserves a way better ending because i was rushing to make the yuletide deadline...

share a bit of a WIP: i was trying for a while to write a band of brothers AU where they are vietnam vets who start growing cannabis... based on the steve earle song “copperhead road.” this could have been SO good but the plot was too huge and unwieldy so i gave up. my roommate is obsessed with this idea and keeps asking me how it’s going so i may yet finish. but there’s a bit below the cut.

The knock at the door in the night was a sharp shock, bright as lightning, that sent them both back to Khe Sanh and before. Nix ducked. Dick went behind the doorframe. They kept low into the kitchen, where Nix took his old officer’s pistol out from where he kept it hidden behind the fridge. Then they went to the door, keeping to the edges of the hallways.

On the porch was Liebgott. He could have made his own way in likely right onto the couch without either of them noticing, so it was something that he had knocked on the goddamn door. It was particularly something given that none of the boys from Easy should have known about the grow operation, or even about Dick’s farm, being as Dick’s address on file at the V.A. was a post office box in town and Nix’s was still in Jersey. These considerations were nil to somebody who had spent the better part of five years in the bush of Vietnam. He took a last draw from his cigarette and put it out against the rubber sole of his boot, then he put the butt in his pocket. As far as Nix knew, he hadn’t said a word since January 1970.  

“Joe,” said Dick diplomatically. He put his hand out and Liebgott took it. Then he took Nix’s. He had handsome dark eyes, but they were full of a wall. You could tell he saw you, but it was like nothing followed the necessary channels to the brain to spur emotional response. It had been like this even while he was still talking, and after a while you got used to it.

“You comin' in,” said Nix, knowing he probably would even if he wasn’t invited.

Inside, they all three sat at the kitchen table in silence nobody was about to break. Finally Dick got up and went to the drawer where they kept the rollies and their share of the product. He passed a sheaf of papers and a film canister full of bud to Liebgott across the table. Nix understood as well as Dick apparently did that there would be no getting anything over on this kid, who had eyes in the back and sides of his head. He’d probably had a nice tour of the property before coming inside. “You hungry, son,” Dick said.

Liebgott shook his head. He extracted one of the buds from the canister and inspected it. They did look mighty good if Nix said so himself. They looked artful in Liebgott’s hand. There were black scabs across his knuckles and a dark rime of filth under those fingernails which still existed. He seemed satisfied enough with what he saw to take a paper out of the sheaf and start shredding the flower into it.

“Captain Nixon calls it Easy Diesel,” said Dick, like he was trying to pretend it wasn’t the funniest thing in the world.

Liebgott looked up and a smile flashed across his face like the savage golden light of a flare falling over the far hills. His smile was sort of brutal, like the edge of a knife in a barfight, or like a seething animal. Luckily it went away as quickly as it had come. He rolled the joint with a quick grace and lit the business end with his old silver Zippo Nixon hadn’t seen since the war. There was a skull engraved on one side and on the other it read IF YOU ARE RECOVERING MY BODY, FUCK YOU.

“I don’t know how you found us, Joe,” Dick said thoughtfully. “You don’t have to… tell us. But we ain’t exactly keen to have just anybody here.” He paused and looked quickly to Nix, who tried to make it abundantly clear by means of eyebrows that he wasn’t sure they ought to go down this road, wherever it was leading. Dick ignored him. Liebgott was watching them, fully understanding their attempted clandestine exchange. “We ain’t exactly keen to have the DEA here,” Dick said at last.

The cherry at the end of the joint atomized with a crackling hiss. Liebgott looked between Dick and Nix with extreme seriousness sullied only by his exhaling a dignified white cloud out his nose. Then he nodded, once, curtly, demonstrating he understood his orders as they had been relayed.

Nix flashed Dick what he thought was a what have you done type look. But Dick looked totally unbothered. He should have gone into this business years ago for how violently unflappable he was. He said to Liebgott, “I’ll get some blankets and you can make up the couch.”

Liebgott shook his head to say no need. He got up, careful not to scrape the chair against the floor, shook each of their hands again, and in less than a minute’s time he was back out the door with nothing more than what he’d come in with except the joint.

Nix and Dick, on the porch, listening to the crickets, watched him disappear into the darkness.

“Are we hallucinating,” said Nix eventually.

“I sure as hell hope not,” Dick replied. “We’ve got to ship all that product or we’ll starve.”

-

In the morning Nix was in the field, inspecting the plants. Liebgott was standing there at his quarter for god knew how long before he cleared his throat and Nix jumped about six feet in the air. There was a smirk shifting across Liebgott’s face that he would have been better about hiding when Nix had been his commanding officer. He looked like he hadn't slept. Back over there he had looked like that a lot, but it had been different, because of all the uppers they were taking. He cocked his head back over toward the long driveway and then he was off across the dew-wet grass which had already soaked through the hems of his canvas pants and his destroyed shoes.

Nix followed, like a duckling behind a hen. Liebgott still walked as though there were eyes in all sides of his head quickly processing information as he moved. Nix doubted you ever lost that kind of skill, even if in the real world it made you look like a mental patient. He caught up so they could walk side by side through the dew-wet grass. “What did you think,” he asked Liebgott.

Liebgott passed Nix the universal sign of furrowed brow that meant please clarify.

Nix gestured with pinched fingers to his own mouth as though Liebgott were also deaf. “The grass.”

He shaped his hand into an a-ok sign.

“You get any sleep?”

He nodded an infinitesimal nod, like the answer was a secret just for Nix to know.

“Well if you think it could be better just tell me how.”

Nix had had a high school friend whose sister was deaf from scarlet fever and whom he had watched on occasion communicate with her by means of sign language. Early on, back over there, he had sent off to command for a book, but by the time it came he understood it wasn’t that Liebgott couldn’t speak, he just didn’t want to. It was something like how people’s hair supposedly turned white if they witnessed some evil thing, or how people became ascetics in the name of god. If you were really fucked up on drugs or fear or otherwise, or if the natural magical thinking from childhood hadn’t been fully beaten out of you, you might have seen it as the sacrifice he had given to the forest for letting him out without a scratch so many goddamn times. It had been a bit of a trial to explain this to Spiers, who was practical almost to a fault, sometimes.

Liebgott showed another a-ok sign. Then he did a thumbs up which Nix knew meant it was good.

All in all it was smart. If he was still talking, Nix might have asked him, what have you been up to? You been sleeping on the street? You been to the V.A.? What did they tell you? And the answer would’ve been nothing good. Instead they just walked in the cool grass together in the sunshine and the morning was beautiful, and the air was sweet. It was all lovely until Liebgott had to physically stop him, laughing, somehow silently but also hysterically, from stepping right onto the razor-thin tripwire stretched invisibly across the dark gravel.

In the kitchen, Dick was doing the numbers. He took his glasses off when Nix came in and put the coffee on. “He learned a thing or two from Charlie,” Nix said, leaning against the counters.

“Who, Joe?”

“Our driveway is thoroughly ratfucked.”

“Hmm,” said Dick. He put the glasses back on and turned back to the accounting book. He was going to do this whole thing as above board as was humanly possible. The vivid daylight came through the window and struck the lens of his unstylish Ray-Bans and threw a kind of prism of color upon the white paper and the chicken-scratch sums. Nix felt like maybe this was something you would paint if you had the necessary implements and artistic ability. “Maybe we should see if we can get any more help.”

-

He was mildly ashamed to say it, but the doc had always kind of creeped Nix out. He imagined a hypothetical conversation with Dick, who he knew loved the kid, almost like a son: Listen, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid, I owe him my life, yadda yadda. But either he’s dropped the brown acid one too many times or the voodoo exorcism went FUBAR.

The doc had arrived on the farm on the heels of Sunshine and Rainbows, aka Mr. Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed, aka one Edward “Babe” Heffron. Nix had written Babe in South Philly, being as he was a connoisseur of bud and once upon a time had been famed among their company for smoking anything anyone put in his hand, often to his own detriment. The operation was getting big enough that Nix needed another pair of hands, other than Liebgott, of course, who was still fortifying the long driveway whilst giving away his cover by playing Led Zeppelin IV as loudly as was possible. It was a tough calculation, because Babe was a genius of pot, but he couldn’t keep a damn secret, and lo and behold he had dragged along with him a dark shadow in the human form of Eugene Roe. They came up the driveway in a big old Ford pickup that rattled its rust off in the potholes. Liebgott had dismantled the traps specially for their arrival when they had called from Williamsport to say they were an hour out.

“I figured we could use a medical professional to lend some credibility to the operation,” said Babe thoughtfully, sparking a joint on the porch over sweating jam jars of iced tea.

Roe snorted or something but it wasn’t really a normal person’s self-effacing laugh. Winters clapped his back. Nixon knew Roe had dropped out of medical school after two years but there was no need to say anything. Everyone knew that. Now he was working construction and Babe claimed to be working as a mechanic in a garage, but this seemed suspect given the state of the car they had driven up in.

“Well we sure as hell are glad you boys are here,” said Dick magnanimously.

Babe exhaled an opaque cloud that rivaled Nix’s own father’s ability with a stogie. “Can we see the bush?”

They went out all together to the field and ducked between the rows of corn. Babe knelt in the soil. It was damp with dew and quiet in here. It would have been almost like over there except it smelled good. “What’s the cross,” Babe said, inspecting the plants.

“It’s an indica blend…”

“Well, I can tell that,” he said.

“So you’re an expert on the plant now too?”

“I’ve just smoked an awful lot of joints in my life, Captain Nixon.”

Roe snorted again. When they all looked to him he said, “You said in the letter there was some kind of altruistic reason for all this.”

“It’s medicine, Gene,” Babe said gently, but also like they had had this conversation thirty thousand times. Nix filed away for later the intimation that Roe had read the letter he’d sent Babe at home in South Philadelphia.

“I guess you don’t remember the psychic break you had at the Do Lung Bridge.”

Babe waved this remark off, even though Nix remembered it too. It threw a chill down his back, like a water balloon had hit him at the base of his neck. “That was laced,” Babe said.

“With what!”

“I don’t know! Something bad!” Babe turned to Dick and Nix. “Gene’s teetotal,” he said, like this was a big old point of contention.

So that counted out the bad acid. Maybe he was just like this. Maybe he had had those big sad bug eyes as a child or an infant or a fetus in the womb. “Good on you, Doc,” Nix said.

“I ain’t trying it,” Roe said, folding his arms over his narrow chest, “no matter what it does.”

The doc was a tough cookie. Babe had claimed, over there, about as high as the Byrds song, that the doc came from a long line of the kind of folks described in Dr. John’s “Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya” and that, as such, he could heal wounds with his mind. When it didn’t work, as on the night when Jackson died, or the night when Hoobler died, or in the forest when Muck and Penkala died, or the night when Liebgott stopped speaking, he went to sit for a while on the edge of camp until Dick went over and made him eat something. Nix watched them in a state of confused envy, and then he went to write the letters to the families, so that Dick wouldn’t have to.

At dusk, after they ate a light dinner of corn on the cob and rice and beans, he took the boys up into the hayloft with an armful of blankets. “Sorry this is the best we got,” he said. He had said that about a hundred god damn times since they got here.

Roe looked like he wanted to say, you’ve got to stop apologizing for everything. Instead he said, “Where does Lieb sleep.”

Babe perked up. “Joe’s here?”

“You didn’t see him in the driveway?”

Nix sighed. “He’s gonna want to know what he did wrong that you saw him,” he said.

“Does he still — ”

Nix shook his head. “Not a peep.”

In a couple days time, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he was hot and tired and stoned, up to his elbows in earth in the field, showing Babe how to replant the hatchlings he’d grown from seed. “You guys room together or what?”

“Me and Gene?” Babe’s eyes were red in the corners from smoking and from the sun. “What about you and Dick?”

Dick, who had the radio on inside turned up as loud as it would go, so that they would hear it in the field, playing Crosby Stills and Nash doing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” “What about me and Dick?” said Nix.

Babe was a smart kid. He realized this was going nowhere. With muddy hands he popped one of the seedlings out of its little pot and cradled it into the ground. “Well, I think he thinks he’s looking after me, but in actuality, I am looking after him.”

[the-delta-42]

War Circle 3

War Circle 3

Chilling discovery

Michael was checking the other computers when Damocles arrived. Before Damocles could even get a word out, Michael gestured for him to come around the desk, before turning the screen to show Damocles his discovery.

Damocles paled, before he stood up straight.

“How many other computers have you found…that on?” Damocles spluttered, as Michael frowned.

“Three, not including that initial one.” Said Michael, “We’re going to have to get the Police involved, if this is brushed under the rug and the public find out, the school is going to be finished.”

Damocles made a strained growling noise, “How many of the pictures are of the students?”

“They’re separated into folders, probably to ‘keep them organised’.” Said Michael, as the seventh computer opened its files to show more pictures, “A member of staff has been drugging students and, at the very least, taken indecent images of them. I think the previous tech support guy may have been in charge, or at least known about it and that’s not even covering the stuff that’s in the other folders.”

Damocles quickly left the office, leaving a confused Michael behind. Michael looked over the newly opened file and his heart froze.

WC

“Why am I doing this again?” Caline asked, as she and Michael approached the girls changing room.

“The same reason I’ve managed to get other members of staff to go into the various bathrooms and changing rooms in the school,” Said Michael, his face set in a scowl, “Someone has been taking inappropriate images of students, male and female, and selling them. At least three of the bathrooms have had cameras installed that aren’t listed in the school database.”

Caline stopped and looked at Michael’s back, “That doesn’t explain why you’re taking it personally.”

Michael stopped, his head bowing, “Caline, how many of your students have vanished for hours on end and come back unable to explain where they’ve been?”

Caline stopped and though for a moment, “All my students have done it at least once.”

“How would you react if you came across an image of a close friend or family member in such a state?” Michael asked, as Wynnter flew out of his jacket, “Kwami can’t follow their chosen in certain circumstances, and if the wielder can’t remember an experience, then they cannot alert others to such an occurrence.”

Caline’s heart froze, “Marinette?”

Michael nodded quietly, “From what I’ve seen in the folder, they only drugged her and nothing else, but that fear still picks at the back of my mind.”

“Are you going to tell her?” Asked Caline, drawing level with Michael.

Michael was silent, before responding, “How? How do I look her in the eye and tell her there is a chance she’s been assaulted?”

“What was the folder like?” Caline pressed, “Was it with them in various stages of undress, was it anything beyond that?”

“I-I don’t know.” Michael admitted, “As soon as I saw folder with her name on it, amongst others with that filth, I closed it and started looking around the school.”

Caline was silent, before speaking, “There was a time, after an Akuma attack, when Marinette was very late in coming back to class, at the time I brushed it off, thinking she’d gotten lost, but if that happened…”

They arrived at the changing rooms.

“I’ll see you shortly.” Said Michael, disappearing into the boys, while Caline entered the girls.

Caline looked down at the picture Michael gave her, it was a shot of the changing room, with the door clearly visible. Caline look in the general direction of where the camera should be, only spotting a pile of boxes. Caline frowned and approached the pile, before carefully shifting them, until she came across a camera. That was still recording.

A sudden curse from the next room told Caline that Michael had made a similar discovery.

“The one in here is still recording.” Called Caline, reaching for it.

“Don’t touch it!” Yelled Michael, rushing in through the door, “If it’s recording, then it’s transmitting to an end device and, presumably, downloading straight into the drives of that device. If we’re lucky, we can trace the IP address and find out who it belongs to.”

Caline gave Michael a flat look, “In common speak.”

“It’s probably still connected, and we might be able to follow the signal to the recorder.” Said Michael, bluntly, “Each computer, server, router, etc has its own unique IP address. Well, I say unique, it’s more unique in the general area, that also depends on what type of network it’s connected to.”

Caline continued to give him a flat look.

“We might be able to find the person recording.” Said Michael, sheepishly.

“Now, why didn’t you lead with that?” Asked Caline, pulling out her staff phone and made a quick call to Rolonda.

WC

“Thirty-seven.” Said Mendeleiev, her arms folded, “We had thirty-seven unknown camera’s recording students in what are supposed to be private environments.”

The staffroom was silent. Each staff member had to cut their lessons short for the emergency meeting. Caline looked out a window that overlooked the courtyard, students were mingling around, all quietly trying to find out what had happened.

“We can’t keep this quiet.” Said one of the Literature teachers, “If we do and it then gets out, the school would be finished.”

“Then, we just have to make sure it doesn’t get out.” Said Damocles, rendering the staff silent in shock.

Michael started laughing. Caline knew this laugh, it was humourless and almost mocking, it was generally followed by a tone of cold thunder. Caline had heard it many times during her and Michael’s school days, the last time she heard it was when he broke the arm of one of their peers.

“I’m going to assume that was a poor attempt at a joke,” Started Michael, his tone turning cold, “because if it isn’t, you’re going to need to explain to the doctor why your lower jaw has been ripped off.”

“I’m not joking.” Said Damocles, his face set.

Michael ran a hand over his face, “Have you not listened to a word of what has been said? Is your head so far up your own arse that you think none of this applies to you?”

The art teacher started to get up to calm Michael down, only for Caline to place a hand on his shoulder and quietly shake her head.

“When this gets out, not if, when, and parents find out that you’ve been brushing it under the rug, you’re the one that’s going to go down in flames!” Michael started yelling, “What, exactly, is possibly running through your head?!”

“Do not take that tone with me!” Damocles thundered, “If you even think about releasing any of this, you can kiss your job good-bye.”

Michael immediately calmed, before looking Damocles in the eyes, before saying, “No need, I’m hereby tending my resignation.”

Michael dropped his staff id, keys and phone on the table and brushed past Damocles. Caline hesitated before following suit.

“I quit.”

Caline quickly caught up with Michael as he reached his, soon to be former, office.

“If we can get just one hard drive to the police, they can conduct an official investigation.” Said Michael, pushing the door open, “I need to be quick, since I don’t know if he’s going to be coming down, he-”

The computer that had the evidence was gone, completely missing from the office.

“No need, apparently.” Said Caline, hooking her arm around Michael’s, “Come on, we need to leave before he decides to call the police on us.”

Michael’s face was stony, silently gesturing for Marinette to follow him.

“Get your friends and meet us at the bakery.” Said Michael, quietly, “Try and get everyone out of the school, I have a feeling an Akuma may turn up.”

WC

“His concerns disregarded and swept away,” Said Hawkmoth, “Fly away, my Akuma, and darken his heart.”

WC

Anubis leeringly licked his lips.

He’d seen her, the lovely little French Chinese girl, with her black, almost blue hair, and her big pretty blue eyes. He hadn’t seen her in years and he already yearned for her. He could go down and take her right now, if only she remembered everything he’d done to and for her. His eyes narrowed at the sight of a blond-haired boy next to her.

A scowl formed on his face; the girl was his first.

WC

Tom jumped at the back door slammed open, he almost knocked the bread dough to the floor when Michael stormed in, quickly followed by Marinette, her friends and Marinette’s teacher.

“Don’t ask,” Said Marinette, as Michael stomped up the stairs, “He hasn’t said what’s got him in a bad mood.”

Tom quickly put a back in five minutes sign on the desk, before heading upstairs as well. When he reached the lounge, he found Michael pacing a quietly muttering to himself. Sabine gave Tom a questioning look, to which he shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I certainly hoped for a better reunion.” Quipped Marinette, getting a glare from Michael.

“Little one, I am seriously considering murder at this point and I really don’t want to drag you into it.” Said Michael, shortly.

Everyone went silent, as Michael kept pacing, until he tripped over the coffee table and hit his head on the arm of the sofa. Caline then decided to have Michael sit down.

“Well, I suppose I should start with something,” Said Michael, looking at his parents, “Hi Mum, hi Dad, I’m now out of a job.”

The resounding what from his parents, Marinette and her friends would’ve made anyone else flinch.

“What do you mean you’re ‘out of a job’?” Said Marinette, loudly.

“Because I found what appeared to be a paedophile’s heaven on an old staff computer.” Said Michael, making everyone go silent, “And Damocles decided to try and brush it under the rug.”

The Akuma that phased through the window froze in mid-air and started to head away from Michael and towards Sabine.

“And when we went to the office to get a hard drive for the police, we found that he’d cleared the lot away.” Michael continued, all unaware of the Akuma until a butterfly emblem appeared on his mother’s face.

“Ah, fuck.” Michael swore.

WC

More staff members left after Caline and Michael, the only three left were the senior staff, and even they had told him that they wanted to leave as well. Damocles ran a hand over his face. None of this could get out, he’d be ruined, more so than the Owl incident. He glanced down at the little data sticks on his desk, he should’ve gotten rid of those computers’ years ago, but he never actually expected someone to actually try and use them again. James never was the competent sort, thought Damocles, but then again, it’s why he hired him, a nice little fall guy, so why was this Michael so different?

Damocles remembered when Michael was a student at the school, he was much like his sister, only he got into more fights and had no trouble admitting when he’d beaten another student senseless. Damocles wondered why the student had thought threatening a former friend with a knife was a good idea, but right now, he just wanted Michael to disappear. He sincerely hoped that this was the last he heard of Michael.

Damocles cast an eye over to the computers in the corner of his office, he hoped that no one would go digging, it was hard enough to cover up the last time, and then he had a fall guy.

An explosion broke him out of his thoughts.

“What the devil?” Grumbled Damocles, as he got up out of his chair.

Suddenly a voice echoed throughout the city.

“Greetings, I am Verity Queen,” Said the voice, “and I shall reveal all evil in this world!”

Not quite the usual motive of Akumas, Damocles hoped Dupain-Cheng hadn’t said anything to the Akuma.

“Today, Hector Damocles tried to dismiss the unforgivable,” Said the Akuma, “Now we shall see what else he has been hiding.”

Ah, fuck.

WC

Verity Queen’s influence over the nearby crowds allowed her to come face to face with Damocles.

“How much have you been covering up?” Came the cold tone of Verity Queen, as Damocles was pushed onto his knees in front of her. A ribbon snaked up Damocles’ body and wrapped itself around his throat, “Let’s play a game, the rules are simple, you tell the truth and the ribbon will slack, but if you lie, it will tighten. Do you understand?”

Damocles nodded, his voice caught in his throat.

“You recently found out about bad pictures on an old computer.” Said Verity Queen, “True or False?”

“Fal-True!” Cried out Damocles, as the ribbon tightened before going slack again.

“You tried to brush it away like a small piece of dirt. True or False?”

“Fals-” Damocles voice was cut off as the ribbon tightened, making him nod.

A large crowed had formed around the Akuma and the Principle.

“Did you know about them when they were taken?” Asked Verity Queen.

“N-YES!” Screamed Damocles, as the ribbon tightened around is throat.

Verity Queen snarled at him, “Did you order them to be taken?”

A ribbon slowly made its way into Damocles’ ear.

“Y-yes…” Gasped Damocles, as whispers broke out amongst the crowd.

“Why?” Asked Verity Queen.

“Because they stood against me, my perfect school, everything that I am owed!” Said Damocles, before Verity Queen threw him aside.

“Listen to how he disregards the wellbeing of your children!” Cried Verity Queen, as Damocles started to scamper away, “How he demanded your children be drugged, striped and molested to satiate his own sick delights!”

Damocles got to the steps of the school, before a ribbon wrapped around his ankle and dragged him back to the group. Damocles could only look on in horror, as one ribbon wrapped itself around a knife handle and positioned the blade to slash him across his throat.

In a flash of light, Damocles flinched, and the ribbon fell limply as the knife clattered to the floor.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” Came the baritone of one of Paris’s newest heroes, “The amount of mess that would be left over wouldn’t justify the motive, or the pay grade of some of the cleaners in this city.”

“Why are you intervening?” Asked Verity Queen, “After all he’s done…”

“He doesn’t deserve to live! He’s a cruel, cold hearted pervert! He has no morals!” Timber Wolf cut her off, “I agree, but, unfortunately, there are those who would believe he deserves a second chance.”

“Why are you actually interfering?” Asked Verity Queen, as a smirk appeared in Timber Wolf’s eyes.

“Ladybug said she needed a distraction.” As if on que, a yoyo bound Verity Queen’s wrists together and Ladybug flipped over the Akuma, while plucking the Akumatised object from her head.

“CHAT!” Yelled Ladybug, as she threw the object at her partner.

A few flashes of light later, Sabine shook her head, while Chat made sure she was alright. Ladybug and Timber Wolf stood near Damocles.

“It’s almost tragic,” Said Timber Wolf, his coat tails swaying slightly, “He felt he was owed everything he had and everything he did made him lose it.”

Ladybug gave him a questioning look.

“He did what he did because he felt he was invulnerable.” Said Timber Wolf, as Damocles was shoved into a car, “Who do you suppose will replace him?”

“Someone who has a backbone and tighter wallet?” Responded Ladybug.

Timber Wolf laughed, before the police car Damocles had been in exploded.

“What the hell!” Screamed Ladybug, as the flames continued to engulf the car.

“Well,” Said Timber Wolf, after a moment, “that was unexpected.”

WC

The news about Damocles spread quickly, from his cover up, to his arrest and his subsequent death. Many news networks were covering it, some speculating that Damocles was silenced by his peers, some ranting because he escaped justice, others saying that he was an innocent man who was murdered.

Michael was leaning against the kitchen counter when his phone went off. Glancing at the screen, he frowned before answering it.

“Skye?”