#i miss the nice jobs and smiles from being a talented art kid

[tittysuckersworld]

just went back through all my old art posts, and just, wow. i have inproved. like yeah, i still fumble and draw some stuff silly or bad. but its all mine. i made that. its less cringe at the bad art and more "wow i did that once." like i used to know where my very first sewing projects were, and whenever i looked at them i would laugh a little cause the stiches were inches long(like 3 cms) and the fabric was horible and the lil details i tryed to add looked like shit. plus the tiny pillows wernt even stuffed right, but it was mine. i made that. i took some fabric i liked from the fabric store and some extra stuff i had on hand and made it. i even worked really hard so no raw edges would be showing. they sucked and were some of the worst things ive ever made, but i made them. it was my start. now gotta gonna hopefully find all my old sketch books and find the drawings i was proud of to wonder at and redraw because gosh darn it i love art sooooo much. creation is just the best

[azucanela]

Hi! i’d like to request a Zuko x Reader oneshot please and it takes place a few years after he’s crowned as the Fire Lord: Zuko is entering suitable age for marriage and yet he has no one that he likes enough to take as his queen, what if Uncle Iroh hired the reader whom is a famous matchmaker that usually arranges the courting & marriage between nobles, but instead of all these ladies that she threw at him he ended up falling for her instead but he’s just so awkward and inexperienced Thank u

INAMORATA | ZUKO X READER

SUMMARY: after a few years of being Fire Lord, Zuko still hasn’t found a companion. so naturally, when Iroh comes upon a matchmaker, he does what he does best and helps Zuko out by hiring her to help him find someone. and inadvertently... iroh ends up playing matchmaker himself. 

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, death threats, kissing, pining, very mild innuendos, blood, injuries, crying

A/N: this is literally art omg i feel kinda honored to be seeing this ngl and i ended up researching matchmaking and they’re basically therapists that help you find love?? kinda. the profile thing is something that some matchmakers do and idk i have fun analyzing zuko so

in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/

noun

a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.

ATTEMPT ZERO

After years of being the Fire Lord, Zuko had come to realize the job was pretty basic if you thought about it long enough. There were just a few major things to deal with. First, there’s the internal relations, like the civil wars and uprising he deal with at the start of his reign because people disliked his ways. Then there’s the external relations, Zuko worked alongside Aang to repair those, helping the Southern Water Tribe rebuild itself from the ground up, and hosting meetings between the nations, friendly and work related. Those are the more diplomatic aspects of the job, and sadly, even as a ruler who sought to end a war, there was still violence in the world. 

When Aang and the rest of Team Avatar ended the One Hundred Year War, that only exposed a variety of other problems within the world, problems that the team seeked to end. There were people out there who disliked this line of thinking, and similarly wanted it to end, but ending the lives of Team Avatar.

Zuko was used to the death threats, and the assassination attempts. He’d had a security detail in place to ensure he lived to rule his nation, this was especially necessary since he lacked an heir and the only other people eligible for the throne were an old man who ran a tea shop and a psychopathic teenage girl in a mental institution. This is where the social aspect of the job came in, the part that Zuko had never been good at. The Galas and the girls who threw themselves at him, the nobility of all nations that approached him offering their children’s hand in marriage. Zuko was an enigma, a young and powerful bachelor, and now all the nobles with children were lining up for a minute alone with him to try and sell their own kids.

It disgusted him. The way they treated their children like cattle reminded Zuko of his own father, how willing he was to get rid of Zuko since he had a replacement on standby. Though, Zuko sincerely doubted he ever would’ve gotten the throne if Ozai had a choice, even if he hadn’t been banished. 

Alas, even Zuko could recognize the urgency of it, the death threats weren’t letting up, and the assassination attempts were only getting more and more elaborate, leaving Zuko wondering when they’d no longer be attempts. He needed and heir, or at least a wife who could rule alongside him and take over entirely in the event of his death.

The problem was, he didn’t want this.

He was in a unique position, where the person he married would have an immense effect on society, on politics. If it was an Earth Kingdom girl, then maybe the years of violence against their people could be mended sooner, and they could begin working together to combat a variety of issues. If he ends up with a Fire Nation girl, it could be viewed as strengthening the traditional ideals of Fire Nation independence and sovereignty because the Fire Nation is “supreme.”

Dating was political now and he hated it. It wasn’t like Zuko wanted to be alone, it’s just that now everything mattered far more than it used to. Of course, even as a prince it had been the same, but now that he was the Fire Lord, things seemed to be ten times worse. Perhaps it was excessive but Zuko couldn’t help but feel paranoid whenever a new person entered his life, he couldn’t help but assume that they were just using him for some other agenda.

Of course, his friends had tried to assure him this wasn’t always the case, and they’d even made attempts to set him up with girls. All of which had failed. Zuko knew he wasn’t an easy person, much less an easy person to date. As Fire Lord, a lot of his time was taken up by meetings, and diplomatic missions, and not-so-diplomatic missions alongside Team Avatar. That and he was rather awkward when it came down to most social interactions, though he’d improved over time, especially as the ruler of a nation, his speeches were elegant and so was the way he negotiated with other kingdoms. 

And yet he struggled to talk to strangers.

Iroh seemed to be tired of this as well, he’d sent Zuko several letters in regards to his lack of romance, insisting that he was a “handsome young man” that had “lots of potential” and he was “wasting” his prime with so much work. Zuko didn’t consider managing a country as a waste, though he understood where Iroh was coming from, Zuko probably should’ve been spending time with friends, going to clubs. Not saving the world.

Regardless, there wasn’t much he could do about, he didn’t have time for dating, and Zuko wasn’t willing to compromise his morals and beliefs just for an heir in the event that he got brutally murdered. He refused to raise a child just for that purpose. He learnt the hard way that you should only have kids if you intend to cherish them. And the idea of marrying someone just to strengthen his nation felt wrong, though he could see the benefits.

God, he hated being Fire Lord sometimes.

On the other hand, Y/N L/N liked her job. Amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom, she was a rather famous woman, Y/N had brought together some of the most powerful couples in the country. A lot of people owed her favors, and the money that came with the job was more than satisfactory. If Y/N had to guess, she was one of the richest people in the kingdom, considering how much people were willing to pay to fine “the one.” Her business had been rather successful since she’d gotten renowned in the inner ring of the city, and now, Y/N was considering expansion, to the Fire Nation. The borders had long since reopened, when the new Fire Lord came into power.

A whole new set of nobles for her to profit from. 

She’d decided to head to a high end tea shop in celebration of her choice to expand her business. Y/N had heard it was only for the best, since the tea shop served the best. One of her clients had insisted that someone of her esteem try the tea there, given that she was the best in her own profession.

So, here she was. It was a nice place, she wouldn’t deny, and Y/N had heard of the shop before. The Jasmine Dragon, run by some old guy who’d appeared in Ba Sing Se just before the war ended with some major talent when it came to brewing tea. The interior was fancy, but not excessive, several people were already seated within. Y/N even recognized one of the couples there, who waved at her enthusiastically, “hello! Lady L/N, how lovely to see you!” One of them called out.

Y/N smiled at them, “how are you two?”

The other beamed at her as she responded, “oh we’re just lovely! Preparing our wedding invitations and one of them has your name on it.” This wasn’t abnormal, most of the couples she’d brought together attributed their love to her. In actuality, Y/N found that if you found two people with compatible personalities, then they’d work things out on their own. All she did was introduce them. 

“I’m excited!” Y/N assured, moving past their table, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to try this famous tea. But, I’m looking forward to the invite.” 

The pair nodded, before returning their attention the friends seated across from them, and Y/N made her way to the front of the shop, bag of coins in hand. An older man stood behind the counter, a smile on his face as he brought his attention to her, “what can I get you today Miss...”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” She replied, small smile on her face as she looked at the menu, “what’s your name?” Y/N asked, meeting his eyes to see the flicker of recognition within them before returning her gaze to the menu.

He nods slowly, “I’m Iroh, and you’re a matchmaker, no?” He’d recognized the name, her business had begun gaining traction amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom shortly after the war, and she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the nation. Iroh himself had looked into her business, seeing as his nephew was yet to find love in his chaotic lifetstyle. 

Y/N smiled at him as she nodded, “indeed.” She placed the menu down, “any suggestions?”

“Perhaps, Jasmine tea?” He suggested.

Y/N nodded, “sounds good.” She places extends a hand with coins, dropping them into his palm, “so are you looking for love?” Though she was certainly famous for her skills, Y/N tended to work behind the scenes, and she was surprised to find this man recognized her.

A small laughed escaped him at her words as he shook his head, “no. I believe it is a little too late for that.” He was working on her tea beyond the counter, and Y/N began to wonder how he was steaming the tea pot when she noticed there was no stove beside him.

“Don’t say that! You seem like a fine man that anyone woman would want.” Y/N assured, though she now wondered why exactly this man knew who she was in the first place. It was rare for those outside of nobility to know who she was.

Turning around, his hand pressed to the pot that Y/N was positive had to have been burning his hand in some way, “oh, you’re too kind.” He replies, a small smile on his face as he poured a bit into a cup, “I was looking to help my nephew find love actually.” 

“Really, now?” Firebending, that was the only explanation for the way this man was handling the tea. “I was looking to expand my business to the Fire Nation, perhaps I could help him out.” He didn’t hold himself the way most Earth Kingdom citizens did, and coupled with the possible Firebending, he was likely from the Fire Nation.

Iroh raises a brow at this, “what gave me away?” He stirs the tea a few times, before placing it on the counter for her to take. 

Y/N shrugs, “it’s my job to know people well enough that I can find them a match.” Taking a sip of her tea, she smiles, “so this nephew of yours. He wouldn’t happen to nobility, would he?”

He laughs at this, pouring himself a cup of tea as well as he sighs, “actually, he is nobility. In a way.”

Now Y/N did not expect the nobility Iroh spoke of the be the nobility. As in the Fire Lord, the actual ruler of the entire nation, though this would certainly be great for business. Once the world hears of how Y/N found the Fire Lord, someone who had been notably difficult to woo apparently, a match, her business will be set. 

“Isn’t this exciting, guys?” Y/N exclaimed, looking to her assistants, they were both on the younger side, Marcella and Evelyn. She’d brought them along since this would definitely be a valuable learning experience, and Y/N figured she’d need a lot of help if the Fire Lord was as difficult as they made him out to be. That and Y/N didn’t want to leave them alone in the Earth Kingdom, both of them had been orphaned at a young age. Y/N couldn’t help but relate to them, so when she’d come upon her newfound wealth, brought about by her job as a matchmaker, she’d taken the pair under her wing. 

With a bag thrown over her shoulder, Evelyn simply nodded while Marcella exclaimed, “yes! I’ve always wanted to see the Fire Nation. Do you think we could find a client in one of the Water Tribes next?” 

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the young girl’s excitement, “if this goes well? We’ll be able to find clients anywhere.” She wasn’t wrong, Y/N had never had the opportunity to work with the actual Earth King, the true ruler of the nation. Now she was working with the ruler of a nation she’d never stepped foot in, entirely new customs and traditions to research, a new social structure, new everything.

What a fun challenge.

With a smile on her face, Y/N followed closely behind Iroh, the palace was stunning, she couldn’t deny it. And compared to the crumbling infrastructure of the lower rings of cities like Ba Sing Se, Fire Nation cities were prospering Fire Lord Zuko’s rule. From what she’d heard, things weren’t always this way.

“Y/N and I are going to wait here,” he gestured to the open space before them, dozens of paintings within it, “these two will take you to your rooms.” He explained to the pair of young girls, nodding to the servants beside them, who began to guide the young girls away.

Y/N’s eyes found their way to the paintings, the newest one being of the current Fire Lord, Zuko himself. She wondered how accurate the painting was, and seeing as she would be meeting him soon, Y/N figured she’d find out as she sighed, turning to Iroh, “so how does the original heir to the throne become the owner of an infamous tea shop?” 

Iroh smiles to himself at her words, “age brings wisdom. And tea is a nice substitute for alcohol.” He jokes, though Y/N can see the pain in his eyes, along with admiration as he stares at Zuko’s portrait alongside her.

“Uncle!” A voice exclaimed, joy clear in his voice as he called out. Y/N watched as Iroh spun around, a broad smile on his face as he moved forwards to embrace the person.

He looked better in person, Y/N quickly decided, though the portrait did its job just as well. She wouldn’t deny he was attractive, but she already knew looks weren’t the issue. Iroh had informed her of the situation, Zuko’s constant rejection of any and every single person that approached him, and the stress he experienced because of the politics of it all.

“Nephew, it is good to see you,” Iroh said, releasing him from the hug, “how are you?” Initially he seemed fairly comfortable at the sight of just his Uncle, but as the Fire Lord’s body seemed to stiffen, Y/N realized she’d been spotted.

So, he wasn’t comfortable with strangers, “I’m alright Uncle... who is this?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice as he spoke, sizing Y/N up, not in the way you did for someone you were attracted to, but for an enemy.

Uncomfortable with new people, clear trust issues, and his mind was always alert. She’d have to write these things down and take them into consideration prior to finding him a potential partner. Though it was starting to look like he was completely unaware of her purpose there as she extended her hand out to him, “Y/N L/N. Professional matchmaker.” She explained with a bright smile, though, based off his personality, that would likely ward him off more.

He was polite though, shaking her hand despite his clear suspicions of her, “Zuko.” Y/N couldn’t help but raise a brow at this, he hadn’t mentioned his title in his introduction. Zuko turned to his Uncle, brows furrowing as he said, “you hired a professional matchmaker?”

With a shrug Iroh responded, “we met by chance! So, it must be destiny.”

Zuko gives him a tight lipped smile, nodding slowly before returning his attention to Y/N who stood away from the pair, examining the decor of the palace. It was minimalistic, truly basic if she was honest, despite the clear amount of riches they possessed, it lacked evidence of them. Bringing her eyes back to him, he spoke, “you don’t need to be here. You can receive your pay, but I personally see no purpose for a matchmaker.”

Iroh frowned at his words, “Zuko, you need to give it a chance! Unlike all those ladies who keep throwing themselves at you. Besides, she seems rather good at her job.” His gaze was on his nephew as he sighed, giving Y/N an apologetic look that she simply waved off.

“Oh, it’s fine. It just won’t be for long.” Zuko raised a brow at her words, and Y/N watched his feet shifted, “no need to prepare for a fight, your majesty.” She hummed, rolling her neck, in the corner of her eye she could see shock flash in his own. “You see, as a matchmaker I do several things, including developing a little... profile of my clients. Now we just met but I can already tell you a variety of things about you that’s making your love life rather trivial.” Even before she had to develop the profiles professionally, in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se, being capable of reading others was a necessary skill.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed at her, “and what have you determined, in the very short time we’ve known each other.”

A small laugh escaped her as she extended her arms and cracked her knuckles, “well. You have major trust issues, which is why you are desperately trying to keep me at arms length. That’s one reason why you have yet to find someone.” Turning her attention to the decor of the large room, Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Given the lack of interior design, I would say you’re struggling with social aspects of your job, and you need a partner. One that I can help you find.” 

“See! I told you she’s good at what she does.” Iroh exclaimed, moving forward to clap a hand onto Y/N’s shoulder, much to Zuko’s dismay. 

Y/N gave the older man a small smile before looking back to Zuko, who eyed her wearily, “you keep avoiding the portrait of your father. But you can’t bring yourself to take it down.” She said, and Y/N could practically feel the tension building with each word. “He’s one of the reasons you’ve yet to find a lover-”

“Because he gave me the scar?” 

Y/N paused, brows furrowing at his words, her eyes found his, “I’m sorry, was that a joke?” She asked, and Iroh stared between the two, amused. “You’re actually rather attractive, which is why I know this is a personality thing. Probably tired of the whole fancy court thing they have going on here, which I’m going to need to research...” Y/N pursed her lips, failing to notice the clear shock on Zuko’s face at her comment, and red flushing his cheeks. Waving off her thoughts, she looked back to him, “anyways. My assistants should’ve already cleared out about an hour in your schedule each day for our sessions. I’m going to be asking you some very personal questions. So, be ready!” 

And with that, Y/N waved to the two, bowing rather questionably shortly after, before heading off in the direction she’d seen Marcella and Evelyn go in. Effectively leaving behind a baffled Zuko, and a rather satisfied Iroh, who began to laugh at Zuko’s reaction. “I really like her, quite the character she has.” 

“Yeah, quite the character.” He brought a hand to his temple, “is this really necessary, Uncle?” 

Iroh simply sighed, looking to his nephew, “whether you want to admit it or not, she was right. Ruling a nation is difficult, and ruling it alone is even harder.” A small huff of laughter escaped Iroh, “and she figured that out by your lack of interior design!” 

Exhaling deeply, Zuko reminded himself that this was all part of the job, the job that consumed his entire life. The life that this girl had analyzed in a matter of moments. 

Yeah, he wasn’t looking forward to their meetings.

Though his morals and his disagreement with practically selling your own child were a major factor in his lack of a love life. There was also the simple fact that there was no love in many of the interactions he had with potential suitors, much less genuine interest. They all wanted the power he could give them should they get married.

There was also the fact that Zuko had very little relationship experience, a fact he was trying to ignore. At the end of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to approach anyone, and if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do. Zuko also doubted that people would act... genuine around him, especially if they knew who he was. And all he really wanted was something real, considering his entire day was surrounded by fake smiles that belonged to both him and others.

It seemed that Y/N wasn’t prepared to ignore this piece of information though, since the following morning she’d seated him down and begun to speak of it, “so. You’ve been in two relationships.”

His brows furrowed, “one actually.” He and Mai had broken up about six months into his work as Fire Lord, “Mai.”

Raising a brow at him, she leaned back in the seat. Zuko couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to decorate the place in such a short period of time, as he could’ve sworn there hadn’t been a desk here the previous day. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d toured his own palace. “Well, I’ve heard rumors of you and a Southern Water Tribe member, but I’m not sure which one so I just-”

“Okay! That’s enough.” His cheeks were flushed red as he looked away.

Y/N grinned at him, leaning forwards, “then let’s discuss Mai. You two were pretty on and off, right?” 

Zuko grimaced at the thought, they were. He wouldn’t deny that he’d gone back to her a few times during his time as Fire Lord, “yeah.” 

Y/N began to write into her notebook, “tell me about her.”

“I don’t see why that’s important.” Came his response, looking at her quizzically as he frowned.

Tilting her head at him, Y/N gave Zuko a look, “come on. Let me do my job, I need to know about her to gauge what types of personalities you like while also determining why the two of you broke it off entirely.” She placed the book down, and Zuko could very clearly see the words ‘commitment issues’ underlined. “The goal isn’t just to find you a suitable wife that can help you rule, but someone you can be happy with.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes on Y/N, her words seem honest. And this was her job, “she was blunt. Honest. Kind of mean at times, but she could be sweet as well. Pretty stoic, expressing her emotions was always... difficult for her.” 

Y/N nodded slowly, scribbling a few more things down, “okay. And what’s your favorite color?” 

“What type of question is that?” Zuko asked, brows furrowing in confusion. 

Crossing her arms, Y/N shrugged, “well. Favorite colors can tell you a lot about a person.” Came her response, “mine is green. Maybe that’s because I associate green with the Earth Kingdom, where I lived. Or maybe it’s because I happen to like nature quite a bit.” Looking around, Zuko could see that she’d already gotten a variety of plants native to the Fire Nation, most were succulents due to the almost year round heat.

At the mention of colors, his mind immediately went back to his first experience with the dragons, when their fire encircled him and Aang. “I.. don’t know how to describe the color- colors?” Zuko’s brows drew together in thought, and Y/N looked at him.

“How would I not understand a color?” The confusion is clear in her voice as she looks at him. Y/N can practically see the nostalgia in his eyes as he looks to the balcony.

Sighing, Zuko shifted in his seat, “these dragons I met ended up making a circle of fire around me and there were just... so many colors. But together it was just,” he paused, searching for the right word, “beautiful.”

Y/N’s mouth gaped open for a moment, “you met dragons?” She exclaimed, nearly throwing her notebook aside. Y/N had never seen such creatures, in fact, the general consensus was that they were still extinct

Zuko seemed to forget about this fact as he straightened himself, eyes meeting hers, “you can’t tell anyone about them!” He exclaimed, “they were hunted to extinction, though I intend to outlaw such things it’s just...” 

She nodded in understanding, “people break laws.” Y/N leaned back into her seat once more, “you owe me a dragon story.” She said, before crossing her legs in her seat and continuing, “favorite food?”

“Well, Aang took me to Avatar Day, and they had these weird Avatar shaped dough things.” He explained, recalling the time he’d gone with Aang and the others. Apparently they used to burn his statue, but now they worship him for some reason.

Y/N brought a hand under her chin, “I have no idea what that is.” She began to scribble something down on her notepad, “but okay.”

“What about you?”

Y/N hummed in response, “what do you mean?” 

Zuko felt his cheeks warm, “this just feels like an interview.”

“Probably because it is an interview.” Y/N said, gesturing for him to elaborate.

Looking away, Zuko frowned, “it’s weird.” Sighing, he spoke once more, “so, what’s your favorite food?” 

Y/N was silent for a moment, staring at Zuko, who was trying his hardest to avoid her gaze. This was a rare occurrence, seeing as most nobles were rather self-centered and liked talking about themselves. She’d never had a client who felt uncomfortable with this portion because it was basically a one-sided conversation. “Jennamite is a good rock candy.”

Zuko turns back to her, a small laugh escaping him, “my friends were nearly killed in Jennamite by the King of Omashu once.” 

“I’m sorry, what?”

ATTEMPT ONE

Y/N wouldn’t deny how odd it was, to be sharing as much information as she was learning about Zuko. She’d never really considered just how personal some of the questions were until she found herself answering them. But, after about a month, she had assembled a pretty good array of potential suitors for Zuko. Along with a few of her own clients, Y/N had found some girls that from the Fire Nation that seemed pretty acceptable.

That’s what she had thought at least.

“What do you mean, you already rejected her?” 

Turns out, Zuko had met half the women, and rejected them. The other half were either from the Earth Kingdom, or yet to attend one of few Galas that Zuko hosted. Seeing as he handed off most of that work to his advisors, it was rare for him to remain at Galas for an extended period of time. 

He grimaced at Y/N’s words nonetheless, his Uncle had informed her of his situation, but clearly not the extent of it. “She was more interested in her guard than me. It was a power grab her parents likely forced her into.” He remembered the girl, she’d been kind to him, but she clearly didn’t want him as much as her parents did.

His words brought about a new level of understanding for Y/N, who nodded slowly, of course it was the parents that Zuko had a problem with. It wasn’t uncommon for nobles to practically throw their children at potential suitors as though they’re a bag of coins. It was something that disgusted her as well, her job found people companions that they liked while these people simply wished for an addition to their power.

Zuko was the ultimate power grab. Y/N could only imagine how many times this had happened to him, random people he’d never met approaching him, offering their child’s hand in marriage. 

Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N sighed, “but the rest are fine?” 

He nodded slowly, flipping through the pages he had yet to remove, Zuko skimmed what Y/N had written. Taking note of her handwriting, he wondered if she’d written his profile like this. “Yeah...” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, and Zuko sighed, removing a few more pages from the binder she’d presented him with. 

Exhaling deeply, Y/N brought a hand to Zuko’s shoulder, “be honest with me. I’m not gonna yell at you for removing them Zuko, this is for you.”

Sometimes he forgot it was her job to be nice to him. 

“Right.” He mumbled, trying to shake off the feeling he got as she removed her hand. “That’s still... a lot of people. Some of which aren’t even in this nation.” Zuko pointed out, a queasy feeling within him as he looked at her.

Y/N plopped down onto the couch in the common room they’d met in, sprawling her body across it, “you’re right, there is a lot. But,” She twisted her body so that she could see him, wiggling her brows suggestively, “it’s been a while since you hosted a Gala.” 

Zuko’s face dropped at her words, in his years of being Fire Lord, he’d had about three total, and hated every single one. But given how rare the Galas were, people got pretty excited when he threw them. “I hate planning those, it’s a waste of time and-” 

A small smile was on her face as she interrupted him, “and you suck at planning them? I can tell by the decor of your palace.” Glaring at her, Zuko watched as she shifted so that her head hung off the couch upside down, “well. This will be the best Gala yet, you’ll impress all the ladies that you can’t meet in the immediate future in about...” Y/N looked to the watch on her wrist, brows furrowing, “eight months. And I’ll help you plan it, since you desperately need help-”

“Alright, I get it, I’m horrible.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his seat across from her after placing the binder on the coffee table between them. “Eight months isn’t a lot of time,” traditionally, Gala’s took at least a year’s worth of planning and preparation, especially since Zuko was so busy he barely had the time to assist in the process. Eight months was no where near enough.

Y/N was still frowning at his words, “no self-deprecation.” She ordered, taking Zuko by surprise, before continuing, “regardless. I’ve planned Gala in less time with less resources. It’ll be fine.” Pursing her lips Y/N sighed, “now we need to discuss your inability to talk to people in general due to your immense trust issues and constant battle field mentality.” 

Zuko’s mouth gaped open at her words, “excuse me?”

Bringing her hands to rest on her stomach as she laid upside down, Y/N spoke, “when we first met you looked like you contemplated attacking me. And when you met Marcella and Evelyn, I’ve never seen someone so awkward.” Zuko is silent and looks away, only proving her point as Y/N continued, “so we need to practice your people skills, and flirting for future reference, seeing as your first date is in about a week-”

Almost immediately, Zuko straightened his posture, sitting up and looking to her as though she’d thrown a bucket of ice cold water onto him. “A week?” He winced at the way his voice cracked.

“Yeah, I spoke with one of the girls, not her parents, and asked her to meet with you later in the week.” Y/N explained, “her name is Elara, she’s in there.”

Frowning, Zuko reached for the binder and began to flip through the pages, “how’d you know I wasn’t going to get rid of her page?” Only to find the girl’s page, details on her personality, skills, hobbies and more on them.

A smirk spread across Y/N’s face, “she was one of few I was sure you’d keep.” With a sigh, Zuko looked back to Y/N, who still sat upside down, “now. You need to practice your romance skills, so come on.” She twisted her body, her legs falling to the side of the couch, and then moving onto the floor, Y/N stood. As the blood rushed to her head, a wave of dizziness came over her, and Y/N found herself stumbling slightly.

A hand came to her back and forearm, steadying her, “you need to practice walking.” Zuko laughed slightly, a nervous edge in his voice as he eyed her. 

Y/N brought a hand to her head as she laughed as well, “oh my...” Y/N blinked several times as the wave of dizziness passed, her hand gripping Zuko’s arm as she grounded herself. Looking up to him, she quickly realized how close they were and cleared her throat, releasing his arm.

He followed suit, removing his hands from her, “sorry-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Zuko.” 

The look her gives her almost hurts. Because Y/N can see the shock within his eyes as he nods slowly in response. She wonders what he’s thinking of as he she gives him a tight lipped smile, clapping her hands together as she turns back to him, “practice.” She repeated, mostly for herself.

And maybe offering to be the person he practiced on was her first mistake. 

ATTEMPT FIVE

Y/N had learnt a lot about Zuko in the past four dates he’d been on. One of these things being the fact that Zuko was a wild card when it came to dates, and they seemed to either go very well with the girls contacting Y/N to let her know they wished for a second date, only for Zuko to reject the possibility. Or, they went very bad. And Zuko returned with some sort of drink splattered onto his clothing.

So, Y/N decided that the best course of action was to discover what exactly Zuko wasn’t mentioning, and to follow him with a disguise. Evelyn had suggested it, Iroh supported the idea full-heartedly, though Marcella had believed it would be a huge invasion of privacy, Y/N didn’t really care, seeing as it was her job to be involved in Zuko’s love life. She was getting paid to ensure he found love. 

And she was curious.

That’s how Y/N ended up dressed in some very suspicious Fire Nation clothing alongside her assistants and the apparent Dragon of the West, famous tea shop owner, and member of the royal family. 

What a wonderful assortment of people.

Marcella and Evelyn had separated from Iroh and Y/N, sitting in another booth across from them, it was a feeble attempt to keep them from sticking out. The girl had chosen a rather upscale restaurant, so dressing appropriately while also maintaining a look that prevented Zuko from recognizing them. 

Y/N pulled her hat further down on her face as she looked to Iroh, who was browsing the menu. She wouldn’t be shocked if he entered the kitchen just to make himself a ‘decent’ cup of tea. He’d been rather helpful during the whole process, anything she didn’t find out from Zuko, Y/N had learnt from Iroh. “See anything you like, Iroh?”

He smiled at her, nodding slowly, “I think I’ll just take some tea.” 

Looking to Marcella and Evelyn, Y/N smiles, the two are speaking with one another like they aren’t supposed to be spying on the Fire Lord. But Y/N doesn’t mind, this was more of a recreational activity anyways, and she was glad they were having fun. Since they’d gotten to the Fire Nation two months ago there had been an... adjustment period to put it simply.

Y/N nodded at Iroh’s statement, and her eyes fell back onto Zuko and his newest date, Amaya, she was a simple girl. She’d possessed organizational skills that Zuko lacked, planned dozens of events, had the expressive qualities that Zuko yearned for in a partner. Amaya was one of few that Y/N was sure Zuko would take a liking to. Especially since she also had training in a variety of fighting styles, and was quite the Firebender. She’d been a little skeptical when she first contacted Amaya, the girl seemed hesitant, but she agreed.

And from the looks of it, he had. The pair was laughing along with each other, but Y/N could see the way Zuko stiffened at any physical contact, in general he’d yet to relax. If Y/N was honest, it was basically like any first date, awkward.

Zuko didn’t really know how to feel about Amaya, she was what he should be looking for in a girl, everything he needed if he was honest. She had an interest in the art, something Zuko had never taken to and the main reason his palace looked, ‘dull’ as Y/N had put it. And she was expressive, the main issue he’d had with Mai was her lack of expression. But, for some reason, Zuko just couldn’t see her as anything more than a good friend. There was something... off about her.

“When that Earth Kingdom girl approached me, I was skeptical.” Amaya explained, taking a sip from her glass, “you know how most Earth Kingdom folk are...” She gave him a look as Zuko listened in confusion. “The Fire Nation citizens simply have more class.” Amaya settled for with a shrug.

Oh.

Zuko laughed nervously, “I’m not sure I understand. I find Earth Kingdom citizens pretty pleasant actually, and Y/N, the one you met, she’s actually very resourceful and kind.” His mind went to Toph as well, who had invented an entirely new type of bending. She was an impressive young woman from the Earth Kingdom, and Y/N was as well, she’d started her own business at a young age and turned it into something incredible.

“Really? She didn’t seem too smart when I met her, but who can say no to a meeting with the Fire Lord?” 

Zuko was pretty sure her words were meant to be taken as a joke. But Amaya wasn’t the first person Zuko had encountered with this mindset, she was just more subtle about it. The supremacy of the Fire Nation was still an idea that ran rampant in some people’s minds, though Zuko had dealt with most disputes regarding his peaceful relations with other nations. Many still missed the time when the Fire Nation practically owned the world, where Fire Nation citizens could treat the people who had their homes taken from them however they pleased.

It was a dark time in his nation’s history, nonetheless, several people missed it. This was something rather prevalent amongst Nobles though, they were the ones who lost an immense amount of land when the war had ended. Many of them were bitter about what had happened. 

If Zuko was honest, she’d probably had these ideas drilled into her since birth, and simply hadn’t grown out of them, which was a shame. But as the ruler of a nation, he couldn’t rule beside someone who looked down on others simply because they weren’t from the Fire Nation.

Zuko shook his head, “Y/N built her business from the ground up. And now she’s helping the Fire Lord get dates.” He knows he sounds defensive, as though he’s prepared to fight her, something his Uncle would likely scold him for, but he doesn’t care at the moment.

“All she does is set you up with people.” 

Zuko’s brows furrowed at this comment, and he raised a hand to get the attention of the waiter, “excuse me, could I get the check please?” The young man nodded, heading off to get the check, and Amaya looked at him incredulously. 

Y/N had done far more than set him up with people, she’d helped him begin planning a Gala, she’d tried her best to find a good assortment of people that would fit both Zuko’s needs and the Fire Nation’s, and that list was probably very difficult to narrow down. Zuko had seen the work she put in for formulating profiles of the potential suitors, and throughout all of it she had done nothing but support him. 

“What are you doing?” Amaya asked, shifting in her seat as she stared at Zuko quizzically.

The waiter came over and handed Zuko the check, and Zuko placed a pouch of money on the table, “thanks. Keep the change.” He explained, nodding to the boy, who’s mouth gaped open in surprise as he took the pouch of money, bowing to Zuko repetitively, though Zuko wasn’t paying much attention to him as he spoke to Amaya. “I don’t think this is going to work out, I’m sorry.”

Amaya is still seated in shock as Zuko rises from his table, and Y/N can’t help it when her mouth gapes open at the sight of him simply abandoning his date. She makes eye contact with Iroh, who raises a brow, and they both sit up. She moves to follow Zuko, only to bump into someone. 

“I’m so sorry!” Y/N exclaims, moving down to help them pick up their hat, that had fallen when they collided.

“No, that was my fault entirely!” He responds, shaking his head as they both leaned town to pick it up.

“Aang, come on! He’s leaving.” The woman behind him exclaims.

Y/N’s brows furrow in recognition as she looks up to see a blue arrow tattooed on the man’s head, and her eyes widen in realization. Zuko had described Aang several times during their conversations, he and the rest of his friends came up often. But Y/N did not expect the first time she met the Avatar and his friends to be when they were both following Zuko on his date.

ATTEMPT FOURTEEN

Y/N simply sighs as she opens her door to see Zuko, in the outfit she’d helped him pick out. “What was it this time?” He’d been on thirteen dates thus far, and Y/N was slowly realizing that Zuko was likely one of her most difficult clients. This was purely because he’d yet to get a second date, though there had been offers, Zuko had declined all of them. 

“She was just-” His hands gestured rather broadly, he was practically throwing them into the air, “she was so rude to the waiter.” This had always been a dealbreaker for him, since he’d worked as a waiter in two different tea shops, Zuko had come to understand the importance of treating a waiter with kindness and how difficult the work could be. 

His eyes dart between Y/N and her door, she’s rubbing her eyes due to the exhaustion and Zuko can’t help the guilt that floods him. Nonetheless, she opens the door wider, heading inside her room and signaling for him to close it as she falls back onto her bed. “You were a waiter once, yeah?” He’d told her a fair share about his life in the Earth Kingdom, she’d inquired quite a bit about that part of his life. 

He asked about her life in the Earth Kingdom too, and she’d told him how poor life could be the in the outer rings, something he’d experienced for himself. Zuko listened as she describe living after her parents had died, working for a matchmaker only to discover she was actually good at the job, making a name for herself in the outer rings and then making her way inwards until she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the kingdom. Y/N spoke of how she’d met Marcella and Evelyn, and how she’d taken them in when she’d discovered they were both orphans, living on the streets as pickpockets.

Zuko wouldn’t help but laugh at this, he could imagine Evelyn as a pickpocket, but Marcella? She was a sweet girl, he couldn’t imagine her in a life of crime. Of course, desperation made people do questionable things. Zuko knew that much from experience. 

“Yeah, I was.” Came his response, taking a seat in the chair by her desk. 

Y/N sat up in her bed, bracing herself with her elbows as she raised a brow at him, “what are you doing?”

Zuko frowned, shifting in the chair, “sitting...?” He moved to get up but Y/N waved him off.

“Just lay with me, idiot.” She allowed her head to fall back onto the bed, patting the spot beside her. Clearly, her suggestion wasn’t bothering her, but Zuko felt his face flush at the possibility.

If he’s honest, he’s not even trying anymore when it comes to dates and women and love. There were three reasons for this, one of which was the fact that he simply wasn’t connecting with any of the women he had met thus far. Sure they were nice, and they probably would be his type has it not been for reason two. The fact that Zuko had realized he had feelings for Y/N, what feelings? He wasn’t sure, but they sure as hell weren’t platonic, if they were he would not be blushing this much. He wouldn’t get that weird feeling in his stomach whenever he spoke to her.

Then there was was reason three, if Zuko succeeded in finding love, then Y/N would leave. It was selfish, but he already knew he wouldn’t find anyone considering he pretty sure he loved someone else already. So now, Zuko was basically procrastinating letting Y/N know that this just wasn’t going to work out, mostly because he didn’t have a plan.

He was debating just firing her, but that likely wouldn’t go over well, and he wanted to see her business succeed. If you get fired by the Fire Lord, that just looks bad. Now Zuko wondered what the best way to go about this was, since there was no point in working for him, even if she was getting paid. He was a waste of time. 

He couldn’t help the smile graced his lips as his own thoughts reminded him of the time she’d scolded him, telling him to quit being self-deprecating. 

Zuko sat up from the chair, making his way over to her bed, Zuko found himself simply plopping down onto it face first, earning a laugh from Y/N.

He rolled over onto his back, turning to look at Y/N, only to find her eyes were already on him, bringing a blush to his cheeks as he mumbled, “what?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why you haven’t gotten a second date yet.” Came her response, propping herself up on her forearm. “You have a nice personality, you’re attractive, I’m sure at least one of the girls caught your eye.” Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as she began to wonder if she’d incidentally allowed her own feelings to get in the way of her work. Maybe that’s why this was going so badly.

This was a problem. 

Zuko simply shook his head, his face on fire as he listened to her words, though he couldn’t help the hand he brought to the scar on his face. Y/N had pointed out before that he was allowing his Father to control his actions even now that he was imprisoned, and Zuko was beginning to see what she meant. 

Removing his hand from his face, Zuko sighed. Though he didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts as her hand hesitantly came to his face, placing a hand on his cheek and allowing her thumb to brush against the scar. Zuko jumped at the sudden contact, and Y/N moved to withdraw her hand almost instantly, but Zuko’s hand came to hers and held it there. Looking to her, he couldn’t read the look in her eyes as she gazed at him, and suddenly he wished he was as good at reading people as she was. 

“No self-deprecating thoughts.” Y/N mumbled, “bad Zuko.” She removed her hand from his to flick his head, causing his brows to furrow.

He pouted, and Y/N let out a laugh as he spoke, “how come you haven’t found someone?” Zuko looked to her, “you’re beautiful, and smart, and just... perfect.” He didn’t notice when her cheeks warmed, “you’re a literal matchmaker, surely you’ve considered who your perfect person is.” 

Y/N fell onto her back, running her hands over her face as she shook her head, “how have you not gotten a second date?” A sigh escaped her, “I haven’t had time for love before, and I just haven’t found that,” looking to him, she pursed her lips, “perfect person.” Growing up in the lower rings, she didn’t have time for an actual relationship, and her business as a matchmaker grew incredibly quickly. At the end of the day, long term just didn’t work out, Y/N barely had for herself, much less another person.

“I guess we both suck at love.” Zuko said, his tone was serious and Y/N couldn’t help but burst out into laughter as she swatted at his chest.

Too bad they couldn’t suck at love together. 

ATTEMPT SEVENTEEN THROUGH TWENTY EIGHT

Smoothing over her green dress, a sign of her citizenship in the Earth Kingdom, Y/N moved to answer the knock on her bedroom door. Given how long she’d been in the Fire Nation, Y/N wondered if the Earth Kingdom would still feel like home when she returned. The idea of going back felt odd, and though that time likely wasn’t soon unless Zuko met the love of his life tonight, it was inevitable.

And it horrified her. 

Holding the edge of the dress slightly to make it easier to walk, Y/N sighed and opened the door, seeing Zuko. A small smile on her face as she eyed his Fire Nation robes, “you look nice.” She complimented, tilting her head at him as she allowed her eyes to travel over his figure.

Zuko nodded, a blush coming over her cheeks, his mouth gaping open as he looked at Y/N. “You look beautiful.” She did, the dress looked amazing on her, her hair styled just right, and bracelets adorning her wrists.

“Thank you, Fire Lord Zuko.” His nose crinkled at the use of his title, coming from her it felt even weirder, wrong almost. But she continued, “mind helping me out?” She asked, moving back to her desk and taking a necklace in hand. Y/N had been struggling to put it on for the past few minutes, and now she had someone to do it for her.

He nodded, closing the door behind him, he took the necklace from her hand, and when Y/N ensured her hair was out of his way, Zuko brought the necklace around her neck. He secured the clasp, hands lingering as he adjusted it to the center of her neck. Zuko couldn’t help but notice a small scar on her shoulder, hand brushing over it.

Y/N looked over her shoulder and to him, brow raised, “how’d you get this?” He asked, brows drawn together. His hand traced the raised skin gently, Y/n could feel her cheeks warming at his touch, inhaling deeply. 

She grimaced, “a knife fight I almost lost my life to.” Was her explanation. Y/N didn’t like to think back to the days when she’d resorted to several... questionable actions to stay alive. But she pushed those thoughts away as she turned to face him. “You ready?” Y/N asked, they had to get to the Gala soon, considering the fact that Zuko was the host, Y/N was shocked he’d even stopped by her room in the first place.

Zuko was silent, simply nodding as he extended his arm for her to take. And Y/N did, looping her arm around his as she smiled, “you are gonna woo so many Earth Kingdom women tonight!” Y/N exclaimed, more confidence in her voice than Zuko had.

Shame the only Earth Kingdom girl he wanted to ‘woo’ was her.

When they’d arrived at the Gala, descending the stairs together, they were greeted with the claps of the other guests. Zuko would feel the anxiety flood him, but he paid it no mind. Though Y/N could feel the way he stiffened as he ended his speech to the diplomats of all nations, “let this be a peaceful, and joyous night!” 

They all burst out into cheers before the party continued, the music starting once more, and everyone returning to feasting upon the buffet, dancing along the ballroom floor or speaking with one another. All while Y/N led Zuko down the stairs, dragging him by the hand, “come on. Enjoy your own party, meet some girls.” She winked, and Zuko swore his face heated up even more than it already had. 

Y/N wasn’t a fool, she knew that if she’d stuck by his side the entire night, she would serve as a repellant of any potential suitors. So naturally, much to Zuko and Y/N’s dismay, she removed herself from him, playfully shoving him towards a group of Earth Kingdom girls she’d mentioned earlier. Though there were several other clusters in the ballroom.

Zuko simply sighed, giving Y/N a small smile before making his way to the group of girls. If he was honest, he would rather be spending the Gala by her side, but he had to put in some effort. He owed Y/N that much. Besides, this was an entirely new group of girls, maybe he would find someone tonight. 

“Hi there.” Zuko greeted, waving awkwardly at the girls. 

This action earned him a few laughs, and he was unsure if they actually found it funny or felt the need to laugh since he was the Fire Lord. Shortly after they began introducing themselves, speaking like there was no tomorrow. 

If Zuko was honest, the number of women here was overwhelming. So, as he excused himself from the conversation, much to their chagrin, he placed his cup down on the platter of one of many waiters. Making his way outside, Zuko couldn’t help but feel relieved at the fresh air that hit him on the balcony. Though he contemplated heading back inside when he noticed another girl was already there, eyes shut as she faced the sky, she turned to see him, eyes widening a fraction. “I’m sorry, I can go-”

“No!” She exclaimed, cheeks flushing in embarrassment due to her outburst, “no... it’s fine.” She turned back to look at the sky, hand clasped together, fidgeting.

Zuko stepped forward, finding himself situated across from her, leaning against the railing, “so why are you out here?”

A small laugh escaped the girl, and she ran a hand through her hair, “it’s rather stress relieving. You have a lovely view in your palace.” 

He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he realized she recognized him, though Zuko nodded along, “what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking?” It was a stupid question, and Zuko nearly facepalmed as he pursed his lips.

“Aileen.” Came her response, and Zuko realized he recognized her name as well. She was the child of one of the more well known members of Fire Nation nobility, her parents had approached him in the past in hopes of arranging a marriage between the two of them. He had declined almost immediately. And now that Aileen turned to him, he had a feeling he made the right decision, “you’re Zuko, right?” 

He exhaled deeply, nodding, “that’s me.” Sometimes, Zuko wondered what his life would’ve been like if he wasn’t Zuko, perhaps things would’ve been simpler. No, things definitely would’ve been simpler. There would be no diplomatic meetings, no wars, no idiots trying to hurt other people, no more assassination attempts, no more fake smiles and no more Galas. Of course, if he wasn’t Zuko, he never would’ve met Y/N.

“I heard you’re looking for a partner in crime.” Aileen prompted, “why aren’t you in there finding that future love of your life?” 

Shrugging, Zuko looked up at the sky, “I found her. She just doesn’t want me.”

He can feel Aileen stare at him, she’s silent for a moment, and Zuko wonders what she’s thinking. Though he doesn’t need to wait long to find out as she responds, “I understand.” Aileen focuses her gaze on the glass she’d placed on the thick railing of the balcony, “the person I love probably doesn’t love me back. And even if they did, my parents disapprove.”

“Did you ask?” He felt hypocritical, Zuko himself had never spoken with Y/N in regards to his feelings, and he likely never would, but he wanted to know. “If they love you?”

Aileen laughs slightly, shaking her head, “I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m scared.” She replied, looking back to him curiously, “did you?”

“No.” He responded lamely, tapping his fingers against the railing with a sigh.

Aileen laughed at this, “I guess we are both cowards then.” She pursed her lips, “I didn’t ask because I was scared, why didn’t you?”

And then the words come spilling out, “whoever I end up with will greatly impact the whole world, whether I want to acknowledge it or not. And she doesn’t deserve that burden, nobody does.” He laughs bitterly as he continues, “she’s also the person that was hired to help me find love in the first place.” Zuko pauses, looking away from Aileen, “and I guess I’m scared too.”

“Ironic.” Aileen mumbles, bringing her eyes back to the sky, “let’s make a deal, Your Majesty.” 

Zuko cringes at the use of that title, almost asking her to simply refer to him by his name, though he simply responds, “what deal?”

“We both confess. And if it goes horribly wrong, we can get married.” 

Y/N can’t see the shock on Zuko’s face, but she can see how comfortable he feels with this girl, Y/N hadn’t seen her before, but she was just happy Zuko was connecting with someone. Except she also wasn’t, a bitter feeling enveloping her as she turned away, looking for something else to focus her attention on, something that didn’t hurt. 

She turned to see Marcella and Evelyn in the distance, speaking with each other. Y/N supposed if she wouldn’t be finding love tonight, then at least they would. She was no fool, she saw the way they looked at each other, the glances when the other wasn’t looking. Maybe it was dumb, but Y/N found herself feeling jealous as she moved over to the buffet with a sigh. Food solved everything in her experience, after a client had a particularly bad day, food made things better.

“Perhaps some tea?” Iroh stood beside her, a kettle in his hand, he had insisted he serve tea at the Gala, though Zuko had assured him it would be just as easy to find someone else to do the job.

Y/N smiled at him, nodding as she took a cup from the array of them within the buffet, allowing Iroh to pour her some tea. “Thank you, Iroh.” Her voice is quieter than normal, and it’s clear that Iroh can tell something is wrong.

“You know, you deserve to be happy to Y/N.” His words catch her by surprise, though she doesn’t have much time to consider their meaning before flames lighting the room begin to move erratically, causing her brows to furrow.

Something was wrong. 

Iroh nods to her, placing the tea kettle down as his brow furrow and she nods back, Iroh disappearing into the crowd of people. Y/N’s eyes fall back to Marcella and Evelyn, and she quickly moves to their side of the room, ignoring the hush that had fallen over the room, panicked gasps amongst them. Her hands fall onto both girl’s arms as she nods to them, “Y/N, whats going-”

Y/N is already dragging them in the direction of the exit, “get out of here, find the guards. I’m going to find Zuko.” The girls didn’t have much time to argue, as Y/N was already working her way through the panicked crowd, back to the balcony where she’d last seen Zuko. But, people were already pushing against her movements, making it difficult. Raising her head above the crowd in an attempt to see what’s going on, Y/N realizes whats happening. 

Firebenders were trying to force them together, and Y/N couldn’t help but panic as she wondered if Marcella and Evelyn managed to escape and find the guards. 

This was an ambush.

No, this was an assassination attempt. Zuko already knew as he watched the atmosphere of the party begin to shift, that and the person who stood before him in all black, brandishing several weapons. Alongside four others who stood by her side. 

“You know, it wasn’t until I met you that I realized how bad it had gotten.” Aileen stood beside Zuko, eyes meeting his in horror as they exchanged looks. Zuko simply hoped the nod he gave her provided some semblance of comfort as he returned his attention to the person before him. “I mean, defending some lowly Earth Kingdom matchmaker? What type of career even is that?” 

Her voice is almost maniacal, and Zuko can’t help but wince as he feels reminded of his sister. But he recognizes it nonetheless, Amaya. It had been months since he’d seen her, but he could still remember her voice. Her face was covered by a mask, and she wielded a sword, and if Zuko remembered correctly, she had been trained in dozens of fighting styles and was a talented bender herself. Alongside the four other men, Zuko couldn’t help but panic internally as he spoke, “Amaya, why don’t you put the swords down, and we talk about this.”

She laughs in response, ripping the mask that covered her face off and throwing it aside, “people have tried to talk to you about this. Your-” She grappled for the word, a hand yanking at her hair as she gestured to him with a sword, “your radical ideas!” 

Zuko didn’t find having morals radical, but he wasn’t going to say that, not while Aileen’s life was on the line. Zuko suddenly realized why having an heir was important as he shook his head, “Amaya, look. Why don’t you let Aileen here leave, and then you and I can talk.” 

Aileen looks like she’s going to protest, but Amaya glances at her red robes, a sign of her Fire Nation citizenship, and gestures for her to leave. “Get out. My problem isn’t with you.” 

When Aileen doesn’t move, Amaya quickly grows frustrated, calling out to one of the guards she’d brought along that lied inside, “take this fool away.” 

There’s no response, and Zuko can see panic flood Amaya’s face. And looking behind her, he quickly realizes that most of the guards have been subdued, Y/N holding one of them in her arms as she knocks them to the ground. Moving towards the balcony stealthily as Amaya’s hands begin to shake, fire sparking in her palms as she focused her attention onto Zuko. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to our nation.” 

But Zuko wasn’t looking at her as he shook his head, hoping Y/N would understand. There was no way she could overpower Amaya, not with her bending. Y/N didn’t even have a weapon.

Now, Y/N knew for a fact that no matter how talented Zuko was, he wouldn’t put the girl beside him in danger. His priority would be keeping her alive, and given the training Amaya had as a noble, in both Firebending and fighting, she might even be as good as Zuko in a fight.

Meaning she had to be taken out of the fight.

Everything happened pretty fast after that. Zuko was shielding body coming forward to shield Aileens as he extended his freehand to Firebend at the people who’d surrounded them, only for Amaya to move out of the way. The girl was practically screaming bloody murder as she lunged at him, now wielding her sword. 

Zuko didn’t have to figure out what to do next because Y/N moved faster than Amaya did, tackling the girl over the railing and down below as he began to scream. 

THE FINAL ATTEMPT

Zuko’s knee is bouncing rapidly as he sits beside Iroh, who knits a scarf of some sort despite the blistering heat of the Fire Nation. He’s insisted that when Y/N returned to the Earth Kingdom she’d need it, and Zuko didn’t have the heart to disagree. Iroh had started stress-knitting about four hours ago, when Y/N had entered the room they all sat before, anxiously awaiting news of her condition.

Marcella and Evelyn are to Zuko’s left, Marcella’s sobs had quieted down, but Zuko wouldn’t be shocked if he looked over and saw tears silently streaming down her face. The girl hadn’t taken it well. Evelyn remained composed, doing her best to comfort Marcella, but the wait was clearly getting to her as well as she fidgeted with Marcella’s hands.

Seeing as Y/N had fallen from several stories up off the balcony and into the water below, Zuko didn’t really think it was possible to take the news well. But he was trying. 

A pang sounded from inside the room, and Zuko practically shot up onto his feet, moving to knock on the door to discover was was wrong, only for Iroh to grab his wrist, shaking his head. Zuko exhaled deeply, beginning to pace across the hall. He found himself wishing that Katara hadn’t been busy with Water Tribe business, she was an excellent healer. Alas, Katara wasn’t there, and Zuko had to settle for one of the skilled Water Tribe diplomats instead, alongside a few others skilled in medicine. 

As he paced, Zuko could feel Evelyn’s eyes on him, and it became clear she was itching to speak and he sighed, “what’s wrong?” There were dozens of answers to this question, the main one being the fact that Y/N could die today, so he hoped she understood what he meant.

The girl is glaring at him, and Zuko can’t help but feel uneasy. Because maybe she blames him for this as much as he blames himself, and maybe she’s going to tell him off, blame him for everything. Because if Y/N dies, she and Marcella will have no one again. 

Not that Zuko would allow that. He’d grown attached to the girls as well, they were kind, and helpful. They’d help improve the interior decor of the palace, and if he was honest, it looked better than anything he ever could’ve done.

“You better tell her how you feel after this.”

Zuko’s mouth gapes open at the girl’s words, and he swears the breath leaves his longs, and its as though everything hits him then. 

He would never get to tell Y/N how he felt if she died. He’d never get to listen to her try and tell a story just to go off on dozens of tangents, he’d never get to watch as she attempted to cook again, and he’d never get to hold her in his arms once more. There would be no more late night talks, and he wouldn’t hear her laugh, she wouldn’t tease him anymore and they wouldn’t walk through the courtyard feeding turtleducks again.

She’d never know he loved her.

Zuko finds himself nodding to Evelyn’s words, frozen in place as he looks to her and asks, “was I that obvious?” His voice is hoarse, and its probably because he didn’t stop screaming, even when Y/N’s body hit the water. 

Marcella is laughing at his words, blowing her nose into a tissue that Evelyn hands her before she speaks, “painfully obvious.”

“For someone who’s job revolves around love, Y/N is one of the most oblivious people I’ve ever met.” Evelyn grumbles out, rubbing her eyes as she yawns.

It was late, Zuko knew that much, the guests of the party had gone to the infirmary in the palace, being tended to by doctors and any other available healers if injured. Otherwise, they’d all returned to their rooms to sleep, or more likely stay up in fear of another attack. Zuko surely would.

“Go to bed guys, it’s getting late.” 

Evelyn looks at him like he’s one of the dumbest people she’s met, and if Zuko was honest, he probably was. But he simply nodded to Marcella, who had started leaning her head against Evelyn’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Uncle, why don’t you take them back to their rooms?”

Considering the fact that Zuko’s guards were around the corner, he wasn’t scared for his safety, but their presence just made him want to remain awake. 

“Nephew, you should sleep as well.” His Uncle replied, though he rose from his seat, bringing the yarn and the start of the scarf under his arm. 

Zuko gave his Uncle a smile, “I will. But if anything happens before then, I’ll be sure to alert you all.” He assured, nodding to Evelyn, who eyed him wearily. But she relented, shaking Marcella gently before standing up alongside her and Iroh. 

When they were out of sight, Zuko plopped back down in the seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought his hands to his face.

And for the first time in the night he cried, his body racked with sobs as tears streamed down his face and he struggled to breathe. The pain of all that had happened felt almost unbearable. She had to live. Y/N had to live. Because Zuko was going to confess. 

His fear of losing her outweighed his fear of rejection.

Wiping his tears away, Zuko suddenly felt grateful that Evelyn had left the box of tissues as he blew his nose. He sighed, his eyes piercing the door, hoping that something would happen.

As though his stare had willed her to exit the room, the healer came out, a grimace on her face as she looked to Zuko, likely because of his bloodshot eyes. The woman simply sighed, the grimace becoming a more sympathetic look. “Miss L/N lost a lot of blood... several of her bones were broken when she hit the water, especially her ribs. Her internal organs were damaged as well and... well it wasn’t very likely for her to survive.”

She’s dead.

Y/N is dead.

Oh.

“Wow, you look like a mess.” 

Zuko’s head whips up, his eyes meeting Y/N’s, she’s leaning against a wooden crutch, grinning lazily at him. The healer beside her looks rather apologetic as she frantically explains, “she woke up far quicker than we anticipated and only agreed to rest if we participated in her rather cruel prank.”

So, she wasn’t a ghost.

Zuko launches himself up from the chair, nearly tackling Y/N, but the wooden crutch she uses for support serves as a reminder of her fragile state as he asks, “can I hug you?”

Her smile falters at the sound of his voice, hoarse and jagged, so she simply extends are free arm outward. Zuko takes this as an invitation for a hug, gently wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her neck, Y/N wrapped her free arm around his neck, hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. “Im s-”

“It’s not your fault Zuko. I swear if you say its your fault I will throw myself over the balcony again.” She threatened, hand tightening in his hair.

Zuko laughs quietly, inhaling deeply before he speaks again, “please never do that again.” 

“I make no promises.”

Sighing, Zuko releases her, “I hate you so much.” 

Y/N scoffed, “you love me.” She was limping over to the bed in the middle of the room, blood coating the surrounding area. Though the doctors in the room were moving across the room that they’d placed Y/N on, and dealt with her injuries on, Zuko couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight.

She could’ve died.

“Yeah, I do.”

Y/N pauses, turning to look back at him, her mouth gapes open. Zuko’s looking away, eyes on anything but her as he inhales deeply.

The healer simply sighs, “before we do this, I should inform the two of you that Miss Y/N cannot do any... strenuous activities for at least one month.”

Zuko’s cheeks are flushing red as he shakes his head rapidly, “ma’am-”

“We’ll be taking our leave. Have fun, but not too much fun. Please.” The woman closes the door behind her once the other doctors are out of the room, and Y/N can’t stop laughing at the mortified expression on Zuko’s face, despite the sharp pain she feels in her ribs.

Taking a seat on the fresh sheets of the bed, Y/N sighs, “so you love me?” She’s picking at the sheets, “as a friend?”

Zuko suddenly realizes just how right Evelyn was as he slowly shakes his head, “no. More than a friend. I think I inadvertently sabotaged half of the dates you sent me on because of it.”

Y/N laughs quietly, eyes falling on Zuko only to see he’s looking anywhere but her, she calls out to him quietly, “Zuko. Look at me.”

He doesn’t hesitate to bring his gaze to her, eyes meeting hers as he begins to fidget with his hand. Y/N simply reaches her hand out, and he takes it. “I love you too, idiot.” She mumbles, pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I just wish you had told me sooner so I didn’t waste so much time trying to set you up with other women.” 

A small laugh escapes him as he brings his hand to her hair, “how do I know you weren’t purposely giving me bad matches because you were in love with me?” 

Y/N removes her head from his stomach, looking up at him, her nose crinkles, “unlike you, I am a professional.” Zuko flicks her forehead, and Y/N pouts at him, hand coming up to his face, “can I kiss you?”

She can feel his face warm, but he nods rather enthusiastically nonetheless, and Y/N finds herself smiling at his as she uses her hands to pull his face downward towards her. His lips meet hers, and Zuko finds himself feeling complete, hands coming to Y/N’s face in an attempt to pull her closer while hers move to his ball up his robes that he’d yet to change.

 Zuko pulls away first, forehead resting on hers, “you need to sleep.” 

Y/N scoffed, eyes narrowing at him, “you need to sleep.” Looking to the bed, she raises a brow at him, “wanna lay with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I could accidentally injure you or-”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N yanks him onto the bed, making her way to the other side and getting comfortable, “I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, everything would be fine. Maybe not for the Fire Nation, seeing as Y/N would potentially help rule a nation but...

Everything would be fine.

in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/

noun

a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.

A/N: i hope this was good enough!!! i tried!!! and idk how it ended up over 12k... that’s crazy man um kjhdsajfhjkah omg i really liked this concept though i hope i did it justice

TAGLISTS [lmk if you want to be added or removed via askbox or replies]

ATLA: @bubblebars​ @jada-cleo​ @Art-flirt @the-deli-meat​ @wemissyou3000​ @ajediherowitchrunner​

ZUKO: @outerxorbit @shawkneecaps @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @celamoon @savemesteeb @shephard17895 @ijustwannabecanadian @duh-dobrik @anime-simp @lammello  

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[mary-ann84]

Nanna's Hot Chocolate

Ok so here is my story for day 2 of @cavillsthighs christmas challenge.

Credit for GIF goes to @demivampirew

Characters: Walter x you

Words: 1.254

Warnings: none

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

You were the new girl in town. You moved here a little over six months ago and in that short amount of time you have gotten to know quite a few people. 

This was mostly due to the fact that you were also the new art teacher at the local highschool and the majority of the kids that went there lived close by. 

Everyone had made you feel so much at home that when you were asked to participate in the neighborhood christmas market you said yes right away.

You were assigned to help out Nanna. She was like a grandmother to everybody. Loved and respected by all. Whenever there was something you needed you could always go to her.  

Despite the fact that she was of age. She still had some pep in her step. Spoke her mind whenever she felt something needed to be said. She was the eyes and ears of the town. She knew a lot about everybody that lived in the neighbourhood. However she did not gossip. 

She also made the best food and the best hot chocolate. Or so you were told. 

The day of the market arrived and everyone that participated was up by the crack of dawn to help set up. 

By the time the market officially opened the booth that you and Nanna were running was decked out with the most delicious christmas treats. Cookies, chocolates, pastries and of course Nanna’s famous hot chocolate. 

 As the day went by lots of people had visited the booth. 

Business was going well.So well that you had to close it for a little while to restock everything. 

“My dear, why don’t you go and walk around the market a little. You deserve a break.”

“Are you sure Nanna? Who is going to help you restock the booth?”

“Oh sweetheart.” Nanna said.  “No need to worry, I have it all worked out. Walter, my grandson, will be here soon with everything we need.” 

As a matter of fact his daughter, my great-granddaughter, is already here and is skating on the lake. Would you be a dear and find her for me. By the time two of you get back I will treat all of you to a nice steaming cup of hot chocolate.”

“I would love to help you out Nanna. What’s her name? And what does she look like?”

The second she mentioned the name you smiled. Faye Marshall was one of the kids in your class. A beautiful girl. Smart, sweet and very talented. It would not be hard to find her. 

Nanna looked on while you headed to the lake. She had a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

Everything was going to plan. From the moment she met you, she knew you would be perfect for her grandson. 

Walter has been on his own long enough. In her eyes he deserves a good woman by his side. Someone that can be a safe place for him but also can handle him and the fact that he has a dangerous job. 

When you were signed to help her out with the booth she formed a plan together with Faye to get you two to meet. 

Nanna already knew that Faye was in your class. And she agreed to help her great- grandmother out. Her father deserved the world. And Faye absolutely loved you. You were her favorite teacher. She felt like she could come to you for everything. You were perfect for her dad.

Nanna hoped Walter would go along with it.

The lake was easy to find. Being able to spot Faye was another thing. 

Just when you were about the give up you heard someone behind you saying your name. 

It was her. 

“Hi miss y/n.”

“Hi Faye. You are just the person I was looking for.”

“I am?”

“Yes, I am helping out your great-grandmother with her Christmas booth. And she sent me out to find you. Your dad will be here soon and she would love it if you could come with me so all of us can have a cup of her hot chocolate.”

Faye immediately agreed to come with you and by the time you both arrived back at the booth you noticed a man standing at the booth and he was talking to Nanna. 

He had a broad back and wore a thick bodywarmer and sweater with a beanie. Jeans that fit perfectly and a pair of black boots. 

When he hugged Nanna you figured that,that was Walter her grandson and Faye’s father. 

“Dad!”Faye yelled and ran over to him. 

The moment he turned around it was like your world stopped. Even from a distance you could see how handsome he was. You watched as Faye ran into his arms and how he hugged her. 

Faye pointed in your direction and she waved you over.

You locked eyes with Walter and suddenly it was hard to breathe. Even from a distance he looked so handsome. He exuded a confidence you have never seen before. 

Stay calm y/n, it’s just Faye’s dad. You have met the fathers of some other kids before. He is just another father.

When you reached them he stuck out his hand to shake yours. The moment you touched electricity coursed through your veins. It was freezing outside, but you felt like you were on fire. 

“Y/n this is my dad, Walter Marshall. Dad this is y/n, my art teacher from school. She is helping Nanna out today.”

He gave you a nod with his and was planning on continuing with what he was doing when Faye janked his sleeve and stared him in the face as if she was telling him to say something. 

He cleared his throat. 

“Nice to meet you, y/n. I heard a lot about you from my gran and my daughter.” he said while eyeing them suspiciously. 

The sound of his voice vibrated through you. It took a second for you to respond.

"Nice to meet you too, Walter. Thank you for helping out."

Again Walter nodded his head. 

"Ok kids." Nanna said. 

" Back to work."

All of you worked hard to restock all the Christmas treats while Nanna made another batch of her hot chocolate. 

All the while you and Walter were stealing glances. Sometimes your eyes met and when they did you blushed and he gave you a small smile. 

By the time you were done. Nanna had poured the hot chocolate into cups and handed them out. 

"Now you two have a seat and enjoy. Faye I am going to need your help for a minute." Nanna said.

Both you and Walter were about to say something but they were gone already. 

Walter led the way to a nearby table and like a true gentleman pulled a chair for you. 

A comfortable silence fell over both of you and slowly but surely a conversation started. 

While sipping from the hot chocolate, that was indeed the best you ever tasted, you got to know each other more. 

You were so into one another that you did not notice Nanna and Faye watching you.

Nanna put arm around her shoulder and they smiled at each other.

They were sure this was the start of something beautiful. 

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH28

What does Chloe have in store for Marinette? Find out next week! As I stated on AO3, once I post chapter 30, I’m going to take another month off to let my betas finish up the last few chapters, then in October if we are all finished, I will be posting two chapters a week on Mondays and Fridays to finish this story out. It’s been a long journey rewriting it, but I’m much happier with the outcome this time. I hope you’re all excited to see the rest of the changes to this story. I know I can’t wait to share them!

Previous    First     Next      AO3

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Chapter 28: End Game

Morning light streamed through the window, casting golden rays across Marinette’s cheeks. The urgent screech of her alarm blared on the shelf above her head, vibrating the loft in its tantrum. She blinked, then immediately squeezed her eyes shut again, sitting up out of the sun. Kicking the blankets from around her legs, she palmed for her phone, clumsily tapping the screen with a yawn. Sleep had eluded her most of the night for more reasons than one, and the previous day’s events replayed on loop as she slogged through her morning routine.

Had all of it really happened? The museum, her old friends, the akuma, Emerald Shell, Lila… And she’d gone to Chloe of all people for help. When had she fallen so low? And how long did Marinette have to be on this rollercoaster? Wasn’t there an emergency exit she could use?

She splashed water on her face, leaning against the sink with a sigh. Not all of it was bad at least. She and Adrien got to spend the evening together, though the sweetness diminished as a result of the afternoon’s events. Even still, there were worse ways to end a trying day than being spoon-fed chocolate mousse by the boy of her dreams.

Marinette stared at her reflection, droplets dripping from her chin like the countless tears she’d cried the past month. So much had changed since she left. Her face still looked the same, but the girl inside was different than the one who walked out of Francoise-Dupont a month ago. Her eyes carried a new determination.

Lila had gone too far, and Marinette wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. Starting today, everything was going to change.

“Marinette! You’re going to be late for school!” her mother called up the stairs.

Marinette dried her face and slipped on her blazer.

“Coming!”

Things were normal at school. People were buzzing about the latest akuma and the appearance of Emerald Shell. Martin held his head a little higher, though his cheeks never lost their rosy hue, especially when Macy gushed about how Emerald Shell saved her. It wasn’t until art class that they realized Marinette was being unusually quiet.

“How did things go with Adrien?” Eliott asked, looking up from the fruit bowl they were all painting.

“Adrien was fine,” Marinette said. “It was Lila I had to worry about.”

“Still?” Macy winced. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story…” Marinette sighed, wiping her brush on a rag.

“We’ve got a whole hour.” Martin pointed out, and they all looked at Marinette expectantly.

Marinette smiled, reassured by their eagerness. They really were the best friends in the world. She took a deep breath before diving in, and her friends listened to every detail intently.

“Whoa, she really did that to you?” Lisette asked when she finished. “And I thought Gabrielle was awful.”

“Lila is an attention-seeking manipulator, and she crushes anyone who gets in her way,” Marinette said bitterly. “I hate to drag you guys into this—mostly because I barely want to be dragged into this—but-”

“Oh, we’ll totally help,” Macy said. “If there’s one thing rich people love to do it’s brag about our accomplishments and make other people look inferior.”

“I can text around and try to set up a hangout with Prince Ali next time he passes through Paris.” Eliott offered.

“My dad’s in a group that plays tennis with a few ambassadors. I’m sure he could help us set up a youth program to push a Go Green effort here in Paris.” Martin added.

“Sometimes I babysit for the president’s niece, so I could see about getting her deported,” Lisette said with a cheery grin, and everyone turned to her with horrified expressions. “I’m kidding, but it’s an option.”

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re kicking awful people out of the country.” Eliott nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

“Anything you need, Marinette, we’ve got your back,” Macy said, placing a hand over hers. “We’re behind you all the way.”

Marinette pulled her in for a hug, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Even though she regretted running from her problems, Marinette didn’t regret meeting her new friends. They helped her when she needed it most, and for that, she would always be grateful. With these people by her side, Lila wasn’t going to know what hit her.

♪♫♪ This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things ♪♫♪

Marinette paced the length of the living room a week later, chewing her nails. The awards show had finally arrived, and Clara would be walking the red carpet in one of Marinette’s original designs. It was the biggest moment of her life, and she couldn’t sit still.

Her mom smiled, setting the cake she’d just finished decorating on the table. “Everything is going to be fine, dear. Your designs were wonderful, and Clara loved them.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean all of the famous fashion critics are going to. People talk about award show outfits for weeks, mom! If everyone hates Clara’s dress, I’m going to be front-page news for worst-dressed all month!” Marinette groaned.

“There’s no way anyone will hate your designs. My daughter has all the talent in the world!” Her father scooped her up, planting a kiss on her cheek.

The doorbell rang, and Marinette rushed to answer it.

“Congratulations!” Her friends cheered.

Macy pulled her in for a tight hug. “I can’t wait to see which design Clara picked! They were all so good.”

“I can’t believe Clara picked you over Gabriel Agreste. You are so lucky, Marinette,” Lisette said.

“She’s amazingly talented. My father didn’t stand a chance,” Adrien said with a laugh. He presented a bouquet of roses with a shy smile. “Congratulations, mon ange.”

Marinette stretched up to kiss his cheek. Taking his hand, she ushered everyone inside where they didn’t hesitate to make themselves at home. Eliott and Martin moved for the snacks while Macy and Lisette settled on the couch. Marinette’s mother reached for a vase on the top shelf, stretching up on her toes.

“Let me.” Adrien stepped in and grabbed it with ease.

“Thank you, dear. Marinette picked such a sweet boyfriend.” Her mother beamed. “She used to talk about you so much. Every day, she’d come home from school and tell us all about how green your eyes are and-”

“Mom!” Marinette shot her a silencing look.

“I’m flattered. Marinette is a wonderful girl. You and Mr. Dupain must be really proud that a celebrity like Clara commissioned her,” Adrien replied smoothly. He shot Marinette a wink when her mom changed the subject. Why was he so perfect?

“Ooo! It’s starting!” Macy squealed.

Marinette and Adrien squeezed onto the couch next to Macy and Eliott. She leaned her head on his shoulder, twining their fingers together. Having her friends around eased some of her nerves, but her heartbeat escalated every time someone new moved to the front of the line.

“How long until we get to see your dress?” her dad asked.

“I don’t know. The red carpet doesn’t really have a set schedule.” Marinette shrugged.

“Okay, we’ll just wait,” he said, trying to seem nonchalant, though his impatience showed each time he shifted or cleared his throat.

Marinette chewed her nails as other artists and celebrities made their appearances, leg bouncing until Eliott reached over to stop it. She flashed him a sheepish grin but resumed tapping the moment he turned away.

Clara’s name flashed at the bottom of the screen, and Marinette cupped her hands over her mouth. Everyone leaned forward as she approached the camera in a colorful, flowing gown.

“She’s wearing my favorite!” Marinette squeaked between her fingers. Her dad patted her knee as her mom turned up the volume on the television.

“Standing here on the red carpet with Best Pop Artist nominee Clara Nightingale,” the reporter said, turning to Clara with a smile. “Clara, can I just say you look lovely tonight? Who are you wearing?”

“My dress was designed by someone sweet; a teen whose talent can’t be beat. More beautiful than any melody I’ve ever sang, this dress is by Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Clara twirled around, the skirt of the dress rippling with color.

Marinette buried her face in a couch pillow with a shrill scream. Adrien rubbed her back with a laugh. She shot up again, eyes glued to the screen as Clara gushed about the details of her dress before the conversation steered toward her award nomination.

“Can I just say? Stun-ning!” Eliott said.

“That dress is everything! It looks even better than it did on paper.” Macy agreed.

“A celebrity wearing my daughter’s original designs! I always knew someone would recognize how amazing you are.” Her dad pulled her in for a tight hug.

“We’re so proud of you, honey. We know how hard you worked,” her mom said.

“You did an amazing job, Marinette.” Adrien pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Well, we have to get back to the bakery, so we’ll let you kids watch the rest together, okay?” Her mother passed Macy the remote.

“Good night.” Marinette waved as they stood and took their leave.

“Actually, I should go too. I forgot to do my physics homework,” Macy said, standing up. “Martin, can you come help me? It’ll take me hours if you don’t.”

Martin flicked his gaze over to Marinette and nodded. “Uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Oh, ya know, I just remembered that I promised my dad we’d help him with that thing,” Lisette said.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, it’s like a big, complicated thing. We need to go too.” Eliott nodded. “Congrats again. You’re amazing and wonderful, and you deserve this more than anyone.”

“Thanks.” Marinette smiled.

“See you tomorrow!” Macy called as they all shuffled out the door.

“Is it just me or was that a lot of lame excuses?” Marinette tilted her head.

“I asked them to give us some time alone.” Adrien admitted.

“Oh.” Marinette’s cheeks warmed as Adrien wrapped an arm around her.

“I know things have been crazy lately, but in a way, I’m really glad all of this happened. I might not have ever realized how I felt about you if it hadn’t,” he said. “It’s a weird positive that’s come from everything.”

“Yeah.” Marinette leaned against his shoulder with a smile. “I’m happy things worked out. I never would have told you how I felt otherwise.”

“Did you really tell your parents how cute I was?” he asked with a smirk.

“I- Well, I didn’t- I mean-” She buried her face in his shirt with a groan.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard you stammer like that. I forgot how cute it is.” Adrien chuckled.

“It’s your fault.” She jabbed his chest with one finger. “You’re so cute. It makes me all flustered.”

“Hmm, then I wonder how you’ll react to this.” He reached into his pocket to retrieve a long jewelry case, opening it to reveal a small pink diamond necklace.

“Adrien!”

“I wanted to get you something to remember me by since we go to different schools now. I miss you like crazy, so I thought that maybe you could at least have a small piece of me when we’re apart,” he said. “Do you like it?”

“Adrien…” Marinette cupped a hand over her mouth. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

The gem was warm against her skin as Adrien fastened it around her neck, a physical reminder of his love. They’d overcome so much together, and while their fight was far from over, at least Marinette had him.

Adrien turned her jaw to face him, brushing her cheek with his thumb. Those warm green eyes softened as he leaned in, and Marinette closed her eyes. His breath swirled hot on her lips when they brushed, sending a jolt up her spine. Her heart hammered in a frenzy, building rapidly in anticipation. But just as release came, his pocket buzzed, and they both crashed down to earth again.

With a short sigh, Adrien pulled back and retrieved his phone, quirking a brow at the caller ID.

“It’s Chloe,” he said. “Hell-”

“Were you two going to list Dupain-Cheng designing for Clara Nightingale among our assets, or was I just supposed to figure that out myself?” She scolded.

“Sorry. It was kind of-”

“No time for excuses. I need to propose this to you before I change my mind. I know the perfect way to enact your plan,” Chloe said with a groan. “I hate myself for even considering it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed.

“We’re going to make Dupain-Cheng famous, and I think I know the perfect way to do it.”

[forthehpfanboys]

Nifflers Don't Help

Pair: Remus Lupin x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Remus and (Y/n) have been pining after each other for far too long, but what happens when Lupin finds out through a very specific glasses wearing student that the professor who handles magical creatures likes him back?

Warnings: Suggestive, Lupins Sass, your sass. Remus is probably out of character, Swearing. I swear a lot-

Notes: Requested! I hope this is OK! I kinda ran with the idea of the reader being a teacher at Hogwarts. Hope you like it! Sorry it took so long.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Being the Care For Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts was absolutely the best job you've had in such a long time, like galloping hippogriffs, it was everything you loved! Magical creatures! Teaching! Teaching about how to care and handle said magical creatures! It was literally your dream come true.

It was even better because you got to meet Remus Lupin, a very kind man who worked as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now you'd gotten to know him very well over the past year for obvious reasons. 

And yes, you knew of his.. I wanna say a little but it obviously isn't, problem. Lupin hadn’t necessarily told you, you found out by coming to Hagrid's hut to look over some of the creatures he had while he was doing some secret Dumbledore business and found him cowering in the corner, full werewolf. 

Of course you slammed the door and made a mad scramble toward the castle like a hippogriff after a ferret. Luckily, you did manage to escape his claws and hide away in the castle. But when he found out what happened, he felt so much guilt he came to find you immediately. 

You ended up telling him the full story of what happened the night before, and it took him about 30 minutes to stop apologizing profusely. He'd simply forgotten to take his potion again and didn't mean to cause you any harm. 

You forgave him. How could you not? He was quite literally begging for you to and you did fancy him. In the end, you really couldn't say no and everyone knows werewolves could kill their best friend if they had the chance. It wasn't his fault, really. 

You shook your head away from the memories and smiled across the field at your class. "Alright everyone! That's all I got for today!" you smiled wider when the kids let out a groan of dismay. "Oh, I know! We always have tomorrow, now say goodbye to Goldie!" you held the squirming brownish yellow colored niffler in your hand as all the kids grabbed their books, waved to the tiny adorable mass of furr and said goodbye. 

You couldn't help but keep smiling once everyone left. Today's lesson had ended successfully, as per the usual. Every student loved you!

You were extra kind to students who had fears of certain creatures (Ron) and understanding to students who couldn't always finish the homework because of helping others (Neville) and didn't even put up with one very specific blonde who was lowkey a twat (I don't even have to put his name in for you to know who I'm talking about). 

You paced over to the table you placed outside before class and opened the small case laying on top, checking the inside of it while you held the wiggly creature to your chest.

The case was similar to Scamander's in the sense that the inside was bigger, but not by much. This one case was supposed to store the niffler and the niffler only, so it only had to be so big. The case on the inside had a water bowl, a nice soft makeshift bed for the baby and a few gems and coins all for comfort. 

You placed the little sweetheart into the case and shut it gently, locking it closed. You hummed gently, not hearing the person approaching you from behind. 

"You handle them so well." 

Your cry of shock echoed in the woods around you and you could've sworn your body jumped up at least 6 feet in the air. You basically got whiplash from how fast you turned around, looking at the man standing behind you. 

"The creatures, I mean." Lupin was leaning against one of the trees, a smile on his face as he nodded toward the creature. 

You couldn't help but giggle a little bit and shift your suit tie out of nervous habit. "Oh! Yeah, well, it's kinda needed for the job." you stumbled over your words a little bit, rubbing the back of your neck and avoiding his piercing eyes.

It was obvious to your class, it was obvious to the other professors, just about the entire castle knew about your 'tiny' crush on the professor. 

Everyone knew. 

Literally everyone. Harry, Dumbledore, even Snape. SNAPE KNEW!

But guess who didn't? 

Remus Lupin, the gentleman you'd fallen head over heels from the minute you stepped into the dinning hall. 

If looks could kill, you'd be more than 6 feet under, that's for sure. He was so handsome and kind and his eyes- Godric, his eyes. 

Why would he figure it out, anyway? It isn't like he's a very smart man who literally teaches children how to protect themselves against the darkest of evils known in the wizarding world. 

"Well, yeah, but you have talent. I could tell from when you walked into the dinning hall." Remus stepped forward, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. "Keen eye." he tapped his temple, a side smile on his face. 

"Uhhuh." you nodded your head, taking your own step forward, leaving the bag on the counter. "Sure. Very keen eye." you crossed your arms over your vest covered chest. 

"It's true! I'm very observant-" this caused you to snort. "What?" 

"Yeah, ok!" 

"What? Are you hiding something from me (L/n)?" he stepped closer, his chest almost touching yours. "Should I be concerned?" his smile turned into a lopsided smirk, causing butterflies to make themselves known in your stomach. 

"Oh, no, of course not, Mr. Lupin." you shot him an innocent smile and stood on your tippy toes, only to pop back down onto your heals. "If you haven't noticed it by now, I fear you may never." with that, you turned around and all but strutted to your way to the table, making sure to sway your hips just enough to tease. 

Remus' eyes fought to look away, but in the end his eyes were glued on your bum. The thin man felt his jaw drop to the floor. It was no lie that the professor had a crush on you and, like everything else, the whole damn castle knew.

 Everyone supported you two and it physically pained them to see you act so oblivious to each other and do nothing but flirt, but you were sure it was just playful banter! It had to be. 

"Well, maybe I need some hints to figure it out." he stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed you to the table, his eyes following your hands as you picked up the case gently.

"I don't think you need hints, I think you need glasses." you turned to him, shaking your head back and forth, tsking at him. "You're keen eyes might be fading." 

Wizard Gods did he love you. He missed being able to banter with James and Lily and this made him feel like.. Well.. Like new. He couldn't help but smile wider and lean against the table, his confidence coming back in a full stride. 

"Ouch! Are you calling me old?" 

"We both know the answer to that." 

"Damn, ok. My pride." He snickered. "But what is the great and adorably luring Mr. (Y/n) (L/n) hiding from me, hmm?" he leaned forward. 

His words caused you to blush and rub the back of your neck. 

"Well, I-I want you to figure it out!" You adjusted the bag, the handle growing uncomfortable as your palms began to sweat. 

"Ooh~ Really? Like a," he paused, scratching his chin with a free hand, "like a game?" he stepped toward you again mindlessly, his hands clasping behind his back. 

You looked at his face and had to do a double take. Were his eyes always that dark? With every step he took, you subconsciously took one back. 

"I-I guess you could say that."

"Interesting. If I get it right, do I get a reward?" 

Before you knew it, your back hit the wood of a tree and his body all but trapped you in place. All of this was causing you to feel dizzy in the best possible way. 

"Su-" you cleared your throat, ignoring the way it cracked and was higher in pitch, "Sure!" 

"Is it an emotional connection?" 

You set the case down haphazardly, almost dropping it. The question only made your palms sweater. "Are you allowed to be asking questions? Besides, shouldn't you know it?" you asked as you wiped your hands on your work pants.

"Maybe I'm asking to see if I'm right before I jump headfirst and embarrass myself." he chuckled lightly, his hands coming up to trap your head between them and all but pin you to the rough bark. 

"Oh.. Well, I.. Yeah, it's emotional." you don't remember losing the ability to talk with authority, but your voice was barely a whisper by the time it came out.

"Aaahh, ok. Here, let me see if I nailed this on the head, shall we?" he paused and moved his wand hand to rest against your hip, causing you to jump ever so slightly. "I think that you," he spoke as his thumb rubbed against the bone of your hip, "fancy me and that you have since you started teaching here." 

You stayed completely still against the tree. You didn't blink, breath, nothing just stared at the man against you as your heart pounded in your ears. 

"What?" 

"Am I wrong? And don't lie, that would be cheating." Lupin leaned in closer, causing your cheeks to erupt a deeper red.

Let's be honest, he didn't figure it out by himself. Harry, bless the little termite, had been kind of joking with the teacher when the confession slipped free. The poor kid was basically stalked by the teacher who kept asking questions for a week before Hermione finally snapped, saying he should go ask the creature handler himself instead of waiting their study time. 

While Remus was fighting the memories and waiting for your response, you were having an inner war with yourself. For example, you were trying to figure out how in good ol' Godric mother fucking Gryffindor he figured it out! You snapped out of it when his other hand came up to cup your cheek. 

"I-I-" 

Lupin smiled wider at your stutter and blush and everything. Harry had been right, bless his soul. That kid was gonna ace his class for this alone. He shook his head, teasing about your shy state and let out a sigh. "Am I wrong?" he asked, figuring it was easier for you to say yes or no to that than say you loved him out in the open. 

Once you arranged the courage, you shook your head no as your eyes darted between his eyes and lips. He pushed himself impossibly closer to you, his head leaning down so he could press a kiss to your lips. 

Holy Merlin. Moony wanted to stay like that forever. His hand on your cheek slid  to the back of your neck to keep you there, managing to deepen the kiss even more. 

Your brain actually shut off. 

It took some time for it to reboot, but when it did, oh boy, did you kiss back. You poured all of your emotion and love and passion into it, causing the man to let out a groan. 

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against your shoulder. He didn't want you to see the blush on his face or the huge grin spreading across his lips. 

"Should'a done that ages ago." He whispered against your neck, then pressed his lips against the skin resting at the base of your neck. The action caused you to shiver and wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Wait, you like me too?" 

Lupin pulled back to stare into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he just kinda.. He just kinda stared at you. 

"Really?" 

"What?" 

"I kissed you and you're worried if I like you back?" 

"W-well, yeah. I'd hate to get the wrong signals." 

Remus ran a hand through his hair in frustration. How were you so innocent? Literally how? He kissed you and you can't tell he likes you back? How did you not know?

"Lupin?" Your voice cut him out of the inner dialog. "Are you ok?" 

"Yeah, just bloody curious on how you could be getting the wrong signals when I kissed you." 

"Well I don't wanna assu-" he cut you off by grabbing your shoulders and slamming a kiss against your lips, causing you to actually squeak against his. Your eyes fell shut as your hands absent-mindedly pulled bark off the tree as you kissed back. A whine fell from your lips when he pulled away to speak. 

"(Y/n), you are oblivious and so smart and so attractive that you managed to make me fall for you everyday and you don't even know. That should be a crime. How are you so perfect but you can't see it?" 

You opened your eyes to see him looking at you, holding all of his love for you in his eyes. You quickly broke out in a grin. His words were like the last piece of a puzzle and it fit so perfectly. You let out a laugh and shook your head. 

"I know now, don't I? And besides, you can't talk. I've been sending you signals since I came here and you haven't noticed either." 

"Did you now?" Remus teased, gently reaching up to fix your (tie/glasses). His hand then came back up to your warm cheek. "Then how come the first time I kissed you you didn't catch on? Were you trying to tease another kiss out of me?" 

"Nope! Just watched to make sure I was reading it right." you stuck your tongue out at him like a child, causing him to let out a breathy chuckle. 

"I literally did a romantic thing to show I romantically like you and you're asking if you were reading it right!" 

"Well, yeah! Assuming is a big no-no, Moony." 

"Unbelievable, Fluffy!" he laughed, tossing his head back. You stared at his face in confusion, your cheeks burning a little bit brighter at his laugh. 

"Fluffy? What kind of nickname is that?" 

"Well, you care for creatures and your hair is soft. It fits." 

"Isn't that the name Hangrid gave that dog?" 

"What dog?" 

"Never mind! Besides, It isn't unbelievable! People do weird things all the time!" 

Remus' wiggled his eyebrows at you, loving the way you blushed and stuttered. This only gave him more material to tease you over.

"Is a kiss weird to you?" 

"No b-" 

"So you should've known. How are you so smart but so dumb?" 

"Good question! Let me ask you, Moony! How do you manage to be so hot but so cool?" 

"But that didn't answer my question!" Lupin let out a laugh, his shoulders bouncing. He shook his head and leaned back into your neck, trailing butterfly soft kisses across the skin. "I'm fact, you just dodged it completely." 

"I-I don't have to answer anything." your Adam's apple bounced as you swallowed thickly. 

His hands went from your hips to the back of your thighs and suddenly he was picking you up, your back still hard against the tree. 

"I think you should do everything I tell you." his voice was deep in your ear, causing you to let out a whine.

"Oh, but I won't." You were trying to act like your face wasn't bright red and blood wasn't rushing south. Stupid werewolf strength and stupid hot man and ug H-

"I might have to do something about this disobedience, then, hmm?" 

Tossing your head back against the tree, you bit your lip to hide back a groan as his teeth gently niped along your Adam's apple. You tilted your head back and let out a sigh as he sucked on the skin. Your  eyes slowly opened and grew wider at the sight above you. 

"Goldie?!" Your mouth hung open as the golden shit looked down at you and tried to scurry up higher, Lupins pocket watch chain hanging from it's pouch. 

"Never called me that one, love. I don't get the reference. You might have to explain it for me." Lupin laughed against your skin, causing goosebumps to spread across it. 

"What? No, Lupin, the niffler!" 

"Shouldn't it should be in the-"

"She's in the tree!" 

"What?" he pulled away from your neck and looked up. "Oh.. You're gonna have to grab him, aren't you?" 

"Her, and yes." 

"And I'm gonna help?" 

"Yup." 

"Which means we can't snog anymore, right?" he shot you a smirk, trying to be playful while you were losing your mind. 

"Remus! She has your watch!" Your voice held bite, which he'd never heard before. It was hot. He found himself licking his lips, wanting to just grind into you, but the smack to his chest pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Ok! I got the hint!" 

The grown man whined and set you back down, giving you a look of disappointment mixed with child grumpiness. He watched your ass as you rolled up your sleeves and climbed up the tree with little struggle. 

"... Did we just get cock-blocked by a niffler?" 

"Don't use that language in front of the baby, Lupin! She's just a young thing!" 

"First of all, she can't understand us." he looked up at you, admiring your legs. "And second, If it's our baby, someone has some explaining to do." 

"Lupin, just climb the damn tree and grab the baby." you plucked a pine cone off a branch and hurled it at the brunettes head with accuracy that scared him. 

"Ouch! Alright! Alright. Jeez, I didn't know you could be so pushy." He took off his suit jacket and laid it across one of the lower branches before rolling up his sleeves and following you up the tree. 

"Yuck." 

"What now?" 

"I touched sap. It's gross." 

"I'll push you right off that branch if you don't take this seriously! Grab him-!"

"Her, (L/n.)" 

"Do no-. Don't. Don't even do that." 

"Love you too, (L/n)." 

[getitinbusan]

10 years with Jungkook

California

You met Jeon Jeongguk in the summer of 2012. Two kids brought together by a calling to California and a chance at making it big. Best friends from the start, what happens when only one of you becomes successful? Do you ever forget your first love? 

Childhood friends to lovers, angst and smut.

Words:  4600

Warnings: 18 plus smut. Oral F, Sex MF, Swearing. Pretty Mild for me. This is a previously posted fic that has been updated and reworked.

It was a rare rainy August day in California. The heavy drops created a sad melody on the window as you put the dishes away. Tired and lonely, the feeling in your gut kept nagging at you, maybe it was time to give up. 

The savings account was drained, there were no jobs to be found and  this was the second month of falling short on rent. Surely it would only be a matter of time before your roommates would stop exchanging house cleaning for money. 

Hanging the threadbare towel over its hook you stood in the kitchen, your mood mirroring the dim light of the afternoon. Feeling frusterated and stupid, it had taken you way longer than it should have to realize that in LA, you were nothing. Not pretty enough, rich enough, skinny enough or talented enough to ever make it big. So this is how the great Califonia chapter of your life would end, not by choice but necessity. 

Gathering up the mail that was strewn across the countertop, you shuffled through it sorting its priority. Junk mail, bills, personal…one in particular standing out. Your heart began pounding as you took in the details.

The penmanship was nice, black ink on an unassuming envelope. But it was the stamp that caught your attention. It was sent from Korea.

Flipping it in your hand you examined the torn top. The letter, having been read, was cradled back safely inside. Addressed to your roommate a frown crept onto your face. Why wouldn’t he write to you?

It was a ridiculously hopeful notion but you widened the envelope and inhaled trying to find a trace of his fragrance, something, anything to trigger a happy memory. Cool California nights were the best excuse. How many times had you borrowed his sweaters just to have his smell on you?

You missed him. It had been a year and a half and you couldn't help but once again ponder the nagging question that always crept back. If you hadn't forced him to break the rules would he still be a part of your life? 

It was too tempting to resist, your fingers pinched the paper inside of the envelope and pulled it free. 

I’m feeling low, I don’t know who I am, only who I’m supposed to be.

What would life be like if I had stayed in California? We could all be roommates, hanging out and having fun, going to the beach on weekends.

Does she even think about me?

It sounds greedy that with how much I have right now, it’s not enough. I would give anything to wake up in bed beside her everyday. I want more than anything to be able to talk to her about these things but I can’t. I’ve made the mistake of trading her for fame and now I’m destined to keep her at an arm’s length so she’ll never know the price I paid.

How does she even see me? As an Idol? As the boy who abandoned her? Has she forgotten the good days we spent together?

I’ve been wrestling with myself, whoever that is. I wish I could be the teenage boy from that long ago summer again. I wrote this song thinking about it…

~When I see you smile in the screen

You’re good at everything

You’re just perfect

Feels like I've never been you

Do you even see me?

Do you know who I am?

Or how do I look now?

You don’t like me like that

I want to be your decalcomania~

I’m afraid I may not get back for a while, please write. Your friendship and thoughts of her are the only things that are keeping me tethered to some semblance of reality.

JK

Clutching the letter to your chest, your mind took you back to that day. 

"Decalcomania, the art or process of transferring pictures and designs. Making a copy of the original on a different medium"  

Reading the description on the wall you’d both stood laughing at the piece's strange name, Decalcomania. The gallery visit felt like lifetimes ago but you still remembered clearly. You remembered, not because the piece had struck you as particularly special but because that's where you had decided that Jeongguk's laugh was the best sound you'd ever heard.  

California had lured you into its promise when you turned 14. Having been accepted to an  intensive dance program at The Movement Lifestyle Studio you packed up and headed West for the summer. 

It was July and it was hot, the dancers stepping off the bus one at a time took their places in the studio.

Looking around there were so many older kids, you were probably one of the youngest. Calling out names they put you into groups, it appeared to be by age so you made your way across the unfamiliar wooden floor to the tiny gathering of teens in the darkened corner.

Shy introductions were made as one more member was ushered over to where you had congregated. “This is Jeongguk.” 

He had the cutest smile and barely spoke english but his eyes twinkled like the constellations. Immediately drawn to each other you became fast friends.

Absolutely exhausted by the end of the first few days he quietly knocked at your door.

He was homesick and lonely, used to being surrounded by his six members, he couldn’t sleep well without someone beside him. You let him crawl into bed with you, you were 14 and it was innocent. 

Inseparable, days and nights were spent side by side, the others began referring to you as the twins. It was the best summer of your life but like every boy meets girl summer story, it had to come to a close. Promising through tears to keep in touch and stay friends you went your separate ways. 

Jeongguk would send silly videos of his practice sessions, goofing around with the other members.  He’d facetime and text but he always loved to send handwritten letters.

They lived in a box under your bed and contained stories of how hard he was working to become an idol. He always signed off with, "I miss you,” and a few lines of lyrics he’d written.

You didn’t know then how important they would become, the only tangible piece of him you could still hold on to.  

Whenever he came back to America you did everything you could to see him. You always found a way to get to the small tour stops whenever they came through. 2015 was the first, then KCon in 2016, but 2017, it was different.

Facetiming you with the news that they were bringing the Wings tour to NY, Chicago and Anaheim, he asked if you’d be part of the dance crew. How could you turn down two weeks with Jungkook the hottest new K-pop Idol? They were getting bigger, more popular and their lives were changing rapidly.

He had strict rules, girls were completely off limits. No talking, no hugging, no smiling at one another, any little thing could be easily misconstrued by the fans. Everything had to be done in secret. Jungkook would sneak you into his hotel room where you would spend your nights together catching up. The boys would bring you in food and cover for him while you both stayed locked away out of sight.

While happy to be with him, you could tell there was an underlying sadness he was holding on to.

"I wish I could go and explore the city with you like we used to," his voice trailed off.

You were laying in each other’s arms cuddling on his bed.  Leaning over he kissed the top of your head.

"All I really want is to take you on a proper date."

You snuggled closer into his side as he exhaled deeply, releasing his secret. 

"I’ve been waiting so long to become someone, a man worthy of your affection. Now I’m stuck. I have everything I wanted and I’m not allowed to share it with you."

His arms gripped you tighter.

"I’m sorry, this is a terrible confession. I don’t expect you to love me back, not under these circumstances, I just need you to know, you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved and there won’t be anybody else, ever." 

Every bit of his confession, every moment of that last night in the hotel room had stuck with you to this day. The words of a 19 year old boy whose life had become bigger than the feelings of two people.

He'd left in the morning without knowing. You were a coward, too afraid to tell him you loved him too.  

LA became your home right after they left Anaheim. Focused on your dancing, if you became good enough, maybe you could join the tour with him. 

A letter with a big bouquet of flowers arrived a few weeks later. 

"Congratulations on your new house in LA!

I hope that all of you are getting along as roommates, it’s hard living with others sometimes.

Last night I dreamt that I was there with you and all of our friends. We were having a party on the beach and we sat together watching the sunset.

Do you remember after practice when we would skateboard as fast as we could to the ocean so we wouldn’t miss the colors?

Maybe one day my toes can feel the sand there again.

I miss you, I miss me… the me I am when I get to be with you.

We're coming back in October for a few days and I’m hoping I can see you, I’m lonely already.   

Jeongguk

~Won’t you please stay in dreams

I can hear the sea from far away

Across the dream, over the bush

Go there where it becomes clear

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

When I’m with you, I’m in utopia~

By the time The AMAs came, the plan had been finalized. You would steal Jungkook away so that you could take him on your first real date.

Having enlisted Namjoon to help, he was your inside man. The boys, happy to help finally get you together, would cover for his whereabouts with management. The day before the awards they were only scheduled for styling, as long as he wasn’t late for the press rounds the next afternoon your plan could work.

It was Namjoon’s job to get him out of the building. Telling him to follow his lead, Joon convinced the managers that Jungkook must have eaten something bad for lunch. Claiming to not feel well, he was whisked away to meet you at the hotel’s back receiving door. 

Sitting in the shiny red rented convertible you tossed him a pair of sunglasses. What you wouldn’t give now to see that smile again.

Barely giving him time to get in you’d sped away heading straight for In And Out Burger.

"Kookie, I hope you’re ready for the best day of your life! We’re going to eat until we explode, drink and party at the beach and then, instead of returning you to your fancy 5 star hotel you’re staying the night in my crappy little house with a tiny uncomfortable bed!!"

He laughed, that perfect laugh. It was so pure and honest, thinking about it now made you sad. Was that the last moment he'd gotten to be his true self? Jeongguk the man not Jungkook the personna? 

Knowing you only had one day to give him everything, one day to show him you loved him, you tried to make the best of it.

Picking up the food Jungkook held onto the red and white bags in the passenger seat, sneaking his hand in to steal fries when he thought you weren’t looking. If you weren’t sure you were in love with him before you you certainly were now.

Pulling up beside the tree on the beach he was stunned, "Ahhh Jagi, I can’t believe you brought me here."

Happy that it meant as much to him as it did to you, you both sat on the branch and ate. Two blocks from the old studio this used to be your escape. Every break you’d make your way to the tree for some time alone, together. 

With the burgers done he turned to you and smiled. It felt like he wanted to say something, but stupidly, you'd cut him short leading him back towards the car.

Making your way through your checklist you brought him back to where you'd first met. The Movement studios students were starstruck when he walked in. After insisting that he teach some choreography, he reluctantly led the class.

Your eyes were glued to him as he moved in front of the mirrors, no longer that awkward teenager but a full grown man mesmerizing you with his every move.

Getting back to the car he stopped you before you reached for the handle. Putting his arms around you he pulled you in close. But again, you resisted him. 

"You stink Jungkook, our next stop is the ocean."

You remember pulling away. How stupid you were, you should have held on to him longer. Reaching into the back seat you revealed a pair of swim shorts and a towel. He looked disappointed that you kept interrupting his attempts at intimacy. It broke your heart but you had a plan and limited time to execute it. 

The Ocean was chilly but the wind was warm, he came out of the change room with the shorts on but still wearing his shirt.

"Kookie, this isn’t Korea, you don’t have to be so modest here. Plus, you should grab some sun, you may not believe it but when your skin is sunkissed," you grinned, "you look really sexy."

He raised his eyebrows and quickly removed the shirt at your request.

Running into the water you splashed and played and he took great pleasure in picking you up and throwing you as far as he could.

The sun was getting ready to set and you wanted to dry off before the cooler air set in.

Leading him back to the shore you both laid down on the towel. He put his arm around you and you cuddled into his side.

"My god Guk, look at your abs!"

He blushed like crazy as you traced the muscles on his stomach.

"Stop, it tickles," he giggled.

But you didn’t, you kept tickling him until he held you so tight you couldn’t move. He had you pinned, flipping you on your back he shook his wet hair flinging water droplets all over you. Pleased with himself he leaned in closer to you, his eyes asking for permission to kiss you. As the gap between you got narrower you could hear his name being shouted and footsteps running closer. He flopped onto his back and sighed as your roommates and friends piled on top of him.

Eating, drinking and catching up with everyone you watched each other from across the bonfire. Moving from person to person he slowly made his way back to your side.

"Welcome back." Running your hand through the back of his hair, it was now or never. 

Pulling him closer your lips finally met in the way they were destined, soft, slow and full of love. His hands instinctively moved to cup your face as the world stopped around you.

"I love you," you whispered.

Nose to nose he smiled at you and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

It didn’t last long, his phone started going off incessantly. The managers knew, you’d been careless, photos and videos of him from the studio had been posted online.

"I’m so sorry Jungkook, I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble."

His eyes turned hungry as he grabbed your hand.

"You promised I wouldn’t be going back to my hotel tonight, let’s get out of here."

If he was going to get in trouble anyway, why stop now?  

The drive back to your place was quiet, adrenaline and hormones flowing like electricity through you both. The time for smiling was over as the seriousness of the situation lingered in the air between you.

It wasn’t just being in trouble or being caught, but the fact that you both knew what was going to happen when you stepped into your bedroom. One act that would change everything between you, it held the power to change the dynamic of your relationship forever.

Leading him to your room you closed the door and stood staring at him as he sat on your bed. He raked his fingers through his hair before he spoke.

"I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to be able to make love to you. BUT I also know that when I leave I’m not going to get to see you again for a very long time." His head hung low. "Management is going to do everything possible to keep us apart and that won’t be fair to you. I think that maybe we should just let our happy memories of today be enough, I don’t want you to regret anything. " 

Walking closer you stood between his legs and he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"The only thing I'll regret is never getting to experience all of you. I can’t live not knowing how it feels to be totally yours even if it's only for one night."

He rested his head against your chest, "You’ll always be mine."

His hands traveled to the hem of your shirt and his fingers ran over the soft skin of your stomach. Undoing the button of your jeans he slowly slid them down your legs and you stepped out of them. 

Standing up he lifted the thin fabric of your shirt over your head and you stood before him waiting as he took his off too. Unclasping your bra he sighed as he looked at you taking in your shape, his fingertips hovering over your hard nipples.

"I’ve never done this before," he confessed.

"Me either," you whispered. "I've only ever wanted it to be you."

More relaxed he let his mouth start exploring your body. You were goosebumps and shivers beneath him as his tongue found it’s home between your legs.

He was soft and careful, placing his lips over your clit sucking it in delicately until your moans couldn’t be contained any longer. You could feel his eyes burning into you as he watched in awe as his finger slid inside you.

"It feels good Kookie, please…"

You could feel his mouth stopping to smile before he picked up speed. Moving your hips to eagerly meet his mouth you were unravelling quickly.

"The way you taste is better than anything I had imagined."

Devouring you in sessions between his words of adoration you came hard on his tongue. 

"I'm really regretting running you all over town today when we could have just been here...doing that.. " You were out of breath. 

"I was worried that I wouldn't be any good." He grinned at you pleased with himself. 

Moving up to where your head lay on the pillow he pushed the dampened hair off your face, "Are you ok? Do you need anything?"

He placed his forehead against yours.

"I just want you. I need you to know I'm yours, forever. 

Rolling a condom on he moved slowly to line himself up with your entrance.

"Tell me if you need me to stop okay?"

He pushed carefully, slowly stretching you around him. Watching intently for discomfort he froze when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

"Shit, I’m so sorry, let’s stop, I didn’t mean to hurt you." He was apologetic as he thumbed away the tears.

"No," you delicately kissed his lips. "I’m okay… I’m just so happy, so overwhelmed with how much I’m feeling right now."

He smiled down at you, pressing his body closer he gave another push until he was fully inside. Your bodies fell into a beautifully choreographed rhythm until Jungkook was so lost in pleasure he began to move at his own pace. Quicker and deeper he moved until he finally spilled into the condom. 

Laying together in euphoria you kissed, and kissed, and kissed until you finally found sleep while wrapped around one other.

Every few hours he’d wake you up. His hands running over your body checking to make sure you weren't just a dream. You’d made love each time, everytime better than the last.

It was 9 am when he caressed you awake once more.

"I have to leave soon. I don’t want to." He spoke in whispers nestled into your neck. "Please tell me to stay."

Your heart broke at his words. "If I ask you to stay, I’m selfish, you’ll always wonder if you made the right decision." The tears came, knowing you had to do what was right. "If I tell you to go, your dreams come true… ” your voice trailed off.

"And I’ll always wonder if I made the right decision,” he finished. 

Your phone started ringing and you knew time was up.

It was Joon, "I’m outside. Sorry, I held them off as long as I could. I told them that I’d come get him so you could at least have time to say goodbye."

Your tears fell out in heavy ugly sobs, "Okay, five minutes… and Joon… thanks, I know you’re probably in trouble too."

Hanging up you turned back, Jungkook was already out of bed with his clothes thrown on. He stood with open arms bravely waiting. 

"Thank you for yesterday I'll never forget it."

Laying your head against his chest you took a moment to listen to his heartbeat. You could hear him sniffle and knew he was crying too.

You flashed back remembering that night long ago when he came to you homesick, holding you so he could sleep while he tried to hide his tears. There was a knock at the door and Namjoon’s voice broke through the moment.

"We’ve got to go Jungkook."

Stepping away you’d left his shirt soaked in tears, handing him his sweater he pushed it back towards you. "You keep it."

He kissed you one last time before opening the door to reveal Namjoon's weary face. His Hyung put his arm around his shoulder and led him to the car.

Turning one last time he looked back, his eyes were filled with tears as he gave a small wave before getting in the back of the big black sedan. 

For months you pretended that management was the only thing keeping you apart.

You held on to that silly notion until May when they were coming for the Billboard awards. For weeks leading up you waited for a message, a secret meeting arrangement, but you got nothing. His image was all over the TV and his voice echoed through your empty heart. Then, just like that, it was over and he was gone again. 

Now, here you stood in your kitchen, his letter bringing him to the forefront of your mind and opening old wounds.

He was just as sad as you but what could you do? 

Picking up a pen you began writing… 

I shouldn’t have done it but I read it in your letter

You said to a friend that you wish you were doing better

I wanted to reach out but I never said a thing

You don’t ever have to be stronger than you really are

And honey, you don’t ever have to act cooler than you think you should

You’re brighter than the brightest stars

You’re scared to win, scared to lose

I’ve heard the war was over if you really choose

The one in and around you

You hate the heat, you got the blues

You’re changing like the weather, oh, that’s so like you

I’ll pick you up

I’ll catch you on the flipside

If you come back to California

We’ll do whatever you want, travel wherever, how far

We’ll hit up all the old places

We’ll have a party, we can dance till dawn… 

Y/N

October came again and a chill was in the air, the smell of the ocean hit your nose and you stopped to take it in.

Bundled in Jungkook’s hoodie you threw your bag over your shoulder and began your walk to work. You'd gotten lucky, Movement had hired you just as you were about to give up and leave California. Filled with hope and excitement a new intensive program was scheduled to start today and you were going to meet the future superstars of the dance world. 

Memories flooded your mind as you made your way through the familiar neighborhood. It still hurt, but things were beginning to feel happy again. Writing the letter had given you closure, he knew how you felt and beyond that there was nothing else you could do.

Opening the heavy door to the studio you caught a familiar reflection moving in the mirror.  Chalk marker in hand he was writing something, It couldn’t be?

Hearing the door click back into place he turned to face you.

"Hi."

He walked towards you slowly. Unsure of what your reaction would be, he approached with caution.

"Hi."

You were breathless, in the months of not seeing him he’d only grown more handsome.

"I can’t change what happened… and for the rest of my life I’ll be sorry for all of the time we missed."

He was getting closer.

"But I can’t take another day not knowing if I can fix this… somehow…"

He reached for your hand but you pulled it away. His head fell in disappointment.

"Jungkook, I can’t listen to this… look at me."

Reaching for his chin you pulled his head up until he was facing you again.

"I refuse to listen to you apologize for something that is out of your control. Your life was decided before you met me and I am nothing but grateful that I got to appear in some part of your story."

He tilted his head and pressed a small kiss into the hand that was still holding his chin.

"God I’ve missed you." He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

"How long are you here? I’ve got to teach class.. It’s the first day but I’d love it if we could catch up?"

He laughed at you and your knees buckled at the sound of his happiness.

Taking his chance he pressed his lips to yours and you could feel the smile forming on his face.

"I’m your private lesson Jagi, I’ve booked you for the next two weeks."

Taking a step back you had to ask, "How Jungkook? What will you be giving up?"

Pulling you back to his embrace he began to dance with you.

"There is no more giving up, on anything. Our contracts were over and I only had one thing I wouldn’t negotiate on, that’s you." 

He guided you to look at the mirror.

"I wrote you something."

~Please call my name one more time

I’m standing under the frozen light, 

but I’ll walk step by step towards you

Still with you ~

"I promise I’ll never let you go again."

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[playitaagain]

Hey can I ask for a request where Harry is asked to be the new dark arts professor at Hogwarts and he wants to ask Ron about it before he accepts.

I love this prompt so much and it was so fun to write! This is basically what I want to happen in any universe. Thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy! 

Harry is surprised when he finds Professor McGonagall starting in the door, an impatient retort on his tongue. The door had been closed for a reason, but he swallows the words as he nods for her to come in, gesturing to the cushioned chair in front of his desk. 

“What do I owe for this visit, professor?” He asks, tucking away some of his paperwork. He’s trying to get the pile on his desk down, hence the closed door, but it only seems to be growing. The door doesn’t seem to deter most, who simply enjoy walking in without even a knock to warn him. He may only be a bit ashamed that he’s had some of his co-workers walk in on him in some rique positions with Ron, but he’s managed to avoid that since he became boss a few years back. 

“It’s Minerva, Mr. Potter. You aren’t in school anymore,” Professor Mc-Minerva insists. Harry rolls it around in his head for a moment with a frown. He doesn’t like it. It just doesn’t seem natural that professors could ever become friends with students outside of school.

“Then call me Harry,” he decides on, folding his hands in front of him. He’s actually happy for the distraction. He hadn’t realized how late it was getting. If he had continued on, he would have worked right through dinner again and Ron was getting a bit annoyed that he was working too hard. 

“I have a proposition for you, Harry.” He does like that Minerva isn’t beating around the bush. He really does want to get home. It will be the first night all week he’s pulled himself out of his mountain of paperwork to be home in time for dinner. 

“What might that be Pro- Minerva?” The name feels weird on his tongue, wrong. He has this weird feeling he should get used to it. He shouldn’t even be calling her professor actually, but old habits die hard. She has been headmistress for nearly fifteen years now. 

“It would seem we find ourselves in need of a defense against the dark arts professor.” He has a feeling he knows exactly what she might be hinting at. He isn’t as clueless as he was when he was a child, but he needs to know for sure. 

“And why does that pertain to me?” He can’t help the hope that blooms in his chest at the sight of her smile, small and tight lipped, but there. 

“I don’t see anyone better suited for the job.”

There’s warmth that spreads through his chest, excitement twitching his fingers. He has to shove those feelings down though. He has to tuck them away, because he has a job and he’s damn good at it. He can’t just up and leave the aurors no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much he’s been thinking just that. 

Harry clears his throat, swallowing down the excitement bubbling up his throat. “I’m sure there are others better suited,” which is probably true. There are probably plenty of people better trained for the job. Harry hasn’t worked with kids before and he’s only joined the junior auror training on occasion. 

“Not according to the DA,” Minerva announced boldly, daring Harry to disagree. It’s been nearly twenty years and he still remembers the satisfaction that comes with teaching new spells, the pride he felt when his students -peers- would finally cast correctly. It was like a shot of adrenaline with each correct spell. It lasted for such a short time, was so unofficial, but he misses it. It doesn’t help that he finds himself in a bit of a rut right now, unable to imagine himself doing just this same pile of paperwork for years and years to come. “Not to mention the fact that you’re a very talented wizard, Harry.”

“I have a job, Minerva.” It’s the only excuse he can even come up with at the moment because as he looks at the pile of paperwork, he can’t seem to come up with any other excuses.

“Ah, but it is still something to consider, is it not?” He wonders how she can read him so well. He has to say he hasn’t exactly been trying to hide his discontent with his job lately. It’s possible someone even mentioned something to her. He knows Hermione often meets with Minerva and Harry’s expressed his dislike for his job over a few drinks at the pub just last week. 

“I’ll have to have a chat with Ron about it,” he admits. It isn’t a no, but he really can’t change his career on his husband without talking to him. There have been a few off handed comments, but Harry hadn’t brought it up seriously without the prospect of another job. This really is a great excuse to bring it up again. 

“Do say hello to Mr. Weasley for me,” Minerva smiles, eyes warm and Harry’s never really seen her smile like that. It’s odd, but nice. “If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to send along an owl. I look forward to hearing from you.” There’s this glint in her eyes, like she already knows what Harry’s answer will be. If he’s being honest, he has a feeling he knows what it will be. 

“Of course. I’ll be in touch soon,” Harry promises, standing and outstretching his hand. Minerva follows, shaking his hand firmly with a smile. Harry returns it, walking around his desk to open the door for her. 

“Oh, yes, if Mr. Weasley-” Minerva pauses for a moment when she glances at the door and corrects herself, “Mr. Weasley-Potter is worried about the living situation, I’m sure we could come up with something that will work for the both of you.” 

That has crossed his mind, but he has no doubt they would be able to make it work. They’ve been through a lot together, navigated around harder moments in their relationship. “Thank you, Pro- Minerva.”

“I’ll owl with some options,” she adds, stepping out of the office, like she wants to work with him, like she really wants him to take the job. “It was lovely seeing you. I must get back for dinner.” 

“Nice to you as well,” Harry manages to get out before Minerva is exiting the office. Harry watches her go for a moment before he shakes his head and steps back into his office. With a glance at the clock, he decides he isn’t going back to his paperwork. Instead, he grabs his coat and makes his way towards Ron’s office, figuring they could both use an early day off from work. They had a lot to discuss anyway.

[mystical-flute]

Summer Heat, Boy and Girl Meet (SFWeek Day 2)

Tallahassee AU or Summer Love

AO3 || FFN

@mysteryandnonstopfun

Get a job at Camp Sherwood, her father said. It would be fun, he said.

Emma Nolan was not having fun.

In fact, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it to the end of the month without landing in jail for attempted murder. Or, if things continued to get even worse, actual murder.

The source of her ire?

Neal Gold, the counselor of Cabin 4, and his merry band of lost boys who loved to cause trouble to the girls of her cabin, Cabin 8.

The problem had started on the third day of camp. The kids had started settling in and getting used to the routine, and Emma had become more confident in her abilities as a camp leader.

Neal Gold had noticed this, and had planned a spontaneous water fight between their cabins, ambushing the girls on their way back from canoeing. That was fine, lighthearted enough, and it had been a hot, humid day, so the extra water had, admittedly, felt good.

But then it had all gone downhill.

Shaving cream had been next, as the girls had been coming back to their cabins from an arts and crafts lesson. Luckily (in Emma’s opinion), they’d had to leave their crafts to dry, and nothing had been broken.

The third was scaring her campers when they’d had a late-night bonfire. Emma had planned it perfectly - s’mores, campfire songs, the works. And then Neal and his stupid campers had decided to jump out of the bushes just as they’d started telling scary stories. The boys had somehow constructed a monster costume and had jumped out of the bushes. If the kids hadn’t already been aware of Emma’s sour attitude toward Neal Gold, it would have looked like it’d been coordinated by the two counselors.

The worst prank had been when they’d returned to their cabin from a hike through the forest. It had been so nice to learn about the local wildlife and plant life, that for the afternoon, Emma had nearly forgotten about the trouble she’d been having.

Then they’d made it back to their cabin to find all of their belongings tossed onto the roof, including Emma’s mattress.

Despite her complaints to Director Sherwood, nothing had been done. The pranks had been waved off as harmless summer fun, which meant Emma had only one other option: revenge.

She’d started slowly: releasing a harmless, wild garter snake into the cabin (“Goodness, Gold, you guys should learn to shut your cabin door!”), greasing the entryway so many of them slipped on their way in after their movie night.

Then, he’d caught on to what she was doing.

He’d confronted her about the pranks, she had snapped back at him, and somehow (both of them swore up and down they hadn’t done it), a syrup-drenched piece of french toast from that morning’s breakfast had flown through the air and landed on Director Sherwood’s wife, Regina.

It had all gone wrong from there, a full-blown foodfight exploding in a second. It hadn’t lasted long, but Director Sherwood had known immediately who was likely at fault (even though she and Neal absolutely weren’t), and had forced the two of them to clean the mess hall alone, while he took their cabins out to the zipline and rock wall.

“I can’t believe I got stuck cleaning this with you,” Neal scowled, flicking a piece of bacon at her.

“Hey! I didn’t want to do this either, but you’re the one who’s been pranking my kids all month!” she retorted, scraping drying maple syrup off one of the tables with a groan. “I just wanted to be a good counselor and give the kids a fun summer, but you had to go around disrupting us all the time!”

“You think I didn’t want to do the same? Be a good counselor and have a little fun with the kids in my cabin? Isn’t that why we’re all here?”

Emma tossed a dirty rag into a bucket of equally-disgusting water. “Do you get off on scaring little girls? Alice had to sleep with me the night you dressed up as a knockoff Frankenstein, and we had to look for Ella’s lucky blanket for three hours after you put our stuff on the roof!”

Neal went unusually quiet as he processed her words. “Oh. Emma, I’m - ”

“Sure. You’re ‘sorry’, you promise you’re done, but then the minute I walk out of here, you’re going to be plotting something else,” she scoffed.

“No - I mean it,” Neal threw a sponge down and raised his hands in a show of surrender. “I didn’t know I’d scared any of your kids. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Emma scowled. “I did! Director Sherwood didn’t do anything.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Was I supposed to believe you’d listen, after everything that’s happened this month?”

A pause. “Fair point. I’m calling a truce. No more pranks.”

She looked him up and down, trying to find the catch, or to find the lie. She had always been good at it - her father had once told her she was made for detective work.

But she couldn’t find any with Neal, so she sighed, holding out her hand. “Fine. Truce.”

“C’mon, let’s finish this up. If we’re lucky, we might be able to ride the zipline once.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds like fun.”

Emma’s shoulders ached, from the amount of force used to scrub the mess hall, but by the time they’d finished, they had missed out on the zipline, and the kids were busy practicing their skits for that night’s talent show. They’d missed the pizza that had been called in for lunch, too.

She groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Now what do we do?”

“You hungry?”

“Well, yeah, but - ”

Neal smiled and pulled two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of his pocket.

“Neal!”

“What, did they expect we’d eat wild berries and dirt for lunch? Come on, let’s go sit by the lake. We’ll be able to hear when the rehearsal ends.”

He was becoming a terrible influence, but Emma saw no other option as she followed him, plopping down on a rock and nibbling at the crust of her sandwich.

“Where you from, Emma?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s this little town about two hours from here. I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Try me.”

“It’s called Storybrooke.”

Neal choked on the bit of sandwich in his mouth, taking a long drink of water. “No shit? My stepdad is from there.”

She stared at him. What were the odds of that? “What’s his name?”

“Jerkass. Dickwad. Motherfu - oh, sorry, you meant his real name. Killian Jones.”

“Any relation to Adam Jones?”

“Think that’s his twin brother. Why?”

“He’s one of the deputies that work under my dad.”

“He’s a cop?!” Neal laughed, doubling over and wiping a tear from his eye. “Could you send him to NYC? I’m pretty sure my stepdad is some sort of thief. Or worse. Mom keeps getting some really fancy shit and then, wouldn’t you know it, the news comes on with a store being robbed.”

Emma frowned. “Jeez, Neal. You don’t have to live with him, right?”

“Nah. Dad has custody. I live with him most of the time.”

“That’s good at least.”

“Yeah, he and Belle are fine.”

They settled into a comfortable conversation then, and Emma found that underneath all the stupid pranks, Neal Gold wasn’t too bad. And he was, well… kind of cute.

Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“GOLD! NOLAN! I hope you two aren’t slacking off!” Director Sherwood suddenly yelled.

The two jumped up.

“Sorry, Director!” Emma called. “See you later, Gold.”

“See ya, Nolan.”

The rest of the month went smoothly, much to Emma’s relief. The girls had come to enjoy themselves, and she’d made a new friend with Neal.

As she lifted her duffel bag onto her shoulder the last day of camp, she frowned as something hit the ground.

A peanut butter label? How had the label to a jar of peanut butter ended up in her bag?

She carefully unfolded it, feeling her eyes widen as she took in the note scribbled on the back.

Call me if you’re ever in the city. - Neal

[juliandev0rak]

Into The Wild  

Chapter 2: Larkspur

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

words: 2042

Willa’s first week at Camp Vesuvia passes in a blur, with new campers arriving every day from all over the country there’s hardly a chance to catch her breath. 

The days rush by with routine activities, but Willa finds that she loves waking with the sun and all of the hustle and bustle of camp life. From the moment she wakes up, there are a million things to do. First thing in the morning she reports to the kitchen to help set up for breakfast, then she rushes over to the arts and crafts cabin to set up for daily activities. By the time she’s returned, breakfast is nearly over and she has about five minutes to scarf down some food before rushing back to do activities for the first round of campers. 

The arts and crafts cabin is where Willa spends most of her day. She’s been trying to find an art teaching job for years, working a variety of part time jobs as a barista in the mean time. Camp Vesuvia is a dream come true, she gets to do art all day and she’s finally doing something she cares about.

Though her day consists of more “Don’t put that popsicle stick up your nose!” and “Don’t eat the paint!” than she’d imagined, she’s begun to love the campers who visit her frequently. A small group of campers come for her art activities every day and she’s started to befriend a few of them. One camper even painted a portrait of her, she has it hung up on her bedroom wall and it makes her smile every time she sees it.  

Willa’s favorite activity to teach is landscape painting. She takes the campers outside by the lake or in the fields where wildflowers grow, and tells them to paint what they see. With only washable non-toxic paints the kids have surprised her with their talent to capture the beautiful scenes of the nature around them. 

She walks through the groups of campers as they paint, offering encouragement or advice, a bit of darker green there as a shadow, an extra flower petal added for symmetry, and watches as the kids bloom into artists before her very eyes. Even the ones who say they “can’t do art” manage to have fun, and that’s what art is if you ask Willa— having fun. 

One afternoon as Willa is cleaning up a paint spill, someone taps her on the shoulder. She turns to find one of the girls who comes back to the art cabin every day looking at her. The girl is a returner, a camper who comes back to Camp Vesuvia every year.

“This is for you,” the girl says, holding out a small sparkly piece of paper. Willa takes it from her, surprised to find a pink smiley face sticker similar to the one she’d seen on Asra’s name tag. “We only give these to the counselors we really like,” the girl whispers, giving Willa a shy smile. Willa accepts the smiley face sticker as a badge of honor and sticks it proudly to her name tag. She really is fitting in here.

After dinner there's always a campfire and s’mores, which is arguably Willa’s favorite part about camp. As the sun sets, the stars come out and the world begins to feel more magical. She hadn't realized how much she missed the stars while she was living in the city. Her childhood had been full of nights like this, huddled around a campfire with her siblings and staring up at the sky. 

As a counselor, it’s her job to make sure the campers stay a safe distance from the fire and to help the kitchen staff pass out marshmallows. When she’s done, she usually sits next to Asra and listens to him joke with the campers as she eats toasted marshmallows, most of which she accidentally burns. As she spends nights talking and laughing and handing out napkins to chocolate covered campers, Willa begins to realize that the empty, searching feeling she’s had for years might finally be going away. 

In the middle of the campfire one evening, Portia calls her name to get her attention, beckoning her over to the kitchen. “Willa, can you take this garbage to the dumpster for me? It’s just through those trees over there.” 

“Sure thing, I’m on it.” Willa accepts the heavy trash bag with a smile, hefting it over her shoulder. 

The sounds of the campers and the light of the fire fades behind her as she heads towards the treeline. The sun has nearly set and it’s much darker in the woods, Willa realizes that she probably should’ve brought a flashlight. It takes her a minute to find the dumpster, and when she does she sets the garbage bag down and struggles with the anti-bear latch on the top.

“Stupid—latch—why won’t you open,” she mutters, resiting the urge to curse at it in case any campers are within hearing range. 

A shuffling noise startles her and Willa whirls around to see a black bear cub pawing at the garbage bag she’d set down. She stifles a gasp and takes a step backwards, trying to remember how you’re supposed to handle bears. Is she meant to keep quiet and sneak away, or should she be loud to scare it off? This is only a cub, but no doubt its mother is nearby.  

An even louder noise from her left draws her attention and Willa holds her breath, praying that a giant, mother bear isn’t about to emerge. A figure approaches through the trees and in the dim lighting she can’t make out what it is. She takes another step back, preparing to run back to camp if she has to. Whatever is approaching seems to be making a strange noise, it almost sounds like two sticks being hit together and Willa turns towards the trees to hear it better. 

The first figure to emerge is a large wolf and Willa yelps as she takes yet another step back. First a bear and now a wolf? Luckily, the wolf looks calm enough, it takes a step towards her in interest but doesn’t seem immediately intent on eating her. The strange noise continues as the other figure steps out and Willa exhales in relief when she sees that it’s just the park ranger, Muriel.

He doesn’t look at her as he approaches the bear cub, and as Willa had thought, he's hitting two sticks together. The loud noise catches the bear’s attention and it scampers off, back into the woods in the direction Muriel had come from. As soon as the bear disappears, he wheels around to face her.

“What were you thinking? Why did you just stand there?” he asks, his voice gruff. 

“I was trying to remember what you’re supposed to do if you see a bear!” Willa folds her arms defensively and meets his eyes, determined not to be the first to look away. Muriel returns her stare for a moment, then sighs and throws the sticks on the ground. 

The wolf moves forward to sniff her hand and Willa lets it, not afraid now that she knows the animal means no harm. The wolf begins to lick her and Willa laughs, taken aback by its friendly behavior. “Well aren’t you just the cutest! I’ve never met a wolf before!”

“Inanna, come here,” Muriel calls, and the wolf gives her one more lick on the hand before trotting back over to his side.

“Is she yours?” Willa asks, trying to be subtle as she wipes wolf slobber onto her jeans.

“She’s a wolf, she’s not mine,” he clarifies, giving Inanna a pat between the ears. 

“Thanks for your help! Nadia said there have been bear sightings in the area, I just didn’t think I’d actually see one.” 

Muriel doesn’t reply and instead picks up the garbage bag to toss it into the dumpster. It takes him mere seconds to get the anti-bear latch open and Willa laughs, drawing his attention back to her.

“You made that look easy, I guess those latches are Willa-proof too!” Willa jokes. Muriel looks at her a bit blankly, the joke missing it’s mark, and she coughs awkwardly to fill the silence.

“If you see a bear again don’t freeze like that, make a lot of noise to scare it off.” His eyes are glued to the trees as he talks, and Willa notices that he’s got his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s cold. It is rather chilly at night, Willa is wearing a jacket and a knitted scarf and still feels the cold. She decides she wants to knit something for him, it’s the least she can do after he’d saved her from a bear.

Willa takes a step closer and bends down to pet Inanna. The wolf nearly knocks Willa over in her excitement to get her ears scratched and Willa laughs as she takes a seat on the ground. Innana lays down next to her, tail wagging. Muriel looks startled at Willa’s closer proximity but doesn’t move away. 

“You should keep your distance.” 

“From you or from the wildlife?” Willa asks, looking up at him with a grin.

“Both.” 

Willa gives Inanna one last pat and stands back up. She glances up at Muriel and turns her head to the side as she looks him up and down. “Hmm, you don’t look very dangerous to me. In fact, I’d say you look pretty nice.”

Muriel’s expression is startled, and she’s pretty sure he’s blushing under her scrutiny. “Nice?” “Yes, nice! You have a friendly face,” Willa says, resisting the urge to poke his cheek with her finger to punctuate her point. She doesn’t think he’d take well to spontaneous physical gestures. 

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that about me before.” Muriel shakes his head in disbelief, his tone somewhere between confusion and surprise.

“Well it’s true.”

“You’re weird.” 

“Thank you,” Willa laughs, the sound turning into a snort, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “Yes, definitely weird,” he mutters, shaking his head again, “But you have a… friendly face… too. I guess.” “Thank you,” Willa beams at the compliment.

Muriel moves his hand out of his pocket and pulls a flashlight out. “You should get back, it’s not safe out here.” 

“I can take care of myself,” Willa grumbles, she hates to be underestimated.

“I never said you couldn’t, it’s not safe for anyone to be out alone at night.” Muriel holds the flashlight out to her, “Here, take this with you. So you don’t trip or anything.”

“Are you sure you don’t need it?” She takes the flashlight from him, and his hand dissapears back into his pocket the moment she’s taken it.

“I know my way back.” 

“Alrighty then, I guess I’ll be going.” Willa takes a step to the left towards where she thinks the camp is. She turns over her shoulder to smile at Muriel, “Thanks again for the whole saving me from a bear thing.” 

Muriel simply nods and watches her start to walk away. “You’re going the wrong way,” he calls. She looks up at him in surprise and he points off to the right, the correct direction. He almost looks like he’s amused, but Willa decides that’s probably a trick of the light.

“Right, of course. I totally knew that,” she blushes, thankful for the darkness of the woods. She turns the flashlight on and walks to the right, giving Muriel one last glance as she passes. “You know you can join us if you want, at the campfire I mean. I’ve heard you’re good at roasting marshmallows.”

“No.” Muriel frowns at her and her smile drops. 

“Maybe another time then?” she suggests, not sure why she’s so disappointed at his answer.

“Maybe.”

“Goodnight, Muriel.” She gives him a little wave with her free hand and begins the walk back to camp, hoping nobody has noticed her disappearance.

Muriel remains silent as he watches her walk back to camp. When he’s sure she’s on the right path he heads back into the woods with Inanna at his side.

“Goodnight, Willa,” he says, though she’s too far away to hear him.

✧

[lobster-tales]

Dancing

Day 14 of @marichatmay. This fic is available here on AO3. 

Summary: Chat Noir crashes a wedding and waltzes with the girl serving cake. Also this is a song fic: the tune is If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

Chat Noir had escaped hundreds of times, just never from a wedding.

Stealth missions taught him how to weave through the crowd, away from the dancefloor. Behind him, a little girl’s voice called his name. Originally, he had promised Manon one dance, but that was seven songs ago, and he had finally managed to break free.

Chat Noir fled into the sculpture garden and ducked behind the hedges, skirting around the Musee Rodin. The building was small in comparison to some of the other art museums in Paris. Because of this, the wedding was hosted instead on the structure’s south lawn.

He arrived at the silent north facade of the building and pulled on one of the doors, ecstatic to find it unlocked. He slipped inside the museum, slumping against the door as he caught his breath.

While the outside of the museum was alight, the inside was still and moody, sculptures and paintings lining the walls. The noise from the party was audible but muffled, echoing strangely off the tile. Kinda creepy, he thought, rising to his feet. The eyes of the statues seemed to all be looking at him.

Chat Noir moved past the artworks, casting each one a wary look. He turned to enter the next room and froze.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood there with her back to him. Chat Noir saw her at the cake table earlier, serving the pastries from her parents bakery. When did she leave the party? he wondered. Come to think of it, she’s the only one here who didn’t ask for a picture with me.

She faced a bronze statue of a man, his muscled arm raised to push back his cropped hair, the other hand suspended beside him. Seizing the opportunity, Chat Noir crept forward. He reached out and gently tapped her shoulder.

“AH!” Marinette whipped around, grabbing his wrist, her other hand raised to punch him. She tensed, staring into Chat Noir’s green eyes. “Chat Noir?”

“Good reflexes, princess.”

She scoffed and released him. “Well, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that! One of these days you could end up with a black eye.”

“I’ve had worse,” he shrugged, standing beside her. He placed his thumb and index finger on his chin, considering the statue. “I see you’re a fan of the male physique,” he said coyly, referring to the sculpture’s nudity.

Just as he hoped, her face flushed pink. “No!” She looked away, embarrassed. “I’m just a fan of… art.”

“Riiiiight, art.” Chat Noir moved in front of the sculpture, turning to Marinette and mimicking the statue’s pose. “Alas,” he said dramatically. “I sold all my clothes to pay the barber, and now he’s cut my hair too short.”

She fought back a laugh, her giggles echoing in the empty room. “Stop that!” she said, swiping at him.

Chat Noir broke character with a smile. “You know, I missed you at the reception.”

Anger flickered across her eyes, disappearing before he could wonder what it meant. “Seems I was the only one.”

“Eh, I’m used to fans.” The sentiment was true: his secret identity, Adrien Agreste, was a model. But no one could know that, he realized, and said quickly, “Y-you know, being a superhero and all.”

“Yes, it must be so hard for you,” she mused. “Everyone fawning over you wherever you go.”

“Well, not everyone. My lady doesn’t.”

“Good for her,” Marinette said with a smirk. “One less person to stroke your ego.”

And neither do you, he thought, but brushed the idea away. “I’m a man of the people. If the citizens of Paris want to snap a few pictures with their favorite superhero, who am I to say no?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, are you crashing the wedding or were you actually invited?”

“I just happened upon it,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “I tried to stay hidden, but Manon found me out.”

“... So you saw when I..?”

“Showed up late?” He grinned. “Hard to miss.” He remembered Marinette dashing through the party, skidding to a stop in front of Nadja and her new wife. Marinette had apologized profusely, but the brides only responded with reassuring smiles. Anyone that was acquainted with Marinette knew her tardiness was unavoidable. Even Chat Noir had come to expect it from her.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Marinette faced him, her fists clenched.

He raised his hands. “No need to get defensive, princess. Manon was the only one who got upset.” Chat Noir chuckled. “She really wanted that cake.”

Marinette pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I know. She’s been asking about it for days.”

“Seeing as it’s from your parents' bakery, I don’t blame her.” He watched as she turned away. “So are you a guest or are you working?”

Marinette drifted into a different room. “Both. Neither. When Nadja ordered the cake, I offered to serve it.”

“That’s nice of you,” he said, following.

“Well, she is my best customer.”

“Right, the babysitting.” Chat Noir paused at a sculpture of a centaur. “Manon’s a sweet kid. At least, when she’s not hungry.”

Marinette chuckled. “Let me guess; she’s still looking for you?”

“How did you know?” Chat Noir peered out the window. Manon had returned to the dancefloor, laughing as she danced with her new stepmother. “Actually, it looks like she gave up. Guess we’re both wrong.”

“Guess so.” Marinette stopped to stare at a painting. The light from the party wafted in, illuminating her in a soft glow. Chat Noir felt a flutter in his heart just looking at her, but forced the feeling away. He was in love with Ladybug, and besides, his duty as a superhero meant no dating.

Still, she looked so beautiful. He noticed now that Marinette was not wearing her usual jacket and pants. Her dress was a soft pink, with short puffed sleeves and a bow in the center of her chest. The waist clung to her, fabric spilling out around her thighs. She looked like a fairytale. Or a wedding guest, he thought dumbly.

“I like your dress,” he said.

She kept her eyes on the painting, but smiled shyly. “Thanks. I made it.”

Of course she did. Classic Marinette, overflowing with talent. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” she said again.

They admired the sculptures in silence, until she asked, “Doesn’t your… costume thingie have a timer or something?”

He looked at the ring on his hand. I still have time. “Yeah, but the battle today was pretty easy. By the time I got there, Ladybug had already done most of the work. I didn’t even use my cataclysm.”

Marinette searched his face. “That’s good.”

“Right? She’s pretty incredible.” He sighed dreamily. “Milady always has a plan; she’s a master strategist. Not to mention she’s beautiful and daring and kind and-” Chat Noir caught her looking at him with a funny expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, averting her gaze. “You’re just… sweet.”

His shoulders slumped. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m a hopeless romantic. Someone as amazing as Ladybug could never be with someone like me.”

They entered the next room. In the center stood a marble statue with an embracing couple. The man’s hand rested on her hip while her arm linked around his neck, both seated and leaning into each other. Marinette and Chat Noir stared at the statue, enraptured.

“Maybe… it’s not you,” Marinette said quietly. “Maybe it’s just that… love is hard.”

“Yeah,” Chat Noir murmured. “Maybe.”

They exchanged glances, then looked away quickly. In this room, the party music came through clearer. A beat pounded as the crowd whooped outside.

Marinette cleared her throat. “I should probably get back to the party.”

“Oh yeah? Gotta go bust a move on the dancefloor?” He did the robot poorly, and she laughed.

“As if! I’ve got two left feet.”

“What a coincidence,” he quipped. “I’ve got two right ones.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you do.” Marinette took a step towards the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to plant myself on the edge and do my best wallflower impression.”

“You’re really not going to dance?”

The sincerity in his voice shocked her, and she stopped to consider him. “So everyone can watch me fall on my face? No thanks.”

“Oh come on,” he groaned. “You know how many songs I danced to? And my partner was three feet shorter than me!”

“You got yourself into that mess,” she giggled.

Chat Noir extended his hand towards her. “What if I ask nicely?”

Marinette glared at him. “Still not happening.”

“Please? Just one song.” He smirked. “No one can see you in here, princess.”

She pressed her lips together. Chat Noir did have a point, and the song was upbeat. Marinette decided she could suffer a few moments of awkward shuffling for her friend.

Marinette took his hand wordlessly, preparing herself for a weak shimmy. Just as she stepped towards him, the song changed. The beat disappeared, replaced by a smooth piano melody.

“Nope!” Marinette leaned away, but Chat Noir pulled her close to him. She was surprised at how gentle yet forceful he was, but convinced herself that his quiet strength was part of the super suit.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he grinned, guiding her right hand to his left shoulder. This close, he caught a whiff of her perfume. He stared at her for a moment, caught off guard by the floral scents. The smell reminded him of rose petals.

She shot him a quizzical look, jerking him from his stupor. “S-sorry, just… follow my lead,” he said.

Marinette stiffened as he placed his hand on her waist. Her mind raced as she thought of an excuse. “Th- this song is so slow, though. We won’t be able to dance to it.”

“It’s not slow. It’s just in 6/8 time,” he explained.

Her blank stare reminded him that he was wearing a mask. “Th-that is, it’s um…” Oh, whatever. “It’s not 1… 2… 1… 2… It’s actually, 1 (2 3) 2 (2 3). There’s smaller beats in between, and a full measure has 6 total.”

Marinette’s confusion fell away to awe. “Chat Noir, a musician.”

“Among other things,” he said, taking the chance to wink. “I’m a man of many talents, princess.”

She rolled her eyes again. “So how are we supposed to dance to it?”

“It’s a waltz. Here,” he said, backing away to look down at her feet. “Take a step back with your left foot. Now take your right and step to the side, so your feet are shoulder width apart. Next, bring your left foot next to the right.”

Marinette obeyed clumsily as he continued, “This is a box step waltz, so you’re basically making two triangles, and the triangles make a square. You’re going to repeat the motion, but backwards. So step forward with your right foot, left to the side - shoulder width apart - and…”

She instinctively brought her right foot to meet her left and he said, “Yes, just like that!”

Spurred on by his enthusiasm, Marinette tried again, alone. She stumbled a few times, stepping with the wrong foot. At one point, her legs crossed and she began to fall, but Chat Noir caught her. He helped her stand, taking her hand in his and placing the other on her waist once again. “Here, it’ll help if I lead you.”

They began to dance, slowly at first. Chat Noir was patient with her, guiding her feet with his own as he whispered, “1, 2, 3, 2, 2, 3...” Just as they established a steady rhythm, the song faded.

“Oh,” Marinette said, disappointment leaking into her tone. “I guess it’s over.”

Her sadness struck him, and he asked, “Wanna do another? Now that you’ve got the hang of it?”

She nodded shyly in response, positioning her hands once more.

The next song started with a low synth sound, no tempo discernible yet. The artist’s voice broke through, accompanied by the crisp beat of a hi-hat cymbal.

“You’re the sky that I fell through And I remember the view, whenever I’m holding you”

The song was faster than the last, but Chat Noir and Marinette adapted quickly. His muttered counts fell away, though his mouth still shaped the numbers with each step. Marinette watched his concentration, relaxing in his arms. She had never seen Chat Noir so focused on anything, and the change was welcome.

“The sun hung from a string Looking down on the world As it warms over everything

Chills run down my spine”

He twirled her spontaneously. Marinette gasped and fell to the side, but he helped her recover by pulling her close again.

“As our fingers entwine”

Chat Noir placed his gloved fingers between her bare ones.

“And your sighs harmonize with mine”

Within seconds, they fell back into the rhythm.

“Unmistakably I can still feel your heart Beat fast when you dance with me”

Marinette felt her pulse racing. She pretended it was just from the dancing, the fast movement.

"We got older and I should've known (Do you feel alive?) That I feel colder when I walk alone (Oh, but you'll survive)”

“Here,” he said softly. “Let’s try this.”

“So I may as well ditch my dismay”

Chat Noir pulled away and crossed his right wrist with hers, tucking his other hand behind his back. Their feet slowed from the fast triplet, circling each other on the two main beats.

“Bomb’s away”

As the artist drew out the last word, Chat Noir nodded at her. They switched, crossing left wrists and circling each other the opposite way.

“Bomb’s away”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“No,” she lied with a smirk.

He smiled and said, “Big steps now.” Wordlessly, they fell into the waltz again as the chorus started. This time, Marinette stepped farther back with her left foot, then right. Chat Noir turned her to the right as she brought her feet together. She then moved her right foot forward, the left passing, then she turned her body once more to bring them beside each other.

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully Back and forth If my heart was a compass, you'd be north”

They continued to move in a square around the marble statue. Marinette knew she should be stumbling, falling all over herself. For some reason, though, her steps were confident. Chat Noir kept her steady and secure.

“Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall Wherever you go If my heart was a house, you'd be home”

As the chorus receded, they fell into a small box step again, one that saw them through the second verse. Marinette laughed breathlessly, her eyes shining. “Sorry, I’m getting dizzy.”

“Me too,” Chat Noir said with a grin.

“It makes me smile because you said it best I would clearly feel blessed If the sun rose up from the west"

Marinette felt too comfortable in the silence, and invited conversation by asking, “Where did you learn to dance?”

“It was actually part of the hero curriculum.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, so there’s a curriculum?”

“Of course.” A playful flicker crossed his eyes. “My lady got higher grades than me in every class, except ballroom dancing.”

“I see. Even so, I must be a pretty clumsy dance partner compared to Ladybug.” Marinette chuckled.

Chat Noir fell silent, his expression suddenly very serious as the verse ended.

“Flower-bomb perfume All my clothes smell like you 'Cause your favorite shade is navy blue”

For the next part of the song, Marinette held tight with one hand and outstretched the other. She turned into him as Chat Noir took her other hand, twirling her in his arms.

“I walk slowly when I'm on my own”

Within the closeness, he said, “You’re not clumsy, Marinette.”

“(Do you feel alive?)”

She tensed as she repeated the motion, pulling away from him, then returning to spin beside him.

“Yeah, but frankly, I still feel alone”

This time, he held her in his arms for a longer moment. “In fact, you’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had.”

"(Oh, but you'll survive)"

She managed a gulp as they waltzed the small box step once more. Marinette looked away, not wanting to meet his soft gaze.

“So I may as well ditch my dismay”

They crossed wrists again and glided around each other.

“Bombs away”

When she moved to switch wrists, Chat Noir instead reached his hand around her waist. Marinette jumped slightly, her hand going to his neck on impulse. They held each other close as they circled once more.

“Bombs away”

They positioned themselves for the waltz as the chorus started to build. Just as the drums intensified, the sound fell away into a mellow synth. Both of them froze, relaxing when the artist sang once more. They grinned sheepishly at each other. Chat Noir’s cat-like eyes were luminescent in the darkened room. Marinette’s reflected the glow of the party lights outside.

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully"

Both became acutely aware of his hand on her waist. He shifted his grip, the motion sending a shiver up Marinette’s spine. Her lips parted slightly, and Chat Noir wondered if they had always been that pink.

"Back and forth, if my heart was a compass you’d be north."

Marinette stiffened in preparation to dance, snapping Chat Noir out of his reverie. As the music crashed into passion again, they resumed their waltz around the room. There was no hesitation in their movement, nothing awkward or uncoordinated. The sculpture of the lovers sat at the center of their path, marble lips pressed against each other. The statue’s intimacy paled in comparison to their dance.

“Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall Wherever you go If my heart was a house you’d be home”

The dancers broke from the routine at the same moment. They became a series of twirls and spins, Marinette’s dress flaring out with the movement. Chat Noir never looked away from her, and when she finished her final twirl, he placed his right hand on her waist and reached under her knee with the left. The light pressure of his fingers asked silently, and Marinette granted his request by lifting her knee to his grasp, her arm secured around his shoulder.

“If my heart was a house you’d be home”

He held her as they spun, their faces centimeters apart. Slowly, he set her down, and they resumed their waltz as the song played out it’s final notes. Sensing the end, Chat Noir placed both hands on her waist. Marinette let herself be dipped, stretching out one hand gracefully.

When she stood, they held each other’s hands, breathless. The song transitioned into an upbeat anthem, the wedding guests cheering from outside the museum. Despite the noise, Chat Noir and Marinette heard nothing, only the pounding of their hearts. Well that, and…

Beep beep beep!

Chat Noir winced, glancing at the ring on his hand.

“You’re going to transform soon,” Marinette said. She spoke with an unnerving certainty, but Chat Noir had no time to reflect on it.

“Yes.” He stared at her. Her back was to the window, the light illuminating the fabric of her dress. Chat Noir committed the sight to memory, before lifting her hand in his own and pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Merci, princesse.”

With that, he retreated to the shadows, slipped through the door, and melted into the night.

[snsknene]

hesitation, arthur/eames, 11k, read on ao3 here

~~~

Arthur was in a hotel room that was his favorite kind: it was old in a way that suggested it had let number of people through its doors and would let in more until it was finally demolished a hundred years from now, old in a way that meant slightly faded carpets but wood paneling to die for.

It had not been expensive. Arthur had a lot of money from the Fischer job, but it didn't mean it would last forever. Arthur was a sensible man.

Arthur was also in his favorite pair of pajamas. They were silk and they were grey and they felt like comfort. As this was a slightly old hotel room, it had a slightly old TV with a limited number of channels, and the channel that was on now was playing reruns of some trashy reality show. Arthur did not understand anything that was going on, but he was enjoying everything that was going on, enjoying the fact that he was watching scenes of frivolity instead of growing old in a nameless dreamscape. He had a glass of wine in his hand, and he’d just had a long bath, and his hair felt slightly damp against the nice clean pillow.

He was feeling rested. He was feeling rested because he deserved it.

Of course it was then, because that was Arthur’s life, that his phone rang.

Arthur turned his head to the side to look.

Cobb, of course. No one else could ruin Arthur's relaxation like Cobb did. It was a talent and the man’s true calling.

Arthur thought he would have had a break from all the Cobb drama once Cobb had successfully gotten through immigration at the airport but apparently Cobb lived to make his life an extended babysitting gig. Arthur thought, rather bitterly, that there were only so many things Cobb could do that Mal’s death could explain away. The line had to be drawn somewhere, even though Arthur had loved her so fully and completely.

But Arthur had loved her so fully and completely. That was the issue here. Those children were still hers. If anything happened to Cobb it would be Arthur who would have no choice but to move to LA for them, and Arthur hated the humidity.

He pressed answer.

“What do you need?” Arthur asked.

“Hello to you too,” said Cobb, in a manner calm enough that Arthur didn’t think there were any guns pointed to his temple. Arthur relaxed a bit. “I was calling to check in.”

“Check in,” Arthur repeated suspiciously.

“Can’t I check in?” Cobb asked innocently. “The children are asking after you.”

“I just saw them,” Arthur said. “Tell them I’ll come by soon.”

Cobb paused. “About that,” he said, in a sketchy sort of way.

“I knew it,” Arthur said. “I knew you were in trouble. What do you need, Cobb?”

“It’s not need,” Cobb said, but it was never need, was it? Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. “I’m not in trouble,” Cobb was saying. “I just need a favour.”

Arthur shook his head against the phone and looked at the television. A favour did mean Cobb’s life wasn’t in danger and his children weren’t possibly going to be orphans, which meant Arthur, for once, had the option of saying no. For the past two years, he’d shadowed Cobb while Cobb got progressively wilder around the eyes and took on steadily more dangerous jobs, and Arthur, thinking of Mal’s arms around his neck and Philippa’s wide sunny smile, hadn’t been able to say no.

“I owe him,” Cobb said. “Properly, and it’s either I do it, but it’ll be for a couple of months– the kids need stability–”

Arthur could imagine. Their mother dying and their father being publicly arrested for it had done wonders for their future therapists’ bank accounts.

“It’s an easy extraction,” Cobb said hopefully. “And I know you’ve done so much. But look, it’s me, here, calling in one last favour.”

Arthur had already made up his mind. He had meant to see the kids anyway. He could go stateside for a bit.

“There’s just one thing,” Cobb said. He sounded apologetic now.

“Uh-huh,” said Arthur, the sigh caught in his throat already telling him what it was.

“They need a forger,” said Cobb.

~~~

There were other forgers, of course. Good ones, competent ones even. But Arthur hated working with mediocrity when he could have excellence. Eames was – unfortunately! it couldn’t have happened to a more annoying person! – excellence.

Eames had also disappeared off the grid with his share of the Fischer payout.

Which was all very well and good. Another sign of excellence, actually. Arthur had been planning to be off the grid for at least a month more with a job as high profile and risky as that. However, this made things more complicated for Arthur, because Eames’ ability to disappear was also excellent.

Arthur wasn’t Dominic Cobb’s point man for no reason. It took him nine days, but he found out where Eames was.

Eames was back home.

As off the grid went, it was still pretty on there. It was more likely people in the dreamsharing community could have seen him and recognised him. But they hadn’t yet, which also spoke to Eames’ unfortunately extensive abilities.

~~~

London reminded Arthur of Mal. Most big cities reminded him of Mal, because Mal had loved big cities. In fact, she had loved them so much she had thrown herself off a skyscraper in her most favourite city, and therefore ruined it forever for Arthur.

Luckily, while being a big city, London held no such specific memory for him. He had been there a couple of times on jobs, but those had been quick turnarounds. His strongest memories there were of hotel rooms with grey drizzly views and bad bland hotel food. He hadn’t gone around the city at all. The drizzle and food had put him off. “That’s the best they can come up with?” he remembered asking Cobb, who had merely looked, despondent and wild-eyed as ever, at the bangers and mash they had sent up.

Arthur had pinpointed the area Eames was staying, and could have waited for him there, but he figured it would look more impressive to find him where he was. Arthur ignored the little Mal-voice that asked why he had to look impressive to Eames. It took him the rest of the afternoon to track him down for the day. He was at the Tate Modern.

Arthur scanned his ticket and stepped inside the exhibition space. He combed the exhibitions until he found Art and Media, until he found a room which consisted of a large screen flashing bright unsettling images in 0.1 second bursts at its unsuspecting audience, or so the description outside promised.

Eames looked anything but unsuspecting. His face was intent. His skin was awash with the quick flicking colours of the screen, red and yellow and neon green and red red red again. When Arthur reached him he said, low, turning his head a bit, “Ah. Arthur.”

He said it Arrrthur, actually, in that annoying way he had. “Eames,” Arthur said, determined to be polite. Arthur was always determined to be polite at the beginning of every job they worked together. Eames always brought that resolve crumbling down.

“Are you in danger, Arthur?” Eames asked.

“No,” Arthur said.

“Ah,” Eames said knowingly. “A job then.”

Because Arthur made it a point to acknowledge Eames was right as little as possible, he didn’t answer, and they both stared at the screen for a while. The quick-flash images did feel quite unsettling, but the pictures didn’t last long enough for Arthur to catch what they were and why they unsettled him. He supposed that was the point. There was only colour to remember, mauve and cobalt and red red red again, colours that pressed against his eyelids.

“Are you actually enjoying this?” he asked at last.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eames shifted a bit. “No,” he said. “But we don’t need to enjoy art to appreciate it.”

“We don’t need to waste time on art we don’t enjoy,” countered Arthur.

Eames started walking out of the room then, so Arthur followed. “It’s enough that we feel the art,” he said, still low and unbearably pretentious. “Don’t you, Arthur? Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable? Doesn’t it make you long for more, or less, or something different?”

Arthur took a quick glance back into the room as they left it. The images were still flashing and the colours were still bursting.

Out of the room, Eames was visible without neon lights washing over him. Arthur noted that his hair was slightly shorter and even though he was still wearing a terrible sports jacket over terrible cargo pants, he looked well-rested. Without preamble Arthur said: “There’s an extraction–”

“Alright,” said Eames. “Hello to you too. Anyway, I can’t make it.” He turned on his heel and started walking in the direction of the exit.

“What do you mean you can’t make it?” Arthur asked, hating that Eames made him do stupid things like rush to keep up with him.

“I’m terribly busy,” Eames said, walking down the escalator.

“You’re not exactly doing much,” Arthur observed.

“Well I am,” said Eames. “So there.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” This was veering dangerously into playground territory, like things usually did with Eames. Arthur thought about what might sway him.

“There’s a lot of money in it,” he said, knowing it wouldn’t help much.

“I haven’t exactly managed to go into debt since we were last paid more than we’d ever need in two lifetimes, sweetheart,” Eames said, hiking stupid aviators on and walking out the glass doors.

“It’s a favour,” Arthur said, then hesitating, because he couldn’t exactly say ‘to Cobb’. Eames was probably still furious at the fact that Cobb had nearly let them spend eternity inside their own heads and walked off contentedly into the sunset and his kids after. He’d said as much in the airport bar three months ago. That was how they’d left things, snappish, which explained why Eames wasn’t immediately being teasing and flirtatious and smirky in Arthur’s general direction.

Arthur didn’t miss it, of course not. This was almost professional of Eames, which had to be an upgrade.

“Oh?” Eames said, stopping and looking at Arthur, but his face was inscrutable behind the shades. Outside, it was cool with autumn weather, watery sunlight filtering through the leaves above Eames.

“To me. I’d owe you one,” Arthur said. He didn’t know why he let Cobb make him do things like this. He had loved Mal fully and completely, but surely she wouldn’t have wanted him to lose all his dignity in this way.

“You’d owe me one,” Eames repeated, sounding slightly delighted.

The wind ruffled his hair a bit. In the watery sunlight it looked watery gold.

“Yes,” said Arthur.

Eames looked at Arthur inscrutably behind his shades, and Arthur looked back, knowing Eames would call it in at the worst time, probably one day when Arthur was reclining in a hotel room, thinking of nothing but comfort.

“Alright then,” Eames said eventually. “But either way, I can’t go now. I’ll be ready in about a month or so.”

He set off again, in the direction of the pier. Arthur set off after him, annoyed that he was continuing to be difficult, just because they’d had a disagreement. “Why can’t you be ready now?”

“I said I’m busy, darling,” Eames drawled, reaching the edge of the pier and looking out at the river.

Arthur let him stare out at the Thames for long moments before he dripped sarcasm into his voice. “Yeah, I can see work’s really piling up.”

Eames sighed and removed his glasses, folding his arms and looking directly at Arthur. “I’m not messing with you, Arthur. I do have things I need to do here. If the job’s not urgent I’ll be there in a month.” Like this, Arthur could see that his eyes were the colour of the river and the sky, that he was better-shaven than on the job but he was stubbly still, that he had gained some weight and filled out his horrid sports jacket and terrible cargo points. He looked well-rested, it was true. He looked relaxed. He did not look like he was lying.

Arthur, impatient in this grey city with the grey sky and the bad food, called his bluff anyway. “Fine.”

“Fine,” said Eames, turning back to the sunset.

“Fine,” said Arthur.

After a bit Eames narrowed his eyes at Arthur. “I see you’re not leaving.”

“I’ll hang around here,” Arthur said, not at all childishly. “Help out with the job if it makes things go faster.”

“You’ll hang around here,” Eames repeated blankly.

“Why not?” Arthur asked. “I could use a change of pace. I haven’t seen much of this place.” He waved a hand at the Thames, signifying the city.

Eames suddenly looked considering, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged, and Arthur could see the beginnings of amusement in his eyes. “I could use your help, actually,” he said. His tone had changed too: lighter, more like the unprofessional behaviour Arthur knew and did not love.

Arthur had done his research. He knew Eames didn’t have dreamsharing work in London. “Let’s go, then,” he said, hoping Eames would give this up sooner rather than later, admit he didn’t actually have a job and let Arthur get started on his last Cobb favour.

In answer, Eames started heading down a flight of stairs on the pier that led to the riverbank. Arthur scowled. He could see stones and sand, pigeons excited to shit all over his Saville Row. He followed him down anyway.

Eames stood on the riverbank, dirty filthy water nearly reaching his lumberjack boots. He bent down to pick up a pebble. Arthur kept his distance as Eames skipped it smoothly on the surface, tap tap tap splash. “You’re going to love London, darling,” he called back to Arthur, picking up another pebble. “I’ll take you around and everything.”

~~~

Eames took him back to his place in Richmond, the flat that Arthur had scoped out already. It was in a nice neighbourhood, and the apartment itself was woodsy and rich, dark plush furniture and paintings that swirled warmly.

“So what is it?” Arthur said, getting impatient. They’d taken the tube. Arthur massively disliked the tube. It was hot and sweaty and next time they were taking a car, but Eames had insisted on an authentic London experience. “Who’s it involve?”

“Patience, sweetheart. You’ll see,” Eames told him, stripping off the sports jacket and revealing an awful brown t-shirt underneath. It was ripped, but not artfully, like a designer had planned it, more like mice had gotten into his closet. “We’re going there now.”

“You could try being less mysterious,” Arthur suggested.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eames asked.

Honestly it felt kind of ridiculous, because Arthur knew there was no job. But he kind of wanted to see where Eames would bring him, how Eames would play it out, how eventually he would say You win darling and Arthur could drag him back to LA in satisfaction, because Eames brought out that incredibly petty side of him.

Eames took him for a walk around the neighbourhood. They were in the cool dark air, streetlights washing over them glowingly, time and time again. Little noises emanated from the flats they passed, sounds of dinners and nightly routines and familiarity. “Eames,” Arthur said, after exactly eighteen minutes of walking.

“It’s just here, Arthur,” Eames said. This seemed nonsensical. They crossed a playground. Eames walked up to a blue door and knocked.

Arthur began to reconsider. Perhaps they really was a job, an up and coming extractor, a new team. Sure, Eames hadn’t taken jobs like that before, small ones without the chance of big payouts, but maybe he was rolling with it now he was rolling in it.

A woman opened the door. She was heavily pregnant.

Before Arthur had a chance to gape, she was looking at Eames, saying, “Finally!” and leaned out of the door to kiss him on the cheek, before cuffing him gently about the head. “You said you’d be here an hour ago.”

She was very pretty, with wavy chestnut hair and large eyes and the same sort of carelessness of manner as Eames had, her posture easy and her gestures expansive.

“I was waylaid,” Eames said, after kissing the top of her head and tilting his head at Arthur.

“Oh, hello, come in!” Eames’s girlfriend? wife? pregnant with his child? said to Arthur, smiling brightly at him. “Who’s this?” she added to Eames as she turned to go back in.

“This is Arthur,” Eames said, stretching it out again, and levelling a grin at Arthur before following her into the flat. “He’ll be joining us for dinner.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how he was feeling. Appalled, slightly, of course, that Eames flirted like a madman and especially with Arthur and there had been times even–once or twice–after a job that they had looked at each other, exhilarated and knowing, and something in Eames eyes had softened and Arthur hadn’t known what to make of it and–well! He knew what to make of it now.

This selection of thoughts happened in quick succession and he was moving across the threshold, into a cosy, warm sort of place that smelled of spaghetti and contained Eames, sitting in a messy living room with what looked like a two-or-three year old clinging to his leg.

Two kids. The things one could keep from co-workers they’d known for years–Arthur hadn’t seen it crop up, even once. The child, golden-haired and babbling, was trying to climb onto Eames’s lap, and he was smiling down at her and talking to her lowly and adoringly. Arthur wrenched his eyes away. He tried not to stare, feeling his stomach churn. Instead he moved left, into the kitchen where the spaghetti was boiling and the woman stirred at it.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Arthur.”

“I’m Rosie,” she said, turning to stick a hand out. “Sorry the house doesn’t look great–Will didn’t tell me he was bringing anyone–”

“Sounds like him,” he said, and Rosie grinned. “It looks great, don’t worry about it.”

Her gaze turned considering, and she looked a lot like Eames when it happened. Eames had married(?) a second him, of course he had, the self-absorbed dickhead. “You work with Will?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Arthur uncomfortably, wondering how much she knew about dreamsharing. “We–work–we’ve worked together. I was in town.”

“Hmmm,” she said slowly. “He’s never brought anyone back. You really must be special.”

“Oh,” said Arthur. He tried to look across to Eames for help, but Eames was already looking back at Rosie, with an expression that looked like exasperation. Why had Eames brought him back, anyway? Sure, he and Arthur were acquaintances, almost friends, but Arthur hadn’t even heard he had two kids. Eames had kept it from everyone, and well and good for him too, you never knew who you could trust. He’d probably brought him back here tonight probably because he wanted to one-up Arthur who was ridiculously following him in London about a job, showing him look I have a life, what can you say to that? Well, he’d won. Arthur was hightailing it out of here tonight, because this was just weird.

Eames stood up. “Arthur,” he said. “I see you’ve met Rosie. And this is Lily.” Lily squirmed happily in his arms and stuck out her hand. Arthur had to exit the kitchen and head to the sofa to take it.

“This is Arthur,” Eames said to Lily, turning his head to kiss her cheek. “Say hi Arthur.”

“Hi Ar-fur,” Lily said. Arthur was helplessly charmed by this. “Hello, Lily,” he said seriously.

“He’s come to ask me to go back to work and leave you alone,” Eames said sadly to her.

Arthur hadn’t known he’d had a kid. “I didn’t know you had a kid,” he said, while Lily reached up to touch Eames’s hair. “Unca Wew,” she babbled, which just sounded like nonsense.

“Yes, Lily,” Eames cooed. “Evil Arthur’s taking Uncle Will away from you.”

“Uncle,” Arthur said inadvertently. Eames looked up at him before he could school his features into a neutral expression, and his mouth curved up into a wicked grin. “Why, Arthur,” he said, drawing it out longer than ever, “who did you think I was to Lily?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Arthur said, glaring.

“Perhaps I should have specified. I see you’ve met my sister, Rosie, and this is my niece, Lily,” Eames announced, too amused for his own good.

Rosie called from the kitchen and through a cloud of steam, “Stop teasing him. You know you should have said.”

“Though I find it slightly offensive,” Eames continued, looking at Arthur, “that you thought I was frequently jetsetting around the world away from my wife and child, with another one on the way. I’ve worked with you four times over the last year.”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Arthur lied.

“You wound me, Arthur,” Eames informed him, grey eyes quite serious. Arthur had no idea if he’d really offended him or not.

“William,” Rosie said. “Be nice. And come and eat.”

They sat around the dining table, Lily in the high chair kicking her little legs out. The spaghetti was slightly overcooked but the sauce was warm and rich, and Arthur hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Eames and Rosie bickered at each other lightly. Arthur could see it now, the similarities in their features and manner: their storm-coloured eyes, the drawl, their sarcasm and clear affection for each other.

“Have you known Will long, Arthur?” Rosie asked speculatively.

“Years,” Arthur said. “On and off.”

“We work together a lot,” Eames said, throwing a quelling look at Rosie. Perhaps he didn’t want her to know about the work. “Arthur’s here to offer me another job.”

“Sorry it has to wait,” Rosie said apologetically. “Will promised he’d stay here until the baby’s born, which hopefully is in about three weeks as my feet can’t take it anymore. My husband’s stuck in Switzerland and he won’t be able to be here in time.”

“That’s very… kind of him,” Arthur said.

Eames smiled smugly at this, as if he knew what it took for Arthur to admit this in public. “I know it is,” he said, preening. “I am in fact an extremely excellent brother.”

“So,” Rosie said innocently. “Arthur, this is actually quite novel. I’m sure friends of Will have been in town before and he’s never brought them to dinner.”

“It’s just dinner,” Eames said.

“Is it?” Rosie asked.

“It’s not like that,” Eames said, annoyed now. “Arthur’s a friend I trust. That’s rare.”

“Is he,” Rosie said, emphasizing the words.

Eames threw a look up to the heavens. Arthur swallowed another forkful of spaghetti. Rosie said, “I’m messing with you, Willy,” and ruffled his hair. Eames turned to throw another exasperated look at Arthur, like he was in on it with him.

Arthur realised he’d never seen Eames like this: fond, affectionate, loose and relaxed. On a job there was always the element of danger and Arthur saw it in the line of his shoulders, the glint in his eyes, and appreciated knowing there was someone else who was keeping an eye out, just like he always was. But now Eames was feeding Lily carefully, using a thumb to wipe the food dribbling down her chin, and kicking at his sister’s chair. He looked at home here. It was something Arthur did not know how to process. It felt nonsensically like something inside him, not Eames, had been exposed to the world.

~~~

Arthur, having helped wash the dishes, opened the door to Eames sitting on the front steps. Eames quirked a brow and scooted slightly to the side, so Arthur sat down beside him.

“Thanks for the help with the dishes,” Arthur said pointedly.

“I helped with dinner,” Eames said blithely.

Arthur held off the Barely and instead accused him, “You said you had work here.”

“Did I?” Eames asked, turning towards him slightly. “I remember saying I was busy, and I had things to do here.” Thoughtfully, he decided, “I believe you implied that it was a job, darling.”

“Whatever,” Arthur said, feeling just slightly foolish about sounding like a teenager. “Anyway. I should get back.”

There was a little pause.

“Should you?” Eames asked. “You said you’d…” He made a little humming sound. “Hang around here. Help out with the job.”

“Well,” Arthur said. “There is no job.”

“I could still use some help.” Eames grinned rakishly, then it faded. “It’d only be a few weeks, and then we’d get on with it. I could show you around the city,” he said, looking down suddenly, up at Arthur again inscrutably. He ran his hand through his hair, looking unfairly good in the lamplight, softer, almost more uncertain. “You said you hadn’t seen much of it.”

Arthur didn’t know what he was thinking. He was thinking, though, of how the Cobb job could wait, it wasn’t urgent. How he did perhaps want to go to Saville Row itself, about how the city was grey but curious in the autumn light. How Eames looked in this apartment, easy and familiar and familial, and how perhaps it was strange, surreal, something he’d like to see more of.

He said, “I guess I haven’t.”

~~~

Back in the hotel room, in the shower, he considered what he’d agreed to, which was nothing at all. Rosie had retired to bed, complaining that her back was killing her, and Eames had started to tend to a fussing Lily.

“You don’t have to leave now,” he had told Arthur.

“I don’t want to get in the way,” Arthur said.

Lily sniffled in Eames’s arms. He bounced her a little and looked at Arthur, something fond in it. “You’re never in the way, darling.”

Lily let out a little cry. Arthur said, “Put her to bed.”

Eames had asked, “Do you have a hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” Eames said. Very casually, he said, “I’ll see you soon?”

Arthur said, “I still need a tour guide,” and watched Eames smile. It had felt like more than a goodnight. He stepped out of the shower and changed into soft, silk pyjamas, settled himself into the bed.

The room was smaller than his last one, and it was sleeker, more modern. It had a mounted television and large, floor-to-ceiling windows. Arthur turned on his side and looked out the window at the calm expanse of city lights. At night London wasn’t grey and dreary; at night it was like any other big city. He supposed a couple of weeks here wouldn’t be so bad.

Arthur wondered if Eames was asleep, perhaps collapsed onto the futon, perhaps back in his own bed in his own apartment. He realised he’d essentially agreed to be taken around the city by him. Eames, forger extraordinaire, flirt and friend and bane of Arthur’s life. Taken around like it was–some kind of–like he was stepping out into town with his gentleman caller, or something. Arthur rolled back onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling.

Probably it was because Eames had thrown him off today with the familyness of it all. Eames was usually sharp-edged like Arthur and usually thrived in loud casinos and bare-knuckled brawls and chaotic dreamscapes, and seeing him today so easy and relaxed, Arthur just hadn’t recovered from it. But Eames would take him to a few overpriced tourist attractions, flirt and be ignored by Arthur, be familiar and uncomplicated to banter with, and then they’d go back to work, to the dynamic Arthur knew and knew well.

~~~

Arthur woke up to his phone ringing. He mumbled something incomprehensible and squinted at the caller ID.

“Eames,” he mumbled.

“Rise and shine!” Eames said chirpily. “Lily woke me up at six so now you’re up too. I’ll see you at the National Gallery at ten.” He hung up.

Arthur checked the time. Six fifteen. Bane of Arthur’s life, constant sigh caught in his throat. He set an alarm blearily and went back to sleep.

At nine fifty seven he was waiting at the entrance for Eames, who turned up at ten fifteen.

“Arthur!” he said. He was wearing a shirt with large orange stripes down the sides, and his linen pants brushed against the floor. His hair was slicked back today.

“You’re late,” said Arthur.

Eames smiled a bit. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

“Why not?”

“I thought I was going to have to drag you from your hotel room,” said Eames. He looked Arthur up and down, slow and considering. “Come on, then.”

Eames wandered from room to room, asking Arthur things like, “Do you like this one?” and watching Arthur closely as he said “No,” and “It’s interesting,” and “I guess.” They passed Vermeer, Titian, Cézanne. Arthur liked Gossart, squinted at Monet, and paused in front of Matisse’s Portrait of Greta Moll. Greta stared somewhere off-right, sleeves rolled up and one elbow leaning against the table. She looked casual and impatient and restless, something about her spirit captured even through the broad brushstrokes.

“It’s like she’s about to speak,” Arthur said. “Like she’s about to say ‘are we done already?’”

Eames huffed a little laugh. Arthur felt him, against his side, a warm bulky breathing presence. Eames always smelled like something light and woodsy, something clean and attractive. “Is that your favourite so far?” he asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said. Eventually, he asked, “What do you like?”

“Hrm,” Eames said. He rubbed a hand against his scruff, the scratchy sound louder in the quiet room. He brought Arthur up the stairs to Room 43. Johan Barthold Jongkind’s River Scene hung there and looked back at them.

Something about the scene was mournful: the darker colours, the singular man over the boat. Boats were on the riverbank and a ship was in the distance, everything bathed in colours that felt like evening. Arthur thought of the end of a long day.

“It’s peaceful,” Eames said.

“It’s lonely,” Arthur said.

They watched the painting.

“Maybe he’s setting off into the sunset,” Eames said. “Or maybe he’s cleaning up and going home.” He made a soft humming sound. “Don’t you wonder? It’s all up to him.”

Later, they went to a kebab shop a few streets down. There were only four tables there and it was dimly lit and smelled a lot like sanitiser, but it was the best kebab Arthur had ever had. Eames rubbed some mayonnaise off his own cheek with his thumb, said smugly, “I knew you’d like it.”

“Uh huh,” said Arthur, unable to speak articulately around a mouthful of delicious doner.

“I’m going to make you love London,” Eames said, self-satisfied. “You’re going to want to come here all the time.”

“Mm-mm,” Arthur said, in lieu of Yeah sure. But I will admit this food is incredible and I might come back just for it.

“So,” Eames said, casually after a few more bites, “how’s Cobb?”

Arthur stiffened, just a bit. Cobb, the reason they’d left each other irritated the last time. “Doing fine,” he said. “With his kids.”

“Working?” Eames asked.

“Eames,” Arthur said warningly.

“He should never work again,” Eames said shortly. “If it were anyone else… I wouldn’t be able to trust them again.”

This was the point in the airport bar where Arthur, head still full of Mal’s manic eyes, her familiar voice, the thought of her children, had snapped, You wouldn’t understand why he did it. Eames had turned cold, said snidely, My well of sympathy ran dry when he nearly drove us insane doing it.

“I know,” was what Arthur said now. If it had been anyone else Arthur would have driven them out of the industry. He stabbed furiously at a chip. “I know.”

Eames watched him but didn’t press it, somehow knew not to press it.

~~~

On Tuesday Eames took him to the British Museum. He spent most of his time pointing out displays that were easier to steal than others. “It’s all okay,” he said to Arthur, “they’re all stolen anyway.” Arthur learned three new ways of getting past CCTV cameras after a museum was closed, watching Eames’ plush mouth murmur illegal ideas delightedly at him, and considered it time well-spent.

On Wednesday he took him to the London Zoo. They spent most of their time with the bats, the rainforest enclosure. It was damp and humid there, made Arthur think of Singapore, or Indonesia. He liked the bats. They were soft, furry things and once in a while they’d swoop over Arthur’s head. Eames enquired after the sloth and the spiders and spent a lot of time watching the rats scampering on the jungle floor.

On Thursday they went to the cinema. (“I thought we were going to Odeon,” Arthur said. He looked down at the dusty carpets and up the water stain he saw on the low ceiling. “Dream bigger,” Eames said, and led him into a little hall with only four faded rows that smelled of stale popcorn.) The opening credits to In A Lonely Place started playing, and Eames settled back, mouthing along happily, “Dix Steele, how are you?” To Arthur, he said, like a well-loved secret, “I used to come here after school.” Arthur thought of a younger Eames in his uniform, amongst these faded seats, large-eyed, wondering, amazed at the screen. Dreaming.

~~~

On Friday Arthur woke up without a call from Eames. Bleary-eyed, he texted him: No touristing today?

Eames replied rosie has checkup 2day gotta take her

Arthur’s fingers hovered over the screen. He typed back Who’s watching Lily?

Eames said, she was gonna come w us but if ur volunteering 2 babysit

Arthur didn’t have anything on, so he said out loud, “Okay.” He typed Okay.

Eames replied ???????? which didn’t make any sense so Arthur got his clothes on and ordered a car over to Rosie’s house. Eames opened the door, Lily at his heels. He squinted at Arthur, squinting a little more, looking a little like Cobb with all the squinting. Arthur considered telling him that, but Eames, who could hold a grudge against dangerous incompetence, would probably not appreciate it very much.

“Ar-fur,” Lily greeted him, while Eames squinted.

This seemed to jolt him into speech. “You’re actually… babysitting.”

Arthur shrugged. “I babysit Cobb’s kids all the time. Hi, Lily.”

Rosie shouted, “Who’s that?”

“Arthur’s come to babysit,” Eames called over his shoulder, then turned back to do more squinting at Arthur.

“Has he!” Rosie said. “Why didn’t you tell me? That’s so nice Arthur. Lily hates the doctor’s office, I was already gearing up for a spectacular meltdown… come in. Will, let him in, why are you still out there?”

Eames pressed against the wall for Arthur to enter. Rosie came out, her bump looking even bigger, if that was possible, and started reeling off a list about Lily: lunch, playtime, nap, favourite toys, no sweets after four. “We’ll only be a couple of hours,” she said, “but just in case the waiting is longer…” Arthur nodded and kept up. Eames trailed after them, still quiet.

“Lily, sweetie,” he said, after Rosie had grabbed her keys, thanked Arthur again, and headed out to the car, “be good for Arthur. No messes please, he’ll have a breakdown.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Eames bent down to kiss her on top of her soft golden head, then straightened up, quite close to Arthur. He still looked vaguely puzzled, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Pizza’s in the fridge. No boys over, young lady,” he said after a moment, the corner of his ridiculous mouth curling up. Arthur rolled his eyes again with emphasis.

“Say bye bye now Lily,” he said, sinking down cross-legged on the carpet with her. She waved up at Eames and tugged at Arthur’s wrist, pointing at the box of blocks she wanted him to unpack for her.

“Don’t miss me too much, darling,” Eames said, walking away.

~~~

Lily was a very charming child, stacking blocks up on top of each other and making noises that were sometimes words at Arthur. “See, Ar-fur,” she said, constantly, waving a hand, so Arthur saw her construct a tall castle-like structure, ride a toy pony crashing through it with Eamesian dramatics. She took her lunch without fuss and watched an episode of Creatures of the Sea fascinatedly after, clapping at dark underwater images of the giant squid. Arthur studied her and thought she had Rosie’s brown curls, and her eyes–Rosie’s eyes, Eames’s eyes, stormy and grey-green and bright with intelligence.

But even very charming children realised that their mother and uncle had been gone for almost two hours, and began to cry about it.

“Oh, Lily,” Arthur said. “I know. They’ll be back soon.”

“Mama,” she sobbed heartrendingly. “Unca Wew.”

Arthur took her in his arms. She went trustingly, but continued to cry. “Do you want to go to the playground, Lily?” She shook her head. “No? Yeah, it’s probably naptime, isn’t it?” He got up and started bouncing her gently like he’d seen Eames do. She wailed and wailed.

It reminded him of Philippa. It reminded him of Philippa, younger and fretful, with Mal saying “Arthur, she hasn’t stopped crying for ages!” and looking close to tears herself. Arthur had stayed with Philippa until she’d stopped crying, her sobbing turning into hiccups, while Mal had snored on the sofa, drooling and relieved of her duties for a blessed few hours. He’d stayed with James, too, and now he stayed with Lily, missing Mal abstractly and tiredly.

She fell asleep, finally, and three and a half hours after they’d left, Eames and Rosie returned. Rosie made noises of gratitude, telling Arthur everything was fine medically, but she also seemed exhausted, going to the room and announcing that she was putting her feet up and no one disturb her until dinner please.

Eames stood there levelling that considering look he’d been using a lot on Arthur lately. “I didn’t know you still babysat Cobb’s kids.”

Eames had known Mal, but distantly; he’d only known her through Cobb and work. Mal had stayed home more after the kids were born. He’d known that Arthur had been her best friend, or at least he’d known they were close. The first job they worked after her death, he’d offered Cobb his condolences, but in a quiet moment he’d also told Arthur he was sorry.

Sometimes Arthur had complained about working with Eames to Mal. Mal had rolled her eyes and said “Oh, Arthur,” and asked for a dossier on him. After looking through it she’d just said, “Oh, Arthur, oh, Arthur,” and from then on would just smile at him teasingly, smile at him like she was happy whenever Arthur complained. If she could see him now, in London, in Eames’s territory, smiling over his niece… but she couldn’t. Whatever thoughts she’d gotten into her ridiculous romantic head, she was gone now, and Arthur was still here.

“Yeah,” Arthur said. Suddenly it felt too warm in the cluttered living room, and he forced himself not to loosen his tie. He needed the coolness of his hotel room.

“We owe you dinner,” Eames said, propped against the wall with his shoulder. His hands were shoved in his jeans; his head was bent, looking up at Arthur in a way that was very unprofessional, very inviting.

“Actually I’m going to head back,” Arthur said, picking up his jacket and avoiding his eyes. “I’ll pick up something on the way.”

“Oh. Hmm.” Eames shoved himself upright and didn’t argue, like Arthur had thought he maybe would. “Okay, Arthur.”

~~~

On Saturday Eames didn’t text him. Arthur lay in bed until eleven, which was unlike him, and ordered himself breakfast. It was an English Breakfast, whatever that meant, and the eggs were kind of runny, which Arthur didn’t like, and the sausages were slightly too salty for his taste. Arthur had gotten used to his English meals over the past couple of days being little places where Eames knew the owners, where he would moan around mouthfuls and try not to blush at Eames watching him do it. Eames knew what he liked, that was what happened when you’d worked with each other coming up six years, and he’d been taken Arthur places he knew Arthur would enjoy.

Eames. Arthur turned his head and groaned into his pillow. This was why he kept his distance. He’d always known Eames meant danger. The bane of Arthur’s life, that’s what he was. It was all very well and good when Mal had been alive and it was a distant, maybe sort of delightful possibility to unravel, maybe in an abandoned warehouse when the rest of the team were taking the day off, maybe celebrating a job well done with whiskey in a dimly lit room…

But now Mal was gone, and Arthur couldn’t forget it, couldn’t forget the day he’d gotten the call and gone blank all over. He’d loved Mal so fully and completely and he hadn’t ever loved anyone like that before her, and he’d always known–so had Mal–that if he allowed himself to, he would love Eames like that, except even fiercer, even fuller, with everything he had inside him. If a call like that came for Eames he would not be able to deal with it. He just wouldn’t.

~~~

On Sunday Eames called. “How do you feel about Camden?” he asked, sort of formally. He hadn’t really asked before. He’d demanded Arthur’s presence at the museum, the gallery, the cinema.

“I don’t know much about Camden,” Arthur told him.

“Would you like to know more?” Eames asked very neutrally.

Arthur took a deep breath. Eames, neutral and asking, and Arthur was in too deep for no. “A tour guide would help.”

Camden was touristy and busy and sunny and noisy, full of bright stalls and small shops that promised a multitude of things from inside its doors. They walked along the market and Arthur peered at colourful little knickknacks that he wanted to take home to either his mantelpiece or Philippa. Eames pored over the covers of books with spines that looked like they were crumbling. Arthur eventually lost him in an antique store and he came out carrying a heavy long bronze giraffe, its neck as long as his arm.

“This reminded me of you, darling! Look at how graceful and slender it is!” he exclaimed to Arthur, who resolutely refused to help him carry it home. Eames called him cruel and impetuously bought a shopping trolley to cart it along.

“You know, I don’t really mean to rag on Cobb,” Eames said later in the day, the giraffe trailing behind him patiently, Arthur pretending it wasn’t there. He caught the look on Arthur’s face and amended, “Or, I do. I really do. It’s just that it’s not just him. It’s other people he’s risking, being in that frame of mind.”

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur said, squinting away from the late afternoon sun and into Eames’s direction. He did know. Eames was full of bullshit that drove Arthur wild for a myriad of reasons, but he was excellent, always professional, and Arthur trusted him with his body and his mind. Perhaps now that Cobb had done what he had, Eames was the only one he trusted with his body and his mind. “You can’t trust him. He put you in danger.”

“He put you in danger, Arthur,” Eames said. He was looking fully at Arthur, storm-eyes steady and eyelashes tinged gold; Arthur swallowed and looked back. “And I’m not very known for playing it safe, but surely you know by now that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”

Arthur swallowed again.

The moment held.

Eames’ phone rang.

“What? Rose, what?” he said. He looked urgent and intense, capable. Arthur took in a breath as the moment dissipated. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be there.” He hung up and fumbled with his screen. “I think she’s in labour.”

“I’ll stay with Lily,” Arthur said. Eames nodded at him distractedly and gratefully. When the car came he left his trolley behind in his hurry, so Arthur trailed it patiently after himself; Eames turned around and almost collided with him.

“Arthur, you remembered,” he said, grabbing at the handle and smiling at him, the look bright and completely focused. “What would I do without you.”

~~~

Rosie was not in labour. It was false labour, Braxton Hicks contractions, and they returned home in the late evening. Lily had been coaxed to the park, begging Arthur to push her higher and higher on the swings, so she had hardly noticed their absence. She ran up and to her mother, grabbing at her leg. Rosie ruffled her hair and took her hand.

“She’s supposed to be on bed rest,” Eames said. “Rose, get in there right now.”

“I just want this thing out,” Rosie said bleakly, looking down at her belly.

They got her settled in her bedroom and she lay there, complaining once in a while about her back and her feet and her bladder and the general unfairness of the world. Eames, clearly trying to distract her, talked about the nurse who had given him directions to someone else’s room and how he’d entered the room to a wide-eyed woman and her husband, who screamed at him in Italian to leave.

“What are you planning to call him?” Arthur asked, after Eames had exhausted his stories and Rosie looked more exasperatedly amused than frustratedly exasperated.

“Will,” Rosie said, smiling.

Eames frowned. “You know I hate that name.”

“Well if you won’t use it anymore, I might as well give it to this kid,” Rosie said, unperturbed. To Arthur, she said, “William Walliams wasn’t a very good look for Mum and Dad, I’ll give him that.”

Arthur pressed his lips together, stifling the smile, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known Eames’s unfortunate given name. Eames glanced at him, grimaced, and mumbled to Lily, who was sitting on his lap, “Hope your brother stays in there for another week. See how Mama likes that.”

~~~

When Rosie fell asleep, Eames started making dinner. Arthur realised he hadn’t really seen him cook before. He did it like he did most things, extravagant and intuitive, pouring salt and pepper into the pot without measuring it out, swiping gravy off the ladle with a finger and tasting it. He looked over at Arthur while he was doing this. Arthur heaved a sigh, looking heavenward. Eames laughed.

“You’re good with Lily,” Eames said. “She likes you.” Arthur was nodding as Lily drew on a pad, nudging her crayons away from the wood of the table. She was explaining her creations to him, gesticulating wildly.

“I like her,” Arthur said.

“She’s going to miss you,” Eames said offhandedly, ladling food into bowls. “You could visit again.”

Arthur determinedly kept his eyes on Lily’s crayons. “Wouldn’t be safe, both of us coming here more. It wouldn’t be safe for them.”

Eames considered this and visibly dismissed it. “We’re competent. We know how to cover our tracks. You know nobody knows we’re here.”

“Is it really a good idea, when we’re in this business?” Arthur asked.

“So we shouldn’t live our lives at all because of our work, darling?” Eames’s tone was light but there was an undercurrent to it that Arthur recognised from moments like How’s Cobb? Arthur still didn’t look up. He said, “I’m saying we should take precautions because of our work.”

“That seems unfair to us.” Eames sounded firm and Arthur could imagine it, he’d seen Eames go tense before, his eyes sharp and his jaw set. It no longer sounded like they were talking about visiting Lily.

“It’s better than losing people you care about.”

“Ah, Arthur,” Eames said, quietly. “So this is what it’s about.” The temperature of the room had changed. Arthur felt cold.

“Eames,” he said, a very quiet warning.

“I know she’s gone, Arthur, but we’re still here.” Eames’s voice was low and rough.

“Eames. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Mal’s gone,” Eames said, volume rising very slightly, “but I’m here Arthur, and you’re here, and we’re here. Can’t we even talk about–”

“It’s not just that,” Arthur said, looking up. Eames had come closer. The counter separated them, only the counter and nothing but the counter. “I’ll never be able to tell her about it. She was my best friend.” It felt awful saying was, and he hadn’t exactly been able to confide in wild-eyed despondent Dom Cobb, so it was the first time he had said it out loud to someone. He forced the words out anyway. “She was my best friend, and now she’s gone.”

Eames just watched him, eyes creased and all fight gone, looking almost tender. Arthur almost couldn’t stand it. “So you see,” he said, but didn’t know how to finish his sentence.

“So I see,” Eames said anyway.

In the long silence that ensued Lily, perhaps sensing that there was something wrong, started fussing. Eames came around and put bowls on the table. Arthur’s stomach rumbled; he still felt slightly sick. Eames sat beside Lily, opposite Arthur, and started feeding her, talking to her in low, soothing tones. “Sweetheart,” he was saying, “no really, it’s okay, drink this soup, I slaved over it. I learned this recipe from your grandmother, you know. I know you prefer your dad feeding you but he’ll be back soon and for now you’ve got me and my woefully inadequate soup. Sorry about that. Look, Arthur’s eating too.”

Arthur put a spoon to his mouth automatically. But the soup was good and warm and hearty, chicken broth that made him want more. After a while he took another spoonful.

“There, there,” Eames said, “Arthur’s eating too. And he likes it.”

“I like it,” Arthur admitted.

“Look, Lily-girl, your Uncle Will’s done it again,” Eames said. He was talking to Lily still, but his voice was calm and steady, his words nonsensical, glances thrown Arthur’s way as if he was trying to soothe him as well. “Really, Lily, is there anything I can’t do? I’m going to teach you all I know, too, don’t worry. Pick a lock and everything, but don’t tell your mother.”

“Pick a lock,” Lily repeated perfectly.

“Aw, Lil,” Eames said. “What did I just say?”

Arthur wished he didn’t feel better. Eames not pushing, Eames just there, Eames who had cooked him dinner. Eames who was being soothing and sweet, Eames who knew how to love a child, Eames who was being unfailingly patient with him. If he didn’t feel better, then Eames wouldn’t be able to infiltrate his defences like this.

~~~

In his hotel room Arthur called Cobb. London was eight hours ahead, so Cobb sounded chirpy when he asked, “Arthur? What’s wrong?” Voices shrieked in the background.

“Nothing. Eames is finishing up with some work. We’ll be there in about three weeks,” Arthur said.

“That’s fine,” Cobb said. “I told you it wasn’t a rush. Did you call to talk to the kids?”

Arthur hadn’t really, but he found himself saying “Yeah, yeah.” Cobb shouted into the distance, “Arthur’s on the phone!”

James got on first. “Uncle Arthur!” he said. “When are you coming back?”

“Very soon, buddy,” said Arthur. James told him about the Lego set he’d just gotten, and the new kite, and the telescope set. Privately Arthur thought Cobb was spoiling them slightly too much–Mal would never have stood for it–but he supposed as Cobb hadn’t seen them in a year, it was fine.

“It’s my turn!” Philippa was saying from some distance away.

“Bye Uncle Arthur,” James said quickly. “Come back soon.”

“Very soon,” Arthur promised again. Philippa came on. “Uncle Arthur,” she said. “I miss you.”

Arthur loved these children, not only because of Mal, but because he loved these children. He had rocked them both to sleep. James had banged his knee up for the first time and wailed “Uncle Arthur!”, high and pained. Philippa had taken her first steps toward Mal, but then she’d turned unsteadily towards him.

It had been hard for Arthur to visit them over the past year: he admitted this to himself now. Philippa had Cobb’s rare wide sunny smile but she also had Mal’s eyes, her way of tucking her hair back behind her ear. James accidentally spoke French sometimes because Mal had communicated with them almost exclusively in it. When Arthur had visited, he had had to turn away from them a lot so they wouldn’t see his face. It was easier not to visit.

“I miss you, Phil,” he found himself saying. “I’ll see you in about three weeks, I promise.”

“Dad is being weird,” she complained. “He keeps giving us stuff.”

“Shouldn’t turn your nose up at free stuff,” Arthur said.

“He got me a Barbie!” she said. “I’m seven.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Arthur assured her.

She told him about school and her friends and Marie, who dropped by at unexpected times to suspiciously check on Cobb’s parenting skills. Arthur sympathised with her over a particularly strict teacher, told her that an argument with a friend would blow over, and laughed a little over Marie, who was fond of Arthur and still texted him time to time. He said goodbye and told her he loved her. He went to sleep thinking Mal, you did something right. Mal, they’re still here.

~~~

At eight the next morning Arthur called Eames.

“Arthur?” Eames rumbled, voice sleep-rough. “Arthur,” he said, going from sleepy to worried, “are you alright?”

“People keep asking me that,” Arthur said. “Have I not been alright?”

Eames chuckled, warm, in his ear. “Not really, darling,” he said.

“Well,” Arthur said. “I was just wondering if you would like to go out today.”

“Where?” asked Eames.

Arthur had done some research. Eames probably knew this place, but Arthur wanted to take him to it. He sent Eames the location.

“Okay,” said Eames, his voice giving nothing away. “I’ll be there.”

Arthur knew Eames, with all his artist’s soul, loved poetry. Arthur knew that once in a run-through Eames had dreamt up the sea, drifting in a little boat, book in his hand while Arthur had waited out Cobb in another level. Arthur had seen the painting Eames liked in the Tate.

Arthur knew this wasn’t close, but he turned up at the canal at two. Eames was already there, inscrutable under his shades, wearing a bright pink shirt with palm trees on it, loose pants that were probably only held up with suspenders and luck. “What is this place, darling?” he asked.

“It’s a small library on a boat,” Arthur said, shrugging. “A community thing. I thought you’d like to read, maybe. Later there’ll be kids from school. But it’s quiet in the mornings and afternoons, it’s out of the way.” On the boat there was a wooden platform with sunchairs and pillows, to read. The sun streamed wispily down on them.

“Hmm,” Eames said. He ducked into the boat. Arthur waited, listening to the animated voices inside: Eames and the woman who owned the little library.

Fifteen minutes later he came out, shades off and with a slim blue book in his hand. He was grinning. “Arthur,” he said, “do you know what they have?” Arthur didn’t get to know what they had, because Eames leapt onto the platform and threw himself down onto the platform, sliding a cushion under his head. He opened the book up.

Arthur ducked inside the boat and smiled at the woman. Books littered the counter, the shelves, the carpet, her arms; books clearly well-beloved and well taken care of. He spent his time selecting something familiar, smiling at Khadijah–her tag read–when she said, nodding at his choice of book, “Classic.”

Settling down in the deck chair beside Eames and looking out at the canal, Arthur observed the trees in the park on one canal bank, and back gardens of houses on the other. His gaze drifted down. Eames was so still and heavy-lidded Arthur would have thought he was asleep, if it hadn’t been turning a page every so often.

He looked calm, peaceful. He did not look lonely. Arthur looked down at his own book.

And wishes, had he any?

Just his sigh, accented,

Had been legible to me.

And was he confident until

Ill fluttered out in everlasting well?

Out of the corner of his eye, Eames placed his slim volume of poetry down on his chest. “Do you want to hear a bit of it?” he asked.

“Sure,” Arthur said.

Eames picked it up again and began to read, voice low like a secret.

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,

don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty

of lives and whole towns destroyed or about

to be. We are not wise, and not very often

kind. And much can never be redeemed.”

He did hesitate then, looking up at Arthur, something indecipherable in his eyes. Arthur kept still, head slightly turned toward him.

“Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this

is its way of fighting back, that sometimes

something happens better than all the riches

or power in the world. It could be anything,

but very likely you notice it in the instant…”

Eames took a breath and continued steadily, “In the instant

when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.

Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid

of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

Eames stopped reading. A moment later, he turned the page, eyes still firmly on the book.

The sky above him was clear and he looked so safe and solid, his large hands steady, his jaw so well-cut. He looked painfully handsome, lying there like a figure in a painting, one of the classics lovingly rendered. He’d waited for Arthur and he was waiting more, patient with it and letting Arthur come to him.

“Eames,” Arthur said, rough.

“Arthur,” Eames said gently. “It’s really all right.”

Arthur was afraid. He knew he was. He wanted to be. Joy would never be a crumb for him. When he allowed himself to love Eames he would do it fully and completely. This was a scary, scary thing. The call in the middle of the night, the things the people you loved could leave behind. Arthur knew the real fact of the matter was that even so, it was too late for him.

Eames’s phone rang.

Arthur wondered why this kept happening.

“Rosie,” he said, getting to his feet. “Okay, okay, okay, calm down and give me fifteen.” To Arthur he shot a wry look, the moment between them quietly broken, and said, “This could finally be it.”

~~~

It was it. Eames called an hour later to inform Arthur these were real contractions, not just fancily named ones. Lily was louder today, sucking her thumb and saying “Ar-fur,” tottering over to be picked up, as if she was already worried that attention from grownups would now irrevocably be split between her and a new sibling.

Arthur made her dinner and let her watch another episode of Creatures of the Sea. She watched the goblin shark with a measure of fascination, Arthur narrowing his eyes at the creepy looking creature, and then Arthur put her to bed. Beside the bed sat a copy of Frog and Toad Are Friends, which Arthur picked up and read to her. Outside, the evening drew on, and Arthur’s voice grew hoarse. He wanted to finish the story anyway.

“Toad was very pleased to have it,” he concluded finally, and realised she was asleep. He smiled slightly, pulling up the blankets around her, feeling intensely fond. Switching off the lights he said, “Night, Lily.”

He was tired too, only realising it after having settled on the sofa and yawning, loud and satisfying. Between one moment and the next, he had fallen asleep.

At around six am his phone rang. “He’s here!” Eames announced. “Healthy as anything and crying like–well, he’s crying like a baby. Rosie’s good, she’s sleeping. You and Lily can come in a couple of hours. Darling, wait till you meet him. He’s perfect.”

He sounded like Cobb, calling Arthur up once, then twice a couple of years later. The pride in his voice. Mal, on the phone next, exhausted but chattering to Arthur about Phil’s little thumbs and her little toes, James’s wrinkled pink smile. Arthur hadn’t been there for either of their births, had been off working, but he’d been there for Philippa’s first steps, there when James had fallen down. His best friend was gone, but Arthur would always have that.

“I’m sure you think he is,” Arthur said. “He’s named after you, isn’t he?”

“Darling,” Eames said, sounding wildly delighted that Arthur was flirting back.

“We’ll be there in a couple of hours,” Arthur told him. He put down the phone and couldn’t stop smiling.

~~~

There were nerves in the pit of his stomach. It was like he’d made a decision, or like the decision had been made for him. Eames laying gently back, his large hands holding the little book, reading low and smooth, everything Arthur could now admit to himself he had wanted to come home to for some time now. The sun in his hair and his eyes lovely as the sea. Whatever happened, Arthur would have had this.

Lily woke fretting about Rosie, but was quickly calmed when Arthur informed her they were going to see her mother and her little brother. “Wew,” she tried out, tugging on her shoes.

“Yes, Lily, Wew,” Arthur said, bundling her safely into Rosie’s car.

They reached the hospital and Eames was waiting for them outside. His hair looked sort of greasy, sort of like he’d run his hands through it many times. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Arthur kind of wanted to kiss him, and thought perhaps he might.

He stopped short when Eames said, “My parents are here.” He looked wry. “They thought they couldn’t make it, but they got here hours early. Anyway, they just arrived. Heads up.”

That was all the warning Arthur got before the doors opened again and two people Arthur assumed were Eames’s parents came hurrying out. Robert Walliams was short and pleasant-faced, smiling, and Cora Walliams was taller, still golden-haired, assessing Arthur and Lily with a look in her eyes Arthur would almost describe as shrewd. They stopped short when they reached Eames.

“This is Arthur,” Eames said very formally, but he raised an eyebrow at Arthur like he was amused. “Arthur, this is my mum and dad.”

“Arthur,” Robert said affably. Cora said, “Thank you for taking care of Lily, Arthur.”

“It was great, she’s lovely,” Arthur said, setting Lily down so she could toddle up to her grandparents.

“You work with Arthur, son?” Robert asked, sounding very British and dad-like. He reached forward with a hand.

Arthur nodded, taking it. “On and off,” he said, feeling strangely nervous.

“Will’s has never brought a friend back before,” Cora said, sounding very like Rosie, looking at Arthur with Eames’s gimlet-eyed gaze.

“Can’t use that name anymore,” Eames said, “now that Rosie’s stolen it for baby William.”

“But you’ll always be the first William, dear,” Cora said reassuringly. Eames sighed. “Anyway, Arthur,” she said, placing her arm in his. “Where are you from?”

She kept up a steady stream of conversation as they re-entered the hospital, all the way up to Rosie’s room, whereupon she started cooing over her grandson. Lily ran to her mother. Arthur, slightly stunned, realised she had coaxed out of him how many siblings he had, his mother’s career, and how he felt about London (and probably also how he felt about Eames). He realised quite suddenly this was where Eames had begun to learn to wheedle information out of people. Exchanging a look with Eames, who looked slightly apologetic, he approached Rosie’s side.

Rosie, flushed and tired and triumphant, handed baby William over to him.

“Isn’t he perfectly darling?” she asked.

“Very,” Arthur agreed, because baby William lay sleeping and red-faced in his arms, indeed perfectly darling.

“And you’ll come back and visit him of course,” Rosie said, looking up at him.

“Of course,” he promised.

“Eames will make sure of it,” said Cora, perfectly sure herself.

“Only if Arthur wants,” Eames said patiently.

Cora smiled over at Arthur like she could see ten years into the future. “Arthur’s smart,” she said. “He knows good things are worth keeping.”

Then Charlie, Rosie’s husband, arrived in a bustle of wild hair and riotous happiness, and Lily started crying at the sight of this interloper of a brother taking up her father’s attention, and everything became very bustling and extremely chaotic.

Arthur backed away a bit, into the waiting room, to give them some space. He waited there a little while with the magazines before Eames came out.

“Sorry about my mother,” he said, joining Arthur by the water cooler.

“She’s very like you,” Arthur told him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Arthur,” Eames said, abruptly, turning towards him, “everyone’s here. So they don’t need me. I’ll probably stay a few more days, but we can go do the job soon.”

“The job,” Arthur repeated blankly.

Eames frowned. “The one you came all the way here for. Arthur, I know I’ve brought you around and… tried to woo you…” He stood up, restless.

“Tried to woo me,” Arthur repeated. “Woo me.”

“Woo you, court you, take you around town.” Eames tilted his head, caught Arthur’s eyes. The hospital noises around them faded into the background. Earnest, tender, Eames said, “But I know it’s been hard. I didn’t mean to pressure you, darling. I know you’ve been grieving. We can do the job. You can take all the time you need.”

“Ah,” Arthur said. They would go do the job in a few days. Then what? Would they fall back into that pattern, bickering and push-and-pull, glances at Eames’s back and a sandwich just the way he liked it on his desk, checking on whether he was alive from across the world? He tried to summon the bravery he’d felt on the way to the hospital.

“Darling, it’s okay,” Eames said uncertainly, watching him again. Lower, like a secret, he said, “I really can wait.”

Arthur knew he could wait. He had waited. He could read the truth in the questioning bow of Eames’s bottom lip: he would wait. But if you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. It flooded into Arthur's stomach, his lungs, his heart. Mal, you’re gone, but look at me, I’m still here. You’re gone and you’ll never see how happy I will be but it’s enough that I know what you’d say because I knew you so well. It’s enough that your children live and I love them. You love and you lose. You love again.

“Well I can’t,” Arthur said, so he took Eames’s lovely, surprised face into his hands, giving into his eyes, an endless sky and an unending river. He reached up to kiss him.

~~~

“I have a confession,” Arthur said, “This job… it’s a favour to Cobb.”

Eames kept his gaze on him. “Oh,” he said. “Another of Dominic Cobb’s messes.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said.

“Are you?” Eames said consideringly. He leaned in slowly closer, murmuring it into the shell of Arthur’s ear. “How sorry? Will you make it up to me?”

Arthur leaned back. “You knew,” he said accusingly.

“I suspected, so I asked him,” Eames said, grinning. “So you’ve been manipulating me all this time. All of this has just been because Cobb owed someone and you feel you owe Cobb.”

“Not all of it,” Arthur said. “Not all of it.”

Behind Eames the sky, pinkish blues, was turning into morning. They were only a matter of hours away from LA and it felt like it, felt like hovering over wide plains and wider homes. Arthur had a hotel room booked for them. It was old in a way that suggested comfort, slightly faded carpets but wood paneling to die for.

He had a hotel room booked and James to fly a kite with, Phil to listen to intently as she grew up quicker than he entirely liked. Eames would teach her how to pick a lock. When the job was done maybe they’d go back to see Lily and Will and Rosie for a bit.

“I haven’t seen much of LA, you know, darling,” Eames said, nuzzling behind his ear. He was lying, but Arthur smiled anyway. “I could use a tour guide.”

~~~

To Know Just How He Suffered Would Be Dear, Emily Dickinson

Don’t Hesitate, Mary Oliver

Frog and Toad Are Friends, Arnold Lobel

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Normal ~ A.L.

A/n: Ah yes, this is going to be fun.

Request: “...Alec lightwood x male reader. Maybe the reader is mundane and shows Alec what it’s like being human for a day and then Alec shows him what it’s like being a shadow hunter. And maybe the whole time Alec is like o my word I love this kid...” by anon

Word Count: 5100+ (this is why it took me so long CHRIST I’m sorry)

MASTERLIST

You know, the thing that kept Mundanes seeing into the world of the Shadowhunters was a funny thing. It was supposed to always work, blocking humans from seeing monsters and those that hunted monsters. The problem was, nothing was perfect. Everyone made mistakes. Everything glitched from time to time.

I guess you could call Y/n a glitch.

The thing that kept humans from seeing things they shouldn't? It didn't work for Y/n.

When Y/n had first been seen facing down a vampire, it had seemed a little odd. The woman the vamp was going after seemed miffed that some dude was cutting in on her date, and everyone was confused. When they had killed the thing and Y/n had thanked them afterward, they'd all assumed he might have been like Clary - unaware of his Shadowhunter background somehow. But he had assured them he was human, and had proved it. Thankfully, since the plan had been to use a rune on him and if they had, he would have absolutely died.

Y/n was just immune to the magic that should have kept him far out of the knowing of what was really going on in the shadows of his town. Which left him unable to do anything, other than gather information and share it when he could. Y/n had no magic and no way to fight when he had no training or run protections, but he did have a talent for tricking monsters with their one weakness. He was human, and they were hungry.

Long story short: Y/n was really good at being bait, and he didn't mind it either.

Alec minded it a lot.

The two boys had gotten close pretty quickly. Alec refused to admit it, but Y/n was pretty charming. He had a nice smile and a contagious laugh, and a sort of lightness about him that was incredibly refreshing. It wasn't that he was untouched by darkness, or that he was fresh and innocent and waiting to be destroyed, like they all were before their line of living had ruined them. Y/n had been aware of monsters all his life, and being surrounded by people who could not see what he could see had landed him in either very near death situations, or mental hospitals a few times before he'd learned how to lie. He'd even been medicated really heavily a few times, but when that had done nothing, Y/n had come to terms that there was something going on that other people couldn't see. He had been in this business for a very long. No, Y/n was just the kind of person that refused to lose that inner child. He was soft and strong, and could make anyone smile and any situation bearable.

The way he made life so much more beautiful drew Alec in so aggressively, the Lightwood boy lost his breath every time.

Y/n was good at getting along with everyone else too. He wasn't good at much other than writing, leaving him to connect with Clary because of the similar vibes of their childhood, as well as their mutual passion for art. He and Simon bonded over poetry as well. Izzy enjoyed having someone who could keep up with her flirting, without it meaning anything or leading to something neither of them wanted. Even Jace was enjoying Y/n's presence when he proved that despite his lack of an ability to fight monsters and the such, Y/n WAS well trained in self defense. The two sparred while Y/n cracked jokes and made Jace laugh. Yeah, the blonde and brooding Jace was actually LAUGHING.

Having Y/n around was very refreshing.

So they all missed him a lot when he wasn't around.

Y/n attended college to chase am Arts History degree, and worked two jobs to keep himself afloat. The day Alec got permission to let Y/n move into the Institute was a great day for everyone. Now he was around a lot more- especially because now that he didn't have to pay rent, he could quit one of his jobs. In his free time, Y/n spent cleaning gear and learning how to hone his lame cooking skills. He wasn't great, but he was better than Izzy and was usually the only one with the energy to try it at the end of the day. When Hodge... went rogue, Y/n took charge of keeping up the Garden and learning all he could about how this world worked so he could take care of things and keep everything running smoothly. This left him spending most of his time in the library, reading up on history books.

One day though, Y/n needed Alec's help. Tensions between the two boys had risen almost to over spilling, but every time Y/n thought they were going somewhere, Alec stepped back. Y/n respected the boy's hesitance and never pushed, but the dragging was getting to everyone else. Izzy especially, who wanted the coolest mundane ever to get with her brother.

That wasn't why Y/n was bothering Alec now though. "Hey can I clean the glowing weapons things, or like... will those kill me?"

Alec couldn't help slip a small smile when he heard Y/n's voice. He turned around to see the boy coming in, a huge book in his hand but a confused look on his face. "Please tell me you're not talking about Seraph Blades."

"Those are the ones," Y/n confirmed without hesitation.

Alec shifted, raising an eyebrow. "They're just... fire."

"Well yes," Y/n drawled, rolling his eyes. "But the tubes. I mean, when they deactivate there's still something there, right? Doesn't that get covered in blood and stuff? Won't it getting all icky mess with the magic? And I've never seen any of them dirty. So do you guys have to clean them, or can I?"

That was very confusing to Alec. "Okay hold on. Have you never seen us kill a demon before?"

Y/n got rather sheepish then. "In my defense, I usually get in the way if I help, so I run unless there's someone in immediate danger. The last time, when I tried to help that girl, I almost got her, myself, AND Jace killed.

Alec flinched at the memory. "Jace is an idiot. Him jumping in when he did was his own fault."

"Wouldn't have been necessary if I wasn't provoking a damn vampire," Y/n mumbled.

"That girl probably would have died if you hadn't. We couldn't have attacked him with her there without chancing hurting her, or exposing ourselves. You saved her." Alec was ready to argue this, far too used to Jace's tendency to see the worst in himself despite the fact that he was actively a hero.

Y/n had to relent. "Fine, whatever. So, the blade?"

"Demons don't bleed," Alec explained. "They... well, it depends on the demons actually. Some turn to dust, or explode into fire. Some just kind of fade away. No need to clean blood off our weapons."

Y/n nodded, but obviously had a follow up question, so Alec waited for him to ask it. "Doesn't the dust get on your clothes? Does the fire ever burn you? Perhaps I should pick up some medical skills as well in case you guys come home hurt. Might make me more useful."

Alec rolled his eyes this time. "If you're seriously stuck on the idea of running this place instead of going out there and working in an art museum like you told Clary is your dream job, I won't stop you. That's not my decision to make." Y/n blushed, but Alec pretended not to see it. "However, if you're going to be one of us there are things you have to understand." He hesitated. "I want you to follow us around me around sometime. I can show you what it's like to be a Shadowhunter. You can even come on a mission if you want, but I want you to stay FAR out of danger, do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Y/n was grinning, and between that and what he had said, Alec felt his chest heat up with a weird emotion he refused to address. "When do we start?"

A soft chuckle came from Alec then. "How about tomorrow? I'll wake you up bright and early, so be prepared."

Y/n nodded eagerly, already walking backward - presumably to return the book so he could head to bed. "Great! See you tomorrow, Alec!" He turned around and jogged away then.

Alec couldn't help himself but appreciate the view as Y/n retreated down the hall. He heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Clary, whose smirk was so wide it wiped the smile off of Alec's face. He turned away from her and moved toward his own room. What had he gotten himself into?

-

When Alec got to Y/n's room that morning, he was expecting to have to wake the other boy up. Unfortunately for him, when he opened the door, Y/n was already awake. And getting dressed. He wore the long, dark pants a lot of the guys around here wore when they weren't in Mundane clothes. He did not, however, have a shirt on. "Oh, good morning Alec," Y/n greeted brightly.

Alec almost exploded right there. Y/n wasn’t especially muscly, but he was rather lean. Y/n did a lot of walking, running, and casual work outs every once in a while before meeting the Shadowhunters. He knew self defense after all, and liked that the occasional work out filled him with energy after a while, even if it tired him out at first. Since joining the Institute though, Jace had enforced a daily workout. Some days Y/n got even more done when the two boys sparred, or when he had to move things around for research (those books were a lot heavier than they looked) or rearranged his room again because he liked to have a new layout every once in a while. Y/n had become the extra pair of hands everyone was excited to have. He was strong enough to spot for a lot of the other Shadowhunters even, leaving him in that comfortable middle between ripped and soft. He had angles and lines, but plenty of soft edges too. He looked like he could pick Alec up and then cuddle him just as easily. It was a body type that looked very good on the boy, and seeing him shirtless did things to Alec that should not have been being done.

It was then that Alec realized Y/n was talking to him. "I'm sorry, what?"

Y/n laughed, shaking his head in amusement. He put a shirt on, leaving Alec wondering if the boy knew what had left Alec so distracted. "I asked you what was first on the agenda today."

"Have you done your morning workout today yet?" Y/n shook his head. "Then that's where we'll start." And they did. Alec pushed himself further usual, and he knew he was doing it to show off to Y/n, but he also knew a little part of him wanted to outshine Y/n too. The boy kept up pretty well, and Alec didn't want to have a Mundane do better than him. After, they got breakfast, parted to shower, and then rejoined again to head to the sparring ring.

"You guys do a lot of training here," Y/n realized aloud.

Thankfully Alec had caught it, because he was super distracted by the way Y/n's wet hair shone under the lighting of the Institute, and the way it made his eyes look brighter. He didn't need to get caught for staring again. "Yeah. It takes up time, but it also keeps us ready for any surprise attacks, and prepared for nighttime hunts." Y/n nodded but didn't say anything else as they reached the rings. Alec grabbed two long staffs, passing one to Y/n as they stepped up to spar. Y/n knew what to do - he did it often with Jace. Alec was sure he'd claim victory over the Mundane.

Which left him rather speechless when Y/n pinned him. They were both out of breath and Y/n loomed over Alec, his feet planted and knees trapping Alec as the end of Y/n's staff rested threateningly against Alec's throat. "You're dead," Y/n joked.

Alec looked at Y/n with new eyes. What was with this guy? Why did Alec have to try so much harder to end up on top? Mundanes were like Clary and Simon, before they'd been trained. Alec could still remember how long both of them had lost time and time again to even the newest and youngest Shadowhunters. How could Y/n win against Alec? "How are you so good at fighting? I thought your thing was writing stories."

Y/n moved back, letting Alec go. He offered a hand and Alec took it. He was once again knocked breathless when Y/n hauled Alec to his feet without seeming to even struggle. "I'm stronger than I look. And... when I was younger, I didn't have shadowhunters and parabatai to have my back. I had to learn how to defend myself. Whether it was running from monsters, or making sure I didn't get pummeled by bigger kids who called me crazy and laughed at me because of the stories I supposedly made up..." He shrugged.

That didn't settle well in Alec's stomach. "I don't think any of us know what it's like to live like that. Clary doesn't remember, and the rest of us grew up with each other. I... I'm sorry, that's terrible."

There was a second when Alec saw the heaviness that Y/n hid so well in the boy's shoulders. Suddenly Alec was stunned by how someone so burdened by pain and sorrow could still radiate so much light and joy and comfort. How did Alec only now know that Y/n was capable of winning against even a well trained Shadowhunter, if he was really trying? Why was it such a shock that someone who grew up with deformed nightmares roaming around, would be able to kick some ass and defend himself? Alec realized then that Y/n made everyone feel safe. Y/n didn't seem able to hurt anyone, even if he wanted to. It made Y/n even more amazing that he was capable of defending someone if he had to, but chose not to in favor of making people feel safe around him. I dare say it made Alec feel even more safe.

Y/n sighed, and the moment passed. He was smiling again and Alec felt his heart swell with a feeling that terrified the dark haired boy. A feeling that also made him feel... really great too. "So what's next on the agenda, Lightwood?" "Jace will have our goal for tonight. Come on." Alec lead the way as they both headed to where Jace was. Alec explained the situation, and with Y/n's assurance he'd be plenty safe, Jace agreed. Y/n had been around a lot, and Alec was right - if he was up keeping the place, he had to know what being a Shadowhunter was actually like. After that had been settled, the trio headed to track down Izzy and Clary for the mission tonight.

"First thing first, Y/n's joining us tonight. He won't be getting involved, and will only be tagging along for educational purposes so he can know what he's dealing with as he gets more involved with how this place work, as well as the people in it," Jace began. Izzy and Clary both nodded, no arguments to be heard. "Okay, now down to business." Long story short, there were two demons who had teamed up and they had to kill it. Usual stuff.

Since when had demons and murder become Y/n's normal? Yikes.

The kill went rather smoothly, just like it was supposed to. It was a nice change from all the odd things that had been rocking everyone's world since Clary, Simon, and Y/n had joined the team. Very good for teaching as well. Y/n stayed back as promised, taking notes mentally and internalizing it. He thought about his thought earlier on how murder and demonic beings had at some point gone from nightmare to reality. Normal, even. For Shadowhunters, there was no shift. They grew up and lived a life where monsters were more than nightmare and you learned to kill from a young age. Perhaps it was fair, since they were bad guys surviving off of killing humans, but still. Alec knew how to kill Y/n. He probably could, if it was required or just if he wanted to. He could do it and he would get away with it too. Shadowhunters leave no trace and no Nephalim was going to care about Y/n being dead.

As the dark thought started to rise, Y/n pushed it down. As much as he seemed a bundle of effortless happiness and light, even he had his moments. He was just better at keeping them in check.

Everyone came home and got ready for bed as Y/n made food. He finished up before anyone came to eat so he killed time by making everyone's plate and putting them on the counter. When he was still alone, he sat on the counter and let himself get lost in thought. Just as he was, Clary popped into the room. "That smells amazing."

Y/n smiled. "I hope it tastes as good as it smells then." They both chuckled as Clary grabbed her plate and began to leave. "Going so soon?"

She nodded. "I have this... it's sort of um..." she seemed to be struggling. "Drawing. Can I show you later?" It was a habit she'd gotten from Y/n, losing her words when she was excited. She had been a little like that before being a Shadowhunter, when it came to art. Y/n fueled it again and set off her fire. She was more into art than ever and Y/n loved to see it, even if it meant one less person at the dinner table.

Y/n had been trying to have family dinners, but most of the time his efforts dissolved. Rarely did he get everyone. Usually he only managed to wrangle a few, and sometimes he ate alone. When a Clary left, it wasn't long before Simon and Izzy meandered in, lost in conversation about something. Y/n wasn't totally listening, as they were obviously midconversation and Y/n was lost as to what they‘d said up until now. They each grabbed a plate and headed out. Y/n sighed and watched them, but still said nothing.

Jace came next. "What did you think about the fight tonight?"

Y/n jumped and then chuckled. Jace gave a sort of guilty look. The blonde tended to hide his emotions, but when it came to Y/n he was always sorry to disturb the boy. Y/n had just seemed very pensive - nearly sad - and Jace hated the expression on Y/n's face. He was too used to the others who were trained to notice other people in the room even if they were quiet.

Quickly composing himself again, Y/n responded. "It was... cool, I guess. You guys are incredibly talented and there's something aesthetic about watching demons vaporize. It gave me a lot to think about."

"Like what?" Have asked, eyebrow cocked.

For a second Y/n hesitated but then Jace doned a prying look and Y/n was a terrible liar so he gave in. "You guys don't know what it's like to be human." Jace's expression darkened and Y/n flinched. "I mean, you have this angel blood that puts you above everyone else. You slay demons and purify the world and handle the boosting power of runes that any other creature would be destroyed by. You know what it's like to be angel. Except maybe the flying." The joke lifted Jace's mood a little. "But you don't know what it's like to... I mean, you're half human. But I can't imagine  any of you getting jobs or going to high school. Being vulnerable without the protection of your runes and the insane immunity they grant you. I mean- like earlier, I realized that Alec could one hundred percent kill me if he wanted to, and he would get away with it. No human would know, and no Nephilim would care so-"

"Clary, Izzy, and I would care." Jace seemed to have not meant to say it out loud. But he had and it stopped Y/n short.

He felt cared for and it made him uncomfortable. Jace could sense that. "Well that's... not the point." He blushed. "But thank you."

Jace nodded, then moved on to spare Y/n. The other boy obviously wasn't used to having people care about him. It made Jace remember that Y/n's life had been really hard. Y/n had spent almost all his life alone. Sometimes it was easy to forget with how kind and loving Y/n was. He was used to taking care of other people but being taken care of? Yikes. "Does it bother you?"

Y/n immediately shook his head. "Not at all. I don't feel in danger, at least. I trust all of you guys and know that none of you want to kill me. It does bother me though that you don't get to experience that normalcy. I mean does anyone here bake just for fun? Or have hobbies outside killing literal demons?" Jace went to speak but Y/n cut him off. "Clary doesn't count, she wasn't raised a Shadowhunter." Jace's mouth closed and Y/n sighed. "I just wish more... safe things for you guys. More fun and laughing and loving and less sneaking around in the shadows and killing. Thinking like that all the time... living a life where you only survive and hide and kill. I can't imagine it does good things for your mental health."

"I'm in perfect health," Jace reassured Y/n.

Y/n rolled his eyes. "No you're-" He stopped, shaking his head. He hesitated, perking up when an idea occurred to him. "What if I incorporated a little humanity into how we run things here? We can have like arts and crafts rooms and encourage people to utilize the library and the garden for things other than just necessities. I can enforce family dinners and we can congregate and have awkward family dinner discussions like normal people."

Jace smiled. "That sounds really nice actually."

That encouraged Y/n a lot. "Perfect, I'll start tomorrow."

"Start what?" Two sets of eyes turned to see Alec coming in the room. His eyes lingered on Jace, who seemed to be light on fire by the eye contact, as he was instantly on his feet, grabbing his plate, and heading out.

"Y/n can explain. He has a really great idea." He paused, smiling wider. "I'll see you at dinner tomorrow." Then he headed out, leaving behind a grinning Y/n. Alec snagged the last two plates, setting one by Y/n and the other on the counter next to him. He then pulled up a chair, turning it backward so the back of the chair was against his chest as he sat down, beginning to eat on the counter rather than the table to keep Y/n company. "What was that?"

Another idea hit Y/n then. "I'm going to bring some goddamn humanity to this Institute. You're all half human and you act like that's a bad thing or something! I'll start with a crafting room, and then using the garden and library for fun stuff instead of just what we need. We'll have a calendar with birthdays and celebrate each one with a proper little get together. AND, we're having family dinners from here on. Spread the word."

The authority in Y/n's tone took Alec off guard. "Will do." He found himself smiling a little. "I show you what it's like to be a Shadowhunter and you took from it that we need to be more human?"

Y/n mulled that over for a second, rather than letting it go as the joke Alec had intended it to be. "I don't want to erase your angel half. I know what you do is important, and that you guys save people and stuff. But even though you do good things for others, none of you do anything for yourselves. Self care isn't just staying in shape and getting food and sleep and healing yourselves when you get hurt. Do you have any hobbies other than fighting, Alec?" The Lightwood boy considered before conceding that Y/n had a point. "You showed me how to be a Shadowhunter. Now let me show you what it's like to be human." Alec's smile grew. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Y/n agreed.

-

The day started the same, with Y/n respecting that Alec still had a routine and also that said routine was one some people carried as well. The waking up early and doing a morning workout, more than the killing demons and keeping vampires, werewolves, and fairies in check, but still.

Next, Y/n pulled him over to his laptop where he was going to online school. As Y/n worked, he answered questions about high school and even middle school. The more he talked the more Alec's face twisted in a bitter expression, like he'd bit into a lemon. Y/n busted up laughing when he got to math and Alec moved away from the screen as if it had offended him. "Not as glamorous as kicking ass and taking names and saving lives and shit, but it's cool. I guess."

Alec shook his head. "Is this... necessary?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Y/n snorted. "Do you use math like this? Ever?" Alec shook his head no. "And you're far more productive than most people who graduate college- and debt free!"

There was a moment where Alec seemed speechless. When he spoke again, it was slow. "This is kind of nice though. Easier to.. handle." He eyed the math page again. "No, I take that back. This is much scarier."

Y/n laughed at that. "Less deadly though. I get it." Alec smiled at him. It was so small it practically wasn't there, but it was, and it was sweet.

After a while, Y/n put his homework away. "That's not due for a while. Having to balance the human world and the shadow world was difficult at first so one night I pulled an all nighter and got weeks ahead on homework. My teachers were a little miffed since thy hadn't taught me the material yet, but easy ones like English were easy to swallow. Just, read a book and write an essay. You know?" Alec did nod knowingly at that. "My point is, we've had enough of this and don't have to finish it for tonight, so now is a good time for a break." He hummed to himself, thinking. "Do you guys have a TV here?" Alec rose his eyebrows. "That's what I thought. Come on we're going to go to my place."

So they did.

Alec had never been to Y/n's apartment before. Y/n had been clearing it out slowly, but there were still some thing here. Things that he couldn't take with him to the institute. Things like the fridge and the big furniture and, yes, the TV. It wasn't that he couldn't fit his bed and couches in the Institute, it was just that it would make it official if he did, and things still seemed to be up in the air for him.

"It's nice." It was perfectly clean and bright. The curtains were drawn to let the sun in and the walls were painted a light baby blue. The whole place made Alec relax his body. He sat on the very comfy couch and practically melted. There was just a sort of ambiance here that gave Alec the impression nothing bad could ever happen here. Which went against logic and reason and experience and training... but I guess that programming wasn't enough to fight the way the couch dipping with Y/n's weight, next to Alec, felt like... safety personified.

The two watched a few movies Alec had never seen or even heard of. Halfway through the Lion King, Alec felt his body lean into Y/n's. Without missing a beat Y/n shifted his arm so Alec could lean into in more, even rest his head on the other man's chest. Every time Y/n moved or laughed or spoke Alec didn't just hear it. He felt it. It was amazing.

All too soon, the sun was down and it was nighttime. "Do you want to watch another one, or should you be heading to bed soon?"

Surprise overtook Alec when he realized what time it was. His body was completely undone and his heart rate had evened out. He'd never been this calm in his life. "I'm surprised Jace hasn't come hunting me down."

That made Y/n smile. "I told him the plan for today. Told him that I was commandeering you and if he showed up to steal you tonight I'd kick his ass personally. I may be a Mundane but that won't stop me from finding a way to knock the blonde out of his hair." A jerking laugh bubbled from Alec then at the mental image of Y/n doing such a thing. "Yeah," Y/n agreed, chuckling along. "Took some convincing to get them to all take the night off. Jace argued, but as much as saving people is important, taking care of yourselves is just as important. And after you showed me what you guys do every single day... Holy shit."

Weird feelings began to twist in Alec's stomach. He could lie very well, about a lot of things. He could lie so convincingly that Jace would back off, and Izzy would let it go. He could lie to his mother to meet her ever demanding expectations. Unfortunately, he could only lie to himself for so long until his realist side kicked in and demanded him to accept what was.

He was in love with Y/n.

Well, shit.

"What are you thinking about over there?"

Alec felt his stomach flip. Double shit.

"Just... uh." He flinched at his sudden awkwardness. Y/n frowned, noticing it since they were so close. "I just want to thank you. The way you've thrown yourself into our lives and way of living and have done your best to keep everything going and then improve upon it? It's amazing. You work really hard to make life better for us."

Y/n swallowed, his face relaxed but his eyes intense. There was something in those eyes that was begging to be seen and known, but Alec was too scared to acknowledge it. What if Y/n could see through him and wanted to just be friends? What if Y/n was trying to be polite? But if that was the case, wouldn't he have pushed Alec away? Why was he pulling him closer?

Then they were kissing and it was all because of Y/n and Alec didn't have any doubts anymore.

When they parted again, Alec's mind was racing and Y/n's voice was soft. "I'll always be here Alec. All I want to do is make your life better and easier and more pleasant. You deserve it."

This time Alec kissed Y/n, and it lasted much longer and was much more intense. When they parted for the second time, Alec whispered, "Will you move in for real? I want you around all the time. I want you close and safe and I don't want you to go anywhere else. I don't want you to have to."

Y/n smiled. "Anything for you."

-

Male reader tags: @sheepfather​

[ohmypreciousgirl]

Xicheng AU Rec List

This time I compiled my favorite AU fics for @waterandsilver! Hope everyone will enjoy this list too ♥

Just Two Lost Souls 46,978

Even if it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife, husband, or companion, all Jiang Cheng really wants is to run his company, take care of his pets, and maybe get some sleep. Unfortunately the new job promotion to CEO comes with a loaded social calendar and a need for some sort of companion.

So clearly the most sensible answer is to start dating the man he's had a crush on since he was a teenager.

Because nothing could go wrong there. Sequels: Hold Me Like You Want Me; I Am Yours, If You Are Mine; Jiang Cheng and the Lans; You Get a Torch and a Flame and Burn The Path You Want.

i don't really care how much silence kills me 15,611 [Part 1 of all the lights couldn't put out the dark] It’s been around 2 years since Jiang Cheng has last seen to his brother, and a little over a year since the last time he spoke to him, when they locked eyes at Nie Huaisang’s art exhibition. Jiang Cheng had only come because Huaisang had explicitly promised him he wouldn’t be here. He knows Wuxian and Wangji have just moved back into the area after traveling, and he has every intention of avoiding them at all costs, just like he avoids his college-era crush Lan Xichen. 

But it would seem that the universe has other ideas.

charcoal on newsprint 2,151 [Part 1 of fine art] Xichen distantly realizes that there is no way Huaisang had actually told Jiang Cheng that this is a nude modeling session. He can already hear Jiang Cheng’s clear baritone, dripping with sarcasm, telling the entire dinner table “So, Zewu Jun wanted me naked in front of all his students.” at the next Lan-Jiang family dinner.Uncle is going to have his head. 

Madam Yu is going to skewer him alive before that. Or, Jiang Cheng models for life drawing in his spare time.

Family 2,514 [Part 1 of The Lan-Jiang Family] Jiang Cheng stops dead in the doorway as he takes in the horrendous state the apartment is in; toys and clothes everywhere, new furniture, child-furniture, all over the place, and no matter where Jiang Cheng’s gaze drops, it’s been taking over by stuff that belongs to a child.

A child that is still screaming, almost drowning out Lan Xichen’s attempts to calm it down.

“What the actual fuck is happening here?” Jiang Cheng blurts out and while it does nothing to stop the child from screaming, Lan Xichen freezes.

Worthy of a god 1,859 [Part 1 of The most faithful] Jiang Cheng knows that there is a chance Chifeng-zun will choose him; he is the god of war and rage and ever since Jiang Cheng was old enough to scowl there had been talk at Lotus Pier, how well he would fit with that.

But Jiang Cheng also knows that there is a bigger chance of no god choosing him at all.

Not just a vacation [Part 1 of The best catch] The next night Lan Xichen goes back to the beach. He keeps out of sight at first, hoping to catch the man unawares first, his mind still reeling from the research he did during the day.

It’s probably not what Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji wanted for him when they sent him on this vacation, but Lan Xichen needs to know what’s going on here. The only thing his research turned up were tales of mermaid and Lan Xichen is not ready to believe that.

Until he catches sight of a rather huge tail, flapping out of the water.

What Happens in Vegas Comes Home to Taiwan 3,120 [Part 1 of What Happens in Vegas] What do you do when your brother is getting married to someone you can’t stand?

The answer probably shouldn’t be to marry his brother, but in Lan Xichen’s defense, he didn’t know Las Vegas would allow drunk people to tie the knot at three o’clock in the damn morning.

A Lionheart 19,916 Wherein Xichen is a Crown Prince and Jiang Cheng is his bodyguard.

Emergency Help Wanted 76,819 EMERGENCY HELP WANTED I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.

how to not fall in love in a broken elevator 2,741 [Part 1 of a guide to falling in love (for runaways and heirs)] Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen get stuck in an elevator together.

Stream 4,494 He’s in love with Lan Xichen.

Jiang Cheng blinks once, twice and allows the feeling to fill him completely, at least once, before he ruthlessly squashes it down and locks it into the deepest parts of himself.

By the time Lan Xichen stops laughing and turns his attention back to Jiang Cheng, it’s as if nothing ever happened. Sequel: Umbrella - Savor

Jiang Cheng knows what he’s worth, after all, and it’s definitely not enough for the First Jade of Gusu.

How to get revenge on your brothers: A Guide by Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen 8,339 “That’s it. That’s the solution.”

Jiang Cheng opened an eye confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a weird light in Lan Xichen’s eyes and for a moment Jiang Cheng thought the other had gone crazy. “We will make them understand what it feels like seeing their brothers being… intimate with each other.”

Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities 80,575 Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.

do you eat pringles with or without the shell? 32,291 Wei Wuxian smiles at him, the bastard. “I’m proud of you for figuring this out. That means Xichen-ge is your gay awakening.”

“Don’t put it like that,” Jiang Cheng sighs but he isn’t wrong.

All This Could Be Yours 17,337 After transferring to the main branch of his family’s publishing business and into his newly-acquired responsibilities as its CEO and managing director, Lan Huan finds himself stressed and burnt out. His brother recommends a solution.

Jiang Cheng is too gay to deal with this shit.

how should i know what tomorrow will bring 1,630 “If they can’t accept the fact that Jin Ling will always be there, then they might as well fuck off.” Jiang Cheng points out.

“Well, sure.” Wei Wuxian concedes. “But you don’t even give them time to know if they want to be involved with you before you’re kicking them away. That’s not how first dates are supposed to go.”

“How would you know,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, annoyed that Wei Wuxian is right. This time. “You haven’t been on a date since like, 2002.”

Children's Secrets 5,225 Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen swap nephews for a weekend. Some revelations are made.

the Magical-Realism of Awkwardness 10,168 Jiang Cheng thinks things can't get worse when he is forced to third wheel Wei Wuxian and Lanzhan's date.

Then Lan Xichen shows up and proves that things damn well can.

(Or, what shapes up to be one of the worst days of Jiang Cheng's life takes an entirely different turn.)

in the incense is tangled a cool moon 3,614 Some loves aren't meant to be, Wanyin knows. 

Pay me in love 2,770 Madame Yu watches Lan Xichen walk away, until he is out of earshot, before she turns towards Jiang Cheng.

“What are you paying him?” she wants to know and Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare dumbly at her.

“What?” he asks when she doesn’t say anything else.

“Did you really think I would believe you’re dating Lan Xichen, CEO of Lan Enterprises? Nice try, Jiang Cheng. Now tell me what you’re paying him.”

a slight tilt of perception 5,238 It was just a dance. 

Jiang Cheng, trying to avoid the society matrons and their matchmaking-themed whispers, accepted a dance invitation from Lan Xichen, an old friend.

He forgot that his dance partner was probably the most eligible bachelor in the room.

He forgot that was all it could take: a moment, a look, hands intertwined in a dance—and everything could change.

Not at all fake 3,070 “Tomorrow,” Jiang Cheng gives back and then makes a noise as if he’s dying. “Fucking hell, I’m a dead man. If I show up tomorrow without anyone in tow—without someone in tow who can give Lan Wangji a run for his money—then I am dead.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Lan Xichen says “Take me.”

Jiang Cheng blinks a few times, processing the words, but even after a full minute they don’t make any sense.

For better, for worse 6,713 People forget marriage vows are more than pretty words. It's easy to honor them when it comes to good things but they're easily forgotten when it comes to darker times. Lan Huan, however, always keeps them in mind. To love someone like Jiang Cheng, who wears his emotions on his sleeve due his terrible parents, is to remember that love is not simple.

Glow 3,033 [Part 1 of Eldritch!Lans AU] Jiang Cheng carefully turns his head, maybe the absence of his boyfriend is what woke him up, but when he looks at Lan Xichen’s side, he’s met with something so dark it even stands out against the darkness of the night.

There’s a void next to him in bed and Jiang Cheng throws himself out of it, Zidian already crackling and sparking, illuminating the room in a faint purple.

White Lotus in Bloom 7,147 As the Crown Prince from Gusu Lan visiting YunMeng Jiang, Lan Huan was beyond excited to attend the region's famous Lotus Festival, where he meets a boy in purple and black.

Never Had I Ever 56,263 Nie Mingjue is almost certain that Jin Guangyao has an ulterior motive for dating his best friend, Lan Xichen. However despite voicing his concerns, his best friend seems unconvinced and Lan Xichen continues to date the said man. Unable to give up just yet, Nie Mingjue tries a different tactic--convincing his best friend the man is not the right person for him by setting him up. Fortunately for him, Wei Wuxian's youngest brother is very much single and seems to be just the kind of person his best friend needs. Can Jiang Cheng truly change Lan Xichen's mind, or will Nie Mingjue's plan is a disaster from the beginning?

As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.

Comfort 1,838 Wei Wuxian always pisses him off, this is common between them. Some fights, however, make Jiang Cheng sad enough to lock himself away from people and Lan Xichen has taken on the role of always being there to comfort him.

midnight comforts 1,946 At 11:36 his phone buzzed next to his ear. Lan Huan had a strict sleeping routine, but even so he was a fairly light sleeper. He answered the call—no one he knew would call him this late without reason—and murmured a groggy greeting.

“Lan Huan?”

He sat up, already rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“A-Cheng?”

“I know it’s late,” he started, voice sounding odd through the phone, “but you,” he stopped again with a gasp. Now that he was more alert, Lan Huan realized with mounting horror that the hitch in his breath, the odd thickness, was from crying. “You said I could come over whenever,” he finished, voice much shakier.

To The Beat 1,859 [Part 1 of Fever]

"The bathroom is over there you fuc--"

His words caught in his throat as he saw the person on the other side. He looked a lot like Wei Ying's boyfriend, but he was smiling and his eyes were somehow kind; comparatively, the most expression he'd ever seen on Lan Zhan's face was mild disdain.

Jiang Cheng must have been staring dumbly for a while because the man cleared his throat. There was a blush rising on his cheeks, and oh fuck, that was kind of cute.

"I apologize for interrupting your night. I was told that this room was where the people who were 'no fun' were supposed to go," the man said. His voice was deep and somehow just as smooth as his skin, which was flawless.

It Took Me So Long To Find You 6,349 [Soulmate AU]

But it didn’t take him too long to realize that he was simply not worthy of the other.

So he hoped at least that they could become friends.

Lotus Pier burned down before Jiang Cheng could think of telling Lan XiChen. And after the Sunshot Campaign, he understood, being Lan XiChen’s soulmate would not just be a burden to the other, it would be a curse.

paint my skies with your skin 15,473 [Soulmate AU] “There’s no point in this, is there?” Jiang Cheng scoffs, “We both know I am not who you want your soulmate to be.”

“Soulmate or not, you have my heart and my ribbon. Only if you want it, Wanyin.”

once upon a dream 18,438 [Part 1 of once upon a dream] An au where your dreams are small snippets of your soulmate’s day. They’d show small things like buying coffee, reading a book, or hanging out with people from their perspective.

The problem was that people always have expectations and Jiang Cheng knows he always falls short of them. Time and time again.

[softmakoharus]

makoharu story: day off

(based on the new art) imagine haru calls makoto one evening. m: ah, i was just about to call to ask if you want to hang out tomorrow, since it's our day off. h: i was calling for the same reason. m: (laughs) then i guess the answer is yes. there's this place tono-kun told me about. h: a cafe? m: it's a cafe where you can also play board games, darts, pool— h: pool? m: (laughs) like billiards. h: oh. m: it's for socializing, but i don't think people will be there early. h: ok. it doesn't really sound that interesting to haru, but he'll go if makoto wants to. m: was there somewhere you wanted to go? h: there's a new coral reef exhibit at the aquarium. m: ok! we could do that first and then the other place for lunch. h: sure. m: i'll meet you at your place in the morning. h: around 11? m: got it! see you then, haru. h: see you.

the next morning, they meet as planned and have a good time at the aquarium. haru was completely captivated by the colorful fish, and makoto couldn't stop himself from taking a lot of pictures of haru happily watching them. >>🐟 aquarium details 🐠<< on the train ride, makoto pulls up the cafe's menu so they can decide what to order for lunch. when they arrive, they're in awe of how nice it looks. soft sunlight shines in, illuminating everything with a gentle glow. it gives a relaxing and refreshing feel to the place. m: it seems we're the only ones here. h: mm. just us and... plants. m: (laughs) there are a lot. i wonder if they sell any. h: you don't need more. m: i'd like to get a big one for the balcony. h: just take one. they won't notice. m: (laughs) you're going to get us kicked out. h: should we order our food? m: i’ll do that. you can sit down. h: you don’t have to get mine... m: it’s fine! i kind of dragged you here. mackerel confit, right? h: right. m: ok, i'll meet you at the table. haru takes a seat near the pool table as an older couple walks in. the woman sits down at a small table next to the window, while the man grabs a jigsaw puzzle from the shelf. haru gets the impression that they must come here often, and he smiles while trying not to watch too intently. makoto soon returns holding bubble tea and a coffee cup. m: i asked and they said they only sell little succulents. h: like the ones on your desk? m: mm. why are you looking at me funny? h: bubble tea. is that why you wanted to come here? m: (laughs) well it was one of the factors. try your coffee. h: why are you being pushy? m: no reason! go ahead. h: suspicious. what is it? m: a new flavor they have. haru takes a sip. m: pumpkin spice. h: it’s good. what flavor did you get? m: pumpkin spice. h: popular flavor. m: (laughs) it is. do you want to try playing pool while we wait? h: you know how? m: there’s a place close to campus i’ve been to a couple times after class. i’ll teach you! h: oh, ok. makoto grabs a pool stick and hands one to haru. m: so to start, i’ll break, and then we’ll go from there. he positions the cue ball and leans down to take the shot but hits it too lightly, and the ball barely moves. m: ah... i’ll try again. h: is that allowed? m: (laughs) i think it's ok for new players. makoto hits it harder this time. the balls scatter, and haru stares a little too long at makoto's face that's beaming with pride. m: ah! one of them went in! h: (smiles) good job. m: oh, thanks. makoto blushes and rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed to be praised so blatantly by haru. h: i mean, nothing went flying off the table. yet. m: (laughs) i know my own strength! h: we'll see. makoto bends over to take another shot and successfully hits the blue #10 into the side pocket. this time, he doesn't react. haru can't help but marvel at how professional he suddenly looks. even though it's just a friendly game, he's become incredibly serious and focused. makoto puts his hand on his chin and ponders, thinking before taking another shot. this one is unsuccessful. m: ah, your turn. since i'm stripes, you're solids. h: maybe i wanted stripes. m: (laughs) it's too late for that! h: if i lose, that's why. m: (laughs) fair enough. haru smiles and spots what should be an easy shot. he tries to mimic how makoto was shooting, but it feels unusual enough that it can't be right. how does he place his hand on the table? how hard does he hit? why is he so nervous?! m: are you trying for the purple one? h: mm. makoto steps around to haru's left side and bends down beside him, as if he were about to take the shot himself. haru tightens his grip on the pool stick when he feels makoto reach over his back to set his own hand right behind haru's. m: hold it kind of loosely. h: r-right. m: and your other hand can go like this. makoto gently pulls haru's left hand over a little, positioning it behind the cue ball. he moves the tip of the pool stick to demonstrate how it glides over the top. m: (blushes) see? your hand makes a bridge. h: (blushes) got it. makoto folds his arms on the table and continues to lean down next to haru. haru exhales, and in an act of utter stupidity, he makes the mistake of glancing at makoto. his face is so close! and he looks so cute!! haru can tell he's sincerely hoping the ball makes it in. determined to elicit a proud smile and perhaps a congratulatory high five, haru returns his focus and— SHIT. somehow the cue ball jumps into the air and flies off the table. too much determination! h: s-sorry! makoto quickly fetches the ball, placing it back where it was. m: (smiles) i guess you don't know your own strength. haru can't conceal his smile at the playful jab. h: shut up. m: it was actually a good shot. h: it obviously wasn't. m: (laughs) no, really! just flatten your hand a little, and use less of an angle this time. haru sighs, frustrated, and bends down again to line up the shot. he does as makoto suggested. the ball he was aiming for just barely misses the pocket. m: ah, so close! h: did you set that up for me? m: what? h: your shot before. it didn't even come close to hitting anything. m: (laughs nervously) just a coincidence. h: i see. well, it's your turn again. m: oh, right. makoto surveys the table, pausing, thinking, planning. the intensity in his face shows that he's not holding back at all, and it makes haru's heart beat rapidly. the view from where haru stands is perfection. he doesn't want to take his eyes off of him, but he must, just for a second, so that he can take advantage of makoto's focus. he turns and quickly grabs his phone without being noticed and takes a picture as makoto leans down. he hopes the camera was able to capture not only makoto's resolve, but also the way his shirt hangs from his chest, the slightest narrowing of his eyes, and the small twitch of his forearm muscles. maybe that's asking too much. he'd be better off just hoping it's not blurry. really, a video would have been better. then he'd also have makoto's small satisfied smile when he makes the shot feeling haru's gaze, makoto looks up and sees him smiling. m: what? h: nothing. m: (smiles) what is it? h: you're a... what do they call it? pool shark. m: (laughs) shut up, i'm not that good. i haven't played much. h: you keep saying that. m: it's true! h: it's a little annoying. m: what is? h: how quickly you catch on to things like this. sports and games, that sort of thing. m: it's just hitting a ball with a stick. h: no, i can see you strategizing where to hit it. and you did set me up for that shot before. m: well, i might have... haru smiles again. it's too embarrassing to say something like "it's an admirable trait" or "you're amazing." he blushes, realizing he already said too much. back in school, their gym classes would rotate different activities and sports. somehow, makoto had a natural talent and enjoyment for all of them. he could have done anything, but he chose swimming—or rather, he chose haru. even back then, haru couldn't help but notice that. h: don't go easy on me. m: (laughs) i had to give you a chance. h: i got it now. m: ok. they continue the game while they wait for their food. haru starts to feel more like he's gotten the hang of it and even makes a few shots himself, but he's no match for makoto. they clean up and sit back down at their table. m: that was fun, right? h: it wasn't bad. makoto smiles and takes a sip of his bubble tea. the intense focus from before is gone for now. haru knows this cute smiling makoto makes his heart beat rapidly, too. m: maybe i'll tell tono-kun to invite us the next time he comes here. we could play on teams. h: you want me on your team? m: of course! h: we'll lose for sure. m: (laughs) no we won't! anyway, i don't care if we win or not as long as we can play together. h: (blushes) oh... m: i'm going to look around a little. i want to see what games they have. h: ok. haru watches him walk away. it's clear makoto planned this from the start and brought haru here alone so he could get a feel for the place without anyone else to bother them. that way, he'd feel more comfortable coming out when this place is busier. sneaky, but also effective. haru smiles a little as he realizes he's actually kind of looking forward to it.in fact, he and makoto should probably come back again soon to get in some more practice. makoto pulls a book from one of the shelves and starts to read it. quickly, haru grabs his phone. this is revenge for all the pictures makoto took of him at the aquarium. that's all. it's not like he's going to look at these later, repeatedly. maybe he should take a few more. makoto returns to the table just as the food arrives and sets down a box beside their plates. h: what's this? m: triple chocolate mousse! i ordered it impulsively at the last second. h: (smiles) i mean the game. m: oh! (laughs) does it look familiar? we played it a lot as kids. h: ah... that's right, i remember. the objective is to visit all the animals at the zoo. we're a little old for this. m: well, there's not really any strategy involved, so we have an even playing field. h: what's that supposed to mean? m: (laughs) either of us could win. h: fine, if i win, you have to let me buy lunch tomorrow. m: and what if i win? h: i'll buy lunch tomorrow. m: (laughs) ok. do you want to come back here? h: sure. m: oh, before i forget. makoto gets up and crouches beside haru to take a picture together. he returns to his seat. h: are you messaging that to someone? m: tono-kun. later will you send me the pictures you took? h: (blushes) me? i didn't— i didn't take any. m: really? the one when i was playing? and just now when i was standing over there? h: oh... those pictures. i forgot. m: (laughs) mm. h: are you going to make a photo album? m: there's a website that can print them into books. i thought it would be a nice way to organize my pictures. h: it's a good idea. m: actually, i... (blushes) i was going to give you one. h: really? m: it kind of became a book about us. h: (blushes) i have more pictures i can send you. m: ok! i'll bring my laptop tomorrow and show you what i have so far. h: (smiles) sure. they both return their attention to their food, finishing their meals in silence, embarrassment mitigated by unrelenting happiness. haru glances to the older couple finishing their puzzle. he supposes he'll see them again tomorrow. he smiles at how easy it is to imagine him and makoto in their places. that will be them someday. maybe not here, but definitely together, continuing to make memories with each other.

[sprnklersplashes]

work-love balance (rejanis one shot)

There are a number of reasons Regina wishes she didn’t have this job.

For one, the uniform is gross. And yeah the uniform is just an apron but it’s a gross apron. It’s navy, that’s all that needs to be said about it. Second, she’s realised she hates dealing with people. Not all people, there are a few that are okay, but some people are just so, so hard. And since she’s already on her second warning from her manager, she can’t tell someone to shove it whenever they snap their fingers at her, or don’t say thank you, or refuse to tip. She just has to swallow her pride, paint a smile on her face and complain when it’s quiet. Thirdly, it’s coming up to Christmas now which means she has to deal with Mariah Carey being played on a constant loop or six hours straight and not even Jolly St Nick himself could put up with that.

And fourth and most important; it eats into her Janis time.

Senior year is hard for both of them, especially now with finals coming up and work starting on their college applications. Janis is swamped with artwork, her hands constantly covered in paint, and Regina can barely breathe with all the assignments she has to get done. Where weekends were once for movie nights and coffee dates are now booked through with studying and projects and their conversations happening almost completely through the phone. They kept themselves busy enough earlier, with Regina’s lacrosse and Janis’ various extracurriculars, but now it seems that neither one can fit the other into their schedule. And believe it when they say they’re trying.

“Okay,” Janis sighs. They sit at an empty cafeteria table, a soft silence about the room at this early hour. Since the only time they see each other is in school, they agreed to come in early to try to work some sort of plan out. Regina was fine with it because she’d have been up anyway, Janis on the other hand was a little harder to persuade. A little begging, a lot of pleading, and a promise of a coffee on her swung it in the end. “Okay, so Monday is out, you have lacrosse training. Tuesday I have to study for my biology final. What about Wednesday?”

“I can’t,” she sighs. “Group project to work on. And then job-work after that. Thursday?”

“The talent show has their tech rehearsal. And they need the whole team down there.” Janis takes a long drink of her coffee, a scowl etched onto her face. Regina knows Janis loves doing the techy stuff for the school shows, and she outdoes herself every year, but she simply wishes that this year she’d have skipped it. Regardless of how good it looks on the college application. “Friday night?”

“More lacrosse practice,” Regina grumbles. “And I’m working.”

“Saturday and Sunday?”

“Work, work, work. Both in the school and the job.” Her head falls onto her arms, a low groan emitting from her and shaking the table. She feels Janis’ hand on her back making soft, reassuring pats and it makes her feel a little better, especially with her girlfriend mutters “there, there” in a half-joking, half-serious way that only Janis could pull off. A smile curls on her mouth, even if it’s muted by the rest of her frustrations.

“I just miss you,” she says, her head back up. “I miss how things used to be with us. You know…” She grins slyly, her finger tracing across the table until it reaches Janis’. “You and me. My room. Laptop between us.” Her fingers slowly interlink with Janis’ and she watches as the faintest hint of a blush creeps across her girlfriend’s cheeks. “Your head on my shoulder… us sharing the same blanket.”

“Stop,” she says softly, her voice so close to a plea. “You’re making me nostalgic.” She lets out a wistful sigh then, her thumb rubbing the back of Regina’s hand and sending goosebumps up her arms. “I miss you too. I mean who else is going to stop me from going crazy?”

“Thought that was Damian’s job.”

“Damian’s job is to keep me crazy.” She winks then and now it’s Regina’s turn to blush. “Your job is to keep me crazy.”

“My mistake,” she chuckles. Janis lifts her hand and presses a kiss to her fingers, her eyes never leaving hers, telling her she’s forgiven.

There’s a sort of breathless excitement she’s started feeling since dating Janis, and it comes in the small moments like this. Those moments have been so few and far between recently that Regina’s almost forgotten what that felt like, but here it is. The way her heart picks up just slightly, the way her veins seem to hum beneath her skin, the little soft feeling that unfurls in her stomach, all making her feel good-really, truly good-for the first time in a long, long time.

It doesn’t last long though, the bell ringing rudely and cutting into their alone time, and so they head off together, pinkie fingers linked, both hoping that somehow, they’ll find more time this week. She knows that it’s not likely, but if her relationship with Janis has taught Regina anything, it’s that miracles can happen. Sometimes they just need a little push.

Regina spies her opportunity for a ‘little push’ on Friday night. As per usual, the mall is absolutely packed with Christmas shoppers-parents buying for kids, teens getting Secret Santas and young men trying desperately to find a good gift for a girl who probably expects a ring. The mall is utterly flooded with people everywhere you look and that means that the line for Regina’s little milkshake shop is at least a mile long. She’s not been here an hour and both she and her colleague, a little wisp of a thing named Clara, both have headaches from the amount of screaming children and her cheeks sting from the smile plastered on her face. She’s been keeping score since she got here and so far there’s been three assholes telling them to hurry up and two Karens chastising her for her lack of customer service skills.

She wishes so badly she didn’t need this job, otherwise she’d flip each and every one of them off. Or, she would if she could remember their faces, but as she takes orders and turns around they all blend into one, and she doesn’t see them again until she’s shouted “small Skittles shake!” for the third time and the owner finally, finally comes forwards.

So all in all, she’s exhausted.

“Seriously,” she pants when she line dies down. “Who the heck wants milkshakes in December? Or ice cream? Why do we still sell that.”

“The kids,” Clara explains with a vague wave. “You know… kids like ice cream. And parents just want to shut them up.”

“Reminds me why I’m never having kids,” she scoffs and Clara actually laughs at that. She’s not so bad, not at all. She’s good fun and she’s nice, which is all you could want in a work buddy.

They serve the last few customers, and Regina wonders if she’ll actually be able to take a break, run down to the food court and get herself a sandwich, only to look up and find the manager appearing in front of them, carrying two cardboard boxes on his shoulder.

“You said you were running out of cones?” he asks.

“Did we?” She turns and looks and yep, their supply of cones has dwindled to almost nothing at all. Clara must have find a second, if even, to send him a text. “Oh yeah, thanks.”

“How have things been over here?”

“Well we’re alive,” Regina sighs. “Barely, but we’re alive. We made a lot of money if that’s what you’re interested in.”

“Oh, sounds good,” he says. “And Regina… you’re good to close up shop?”

“Yes I am,” she says through gritted teeth. He nods at that and gives her a brief, clipped thank you before asking her for the delivery receipts and heading on his merry way, back to his comfy office and his comfy office chair while they remain on their feet for the next few hours, serving customer after customer until they collapse. And then, with Clara leaving soon (she deserves it after all), Regina’s left to shut down all by herself…

Hang on. Lightbulb moment.

“Clara.” She grabs the other girl by the shoulder, her eyes wide and a smile tugging on the corners of her lips. “Can you hold the fort down while I go on my break?”

The girl hasn’t even finished saying ‘sure’ before Regina is gone, flying down the halls and pushing past people as fast her legs can carry her, her months of lacrosse training finally being useful. She makes a quick pitstop at the foodcourt and grabs herself some dinner before sitting down at an empty table and whipping her phone out, mistyping the number twice in her excitement.

Janis picks up on the second ring and that’s still not fast enough.

“Regina?”

“Hey,” she says through a mouthful of noodles, a small prick of anxiety in her gut. “Okay, so what are you doing tonight?”

“Um, nothing I guess,” she says. “Homework, art, watching Netflix. Why?”

“Because I have an idea,” she begins. “For us.”

“Oh do share.”

“It’s a surprise.” She can practically see Janis’ face falling. She hates surprises, and that’s what makes this fun. “I just need you to trust me on this.”

“Okay… I trust you,” she says in the least-convincing voice Regina has ever heard.

“Perfect,” she says. “Just get here late and hang around until 9 okay?”

“9? The mall closes at 9.”

“9:15 actually.” She wolfs down some more noodles. “Just be subtle when you get in here, okay? Be sneaky.”

“And then you’ll reveal to me your mysterious plan?”

“I promise.” She hears Janis laughing then and oh what that sound does to her heart.

“Okay. I better get some studying done then before I get there.”

“And I need to finish my food. Oh and Janis-” she interjects. “Bring your laptop. And your charger. Just in case, you know?”

And it’s the long, confused ‘okay’ from Janis that makes this all so worthwhile.

The mall is practically deserted when Regina switches off the sign and gets out the brush and pan. Normally the clean-up process is painfully slow, what with the dozens of things that need doing and Regina feeling utterly drained by the end of the night. But tonight she’s found a source of energy she didn’t know she had, one that has everything to do with her girlfriend, and she wipes down surfaces and brushes the floors in double quick time and throws things in the fridge with no rhyme or reason. She sprints out to the dumpster with the trash and back again in less than ten seconds, determined that nothing and no-one cuts into her time with Janis. She’s so focussed on her mental to-do list that she doesn’t even notice a person coming up behind her, not until she hears those dreaded words-

“Hi can I get a large Reese’s milkshake?”

Oh for the love of-

But her rant is stopped entirely when she turns and sees only Janis, chuckling on the opposite side of the counter, hair slightly damp and her backpack on her shoulders, a self-satisfied gleam in her eyes.

“Asshole,” she sighs. “That’s what you are. An absolute asshole.” She waves her hand. “Come on in, asshole.”

“Oh someone’s been busy,” she comments. “You know, I did get a little worried when I didn’t receive one snapchat from you about how much you hate the closing shift.”

“Oh shut up.” She checks that the coast is clear and then pulls down the shutter, with them still inside. Thankfully she had the foresight to slip the stepstool underneath it, preventing them from being shut in completely, but Janis’ eyebrows still shoot up, her mouth hanging half-open in a silent scream of oh my god my girlfriend’s finally lost it.

“Regina…” she begins. “Please look me in the eyes and tell me you are not locking me in a milkshake store with you. Please, tell me that.”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m not locking us in. What I am doing is having an amazing idea for a date night.”

“Which is…” Regina gestures around them.

“Look around,” she says. “We’re alone. We have all the ice cream we can eat. We have sparkly lights. And you have your laptop, so we can whack on something cute. Or something dark if you’re into it.” She shrugs. “I thought if my job interrupts our dates, maybe we could have a date at work.”

For two seconds, maybe less, a cold fear washes over her as she waits for Janis’ reaction. Maybe this is too far, maybe she already had plans, maybe she doesn’t want to sit on a dirty floor with her.

Or maybe, she’s throwing her arms around her and the force of her body is throwing them back. Maybe she’s giggling into her shoulder and rocking the two of them gently, her smile brighter than any of the lights and sweeter than any of the candy around them.

“This is amazing,” she whispers. “You’re amazing. Maddening and possibly crazy, but amazing.”

She kisses her then and Regina wonders how she can still get butterflies in her stomach, even now.

They sit down on the floor, using their jackets as impromptu blankets, and Regina grabs some ice cream from the freezer, settling on Rocky Road after some deliberation, while Janis opens up her laptop. The heat from the computer contrasts with the coldness of the ice cream, both balanced across their legs, and it’s an odd sensation to say the least, but Regina doesn’t care.  They keep the ice cream close by and the toppings even closer; Janis has already covered her servings in chocolate sauce, and of course, rainbow sprinkles. The opening credits of To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before play onscreen, which Janis swears she only watches because Regina likes it so much, but she’s heard the muffled squeals behind her hand. She knows how she feels and one day she’ll get her to admit it.

But for now she just leans her head on Janis’ shoulder and snuggles into her. Janis presses a kiss to her head, slow and soft and so precious and Regina concludes that if they get trapped in here overnight, it won’t be so bad. Not if there’s Janis.

[youllallriseintheink]

Between Worlds

Well, you guys asked for a story about these cryptids after I finished Prison Cell. Well, I couldn’t get all of them into one one-off, obviously, but I hope you like it! There is going to be some Creatorship. Also, cryptids in this story aren’t a metaphor for disabilities, homosexuality, or anything else- they’re just cryptids.

---

It was the night after Henry’s senior prom. He had had a great time dancing with his friends and could have almost pretended that everything in his life was normal.

Most people knew that Henry was mute, but most didn’t know that he didn’t need to sleep or eat. Most didn’t know that he could sense other cryptids in the surrounding area. When he was a kid, he had made the mistake of telling someone about a cat-like one that he’d seen rummaging in the trash. Having to see it wrestled to the ground and shot minutes later had taught him to never do so again, and certainly to never reveal his own differences to full humans. There were maybe six cryptids in Henry’s home town. Henry knew their location, and knew that all but one of them weren’t doing well. He even remembered when one of them- one of them hardly older than Henry was now- had died. It was like a light going off on a radar board. Henry thanked his lucky stars every day that he looked human and could live a human life. Most weren’t. Most couldn’t.

Henry didn’t communicate with most of the cryptids in his area. He’d already befriended one, and taking care of him was work enough for Henry.

He’d been six years old when he’d found Joey rummaging through their cupboards at night. Joey had been small, then, and a bit more animalistic, with his gangly too-long limbs and crow-skull face. Joey had explained to Henry that his parents had abandoned him, and Henry had allowed Joey to sleep in his bed that night. From that point on, Henry kind of looked after Joey, even as he got bigger and harder to manage.

It was a thankful thing that Henry didn’t have to sleep. It had allowed Henry to go out on his own at night. It was at night that he could play with Joey. It was also at night that they, thankfully, found an abandoned house in the woods where Joey could stay at. It was a good thing, too- little six-year-old Joey could hide in Henry’s room easily enough, but since then he’d grown from having the body of an awkward, bipedal fawn to being easily seven feet tall and somewhat more proportionate. He’d gotten scarier-looking, too. Maybe the little crow skull and baby claws he’d once had would have gained him some sympathy back then. The fearsome talons he had now? The elegant curved skull with the terrifyingly long, sharp beak? Not so much.

It didn’t help that Joey had done some pretty shocking things to survive at this point. Muggings. Hunting the wild animals around his home with his bare hands. Thievery, including robbing people’s houses and on occasion shredding their guard dogs to ribbons with his claws. Henry had gotten a job as soon as he was old enough so he could to help pay Joey’s living expenses- again, not having to sleep was a benefit, and few people understood how Henry managed to keep on top of his studies while working so hard. Of course, Joey still stole sometimes, mostly out of necessity.

Despite the challenges, though, Henry did love Joey and understood that he didn’t choose to be like this, and it was nice to have someone he didn’t have to hide his cryptid nature from. That was why he was heading to Joey’s house in the woods- it was high time that they had a talk about the future. In the past, Joey had expressed terror at the thought of Henry leaving him. So Henry wouldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Joey leaned down and Henry kissed him on the beak, as he always did when they met up.

“How was prom, dear?” Joey asked.

Good, Henry signed.

“Good.”

Can I stay the night? There’s so much we have to talk about.

“Of course you can.”

I thought about what I want in the future. I want to help cryptids like you. I thought for a while that I could just leave this life behind, but I'd always be able to feel you in the back of my head, and it would kill me if you died and I didn’t know how or why or if I could prevent it. I just don’t know how to make that my life.

“Well, there’s always the studio,” Joey suggested. “We could hire other cryptids.”

That’s a castle in the sky, Joey. I don’t know how to get the money for that. And you might have the time to draw all day, but I haven’t been practicing as much as I should. Balancing work and school, you know. Henry stopped signing and looked to Joey for answers. None came. Well, I guess I don’t have to figure it out right now. I guess I could just work for a while until I figure it out. Let’s just go upstairs. Enjoy our night together.

Joey’s room was dark this time of night, illuminated by a lantern. The walls were coated with Joey’s art. It really was impressive stuff. At one point, Henry had been the better artist between the two of them, but not anymore. That always filled Joey with a sense of both pride in himself and shame that he’d stifled Henry.

“Henry,” Joey said, putting a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I’ve had this idea for a while... the idea that you could apply for an art school using my art. I mean, you’re talented. You could sharpen your skills again over the summer. Then at art school you could figure out how to make the studio happen. What do you say?”

Henry shook his head. If I go to an art school in another city, I’ll have to leave you behind. And art school won’t teach me how to start a studio. It’ll just teach me how to work at one.

“Right,” Joey said, disappointed. Living on the outside of society had left him dreadfully naïve as to how it worked. “Well, It’s not just about that. It’s about making up for the trouble I’ve caused you. Letting you be free of me for a while. And while you’re gone, I can meet other cryptids. Try to be more independent.”

Henry hesitated. Leaving Joey to his own devices would mean that Joey would be providing for all of his needs through theft and violence, and stood a greater chance of being caught.

“Just do one semester. For me. Alright?”

Henry nodded, then gave Joey a hug. The plan was sealed. The summer went as planned. Henry’s artistic skills came back quickly. They also enjoyed their time together, going for walks down by the river, stargazing, fantasizing about a world where he could take Joey with him. The summer was over too fast, and the two parted ways.

---

The closer Henry got to the new city, the more cryptids Henry could detect, like blips on a radar. He ignored them. He and Joey had talked about this- this was to be Henry’s time to be human, and human he would be.

It was a commitment that was hard to keep. Henry missed having someone who understood what it meant to be different. Sometimes Henry would detect a cryptid who was right near him and get tempted.

One day, he broke. He’d detected a while ago that the older woman that sometimes sat next to him in art history class was a cryptid, though he didn’t know what kind. The strange thing- or it would have been strange if Henry didn’t know what she was- was that the woman looked identical to his mother.

After mulling over how to approach her, Henry had decided to just be honest with her. After they’d chatted a bit and were in private, Henry admitted to being a cryptid, and to what his powers were. It was a risky move- the woman, open-minded as she seemed, might have reported him. Instead, she smiled. 

“Oh. Cool, I’m a cryptid, too. One of my powers is that I appear as people’s dream woman.” It was strange and kind of refreshing to find someone so open about it.

What would a little kid see? Henry wrote on the pad of paper he was using to communicate.

“Maybe their best female friend. But most often? Their mom.”

Henry went red. 

Allison threw her head back and laughed. “Henry, when there’s only one person in the room, I can see what form I’m taking. And yeah, it doesn’t mean you’re a manchild. A mother is a pretty common one for grown women or, you know, men like you. But it’s okay. I mean, why would freaks like us care about something as small as who you love? Anyhow. The good thing about my powers is that some of them- not this one, though- can be taught. Want to hang out sometime?”

Absolutely, Henry wrote.

---

On what was actually less than two hundred miles away but felt like the other side of the planet, Joey was on the hunt for cryptids as well. Henry had left him with a vague map of where the handful of cryptids around town were. Of course, there was no guarantee that any of them would be friendly or even sapient, and unfortunately, all of them had proven extremely good at hiding. He’d nearly given up on finding other cryptids when he found one of them one fateful night.

Joey had stolen, among other things, money from someone’s house the night before, but couldn’t exactly go into stores to use it. So, instead he was hiding in a back alley, waiting for some street person to come along. Street people were a blessing to Joey- he could have been Satan himself and they still wouldn’t object to being paid to go into a few stores to buy things for him.

A blond, baby-faced man in a hoodie turned into the alleyway, prompting Joey to crawl out of hiding and approach him. The man was scared, unsurprisingly, and adopted a defensive stance. Once Joey was close enough, the other man lunged, struck Joey right in a wound that he’d acquired a few days ago, tackled him over.

“How did you do that!?” Joey demanded of the man. It seemed impossible. Joey was experienced at scraps and must have had over a foot and a good fifty or sixty pounds on the guy.

“Extremely good luck,” the man said with a smile, helping Joey up. “Sorry bout’ that. I thought you were dangerous.” He then continued on his way. It was then that Joey realized that the man didn’t look homeless- he was clean, healthy, uninjured, shaven and all that. Joey ran to keep up with him.

“Do you walk home this way every night? You know, through a back alley at midnight in the bad side of town?”

“Yeah, mostly. Sometimes you just gotta have time to yourself, you know? A lot of people don’t like me. Say I’m a bad omen. Which I am, but I can’t help it. When ah was a boy, I wanted a dog fer Christmas. So, one of my parents’ friends’ house burned down and he had to move in with us temporarily- and they brought their dog. That kinda thing happened to me a lot before ah figured out the pattern. So, I, uh, have to try and make sure I don’t want anything too hard. It ain’t so bad once you get used to it.” The boy’s face showed sadness. Clearly it did bother him.

“Oh. Well, for a person who likes time to himself, you sure seem eager to talk to people. What’s your name, kid?”

“Wally.”

“Wally. Well, I don’t know about you, but I think our meeting was fate. You must have wanted to make friends who were like you! And that just so happens to be what I want. Why don’t we stick together.”

“...That might not be a good idea for ya.”

“I’ll take my chances. I mean, just try to want my well-being and it should happen, right?”

Wally stopped walking. They were at the end of the back alley. Two cops approached them and then fell into a man-hole, saving Joey from having to run from them. “Ah mean... it might happen that way.” Wally’s voice cracked.

“It will. Just trust me. We’ll make it work.”

---

By the end of the semester, Henry was putting more time into cryptid hunting than his studies. Allison was his assistant. She taught him some minor potions and charms before their first “mission.” Henry had thought it was unnecessary. He was wrong. The cryptid they met was a harpy-like creature with poisoned claws, and they’d had to kill it in self-defense.

There were good cryptids, too. Human-like ones. Ones Henry met on campus who walked the border line between “cryptid,” and “gifted, disabled, or both.” There were even a few animal-like cryptids that Henry and Allison could do nothing for except feeding them and giving them some water. But the majority of what set off Henry’s radar were monsters.

Henry had started off excited about “cryptid hunting,” as Allison put it, but now, it was draining him emotionally and frankly scaring him half to death. Allison never tired of it. Allison kept dragging him out. She wasn’t oblivious to his distress and tried to debrief him with comforting words and alcohol (at one point, stuff stronger than alcohol, which Henry had refused), but her lust for adventure was stronger than her empathy.

At the end of the semester, Henry returned home with mediocre grades and no real desire to go back to university. Maybe he would go to some other school and be a person instead of a cryptid this time- the credits he’d accumulated would still count at the next place. Maybe he’d go back to the same place but stop cryptid hunting- which would mean either setting some serious boundaries with Allison or cutting her out of his life, as well as ignoring a pretty significant part of himself. At least he had cryptid friends now. Or, maybe he’d just enter the workforce. He’d have to talk it over with his parents. And Joey. Back at home now, Henry could sense that the cryptids in this town were all clustered together now, matching up with what Joey had said in his letters about forming a little pack. Henry hoped that the cryptids Joey had found weren’t too frightening.

When Henry arrived to the little house in the woods, he could see that a large section had been added onto it. Good. It honestly worried Henry sometimes that Joey was spending so much time in that musty, moldering wooden house. The door was answered by a creature with glossy black eyes and a black pit for a mouth.

I’ll get Joey, the creature signed. It knew sign language. Had Joey found other mutes, or had this creature learned just for him? It didn’t matter. Henry was home, and Joey had made himself a family. Like always, Henry met Joey with a kiss on the beak.

“Welcome home, Henry. We have so much to catch up on.”

That night, Henry ate with Joey’s family and slept curled up in Joey’s arms. It was hard being between worlds. And even though he had the capacity to leave the world of cryptids behind, a big part of him didn’t want to.