#i start them about noon. casually read through. get a headache from it. go to bed with about 200 pages left

[bookwyrminspiration]

quil if u want to read a book that’s not dogshit may i recommend A Lesson in Vengeance by victoria lee?

I would love to read a book that's not dogshit! I've heard of this one before--my sister might even own it...? Not sure about that, but I've definitely seen it at my local bookstore.

I admit I haven't looked into it at all, but now perhaps I'll give it a go! As always, i can never promise timeliness when it comes to reading suggestions, but it's now much more firmly on my radar :)

[whats-k-popping]

helloo if you don't mind I'd like to request for a namjoon sickfic, one where hes mentally & physically drained but forces himself to keep working to a point of passing out unconscious from exhaustion, with no. 32 from are you okay prompt if thats not too much to ask hehe😅. since I'm obsessed with your recent work "doctor's order" I'd be thrilled if you can make it a namgikook one! but if you'd prefer any other pairing it'll be great too! thank you so much for your works I love them they're so good!! & thanks in advance for this one I hope u have nice day😁🥰

Hello love! Hope you're having a wonderful day! Thanks so much for this request! I love to hear that you enjoyed my "doctors orders" mini series. I really enjoyed writing it. You're so so sweet!! I'm delighted to fill your request with best caretakers Yoonkook and one way too overworked Namjoon. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Namgikook - platonic intentions but read as you want.

Prompt: "No. I-I don't-" *faints*

Words: 2411

Warnings: Exhaustion || Fainting

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Namjoon's email inbox finally reads 0. When he opened the browser, there had been 362 unread emails. But after hours of sifting through, he managed to go through each of them. He sorted them into folders, added things to his schedule, and replied to chains that required his input. It's been exhausting. But it’s the last thing on his to-do list before he allows himself to go back to the dorms. 

He glances at the time on the bottom screen of his computer. 6:51 AM. He remembers looking at the same time yesterday. Has he slept since then? He doesn’t think so. And he’d pulled another almost all nighter last night to practice choreography. Thinking about it now, he’s probably been awake for over 30 hours. Thankfully, his schedule doesn’t start until noon. So as soon as he gets to the dorm, he can get a couple hours of sleep. Nowhere near enough. But better than none at all. 

He hurriedly packs up his things and locks up his studio. He’s eager to get back to the dorm. Thankfully, he’s got his bike with him. And it’s a beautiful morning. So he doesn’t bother to wait for a driver. He enjoys the ride back to the dorm. It adds to his exhaustion, but he reminds himself that he’ll sleep better that way. 

The other members are already up and roaming around the dorm when he gets there. Apparently, the vocal line has an early recording session. Yoongi has a solo schedule. And Hoseok’s just a morning person. As soon as Namjoon steps inside, three members flock to him.

“Namjoon-ah, can you-”

“Rapmon-hyung, I need-”

“Namjoonie-hyung, did you-” 

They all speak at once. He can’t focus on any one singular request. Overwhelmed, he steps through them. “I can’t focus when you guys all talk to me at the same time. What do you guys need?” His head spins from the chaos. But he can’t just leave his members helpless. 

Seokjin speaks first. “I just need you to clean up the kitchen. I cooked breakfast, there’s left overs for you. But we need to get ready to go.” 

Namjoon casually eyes the kitchen. It’s a mess. But he agrees to clean it. He then turns his attention to Jungkook, “Hyung, there’s an error in my schedule. I’m scheduled for a recording session at the time of the new concept photoshoot. Which one should I go to?” 

Namjoon looks at Jungkook’s schedule on his phone. The screen is pulsing in and out of his vision. He’s starting to get a headache. But when he squints, it’s easier to read. There is a pretty significant overlap in his activities. He doesn’t know who exactly made the error, but it’s his job to resolve it. “I’ll call a manager and get it figured out. That’s at 3, right? I’ll let you know where to be before then.” 

“Thanks hyung,” He smiles and takes his phone back. He’s off with Seokjin to get ready. It’s just Jimin left before him. “What can I help you with, Jimin-ah.” 

Jimin is sweet, kind. He doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body. A little sassy at times, but even that’s kind of adorable. Yet, when Jimin speaks, a chill runs down Namjoon’s spine. “Hyung, did you finish recording your feature for my song?” 

Namjoon was supposed to record that a week ago. But it keeps slipping his mind. Not because he doesn’t care about Jimin’s song. He really does. It’s a great song and he’s honored that Jimin asked him to feature. But he’s just got so many things in his own schedule to think about, Jimin’s solo debut is the furthest thing from his mind. Still, he’s disappointed in himself for not getting it done. “Shit, Jimin-ah. I’m so sorry. I forgot again. I’ll get it done today, I swear. Before I start my schedule.”

Jimin’s heard that before. But he’s as forgiving as he is flexible. To a certain extent. “It’s okay hyung. I’ll give you one more extension. But if you don’t get it done, I’ll ask Hobi-hyung to feature.” The threat is delivered with such a simple smile. Namjoon feels like he’s entered a mafia film. There’s another chill as Jimin walks away. He fears what might happen if he doesn’t record the track, apart from losing his feature. 

Yoongi is sitting on the couch, pretending he hadn’t paid attention to that whole ordeal. He eyes Namjoon carefully. Noting how tired he looks. His eye bags are bad. They’re deep purple and puffy, like he hasn’t slept in a while. His skin is pale, like he hasn’t had a decent meal in a while. And he’s swaying where he stands, like his muscles have already given up on him. “Namjoon-ah,” He calls to get the leader’s attention. 

Namjoon’s shoulders scrunch in fear when he hears his name. He’s terrified that Yoongi’s going to have another request for him. He doesn’t think he can manage any more. The newly assigned tasks have already taken those few hours he had planned to sleep from him. Still, he can’t say no to his hyung. “Yes, hyung.”

“Do you want me to clean the kitchen?” Yoongi offers. He’s still got a half hour before his ride arrives. 

Namjoon hesitates. His immediate gut instinct is to say yes. But he knows Yoongi. He probably helped Seokjin cook. So it wouldn’t be fair for him to cook the meal and clean up. So he swallows his reaction and shakes his head. “No, I’ll get to it.”

Yoongi pouts. If Namjoon’s not going to accept his generous offer to help, then he’ll just get to the root of the issue. “You look awful, Joon. You should rest.”  

“I’ll take a little nap later. I’ve got too much to do now.” Namjoon replies, mostly to convince himself. There’s an obvious disappointment in his voice. 

“Alright, if you’re not going to rest, you’re at least going to eat.” He stands off the sofa and drags Namjoon to the kitchen. Namjoon sits at the kitchen island while Yoongi warms up his breakfast. He doesn’t leave until Namjoon’s finished the whole dish. 

While he’s in the kitchen, Namjoon decides to start cleaning. Yoongi subtly helps out, putting away stray ingredients and wiping down the surfaces. Namjoon’s just left with the dishes, which he can let air dry. But dishes for seven is still a daunting task. 

He finishes the dishes after the rest of the members have already left. He decides to take a shower, hoping some cool water will help him stay awake. After that, he calls the manager to work out the issue with Jungkook’s schedule. Then, it’s back to the studio to record the track for Jimin. He’s not sure how many takes he will need, but he’s motivated to get it right the first time. That way, he can steal a nap on the sofa in his studio before dance rehearsal. 

It takes longer than he hoped. He can’t get the lines right, he keeps stuttering and stumbling over the words. The one time he had been able to get it right, he forgot to hit record. But after somewhere around three dozen runs, he manages to get the lyrics, timing and rhythm right. He quickly sends the track to Jimin and looks at the clock. 11:02. He’s determined to use those left over minutes to get some sleep. He sets a timer for 11:50 and lunges himself onto his couch. 

But sleep does not come easy. He tosses and turns for a while, his mind is flooded with thoughts that convince him he’s forgetting something. He knows he isn’t. But he still can’t shake the feeling. And when he does finally doze off, his alarm startles him away 10 minutes later. 10 pathetic minutes have to push him through the rest of the day. 

He gets up and goes to meet the members at the dance studio. He’s the last one there, everyone else already starting warm up stretches. He quickly joins them. His stretches are lazy. He’s unsteady on two feet, so balancing on one to stretch his legs just doesn’t happen. He can feel it’s going to be a dreadfully long rehearsal. 

Yoongi’s been eyeing Namjoon since he entered the studio. He looks about a thousand times worse than he did that morning. He knows if Namjoon participates in this rehearsal, it’s going to end badly. But he also knows Namjoon’s not going to listen to him. Yoongi giving a speech about rest might as well be the dictionary definition of hypocritical. So he decides to recruit a support, someone Namjoon can never say no to. 

Jungkook’s engrossed in stretching, going above and beyond as usual. Yoongi nudges Jungkook and gestures for him to go toward the cubbies. Jungkook, ever obedient, hops right up and follows Yoongi. “What’s up, hyung?”

Yoongi gestures for Jungkook to keep his voice down, sending obvious side glances at Namjoon. “Joon’s not going to make it through this rehearsal. He’s way too tired. He needs to go home.” The rapper whispers. 

Jungkook looks at Namjoon with concentrated eyes. Thankfully, Namjoon’s too disoriented to feel his stare. The maknae nods with wide eyes as he sees Namjoon sway and hold his head. Yoongi’s right; he looks rough. “He looks like he’s about to pass out any minute. Hyung, there’s no way he can dance like that.” 

“I know, Kook,” Yoongi reaffirms, “That’s why I’m asking you to make him go home.” 

Jungkook’s eyes grow impossibly wide, “Me?” he points to his own chest. 

“Yes you. Use those special maknae powers you’ve used to enchant us for all these years.” Yoongi shoves the youngest back toward the center of the studio. 

Jungkook turns and looks back at Yoongi, “There’s no powers, hyung. You all just like me.” He bares a wide toothy smile and Yoongi rolls his eyes. He’s still convinced it’s magic or something. 

Jungkook approaches Namjoon carefully, like he would a wild deer; he doesn’t want to spook him. “Hyung,” Jungkook starts. 

Namjoon looks at him, “Yes, Jungkook?” The leader leans against the mirror. It’s hard for him to keep his eyes open. 

“You should rest. You’ve been doing too much.” It’s easy for Jungkook to put on a sulky pout and bat his wide doe eyes at Namjoon, “I’m scared you might hurt yourself.” 

Namjoon just nods. He hadn't heard a single word Jungkook said. His head is pulsing behind his eyes. But whatever it was, he assumes a nod and a smile can handle it. He even manages to put a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, just to show a touch of physical acknowledgement. 

“Hyung, are you going to rest?” Jungkook asks. 

Before Namjoon can react, or not react, again, their choreographer bursts into the room and immediately queues the setlist. “Let’s just jump right into it! Everyone get into positions.” He calls. 

Namjoon sees the blurry figures of the members get into formation. He quickly joins them, standing as close as possible to where he’s supposed to be. Yoongi and Jungkook share a knowing look. Jungkook shrugs his shoulders with a heavy sigh. Yoongi knows it won’t end well. 

And Yoongi’s partially wrong. Because what never actually starts cannot end. Namjoon misses his initial cue in the opening sequence completely. He recognizes that the music has stopped, the blurry figures are closer to him now. There’s a hand on his shoulder, “Namjoon-ah, are you okay?” Hoseok asks. 

Namjoon shudders. He hears a piece of the question. “No. I-I don’t-” it all he’s able to stutter out before his knees buckle and he falls into Jungkook’s waiting arms. The maknae scoops him into his arms with ease. 

While the rest of the members and the choreographer exchange garbled looks, Yoongi barks orders. “Jungkook, carry Namjoon to his studio. I’ll meet you there in a few.” Jungkook’s already gone, “Jimin-ah, can you find water for when he wakes up. Hobi, can you talk to a manager about clearing his schedule? It may affect our schedules as well, but Namjoon’s in no condition to work today. Taehyung, get a medic to meet me in Namjoon’s studio. I think he just passed out from exhaustion, but he should be checked out just because he’s unconscious. Jin-hyung, see if you can arrange a ride back to the dorms. He can rest in his studio for now, but he’d rest better in his own bed.” No one questions their role. They all leave to complete their assigned task dutifully. 

Yoongi then addresses the befuddled choreographer, “Choreographer-nim. I’m sorry we wasted your time,” He bows deeply, “We will work 10 times as hard in our next practice. I will make sure of it.” He promises as he chases down the hall to catch up with Jungkook. He doesn’t wait for a lecture. PDnim can give him one later. And he’ll gladly accept it. But he doesn’t have any regrets about how he handled the situation. 

Yoongi inputs the passcode to Namjoon’s studio and kicks the door open. Jungkook carries Namjoon inside and gently sets him down on the couch. Namjoon stirs at the movement. He squints his eyes open a bit, “What happened?” He asks, last he knew he was in the dance studio. 

“You passed out,” Yoongi supplies, “I told you that you needed to rest.” he scolds. 

“I told you, too,” Jungkook adds, although less harsh than Yoongi’s tone.  

“I’m tired,” Namjoon replies, not at all shocked by the fact he passed out. 

“Then go to sleep, Joon.” Yoongi pulls a blanket over Namjoon’s large frame. The spare blanket in his studio hardly fits him since he bulked up. 

“Yoongi and I will take good care of you,” Jungkook smiles wide watching Namjoon fall asleep much more peacefully this time. 

Namjoon’s able to sleep through the medical exam. He’s asleep when their driver arrives. He stays asleep the whole ride home and even as Jungkook carries him into the dorm. He doesn’t even stir when Jungkook accidentally drops him on his bed a little too soon. 

He sleeps until late at night. When he wakes, Yoongi and Jungkook are sleeping back to back, their heads tilted against one another. Their necks will surely hurt in the morning. He looks at the moon through the poorly closed curtains and decides to sleep again. He’ll remember to praise Yoongi and Jungkook when the sun comes up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

[northisnotup]

Continuation of the amnesiac!Damen fic 

"I don't know how to do this."

It’s been a long day. Nik went home hours ago, with the firm instruction to text if he needed anything, both Egeria and Hypermenestra have called to wish him a speedy recovery, the sun is setting...and Laurent shows no sign of moving anytime soon.

He came back at three and has stuck like a burr ever since. Through the blood work, the scans, the neurological tests. Everything. Laurent knows things about Damen’s medical history that Damen doesn’t even know - and not just the things he wouldn’t expect to know, missing almost four years of memories. But things that Damen himself forgot. Like the concussion when he was thirteen from when Kastor pushed him down a flight of stairs. Or the bumpy keloid scar behind his ear from a dirty hit during high school gym class. The way he found out he was allergic to a certain type of sedative by experimenting...also during highschool. 

"Do what?" Laurent says, paging through the book in his lap too fast to really be reading it. Damen almost frowns. It's a good book. 

He makes himself consider. The spine is cracked, the pages dogeared, it's missing the jacket entirely and there is a stain on the cover which marks this specific book as the one Damen has had for years and years because that stain is mid range scotch from the time in his life that Damen was trying to drink scotch. He thought it would impress his father, but all it really did was give him wicked hangovers and mess up his insides. 

According to Nik, corroborated by Jo, Damen’s known Laurent for three years. They met in college. They dated for one year, and have been engaged for another. The wedding is set for next year at Damen's mother's summer home. 

So. It's entirely possible that Laurent has read this book before.

That's...weird.

He's had lovers before who knew his favourites. Jokaste would often order for him when they went out just to get him to try something new. But Laurent caresses the worn, scratched cover with gentle fingers. He pauses every few chapters to linger on a page or two before he continues to browse.

Laurent knows Damen's favourite novel well enough to have favourite scenes, and there is no reason why that should steal his breath. 

"I didn't like you, this morning," Damen says. He feels like he should be apologizing for it, but it just makes Laurent bite back a smile, finally looking up from the liquid warped pages. He looks rumpled, in leggings and what is probably one of Damen's t-shirts, his hair mussed and finger combed into a bun. He looks exactly like someone Damen would have been happy to take home.

And Damen was going to marry him. Or he is, when he remembers him.

Things are coming back already, a slow trickle of knowledge that appears without strain. Kastor texted him and he remembered the heavy emotional weight of sitting next to him at their father's funeral. Their mother's side by side in front of them, clinging to one another and crying quietly. He can remember the way Kastor grabbed his hand during the eulogy and hadn't let it go until they were following the procession.

“You don’t like me now,” Laurent says lightly, unfolding one of his long legs and poking his bare toes into Damen’s side. He’d kicked off his shoes to contort himself into his current position in the visitor’s chair and looks effortlessly comfortable, though Damen’s not sure how that’s at all possible. 

He swipes at Laurent’s leg, hand closing around his ankle and is hit with the sense memory of holding it before. Of pressing his lips to the delicate looking arch of that foot, wet and sudsy and of Laurent swearing at him for it.

“Damen?” all mirth has drained out of Laurent’s face, and the ankle in Damen’s weakening grip flexes and strains. “Damen, let go, I’ll get one of the nurses.” 

“Did I call you Achilles? Was that,” Damen blinks, trying to focus his blurred vision. His head hurts, but he’s had a low level headache all day. “Was that seriously the pet name I chose?” 

Laurent’s pale skin hides nothing when he blushes. Pink glows out from the high arches of his cheeks and across his nose. The tips of his ears look like miniature suns, rising. “Once,” he rasps, and clears his throat, tugging his ankle out of Damen’s slackened grip and curling himself back into a ball. “You compared me to him, once. Golden warriors both, I think were the words you used.” 

“I love the Iliad,” Damen says, helplessly. 

“And you don’t even like me,” Laurent returns. 

Damen thinks he’s starting to understand Laurent’s sense of humor, as sharp as the rest of him and dry as a desert. But that wasn’t a joke, that wasn’t even an attempt at a joke. “You probably already know I was planning on asking Jo to marry me,” he says. It’s a poor olive branch, but it’s about all he has. 

They both woke up this morning and had their hearts broken, so, they have something in common. 

“I was your rebound fling,” Laurent surprises him. “You didn’t like me then, either.” 

Damen opens his mouth to deny it, and then shuts it without speaking. Laurent would know better than he would, but… he doesn’t sleep with people he doesn’t at least like. Other people can. He tried, once - Kashel broke up with him for being clingy, which, in that case, meant wanting to get dinner before they fooled around. 

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Laurent drops his eyes back down to the book. 

“Maybe I want to talk about this,” Damen says it on impulse, just to be contrary but he’s surprised to find that he means it. 

“You shouldn’t be taxing yourself.”

“Laurent -” Damen watches him startle, and to his shame he realizes why. They’ve hardly been apart all day, and it’s the first time Damen’s called his fiance by name. “I asked you to marry me.”

“You did,” Laurent agrees, voice tight.

“And you said yes,” Damen wonders for the first time if Laurent has spent all day wondering when that would be taken back. “help me figure out why.”

“You were kind to me, back then. Kinder than I deserved.”

Maybe he got better about being casual, about feelings - but looking at Laurent in this light, the ring on his finger, the one Damen put there...he doesn’t think so. “Kindness isn’t something you can deserve.”

Laurent stills. Damen hadn’t even registered the jiggling of his knee until it stopped. “I’m going to go get a coffee,” he says, standing suddenly.

“Hey, wait -”

“No,” 

“I just -”

“I said no.”

“At least take my wallet,” Damen sighs, gesturing at the small pile of personal effects Laurent had grabbed this morning. 

It was only this morning.

Laurent sneers, looking down his nose like he always does when he’s upset. “Why would I need your wallet?” 

“Because…” Damen trails off, the trickle of memory becoming a flood, until between one heartbeat and the next, his life goes from greyscale to full colour. There are a million ways he could answer that. ‘Because you always put your debit card in your pants pocket and forget it there if you don’t have time to plan your outfit.’ ‘Because you never carry change and will talk yourself out of using your own money for a coffee, but using my money is fine.’ ‘Because you’re not really getting a coffee anyway, you just need an excuse to step out for a second.’ 

Looking at Laurent is like finally finding meaning in abstract. 

Laurent hates that book. Specifically, he hates the wildly popular movie that was made out of the book which tramples all over the themes and reduces the narrative to a cheap trope that people fight about on the internet. But when Damen is sick, or he’s had a bad day, Laurent will leave the book on his nightstand, along with a cup of strong tea. 

He can’t help the softness of his voice, “Because you don’t drink coffee after noon, sweetheart, and if you’re getting a tea, I want one too.” 

“What did you call me?”

Damen smiles, lopsided, and pats the side of his cot, which has felt Laurent’s absence since his goodbye that morning. He did too, even if he didn’t know it. “Hi, sweetheart. I missed you.” 

[julemmaes]

Honey - part three

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: famous last words: I can finish this is in two hours. six hours laters and I feel like I’ve been beaten up by a gang of bigass old faes if you know what I mean.

IT CONTAINS SMUT, not suited for readers under 18

Please be kind I fucking hate my smut, if it’s disgusting just don’t comment on it cause I could hit my head on the wall several times

masterlist

Word count: 7,519

Aelin's scream was like a stab to the brain, "Get up you nasty little bitch!"

"Ace! Why don't you try with sweet Ellie?" retorted Lysandra.

Elide didn't even have the strength to open her eyes or move from the fetal position she was in, curled up with a pillow pushed so hard against her belly that she wouldn't have been surprised if it had somehow damaged her internal organs, "Please leave."

The two didn't seem to hear her.

"Sweet?" Aelin huffed, "But you did see her last night, right?"

Elide opened one eye, seeing that they had both sat down at the end of the bed. She felt the cracks tugging at her eyelid and grunted, pressing her face into the pillow. She wanted to die. And she wanted Manon to come and free her from those two supposed friends who she knew were about to remind her of her misadventures.

"Except for what happened before we left," Aelin winked, placing a hand on her foot. Elide withdrew it, not wanting to feel physical touch of any kind at that moment. "I would have been willing to break up with Rowan so I could get between Kyllian and you, honestly."

Elide grunted again, her voice muffled by the pillow. "I'm begging you girls, you need to get out before I throw up again."

And it was true, she would throw up if they didn't stop talking. Plus, Elide didn't care in the slightest what the drunk her had done. She hated her so much.

Lysandra giggled and she felt it as she climbed between the covers until she was settled next to her on the pillows, "Between her and Lorcan though, no?"

The cry of disgust that erupted from Aelin and the all too loud laugh from the other didn't make Elide register the words right away, but as soon as she realised what they had said, her stomach began to twist and turn, and not like when Lorcan accidentally brushed her hand or when he put his hand on her thigh during movie nights. Oh no.

With a movement she didn't know she had the physical skills to make, she shifted the covers off her body and launched herself into the hallway, slamming her hand against the bathroom door and throwing herself to the floor in front of the toilet before the highly concentrated alcoholic contents in her stomach spilled onto the floor.

As she vomited and Lysandra tied up her hair, massaging her back, Elide felt her heart break slowly. She wanted to turn around, to ask Aelin what had happened, or maybe not. She groaned as another gag shook her body and her eyes filled with tears once more as she puked what could only be alcohol.

"How do you still have stuff in your stomach?" muttered Aelin from outside the bathroom door.

Elide didn't blame her, vomit was disgusting and she was particularly sensitive to the sound of gagging. The only reason Lysandra wasn't the least bit uncomfortable was her younger sister Evangeline, who she had practically raised without anyone's help. Whatever came out of a person's body, their friend had already seen it in all shapes and colours.

Elide cursed herself for thinking such a thing while she was bent over the toilet throwing up, because it pushed her over the edge one more time and a sob wracked her body, "Fuck-" she managed to mutter between spits.

"I thought you weren't going to barf any more after last night," Lys said, continuing to rub her back.

"True," Aelin mumbled a little louder, "did you keep drinking after?"

Elide managed to turn her head towards the door, seeing that her friend was sitting on the floor just outside the bathroom. She grimaced as a gust of air that smelled like vomit reached her nose, "After what?"

"You and Lorcan left after you threw up," Lys explained to her. Elide didn't bother turning towards her, she didn't have the energy, "And you threw up so much Ellie, everywhere. It's weird that you have anything else to reject."

It wasn't weird at all considering the only thing Elide remembered was the amounts of alcohol she had ingested. She'd started just before seven with straight tequila, desperate to see how indifferent people were to the biggest catastrophic problems in human history, and everyone knew she couldn't handle alcohol even in small amounts. But Elide was also known to be the type who could drink for hours without ever feeling sick, if she now found herself bent over the toilet the next morning, it meant she had gone too far.

"I don't remember anything."

"It's okay, don't worry about it," Aelin said and Elide felt a shiver run through her body at the hint of mischief in her voice. She braced herself mentally to hear how much she'd actually whored out the night before, "We're here to fix the memory loss."

Lysandra made a disgusted noise as Elide flushed the toilet and the water stirred underneath them, but she patted her shoulders and pulled herself up, "You need to take a shower first though. Because you smell like death."

"Geez, thanks," Elide murmured as she began to undress.

The grin that appeared on Aelin's face made her hands freeze around the hem of her shirt. The other arched an eyebrow, looking into her eyes, "What? Lorcan is the only one you can flash?"

Elide closed her eyes, bringing her hands to her face and then let go a scream of frustration.

"Exactly."

Oh, god.

"I remember..." Elide scoffed, running her hands through her hair. When her fingers reached the tips, she was horrified to find they were encrusted with what was surely vomit from the night before. "Fuck."

Lysandra snickered beside her, "Why were you so drunk that you didn't realise what you were doing so damn early?"

Elide looked at her, and although she knew the question was only asked to tease her more, there was a note of concern in her tone. Her shoulders sagged a little and she shook her head, starting to undress undisturbed, "I set out to research a few things and the world is a shitty place and there was nothing I could do in the immediate future to save us all so I got drunk."

"Sounds like alcoholism," Aelin joked.

Both Lysandra and Elide laughed, "If you knew what I found out you'd get drunk too," the latter added.

"Send everything my way." the blonde winked at her, and then they went out, leaving her alone to wash away the sins of the night before and letting her mind travel. And Elide's mind travelled far too much as she racked her brains to remember Lorcan's reactions to a naked her.

After her friends had told her everything that had happened the night before. From her taking her clothes off in front of her best friend, to him getting stuck in their bathroom and calling Aelin for help, to her dancing with Kyllian specifically to make her roommate jealous - or so the drunk her seemed to have justified her actions - to Fenrys saving her from what was sure to end up being just casual sex that would only widen the gap between her and Lorcan.

Gap that apparently wasn't as pronounced as she thought.

Aelin and Lysandra had told her about the way he had pushed his way through the crowd and joined Elide on the dance floor. The way they had danced to one of their favourite songs until they had been on the verge of kissing.

Elide had never been so relieved to know that she'd thrown up on someone. And that her plan to attract Lorcan had worked.

She was cooking now, thinking about how bad it would have been for her to find out they'd kissed without having even the slightest recollection of it happening, when the front door opened and the boy who was the object of her dreams walked into the kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway, looking at her with the most emotionless face Elide had ever seen him wear.

"Hello, handsome." she murmured, continuing to cook.

Lorcan stood still in the threshold for a while without saying anything, as if to sort the situation out. Then, without taking his eyes off what she was doing, he took off his jacket and shoes and walked into the kitchen, "How are you feeling?"

Elide had her back to him as she washed some tomatoes, "Just a bit of a headache. I threw up again when I woke up, but other than that I'm fine."

"Did you drink some water? Had breakfast?" he asked her.

Elide shook her head looking at him, "I woke up after noon, Aelin and Lysandra came over." then frowned, "I think it's their fault I threw up."

Lorcan chuckled, "Sure, absolutely." then he gathered his hair into a messy bun and Elide focused on the way the muscles of his biceps tensed every time he pulled on the elastic, "It's not the alcoholic coma from last night at all."

Elide gathered some courage and taking a deep breath, said, "About last night-"

"We don't have to talk about it," Lorcan immediately interrupted her.

She looked up at him, trying not to show any emotion, trying to read his on that sculptural face that remained impassive. Then, seeing the way he was looking at her, she came to a conclusion.

She arched an eyebrow, plastering a grin on her face, "Does this mean you didn't like my tits?"

Lorcan turned red in the face before stuttering, "No. I mean, yes! No, fuck. Shit... I don't know."

Elide chuckled and began to dress their salad, "You've never seen a pair of tits before?" she asked knowing full well how untrue that was.

When she had moved into the flat, both she and he had had their own wild nights out where they brought home a different partner every weekend. On one occasion, Elide had been stunned when she came out of her room and bumped into a girl she had spent the night with a few weeks earlier. The girl had only bid her good morning, winking, before returning to Lorcan's room.

"No, it's not that," he muttered, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"So surely you'll have other samples to compare my boobs to and you'll be able to tell me if they're above average," she continued, prolonging this gentle torture.

He sat down, both elbows resting on the table, and rested his chin on his clasped hands. He looked into her eyes for a few seconds, then whispered, "What are you doing?"

"I'm making our lunch," she replied innocently.

She heard him breathe through his nose, "Why are we talking about your tits, I meant?"

"Uh," she smiled, casting him another quick glance, "I didn't think you were so grossed out that you can't even handle a conversation about them."

The frown on his face went deeper and deeper. He remained silent for so long that Elide thought he would never say anything again, that she would never get his thoughts on her breasts, but when she served the salad, sitting down in front of him, he finally spoke.

"It's not that," he repeated, looking away, "they're very nice. Balanced." he began to eat undisturbed and Elide grimaced in amusement, finding a way to keep the conversation going.

"Balanced? What are they? An economic system?"

Lorcan clenched his jaw, setting his fork down on his plate and looking into her face again. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, that she was risking losing her sanity, but she had to know, had to-

"They're perfect and, maybe they are because they're attached to you, but they're probably the most beautiful tits I've ever seen."

Elide's brain shut down. And he seemed to realise it too because the shadow of a smile began to form on his lips.

Lorcan leaned forward on the table and her eyes snapped to his arms. Fingers flexing, interlocking, caught her attention completely. She returned her gaze to his, feeling her body heat up as he resumed speaking. "If I'm going to be completely honest... If you want the details, Elide," the way he said her name made her most intimate part clench around nothing, "I've never seen such nice, small nipples and that pink?" he shut his eyes, moaning as he brought one of the tomatoes to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the fork.

Elide swallowed the mouthful that had been in her mouth for over a minute and nearly choked when he opened his eyes again and they were darker than normal if that was possible.

She looked away, too many feelings building up inside her, but crossed her legs, trying to relieve some of the tension there.

"Wasn't that enough, Ellie?" he asked in a rough voice, biting into an olive, making sure she saw the way his lips closed around it.

She swallowed again, "No, it was fine..." she cleared her throat when it came out too weak, "Thanks for the feedback."

Lorcan let go a throaty chuckle, "The pleasure is all mine."

***

Like every Sunday evening, the whole group had gathered at the twins' house. And that night everyone was there, although Vaughan and Vesta, along with Aedion and Sorrel, had gone out into the back yard a few hours ago and had not yet returned. Elide suspected they'd taken to smoking.

Those left in the house were playing one of the most popular games, "I feel like."

The game had no real objective, other than to embarrass people or get them to confess to extreme or obscene sexual acts. It was simply a matter of drawing a card, reading what it said and giving it to the person you thought had done the closest thing to what was described on the card. The only real rule was that you had to tell the whole story of what happened if the card you were handed told the truth.

Quite often the game would be interrupted because one of the two sides of the various couples would cheat, change the rules and instead of passing it on to the appropriate person, they would pass it on to their partner as an invitation to lock themselves in the first spare room they could find to experiment with what was asked by the game.

The cards could range from as basic things as "I feel like your first time was in a public restroom." to as a bit more hardcore as "I feel like you got fisted in the woods."

And in that moment, Elide had a strong feeling that Rowan and Aelin would soon be going home.

"Oh my fucking god," Rowan muttered as he read the words on the card, turning red from head to toe. He looked up at Aelin, swallowing and making his adam's apple bob, "Where do you even find these games?"

Elide giggled beside him, "There's a girl on the internet who updates the cards every month and puts them up for sale, we take turns to see who has to buy them each time."

"Oh god," he said shaking his head. When he slid the card in Aelin's direction, the girl leaned towards him to leave a soft kiss on his lips and when they broke away they were both smiling. Aelin read what was written on the card and for a second it seemed like the colour drained from her face, but then she blinked and cleared her throat, looking at Rowan with wide eyes.

"Maybe we should go away. To try it out." she murmured, so quietly that only those on the couch with them heard her.

Elide looked up at the boy next to her, or rather, behind her, to see if he was listening, but he seemed lost in thought. He had been absentmindedly stroking her arm since they had settled there, and Elide didn't think she had ever been so relaxed in her life.

She and Lorcan were sitting at one end of the sofa, opposite to Rowan and Aelin, her between his legs and with her back against his chest. Every time one of them laughed, their bodies moved closer together and now she had her head resting on the part of his chest between his neck and shoulder.

She was home.

Fenrys and Connall, across the living room, sitting on the floor, booed.

"You can't pass them all on to her!" complained Lysandra.

Aelin didn't even look at her as she spoke, her eyes always fixed on Rowan's, as if they were having a telepathic conversation, "Lys, shut up."

Her friend gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth.

"I say we vote to kick them out of the room," Asterin said, in exactly the same position she was in, but between her boyfriend's legs. Half the people in the room raised their hands to the sky, making Aelin roll her eyes.

Fenrys nodded, always ready to back Asterin up in whatever situation they were in, "It's starting to smell like Rowaelin in here."

Lorcan chuckled behind her, knocking her forward. And as the others lost themselves in the chatter, Elide shifted her gaze to Manon, who sat in the armchair next to the couch, one hand in Dorian's hair, who sat with his head resting on the armrest.

Her friend's bright eyes sparkled with malice as she arched an eyebrow and gestured to the boy she was practically sitting on. Elide felt her cheeks blush, but smiled naively at her, pretending not to know what she was alluding to. Manon smiled back.

Elide had never spoken openly to her about Lorcan, not in that way at least, but she knew Manon knew - in fact, now that she thought about it, she had never had to do that with anyone. Everyone had been rather quick to catch on that. Everyone except Lorcan.

The hand on her arm stopped, clinging completely against her skin and Elide had to force herself not to look at him, but then he lowered himself onto her and whispered in her ear, "Ellie."

She turned her head just enough to look at him and his lips brushed her cheek, so briefly that she thought she had imagined it. Lorcan had pulled back and was now looking into her eyes, "Your turn."

She blinked and turned towards the others, only realising at that moment that all eyes were on them. She felt her face burn, but she nodded, putting a hand on Lorcan's knee and pushing herself forward, rubbing her ass on the crotch of his trousers. She'd been doing this all night, all night teasing him, just as he was teasing her, brushing the side of the breasts from time to time.

And each time, Lorcan would burst into a coughing fit and move further back, which only gave Elide a chance to grind even harder against him in an attempt to regain the comfortable position they were in before.

As she settled back into her seat, she met Fenrys' gaze, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. She lowered her eyes to the maroon card in her hands quickly, shimming her hips between his legs. Lorcan's hands ended on her shoulders and she looked up at him, batting her eyelids like a fawn.

"Stop moving around so much," he grumbled.

She smiled gently and then took up reading. She hadn't touched alcohol that night, for obvious reasons, but she still found it hard to understand what was written there when Lorcan's fingers began to draw imaginary lines across her bare skin.

"I feel like..." she whispered, her eyes going wide. She looked across the sofa at Rowan.

The friend gave her a chuckle, "I told you they seemed a bit extreme."

I feel like you performed a titjob on someone while being eaten out.

Before she could realise what she was doing, she said, "Can I give myself the card or...?"

Dorian turned a quizzical look on her, "You know you have to-"

Fenrys shrieked something unintelligible, but that stopped Dorian. Manon above them clenched her hands into fists, her eyes half-closed at the sudden commotion, "I haven't killed you yet just because-"

"Yeah yeah, just because of Asterin, I get it," Fenrys replied moving a hand midair, his gaze never leaving Elide's, who in a moment of clarity realised what Dorian was about to say. What the blond said only served to confirm her fear, "But Elide just confessed to doing whatever is written on it and I want to know every detail."

She felt Lorcan stiffen behind her and then Elide realised something else entirely. He must have read what was written on the card.

"So?" pressed Aelin, leaning over Rowan and snatching the card from Elide's hands. She opened her mouth wide with an amused expression, then put on a pout, looking at her boyfriend, "These are the things I sometimes wish you'd be a little more open about."

Rowan arched an eyebrow, reading the card in turn, "We can do those two things at the same time and without anyone else having to see you naked."

Lysandra, next to them, picked up the card, "Oh, Aedion and I did that too. Although it was a normal blowjob, no titty job." she exclaimed happily.

One thing that pleased Elide greatly was the fact that no one in that room would judge her for what she did in the bedroom and who she did it with. Also because there was a high probability that they had done it too.

And slowly the card was passed among all the members of their group and when it reached Fenrys and Asterin, the girl winked at Elide, murmuring a sensual, "I've never done it, but I'm sure it wouldn't hurt." Fenrys winked behind her, intertwining their hands. Asterin's smile only grew wider, before she added, "You have our numbers."

Elide blushed, but smiled anyway, nodding.

Everyone began to talk about the various possibilities, as they did during every turn, and the card finally passed from Dorian and Manon and the two exchanged only a glance before giving the card to Lorcan.

Lorcan who was taking deep breaths one after the other and had his eyes closed. Elide had never seen him so focused in her life. She noticed the way he contracted and relaxed his jaw repeatedly and frowned.

Was he alright?

She ran a finger over his thigh to get his attention, tracing a line from his knee to where his leg touched her hip and Lorcan let go a shuddering breath, opening his eyes slightly and tightening his grip on her shoulders, "I don't think you should do that." his voice so hoarse and deep that Elide felt her stomach knot. She didn't understand what he was referring to.

And then she felt it.

Hard and... thick against her ass.

She opened her eyes wide, pointing them at him, and held her breath. She had to stop herself from opening her mouth in surprise, but she couldn't stop herself when her hips pushed against Lorcan's now obvious erection.

Elide had never been so happy to hear Fenrys' laughter as she was at that moment, because if it hadn't been for the sudden noise, the moans that escaped them both would have been heard all too well and neither of them would have been able to look at anyone else in the room for the rest of their lives.

Lorcan swallowed, breathing through his nostrils, and his gaze fell to her lips. Her eyes did the same and she didn't care that they were among everyone and would have everyone's eyes on them if they did exactly what Elide was thinking, because his lips parted slightly and he whispered her name and she was lost.

Without thinking about it for another second, Elide turned just enough to have her face directly in front of his and closed her eyes, feeling his lips brush hers. She released a breath she didn't know she was holding, "Lorcan,"

And then she kissed him, and it was exactly as she had always dreamed it would be, as his lips moved with hers and they tasted and breathed from each other. A sound that Elide had never made in her life rose up her throat as Lorcan shifted and with a sharp movement of his hips turned her fully towards him and now she was on her knees in front of him, both of them breathing heavily as they looked into each other's eyes.

Someone coughed in the room and she heard Aelin whisper a weak "fucking finally", but Elide didn't give a shit.

She placed her hands on Lorcan's face, tilting his head back so she could reach him better. The second his hands landed on her hips, their lips collided again in a fierce kiss and his tongue found its way into her mouth.

The first touch of their tongues was like having a thousand fireworks explode in her mouth.

"Okay, it's time to join the others," Manon murmured.

Elide heard Fenrys mutter, "Please not on the couch, there are guest rooms upstairs."

Lorcan pulled away from her just enough to see what was going on around them and her hands slid around his neck, ending in his hair as she admired the line of his cheekbones and the way his lashes caressed his skin every time he closed his eyes.

God, he was beautiful.

"Which one can we use?" asked Lorcan as he looked at Fenrys.

Elide's eyes went wide, causing him to turn towards her. She ran a thumb over his lower lip, smirking, "So sure of yourself."

Without missing a beat, Lorcan mimicked her grin and squeezed her hips, "You don't want to?"

Elide smiled, turning towards her friends, stopping to look at Fenrys, "The second on the left right?"

When the owner of the house winked at her, nodding, she stood up, pulling Lorcan with her, who had a confused look on his face, "Why do you know that?"

She had the decency to blush, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs, "You don't want to know."

Lysandra burst out laughing as everyone resumed their seats on the floor or the couch, "You really don't."

Elide tugged at him more insistently, not looking at Lorcan's reaction to those words. She just wanted to get to the room and lock herself in with him.

When she felt his hand settle on her hip and slide down to her ass cheek, where he paused to give it a squeeze, she almost turned and slammed him against the wall just so she could continue kissing him how she needed to.

They arrived in front of the door and she stopped with her fingers on the handle, once inside there would be no stopping. There would be no point of return.

His fingers brushed her cheek and she turned to face him, who now wore a ravenous, excited look, but Elide could see the concern and hesitation in taking the next step, "We don't have to do anything, Ellie."

She nodded, because she knew that was the case, but squeezed his hand to emphasize what he said, "But I want to."

"Good thing, cause the thought of you fucking those two gave me some ideas."

She grinned, placing a hand on his chest, "I wasn't the one doing the titty work, but we can always try."

Lorcan groaned softly at the knowledge of Elide licking another girl and then pushed the door open, backing in and taking his-

Whatever Elide was at that moment to him, it wasn't important.

The only thing that was important was his lips on hers.

The difference in height wasn't making it easy for him, and when he leaned down even further, never breaking the kiss, to run his hands under her knees and pull her up, Elide seemed to understand that right away and, pulling away just enough to jump into his arms, they found themselves on each other in seconds.

Lorcan bit her lower lip, making her moan, and when he moved to her jaw, nipping lightly at her skin, Elide threw her head back, pushing her hips against his and drawing a groan from both of them.

He immediately took the opportunity to latch his lips onto the smooth, quivering skin of her neck, feeling the bed behind his knees and sitting up, letting her straddle him. His hands moved up her legs, caressing her inner thighs, but never really getting close to where she needed him most.

Elide began to grope his chest, grazing the skin of his arms, but never staying in one spot, until Lorcan began to suck at the bare skin between her neck and shoulder and she nudged him slightly.

He quickly pulled away, panting, "What?"

There were too many layers. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, Elide lowered her hands to the hem of her shirt and slipped it off in one swift movement. She smiled smugly when she could finally see Lorcan's reaction to her bare tits.

His eyes were slightly wider than usual and his pupils so dilated that Elide realised that she had never noticed that Lorcan's eye colour was not black, but just a very dark brown. When he looked at her, the words died in her throat.

"I love it when you don't wear a bra," he murmured, reaching up to her and brushing her lips with his, "But I love even more the way you shiver every time I do this."

Elide didn't have a chance to dwell on the way he'd said love, because without her noticing, his hands had found their place on her waist and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure when he brushed the sides of her breasts with his thumbs.

He pushed himself further against her, brushing his lips over her ear, "When we're alone and you don't have to hold back, I want you to scream my name." and then he moved quickly, leaving only a light kiss on her shoulder before his lips closed around a sensitive nipple.

With the first sweep of his tongue around the hard bead, Elide whimpered, pushing her hips down against his and making him moan into her chest. She brought her hands into his hair, clenching and pulling each time his teeth bit or scraped the sensitive skin around the nipple.

When he seemed to want to move on to the other breast, Elide shook her head, pulling his hair back to its roots and forcing her mouth against his, making him grunt. She had to feel him.

"Lorcan," she breathed, between kisses, "I need to touch you."

One of her hands slipped between the two of them, palming him through the sweatpants that did little to hide Lorcan's huge boner. He moaned against her chin, "Fuck."

They pulled apart again and when he had stripped off his shirt, Elide didn't waste a moment and pressed her bare chest against his, causing him to fall back onto the mattress.

Lorcan had other ideas though, because in one smooth motion she found herself lying on her back, his gentle weight pressing her against the covers and his bright smile lighting up his face. He left a kiss on her nose, on her lips and then down to the split in the middle of her breasts and her eyes rolled back in her head as a flashback from two nights before appeared in her head, of Lorcan doing the same thing with his eyes as they danced.

"Can I take these off?" he asked her, once he reached her hips where he was leaving kisses light as feathers.

Elide was breathing raggedly, but nodded when she understood he was talking about her leggings. Still keeping her eyes closed, she lifted her hips off the mattress, closing her fists around the covers as her bottoms disappeared along with her socks and the cold air hit her bare skin.

Now only the thin fabric of her black panties separated her from achieving what she wanted.

That and Lorcan's slacks.

"Ellie." she heard him as he came back on top of her, one knee between her legs to keep his balance. She licked her lip, opening her eyes and keeping her gaze fixed on him, on that perfect face.

"Do you have a condom?" she asked in a whisper, as if afraid the answer would be no. She had them, but they were downstairs, in her purse, and she had no desire to leave the room right then.

Lorcan arched an eyebrow, "I'm not having sex with you tonight, Elide."

She frowned, folding her arms under her and propping herself up on her elbows, "What does that mean?"

"That I'm not completely sober," he said, leaning his head towards her chest, keeping his eyes fixed in hers, "And the first time it'll be inside you," he murmured in a rougher voice, placing a light kiss on the nipple he hadn't licked before, "I want it to be at a time when I'm lucid and can remember all the noises and moans you make." and then he gave the same attention to her other breast, pushing her against the mattress one more time, until Elide was a squirming mess under him and deemed his treatment sufficient.

"Now I'm going to slip these off," Lorcan murmured, grazing a finger along the hem of her panties, and Elide shuddered, "and touch you. Here." the same finger slid across her covered folds, starting at her clit and following her slit to her entrance. "Already so wet for me."

Elide thrashed on the bed, moaning softly as he applied a little more pressure, "Stop teasing, we'll have time for that when we get home." she managed to toss out between shaky breaths.

"Understood ma'am." he taunted, grabbing the edges of the thing and pulling it down. The sound that burst from him was completely animalistic and threatened to make Elide come before he even really touched her. "So beautiful." he said, kneeling in front of her.

Lorcan's hands wrapped around her ankles and he pushed her legs up, placing her feet on the edge of the bed, until she was left with her knees bent and her pussy at his full disposal. Elide risked looking down between her legs and her eyes locked into his as he lowered himself onto her and smiled.

The way her chest rose and fell made her tits bounce and Lorcan seemed to appreciate it, but he didn't seem to be planning to do anything. Elide tipped her head back, whispering in a weak voice, "Do something, please."

He laughed and her muscles flexed, clenching around nothing. It was at that moment that she felt him, his breath on the most sensitive part of her body. "I'm going to make you cum so fast you won't have time to count to a hundred."

Lorcan's fingers came off her ankles and went to part her lips, making her feel the warm air of his breathe even more. He parted them until he was satisfied and Elide lowered her gaze just as his tongue made contact with her throbbing core. A rush of pleasure coursed through her body, making her legs tremble, "Lor," she moaned.

"Mh, El," he closed his lips around her clit, pressing his tongue against the pearl over and over, until Elide repeated his name like a prayer, "So good. You taste so good."

Her hands ended up in his hair again, pushing his face against her sex, seeking more. She began to move her hips, following the strokes of his mouth on her, but one of Lorcan's arms slithered around her pelvis and pinned her to the bed, lapping her juices as with his thumb he reached to massage her clit with such precision that Elide knew that whatever she would do on her own in the future, she would never be able to match how he was making her feel.

Elide cried out in pleasure, bringing a hand to her mouth as she felt his tongue thrust into her and an all too familiar warmth build up in the pit of her stomach.

She brought one hand up to massage the nipple he had only kissed and made a choked sound, her hips jerking upwards.

Lorcan moaned against her, a new sound, different from any he'd made so far, and Elide couldn't help herself. She pulled herself up onto her elbows, continuing to touch herself as he kept sending jolts of pleasure with every thrust of his tongue and every caress of his thumb, and the sight of him eating her out would have been enough to push her over the edge, but the hand wrapped around his thick, throbbing cock pumping relentlessly was the thing that made her eyes roll back and explode as the rope inside her snapped. Her legs gave out, falling over the edge of the bed and finding their place on Lorcan's shoulders.

Her mouth gaped open in a silent scream as her whole body trembled in pleasure as wave after wave surged through her and her back arched so wide she broke away from the bed.

Lorcan didn't stop touching her, but he pulled his mouth away from her, still massaging her clit until Elide was too sensitive and with a groan she tightened a hand around his wrist to push him away. She heard him grunt and then moan, but she didn't have the strength to lower her gaze to what she knew very well was a cumming Lorcan.

She was breathing hard, one hand on her stomach to rest and the other still clasped around his.

Every now and then her body was shaken by a spasm, but she managed to calm down after a few minutes and close her aching legs. She rolled onto her side, letting go of his wrist.

Lorcan was also breathless and kept his forehead pressed against the edge of the bed.

Elide felt a tinge of pain tingle through her heart. She pulled herself up just enough to look into his face, "Lor?"

She reached out a hand towards him, placing it on his shoulder, at which he raised his head and looked at her with bright eyes and an open mouth, "Are you alright?"

She nodded, smiling at him and falling back into the now unmade blankets, "Never been better."

He chuckled deeply, moving from his position on the floor and causing at least two joints in his legs to crack.

The moment Elide saw he'd managed to get at least halfway out of his trousers, her throat went dry. And her brain forgot how to talk when she noticed he wasn't wearing boxers. Elide knew Lorcan often went commando, but seeing it with her own eyes was a different story. Seeing him, was a completely different thing from feeling him against her.

She swallowed. She'd intended to scold him for taking all the fun out of both of them by touching himself, but maybe Elide had overestimated her abilities, because the idea of having to give Lorcan a blowjob when his dick was like this-

"If you keep looking at me like that I'm not sure I can keep the promise I made to myself," he murmured in a serious voice.

Elide looked up at his face and sighed as she saw his eyes as dark as before, just moments before he pulled off his clothes completely and lay down beside her on the other side of the bed.

It didn't take her even half a second to wrap herself around him and press her body against Lorcan's side as he draped an arm around her shoulders.

His fingertips began to trace idle lines on her shoulder as he had done only half an hour before on the couch in front of everyone.

A satisfied and surprised laugh came out of her. Lorcan put his hand under her chin and when she looked up at him he had an equally satisfied smile on his lips. He pushed her head towards his, causing their mouths to collide in a brief kiss that was chaste in comparison to what they had just done and when they broke away, Elide frowned, "I didn't like you touching yourself without giving me a chance to enjoy this in turn."

The corner of Lorcan's mouth turned up, "Sorry honey, but seeing you naked like that on the bed for me has been my dream for a little too long and I was sure I would have come in zero time if I had let you touch me. It would have been embarrassing." he whispered, caressing her cheek.

Elide tried to suppress a smile, failing miserably. She decided to tease him a little, "I thought I heard you say you lasted long in bed, didn't you?"

He chuckled, "You know it's hard to rely on stamina when the girl in question is you."

At those words she felt a particularly strong surge of affection for the boy who had given her one of the most intense orgasms she had ever received and she pushed herself closer against him, making her bare breasts feel against his skin.

Lorcan turned slightly towards her, looking into her face.

He looked so relaxed.

She knew he was.

But there was something that didn't allow her to be one hundred percent.

She fixed her eyes on his, placing a hand on his chest, over his heart. The hand Lorcan had held behind his head until now came to rest on hers, squeezing her fingers tight.

Elide took a shuddering breath, "Now what?"

Lorcan suppressed a yawn, "I guess it's not a problem if we stay here and sleep-"

"No, I'm saying," she interrupted him, looking away, "what do we do now? You and I." then, realizing that question couldn't have been more vague, she closed her eyes, mustering courage, "What are we now?"

"Whatever you want us to be, Ellie," he said softly, starting to stroke her hand, "But I want one thing to be clear. And I'd like you to look at me while I say it."

Elide opened her eyes, lifting her chin slightly so she could see him better, and gave him a small smile, which he immediately returned.

"What is it?"

Lorcan's gaze moved to her lips, before returning to her eyes, "I like you, Elide."

She stopped breathing.

"I really like you and whatever you decide to do with me, I'll respect that, but I also want to say that if you don't want anything exclusive, then this will have been a one night stand and won't happen again."

Although she also wanted exactly the same things, hearing him say them made her chest hurt, because the prospect of not being able to have him again so soon after just finally finding him hurt.

She cleared her throat, nodding, "I like you too." she whispered, noticing his eyes widen a little, "And I don't want you going with any other girls besides me if we decide to continue with this." Lorcan nodded, agreeing with her, then continued, "If you don't want a relationship right away, I can understand that, but know that I do." she felt herself blush as she finally admitted the truth out loud, looking away, "And I know our situation isn't the best with being roommates and all-"

"Our situation is perfect," Lorcan corrected her, moving a strand of hair out of her face.

She looked at him again, seeing him smile.

"Ellie, you're my best friend. The person who knows me the most out of all the people I consider important. We already live together, we won't have to fight over who to stay at every night. We won't have to go on any awkward first dates and the sex seems phenomenal to me," a lump formed in her throat as she tried to keep her breathing regular, but found it difficult when he smiled at her more broadly, "I waited months for you to see that the playlists were all declarations and hoped that after Friday night something would change. For once I won."

Elide figured he was talking about what had happened at the club, but if she was going to be completely honest... "I was the one who showed you my tits twice, letting you know I wanted something more. Don't take all the credit."

Lorcan burst out laughing and it sounded more scratchy than usual, "I'm sorry, you're right."

He kissed her again and again, and held her close as he ran his fingers through her hair and murmured the words to a love song, and before long she fell asleep in his arms, making Lorcan the happiest man in the world.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed, just send an ask or dm me)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @anne-reads @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @simping4bookboisngrls @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @miserablemusings @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @the-regal-warrior​

[silverarmedassassin]

Come Back to Me // Part Three

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

word count: 2020

warnings: mentions of a car accident, traumatic brain injury, and memory loss. this is going to be pretty angst heavy throughout.

a/n: Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome :)

come back to me masterlist // masterlist

It’s the early morning sun that wakes Bucky up. Not his alarm, not Steve, not F.R.I.D.A.Y. He’d warned, no threatened everyone in the compound with an inch of their lives if they woke him up. His girl was finally here and nothing and no one was going to get him out of bed before noon.

Bucky shifts just enough so that he can see you cuddled up to his side, face gently lit by the morning glow. He can’t resist reaching out and running his metal thumb - the thumb on the hand he never thought could be so delicate, could hold anything as soft and beautiful as you - across the peaks and valleys of your features.

It’d only been a week since he’d seen you last, but it felt like a lifetime. Between your schedule and his chaotic lifestyle, the only time the two of you have recently been able to spend together was on the weekends. Bucky made a mental note to talk to Steve about easing up on the training and amount of missions he was required to go on. The agents on his strike team would be fine without him. He was the one that trained them, after all.

You stir slightly and, if you hadn’t crinkled your nose in the way he loves, Bucky would feel bad about waking you. Any inkling of regret disappears when your eyes slowly flutter open to reveal your sleepy eyes - bright and love-filled despite the lingering dream-filled haze.

“Good morning,” you croak as you nestle into Bucky’s neck. He gently runs his flesh hand over the back of your head as you snuggle in closer. While there was very little he was thankful for about the bastard serum Hydra had pumped through him, his elevated body temperature was not one of them, especially on mornings like this. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know,” Bucky says. “Don’t care.”

You laugh at his disregard, know that he’s blowing off something or other to spend extra time with you. You know Bucky so well, took the time to get to know him in and out in the seven short months you’ve been together. Knew his morning routines with Steve, how he took his coffee and the right amount of syrup to put on his pancakes. Your attention to detail, his details, was one of the many things he loved about you.

Bucky paused at that thought. Loved. He’s not sure why he hadn’t realized it before, or if you felt the same, but he loved you. As cheesy as it sounds, he knew from the moment he met you, flustered and a little shy at one of the ridiculous Stark parties half of New York had been invited to, that you were going to be special to him. And each day he spent with you, you proved him right over and over.

“How are you doing, pal?” Steve interrupts Bucky’s memory with a firm grasp to the shoulder as the duo board the elevator that will take them to the Compound’s residential areas.

Bucky shrugged his best friend’s hand away with a grumble. He knew this was coming, he’d been too quiet during their morning run and had barely said anything on the way back to the ultra-modern building. But he was in a mood.

Bucky had barely seen you since that first night in the kitchen. Whenever he was around, you were not, and he knew that wasn’t a coincidence. Even after the team returned two days later, you barely left the refuge of your room with the exception to go see Banner. The only reason he still knew you were here was that Wanda often took meals to your room for you.

It hurt, knowing you were around and not being able to see you, but everyone had been telling him to give you space, give time the chance to do its job. Bruce was still hopeful your head would go back to normal, but with each day that passed, Bucky was losing both hope and patience.

“Steve, just don’t,” Bucky replied, shoving out of the elevator as the doors pushed open. He didn’t want to talk about it, about the fact you still, even after a week of being out of medical, didn’t remember him. He especially didn’t want to talk to Steve about it, because as much as he loved his best friend, he was terrible with relationship pep-talks.

“Buck, come on you can’t just-”

Before they can turn the corner into the communal living area, Bucky stops, placing an arm across Steve’s chest to get him to stop. Echoing through the hall, Bucky can hear your laughter, sweet and vibrant, just on the verge of hysterics. A twinge in his chest reminds him just how much he’s missed that laugh the past few weeks.

The super-soldier duo shares a look before Steve shoves around Bucky and into the living area. Bucky is quick to follow. The scene in front of them simultaneously warms Bucky’s heart and breaks it. You’re sitting next to Sam on the sectional in the middle of the room, mug in hand and blanket wrapped snuggly around your shoulders. Whatever the two of you had been watching on T.V. is long forgotten. Your face is beet red from laughing so hard at whatever Sam was saying.

“Speak of the devil!” Sam says his attention is drawn to the men. Your smile is quick to falter when you catch a glimpse of the men but recovers as he goes on. “I was just telling Y/N about the time you got your ass handed to you during recruit training.”

“It wasn’t that funny. I was going easy on them.” You start giggling as Steve crosses his arms and makes his way to the fridge. “At least my defeat was by a trained agent. Remember when Y/N got Bucky in a headlock the first time they sparred together?”

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably as the energy in the room grows uncomfortable. Steve immediately swirls around and looks right at Bucky, realizing his mistake.

From your spot on the couch, you look between the three men, the smile quickly falling as your mind catches up with what was just said. “What?” you ask with a nervous laugh, looking to Sam for some kind of explanation.

“Man, what the hell?” Sam says as he throws his hands up in exasperation as he stands from the couch. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve grits out, “but we can’t keep her in the dark forever. I mean, it’s been two weeks and no one is saying anything to her?”

“She’s still confused,” Bucky growls. It’s his turn to throw his arms in the air. “Maybe if you listened to Banner from time to time, you’d know he strongly suggested to not tell her anything for the time being.”

“Uh, guys?” you ask quietly from where you’re kneeling on the couch. The three men pointedly ignore you, continuing to argue with one another about your own health like you weren’t in the room. “Steve?” you try again, but to no avail.

It all becomes a little too much, the raised voices hitting you like a break wall and instantly causing the headache that’d started to grow when you were watching T.V. with Sam to get even worse. You quickly decide it’s been enough time away from your room for today and quickly make your way down the hall.

>>>

You spent the rest of the day in bed, only getting up to collect meal deliveries from Wanda. You didn’t even let her stay to eat with you. The argument between the men earlier took an emotional toll on you, and your headache was refusing to cease its attack.

It’s around one in the morning when you sigh and turn over. You spot your laptop Steve had picked up from your apartment sitting on the desk and decide you’ve spent too much time moping over your condition. It was time to find some answers since no one would supply them for you.

You run a quick Google search on yourself, find that you have, in fact, graduated college - with honors nonetheless - without even knowing. You’d interned at quite a few places around the city during the last years of your education, and wound up working at the NYC office of Stark Industries. No wonder they’re being so nice to me, you think as you scroll.

There are pictures from your graduation, from public events with the various organizations you’ve been with, and an interesting gallery of a Stark party gallery that you appear in quite a bit. It’s not until you reach the pictures of you and Bucky, arm slung casually around your waist and a love-drunk, dopey smile on his face that you’re really taken aback.

“What the…” You fully sit up in bed and scroll through the pictures of you and Bucky. There are about half a dozen more like the one you’d first saw, a handful from what seems like a photo booth, and then a few of the both of you with various members of the Avengers team.

Even though it’s your own smiling face looking back at you, your mind can’t comprehend what you’re seeing.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” you ask timidly into the dark, empty room. Speaking to the AI still feels awkward for you. “Where is Bucky’s room at?”

“Sergeant Barnes’ is located just down the hall from you. Do you need anything?”

You stand, then sit, then stand again. You want to go to him, ask your questions and maybe, maybe get some answers. But you’re unsure if that’s a good idea. If he’s even open to talking to you.

“I, uh. I don’t know,” you say quietly.

“I can alert him that you’re awake and seem to be under stress.”

“No!” you say quickly. You don’t want him to come to you. You don’t want to bother him. “I, just...Is he awake?”

“Yes Miss Y/L/N. I can ask him to open his door, in case you would like to speak to him?”

For an AI, you’re impressed with how emotive F.R.I.D.A.Y sounds. She sounds caring, paternal almost, and you can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest for the tech.

“Yes, please. But only if he’s okay with that.”

You sit for a few minutes, brewing on your thoughts and trying to figure out what questions you want to ask. The tiny voice in the back of your mind is yelling at you to not go anywhere near him alone, but he can’t be too dangerous, right? They wouldn’t let him live here if he was a liability. Plus, he hadn’t tried to harm you when you were alone in the kitchen the other night.

You stand and sigh, mind made up. You peak out your door and see a small sea of dim light flooding from a cracked door just two doors down. You hadn’t realized you were staying so close to Bucky. With a deep breath, you tiptoe down the hall before you can change your mind.

You peak through the ajar door and find Bucky sitting on his bed, book in hand. You can’t help but notice how soft he looks, sitting there seemingly lost in a world other than your own. You feel bad disturbing him, and almost turn back to your room when he looks up and smiles.

“You can come in if you’d like,” he says quietly.

You step fully into the light and push the door open the rest of the way. Bucky sets his book down on his lap and looks at you fully. He has a concerned look on his face, and his eyes are searching yours for some kind of explanation for your late-night visit. You make yourself step into the threshold, but stop short of getting any closer to him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but, can we talk?”

>>>

Tags: @tricksterwinchester​ @themarveledwriter​ @numwoon44​ @wonderlandmind4​ @basicjetsetter​ @igothroughphasesalot​ @candy-and-writing​

[blarrghe]

"Watching me while I sweat from exercising" for Dorianders because... of reasons? XD

Up on AO3 or uner the cut! (the formattinig is probably better on AO3 tumblr is the actual worst)

--

Befriending Magister Dorian Pavus continued to be the worst decision Anders had made since the one that had landed him in Tevinter in the first place. Not at the least because being friends with Magister Dorian Pavus was, on a scheduling level, practically impossible. It was almost maddening, how neither of them ever seemed to have any blighted free time. There was Dorian, very important and very busy, always rushing off to meetings or press events or fundraisers or galas, only available for a quick coffee or for trying to convince Anders to go out clubbing at two in the morning. Which, frankly, he had less than no interest in doing — for several reasons, only minimally to do with the fact that the music gave him a headache (the thought of standing by and watching Dorian dance and practice his smarmy lines on attractive club goers made up most of the rest of it). And then there was his own life, overflowing with unkempt medical notes and overdue bills, and a schedule packed with night shifts and on-call hours that made maintaining a regular sleep schedule impossible, never mind a social life. But despite all that, it was nice to have someone to talk to again. Someone passionate and revolutionary and witty and… just about as lonely as he was, so better not to go messing it up. Better to try to maintain this one terrible friendship — the only one he had that wasn't with a "work friend", or a cat. It was just a really difficult thing to do, between the unrepenting workdays and restless nights filled with dreams of his beautiful Maker-damned face.

 Dorian, however, was remarkably good at being his friend. He always managed to make time. Drew it out of thin air, it seemed, conjured it up like magic between his press conferences and business trips. He had this impossibly serendipitous way of always seeming to send a text offering to meet for coffee right as Anders' break was coming up, and thanks to his own life of impossible hours he was always amenable to a spot of caffeine well into the evening. Other times, he'd offer up an address, saying "meet me here tonight if by the end of your shift you're still alive", and Anders would reply "doubtful", and then show up later anyway to the movie theater, or concert hall, or burlesque playhouse, only to fall asleep in his seat once the lights went down — which, at the burlesque playhouse at least, everyone seemed to find incredibly amusing.

 Today, his shift would be finished at an uncommonly early hour, having started at one that was painfully so. And even though his work-to-sleep ratio for the week was currently hovering at around four to one, when a text came in from Dorian during his break that read simply, "lunch later? Meet me if you have an hour free." He cheerfully replied "I'm off at noon!" And decided to postpone his much-needed afternoon nap. Friends with Dorian, he smiled, terrible decision.

  ----

Anders did not work out. Whatever strength he had he came by naturally, by way of pushing hospital equipment around and running up and down stairs all day. His calves, as a result, were particularly firm, and he had defined, if skinny, biceps. His core was probably strong enough, what with the constant balancing act that was keeping up with his daily life, but if he had wanted abs he would probably have to do something about his diet; more protein, fewer sugary carbs, meals that weren't eaten while standing on a city bus. But a personal beauty routine had always been low on his priority list. If he was looking to impress someone, he usually tried to get his bad jokes and the somewhat trashy rebel-mage aesthetic (which he also came by naturally) to do the job for him. It was not, historically, the best strategy. But he also wasn't looking. Dorian, on the other hand, had beauty routines for his beauty routines. Apparently the way to make up for the sleeplessness of a busy life was to exercise regularly, drink exceptionally expensive vitamin concoctions (despite the fact that his friend, who was a doctor, had told him repeatedly that the vitamins in such quantities were oversaturated, contradictory, and essentially useless), and to apply a laundry list of products to one's skin and hair — that, at least, seemed to work.

And so it was that when Anders showed up at the designated spot, practically asleep on his feet and slouching eagerly off the bus towards the promise of an hour of good company and food, that he discovered that the place Dorian had instructed him to meet at was not a restaurant, or even a coffee shop, but a gym. A gym with wide glass windows facing the street, so that the gorgeous, obviously affluent, gym-membership-holders could sweat it out while on display for the benefit of all the less beautiful and less lucky passersby. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and rich people got a kick out of running in place for their health while watching working folk run breathlessly after the busses that pulled up to the dirty old bus shelter on the street outside. Anders didn't know, he didn't go to gyms. But Dorian did; he went to this gym. He paid an exorbitant membership fee and wore a tight t-shirt branded with the gym's logo while he ran himself sweaty on a treadmill, spraying fancy water into his mouth like he was advertising the stuff, and towelling himself off with the clean white towels provided while still running, panting with the efforts of his impressively athletic exertions. This, Anders discovered by staring at him as he did it, through the clear glass window from the street, his mouth falling open and throat going dry until Dorian spotted him, and he snapped his mouth shut while his cheeks went red. Dorian's cheeks were also red, a bead of sweat dripping down over one in a long glistening trail from his temple. He pressed some buttons on the treadmill, slowed down to a walk, smiled, and waved. Anders, like a dumbfounded puppet on a string, raised his hand and dropped it again, in some approximation of returning the greeting.

Ten minutes later, Dorian met Anders outside the door of the clean, white and minimalist setting of the gym's lobby with his regular (still tight) clothes on and his damp hair fragrant with some kind of rich, flower-infused cream.  

"You got here faster than I expected, sorry you had to wait."

"Good bus timing," Anders shrugged, pointedly not looking at him. One intolerable sensation at a time, and he still smelled amazing.

"You know there's an app for the schedules, GPS tracking and everything." Dorian commented. Why he knew that, when he'd probably never taken public transportation in his life, Anders couldn't guess. But then, Dorian was infinitely more organized than he was; good with schedules. Anders, meanwhile, struggled to keep his own thoughts straight, never mind the kinds of itineraries that Dorian kept. So he just nodded along, certain that he would never remember to check, or even download, the recommended app.

Dorian led them up to the intersection, and pressed the button at the crosswalk, every simple movement somehow upright and deliberate. "So, lunch? I'm starving, there's a great place across the street."

Anders glanced back at the gleaming white and chrome of the gym, and the equally sleek boutiques to either side of it. He frowned, fingering the well-worn leather billfold in his pocket. "How great?" He asked, cautiously.

"Great as in healthy, all vegan food and local produce and the like." Dorian smirked at him, and Anders made the mistake of looking at it. He blushed, and frowned some more.

"Oh, great." He said, with very little enthusiasm. A twelve dollar salad and one of those ludicrous vitamin waters, just what he and his malnourished billfold needed.

"You're a doctor, you can't live on cup noodles and granola bars all the time. It sets a bad example." Dorian berated, lightly, in return.

"At least cup noodles have salt." Anders protested, "Maybe too much, but that's better than none at all. And you know organic is just a buzzword, not everything organic is healthier. And the hoops of getting branded "Organic" just make it harder for actual family owned farmers, who grow perfectly healthy crops, to market to sellers," he ranted about it, albeit halfheartedly, until Dorian sighed and shook his head.

"Which is why I said local, not organic. And I've been, I promise they use seasonings. You really think I'd debase myself by dining somewhere that didn't know how to properly use spice?"

Anders grunted, still disapproving.

"It's good, really. You'll like it there, they have cats."

"They have…?" Anders spun to watch Dorian, squinting in confusion at him as he brightened the world about him with another one of those obnoxiously perfect smiles.

"Cats, they're all very tame. You can sit with them while you eat or play with them afterwards. An endeavour of the local animal shelter to help encourage adoption, as I understand it." Dorian explained casually. Then the light changed and he set off walking. Anders followed, significantly less grumpily, though now his stomach was turning flips for an entirely different reason besides hunger.

Forget Kirkwall, actually. Befriending Dorian was, hands down, the absolute worst decision he’d ever made.

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Eighteen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

The Unlived Life

It was a scorching day, her sixteenth of being an unwilling part of their camp. 

It had been dry for the past few days, but today the sun had decided to make things even more unbearable. As if she didn’t have enough to deal with.

Primarily, today being the day that all the O’Driscoll groups would reunite.

She’d gathered from Peter and overhearing other conversations that Colm’s boys would break off into smaller groups, killing and looting as they went, and then regroup sometime later to see how business was going. It seemed chaotic to her, quite frankly, but Colm wasn’t a man who cared much for order. As long as he was still their leader, they made money, and they feared him then he didn’t care.

It was nearing noon, now, the sun at it’s highest, so they were taking a break amongst the cover of trees, but even the shade didn’t make it any easier. She felt uncomfortable, irritated, like she could barely breathe it was so stifling.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone since she’d awoken. Peter was napping, the heat too much to bear for the Irish boy, and Zach was as silent as ever. That was good, she knew she’d just snap at Peter if he began one of his long conversations and she didn’t want to do that, he was growing on her.

She could feel the shirt sticking to her skin, beads of sweat sliding down her back and neck. The feel of every one sent a new wave of irritation through her.

And she found herself staring at Colm, watching him sat amongst his men, chuckling at a story one of them was telling, sipping from his flask. She knew she was in a dangerous mood, a prickling sensation running up and down her spine, her mind telling her that lashing out would soothe some of her irritation.

She was going to kill him today. After she’d confirmed Thomas was dead. She didn’t know how exactly yet but she was going to.

She’d barely slept, which wasn’t helping matters. Her unfinished plan had gone round and round in her mind, trying to think of how she could grab a gun from a nearby man, or lunge at Colm and grab the knife on his belt, stab him before he could even react. Would they kill her? Most likely. It was a price she was convincing herself she was willing to pay, though. People would be safe with Colm dead, Arthur would be safe. If he already believed she was dead, or had even let the thought cross his mind, then, she was also trying to convince herself, it wouldn’t be too great a blow.

No matter what, today she was going to get the closure she’d been wanting for over ten years, and not just for Thomas’s death.

Colm chuckled again, raising his flask to his lips, and the casual normality of it just suddenly tipped her over the edge.

“Why didn’t you come to us?”

The man speaking broke off at the interruption and the group fell silent, their heads turning to where she sat with her back against a tree, smiles and laughter pausing. Their eyes then slid to their leader. Colm swallowed his mouthful, squinting slightly as he regarded her, propping an elbow on his knee.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Me and my mother.” She held his gaze. “You must’ve known where we were. You knew Nicholas was my mother’s brother. You could have blackmailed him, got money, come for us.” She didn’t stop the faintly disgusted look that crossed her features. “Reunited us, as you seem so desperate to do now.”

“Hm.” He tilted his head. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you. I don’t blame you. When a man gets older, he realises he needs his family, though. Back then...” A smile pulled at his lips. “Nah, I wanted to leave ya be. I knew you’d be fine, you and your Ma. Least I could do.”

She hated him. She hated him, she hated him, she hated him. Hated that fond look on his face, how he sounded so gracious, like he’d done them the ultimate of favours. She wanted to hurt him.

“The least you could have done was loan my father the money he needed to keep us going.”

Colm scratched his cheek, his brow dipping slightly, like he was trying to figure out what was happening. “He didn’t want to be indebted to me.”

“He asked you so he must not have cared too much.”

“Yeah, but it killed him to do it.” He was smiling but there was a hardness to his eyes. “He wanted so much to make it all work out, the ‘good life’, and he didn’t.”

“He did. It was just one bad winter.”

“One bad winter gets families killed.”

“That’s why they turn to others and ask for help.” Her words were as sharp as knives but they did nothing to cut through the growing tension in the air.

Colm looked at her, his jaw moving slightly. Then, he laughed. “We just both like to argue, don’t we?”

It was a chance for her to stop, but Ada wasn’t going to back down, even though she could feel Zach’s eyes boring into her and her own voice was screaming at her in her head to stop.

“You like to argue. You like to deflect and laugh and think you’re smarter than everyone else but you’re not. You’re a cheap thief and a poor leader who cares for nobody and nothing and when you die nobody will care or remember you and not one tear will be shed in sorrow.”

Silence. A couple of the men shifted uncomfortably, some eyes on the ground.

Colm’s were fixed on her, expressionless now.

“Is that so.” The icy tone should have been enough to stop her.

“Yes,” came her instant reply.

His leg was bouncing up and down now. “If any of my men had said that I’d have killed ‘em.”

“Because you know it’s true.”

Him standing and taking measured steps closer should have been enough to stop her. “Because it’s insolence.”

She didn’t realise she’d met his unspoken challenge by also standing herself until she was on her feet. 

“’Insolence’,” she scoffed, her eyes shifting to the men who were now all staring at her incredulously. “You’re all replaceable to him. If, no, when you die for him, he’ll just recruit another in your place. You mean nothing to him. Why pledge your life to and fight for a man like that? He didn’t even help his own brother, didn’t even come to his funeral, didn’t even care about him—”

She broke off with a choke as Colm grabbed her by the throat, his face inches from hers. In her peripheral vision she saw Zach had stood but he did nothing. Her hand gripped at Colm’s arm as he pressed her back against the tree, his fingers tightening, staring at her.

“You got the big family fuckin’ mouth, girl,” he murmured lowly. “We just don’t know when to shut up, do we?”

Both hands on his arm now, she sank her nails into his skin, his shirt sleeves rolled up but he didn’t even wince. Gasping in small breaths, her lip curled as she managed to breathe out, “Why are you... keeping me here?”

“You want to see your brother, don’t you?”

She could just about breathe, and her heart was pounding as her natural instincts to fight surged through her, but she kept as still as possible, managing to speak once more. 

“This isn’t about... me, is it...” she gasped. “... You want... to get one over on Dutch... as usual. Well... I’m sorry to disappoint you... but he does not care about me.”

That made Colm smile, though his grip didn’t loosen. “No, he doesn’t. But Arthur Morgan cares about you, and Dutch cares about Arthur. Anythin’ that hurts Dutch in some way is a fuckin’ gift to me. If Arthur Morgan’s out there thinkin’ you’re dead? Fuckin’ wonderful.” He licked his lips as he tilted his head and paused for a few moments. “... He may have been your daddy but he was my brother. I knew and loved him a lot longer, so you watch your fuckin’ mouth, you don’t know shit.”

Tears were starting to sting at her eyes and it wasn’t just from his hold. “Why... didn’t you help him, then? Help us?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he took dirty money. Just like his daughter, too much pride.”

He squeezed harder for a moment, before shoving her away, releasing her. She gasped in long, harsh breaths as her back collided with the tree, her hand darting up to massage her throat. Her eyes were still fixed on him, though, and she watched him walk away without another look at her, returning to his seat and sitting with a sigh.

“Carry on, Jim, before we were so fuckin’ rudely interrupted.” He didn’t even glance up at her, and the man, Jim, immediately continued his story.

Ada could already feel a headache forming from the lack of oxygen, and she coughed, her throat faintly sore.

“Hey, you okay?”

Peter was suddenly at her side, he must’ve awoken at some point, his voice quiet, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she rasped slightly, continuing to massage her neck.

“I’ll get ye some water.”

She met Zach’s gaze as Peter darted away. He sat back down as he held her eyes for a moment longer before looking at the ground. She’d seen a flicker of something in them but hadn’t known what it was from the man who barely showed any emotions. Part of her thought she should be embarrassed, maybe, cowed or wounded, but she actually felt... relieved. She could provoke him. She could wound him in some way. She didn’t fully believe what he’d said, but she believed that he thought he loved his brother.

But had she got the closure she wanted?

... Not yet.

Like it had never happened, they continued on shortly after, and, sat back in her place in the wagon with Peter, he told her rather unhelpfully that small bruises had formed around her throat. Every swallow came with a slight ache but it was the least of her concerns. The men were becoming louder, more energised, excitement growing in the air; she knew they were drawing near to the regroup.

She knew they were drawing near when the wagon turned off of the main road, jostling her, Peter and the cargo.

She knew they were drawing near when she started to hear more voices.

She knew they were there when the men riding behind the wagon urged their horses into canters, moving ahead out of view as they called out.

She’d imagined her heart would be pounding, that she’d be sweating, wanting to be sick, but instead, she felt calm, almost unnervingly so. The truth was going to be revealed in a matter of minutes. The wagon came to a halt as a cheer went up. Voices talked over each other, growing into a loud hubbub as Peter jumped out of the wagon. As always, he held a hand out to help her out and she took it, dropping down onto the grass.

“Ada!”

Lifting her head, she found Colm beckoning her over, stood by his horse with Zach and two other men. Glancing at Peter, he smiled lightly, before she looked away and headed over to Colm. Her fingers flexed slightly as she moved closer, her eyes fixed on him. 

Just a matter of minutes.

“Come here, darlin’.” It was really like earlier hadn’t happened at all, with his smile and his arm going around her shoulders.

She allowed it without reaction, moving with him as he headed into the camp, Zach following at a short distance behind them. As he greeted men as they walked, she surveyed the area. It was in another clearing and sprawling, wagons dotted around, several groups of horses, different fire pits, men sat around, waving and calling out to each other. She had no idea there were so many of them, they were like a small army, and they called out their greetings to Colm like he was a king, swiftly filling him in on business they’d conducted, telling him they’d catch up with him later. He just nodded, smiled, and said a few words in reply, his arm remaining around her.

She looked at each man as they passed them, searching their features, but Thomas was dead so what was the point?

“Colm!” A man with thinning blonde hair approached, a hand on his belt.

“Dorian.” His arm left her as he reached a hand out, accepting Dorian’s hand and shaking it.

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Just fine, just fine,” Colm said as he released his hand. “The boys all come back with ya?”

“Yeah, George is helpin’ them with the Court wagon.”

“All right, come find me later, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.” Dorian then glanced at Ada, looking her up and down. “... This your niece?”

“Yes, she is.” The arm was back around her shoulders but she gave no reaction again, looking at Dorian who was smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ada.”

She hated the familiarity of it. Dorian didn’t seem offended as she said nothing, just looked at Colm and tipped his hat. “I’ll see you later.”

“All right.” Then, he was moving them onward, coughing. “C’mon, then.”

His arm dropped, hand patting her back, and she glanced at him, her jaw clenching. She hated his smile. Hated the delight in his eyes. Matter of minutes. She followed a step or so behind him, inhaling a breath. He was heading towards a crammed wagon, various men unloading crates, sacks and metal boxes from it.

“Thomas, m’boy,” Colm called to one of the men, his smile widening as he heard Ada stop behind him.

A tall man, slightly taller than Arthur, his black hair falling in waves to just above his shoulders, lifted his head as he placed a box on top of a crate.

Thomas O’Driscoll smiled widely at his uncle, inclining his head as he brushed his hands together. “Hey. You were right, Jackson was fine, said we could go back in a week...” He trailed off as his gaze shifted behind him.

“That’s good, that’s good...” Colm rubbed his jaw as his body half-turned, his other hand gesturing at the young woman. “Thom, this is your sister, Adaline.”

It was said without ceremony, without pomp or thrills, without any preparation. 

Thomas stared at her, eyes darting over her, still.

Colm continued, his arms folding as he watched him. “Me and the boys rescued her from some Murfree fuckers. She’s your sister.”

Frozen, the man’s brow dipped slightly. “... Ada?”

She didn’t realise she was shaking, thick tears filling her eyes. She knew him. She knew that face. Those green eyes. She would have recognised him anywhere.

Ada mouthed his name “... Thom.”

Oh my God...

She lifted her arms, reaching out to him—

His were already around her, lifting her and holding her tightly. She cried out and wept into his shoulder and she could hear him saying her name over and over. She had no words. Nothing.

She faintly heard Colm chuckle and say, “I’ll leave you kids to it.”

Ada couldn’t stop crying, could barely breathe. Then, Thom was drawing his head back and she looked at him, looked at those warm green eyes, the faint freckles that dusted his skin here and there, the nose that was nearly identical to her own, their mother’s, the strong jaw line like their father’s. His own eyes were shining and his hand was smoothing her hair down, his thumb stroking her cheek as he gazed at her incredulously and still kept her lifted.

“Look at you, my sister, my little sister. Look at you...”

All she could do was cry, cupping his face, taking him all in. 

“I thought... you were dead...” she managed to say between sobs, her own words bringing a fresh wave of tears, barely able to see him through them.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Ada, I’m so sorry...”

His hand slid to the back of her head and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck and she cried and cried and cried.

Her brother. Her brother Thomas, alive and safe.

He gently stroked her hair, hushing her softly while he began to move, walking them somewhere, she didn’t care where.

She wished Mama was alive.

She didn’t lift her head until her boots touched the ground, and then his hands were on her arms, gently guiding her to sit down on a log. She took one of his large hands in both of hers, as if if she stopped touching him for a moment then he would disappear.

Ada sniffed, biting at her lower lip as it trembled slightly. She swallowed hard, fighting off more tears. “I... imagined this moment so many times, but I never thought it would happen.”

“Me, too.” He smiled widely and placed his other hand over hers, and she just couldn’t believe how big his hands were; they were the hands of a man.

Sniffing again, she closed her eyes for a few moments, tears escaping, and then inhaled a long, steadying breath before releasing it. Looking up at him, she shook her head slightly.

“... How is this possible... What happened, Thom?”

He released a breath of his own, licking his lips. It was a few moments before he spoke. “I just... I just had to. It killed me to leave you and Ma, it really did.” A corner of his mouth lifted, his thumb stroking her hand. “How is she?”

Oh, no... Colm hasn’t told him...

Her features crumbled again as she held his hand tightly. “She’s, uhm... She died, Thom.”

“Oh.” She could see the conflicting emotions in his eyes, the love he still held for his mother, but that she was also someone he hadn’t seen in over ten years, had probably distanced himself mentally from it all, from them, to make his life easier. The look then vanished swiftly and he cleared his throat. “How?”

“I...” Oh fuck, she couldn’t tell him it was because of his own men, could she? “... I can’t... can’t talk about that now.”

“Okay, it’s all right, I understand.” He smiled gently, patting her hand. “Another time.”

She nodded, exhaling a breath, almost crying again at that because they had time now. “Go on, please, tell me everything.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, licking his lips again. “I travelled for weeks...” He laughed humourlessly. “I was just a kid, wandering around, without a clue, no where to start. I just went to towns and asked people outright, like they’d just say ‘oh, head east’...” She laughed softly with him, her heart simultaneously breaking at how determined she could imagine he’d been. “I nearly came home a couple of times, but...” His smile faded. “I thought I couldn’t live with myself if I did. Thought you’d think I’d failed.”

“Never, Thom, never.” Her heart broke again as she gripped his hands tighter.

He shook his head a little, smiling faintly. “I know, I know...” His eyebrows rising again, the smile widened. “But then I did come across some of his boys, in a bar. I made them laugh for a while and then they got pissed off at my pesterin’ and then when I kept insisting they just took me with them. Thought it’d be hilarious to see a kid up against Colm O’Driscoll. I was so damn nervous.” She didn’t laugh with him this time. “But I met him, confronted him and then he... He told me the truth, about everything. Do you...?”

She nodded and swallowed as he trailed off. “Yeah, I know.”

Thom shook his head, his jaw moving. “I still think about that day.”

“Me, too.” She took a breath, asking as gently as she could the question that was killing her. “... Why didn’t you come back to us after finding out?”

Thom gave a small shrug after a moment. “... I thought you and Ma wouldn’t believe me.”

It broke her heart because they probably wouldn’t have. If she hadn’t have heard it from Dutch himself...

She didn’t think she had any more tears left in her, so she quickly managed a smile as she sniffed, squeezing his hands. “You must’ve seen some places, then, huh?”

The wide smile returned and she loved it. “Oh, yeah. Mainly fields and woods and small towns, but I’ve been to Chicago a few times.”

“Really?” He laughed as her smile widened. “Mama always wanted to take us.”

“Yeah, I loved it. I’ll take you one day.” 

One day, oh, they had days now. 

“What about you?”

“Well...” She licked her lips as she inhaled. “... We were at the farm for a while and then we moved to Strawberry to be with Uncle Nicholas.”

“How was that?”

“Interesting.” A corner of her mouth lifted a little higher. “And lonely.”

His throat bobbed. “I’m sorry—”

She was already shaking her head. “Don’t be. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I... There’s no point in what ifs.” Glancing over his shoulder, she exhaled. “You move around a lot, then?”

“Yeah, but we do have a main camp in the west, just by Little Creek River.”

She caught his slightly sheepish expression... then it dawned on her, her lips parting.

“Hang on, that’s in West Elizabeth, that’s north of Strawberry.”

Thom was nodding, the sheepish expression lingering. “Yeah, I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “... When I found out you were both in Strawberry, like I said, I... Well, didn’t think you’d take me back.”

Her lower lip trembled as, oh, yes, she did still had some tears left. “Oh, you idiot, of course we would have...” Releasing his hands, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, her chin on his shoulder.

His arms went around her, holding her tightly. She could feel his muscles under his shirt, could feel his strength; he was no longer the, quite frankly, scrawny boy who looked like a fair breeze would have blown him over.

“You’re so big,” she laughed thickly, sniffing as she pulled back to look at him once more. “When did that happen?”

He laughed, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Ooh, overnight, just after my seventeenth birthday.”

"Wow, what a treat,” she chuckled, and, oh, they could laugh together, he still had that sense of humour she’d loved.

"But what about you, huh? You were the size of the town cat when I left.”

She laughed, grinning as she wiped her cheeks. “Oh, for me it was earlier, after my sixteenth birthday.” 

“Well, you were always better than me at everything. And look at all this!” He reached out and tugged on a curl. “You still cry when you brush it?”

She pulled a face that made him laugh. “Oh, I don’t brush it anymore, can’t you tell?”

“Well, I was trying to be polite...”

Ada laughed again as her instincts took over and she punched his arm, the action so nostalgic, so long-forgotten that if she wasn’t laughing she would have wept.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they looked at each other, both still unable to quite really believe it. The noise of the camp filtered back into her hearing and her gaze drifted over his shoulder again. Licking her lips, she smiled lightly.

“So, what’s going to happen now?”

Thom returned her smile, raising his eyebrows a little. “Well, what do you want to happen?”

She shook her head slightly, inhaling a long breath, her smile lingering. “I want to leave. I want to take you and Arth—” Ada caught herself quickly, her cheeks flushing as Thom’s eyebrows rose a little higher.

“Ah, yeah, I heard about that...” His smile was still there, though, so she relaxed, even if her blush did remain.

“Yes, it, uhm... It wasn’t exactly part of my plan, but...”

“You love him?” he asked gently after a moment.

She couldn’t believe she was talking about the man she loved with her brother. Her heart could’ve burst. “I do. I really do.”

He looked at her and her soft expression, before his head lifted and he looked away, out towards the trees, and exhaled a quiet laugh.

Her brow dipped a little as she watched him. “What?”

Thom shrugged slightly, a corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “It’s just strange. I’ve heard so much about him, and the gang, but I’ve never encountered them. Colm’s always kept me out of things like that, in case they got me and found out who I was. I've come to hate them, they're the enemy, but now...” He looked at her, shrugging again. “They’re just strangers, aren’t they. Can’t even really put a face to the man my sister loves. You’re a stranger, too, I guess.”

Something twinged in her chest as she looked at him, exhaling a slight laugh. “Don’t say that.”

He shook his head quickly, taking one of her hands. “No, no, I don’t mean it in a... We just lost so much time.”

Her features softened as she squeezed his hand, swallowing the lump that had returned to her throat. “Well, we can make up for it now.”

“Yes, we can.” His smile reached his eyes, deepening the small lines there, and it felt good to know he’d smiled and laughed enough for them to form.

She couldn’t stop herself from asking, though. “You knew I was with the gang, then?”

“Yeah, Colm told me. I didn’t fully believe it at first, just couldn’t believe it but... here you are.” The smile lingered.

Her own widened. “Here I am.”

Shaking his head, he released her hand and lifted his own. “Go on, then, tell me about you.”

"What about me?”

“Everything, what you like to do, what you’ve done, what you read, you can still read, right? Do you still talk to frogs and toads...?”

Her laughter carried across the camp.

—

They talked for hours, reminiscing on the memories they had and comparing the paths their lives had taken. She told him all about her recent adventures, how’d she got the scar on her face, thankfully he didn’t ask about the bruises on her neck, and the roles she played in the gang. He listened quietly and didn’t ask questions, and she left out some parts, like Dutch’s plans, her feelings about him, and just how... developed her relationship with Arthur was. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Thom, she just didn’t want anyone else overhearing the specifics of what the gang had been up to.

The sun had nearly set by the time they’d filled each other in on everything. 

He let out a whistle as his eyebrows raised once she’d finished, sipping water from the cup someone had brought over to them. “You a gunslinger now, then, huh?”

She snorted. “Hardly. I just... had to get by.”

“Mmh. I understand that.”

A cheer caught their attention and they looked over towards the main area of the camp; another group of men had joined, seemingly the last by the jeers and laughter.

The event brought them both back to reality. Looking up at the sky, she couldn’t believe how dark it was getting and how much her stomach was rumbling. Thom seemed to be having the same train of thought as he stood and held a hand out to her.

“Come on, let’s get some food, I’m starvin’.”

His arm went around her shoulders once he’d helped her up and she much preferred it to Colm’s. He introduced her to every group of men that passed, proudly stating, ‘this is my sister, Ada’. She shook all their hands with a polite smile, even laughed easily a few times, because she was just so happy. She shoved to the back of her mind thoughts that told her they were only being courteous because she was someone important... and that they’d killed Kieran and countless others.

She thought for the shortest of moments about whether Thom had killed anyone, then it was gone, incomprehensible.

They ate together, and when a man came over to greet him, her gaze drifted, trying to find Peter or Zach. The former was nowhere to be seen and the latter, it seemed, had finally taken his eyes off of her for she couldn’t see him either. They were probably off somewhere, reconnecting, sleeping, or—

She stilled, staring at a man sat on the outer edge of a group. He was laughing hard, slapping his hand against his knee at whatever another man was saying. He was so familiar... where the hell had she seen him...

... Oh, God...

A coldness washed over her as she froze, a rush of breath escaping her. Thom glanced at her, rubbing his jaw as the man beside him continued talking. Frowning, he lifted his hand and the man paused.

“Ada? You all right?”

She swallowed hard, speaking before she could stop herself. “He was there.”

Thom was leaning closer, setting his bowl on the floor and taking her hand. “What?”

Everything sounded so quiet all of a sudden.

She licked her lips, unable to look away as the man laughed again. “That man over there, he... he was at Strawberry when they attacked and he, he was with a group of men who killed Mama.”

"What, that’s how she died?”

Ada finally looked away, meeting her brother’s gaze.

Oh, shit.

Thom was still, holding her gaze. He remembered a group of them had gone at Colm’s request to Strawberry, to get Andrew and Colin out of jail. He’d thought of convincing his uncle to let him go, wondering if Ada and Ma still lived there but... he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it.

Now, it was the second biggest thing he regretted in his life.

“Which man.”

She swallowed again. “Uh...” Thom was giving no reaction, and she knew she couldn’t just suddenly dismiss this. Looking back over at the group, she pointed briefly. “That man there. The one in the green shirt.”

Turning his head, Thom followed the direction of her finger. “... With the black hair and beard?”

“Uh...”

He’d suddenly turned back to her. “Are you sure it’s him?”

This was her chance to back out, to stop whatever had come over Thom. “I-I don’t know—”

His hands were on her shoulders, gripping them as he held her gaze. “Is it, Ada?”

“Yes.” The short word exited her so swiftly it was like it had been punched out of her.

His jaw moved.

Then he was on his feet, moving towards the group. She didn’t even have time to say anything to him, a slight sound leaving the back of her throat as her body turned to watch him.

Thom's broad shoulders were squared, his hand rubbing his jaw.

“Hey, Toby.”

The man looked up, a grin still on his lips. “Hey, Thom, good to see ya!” He stood, offering his hand to him.

Thom didn’t accept it as he came to a stop, and Toby lowered his hand after a moment, his smile faltering slightly. Ada fully appreciated how tall Thom was now, practically standing over Toby. The other man seemed to realise this, too, drawing himself up to his full height as he let out a slight laugh.

“You all right, brother?”

Ada’s heart was pounding as she watched them. Thom was silent and Toby’s grin was fading with each passing second.

Then, Thom exhaled a harsh breath. “String him up.”

Men moved instantly, lurching out of their seats, others nearby standing and craning their necks to look at what was happening.

Toby let out a short, nervous laugh, his eyes darting from the moving men to Thom. “What? Wait, I— Why? What the fuck have I done?!”

Some men had gotten rope from somewhere, and one grabbed Toby by his shoulder, holding him still as another wrapped the rope round and round his wrists. Toby tried to yank his arms back but the man held him still.

“C-Come on, guys, what the fuck’s going on?!”

“Awh, shit, what’s goin’ on here?” She heard Colm call out from somewhere behind her, nearing, a smile in his tone, and in her peripheral vision she saw him drinking from his flask.

She couldn’t look at him, though, couldn’t look away from the terrified Toby and her silent brother, the small group now moving as the men began to pull Toby across the camp.

“What’s going on?! What’s happening?!”

No one was answering Toby, not even questioning Thom themselves. Rounding the fire pit she was at, her body turned automatically with them, unable to move beyond that. As they reached the trees, one of the men pulling Toby along threw the other end of the rope over a thick branch and pulled sharply, making Toby rise a foot or so off the ground. He yelled out, his eyes wide, trying to kick his legs out, flailing in the air.

“Thom?! What did I do?!”

Thom ignored him and turned as some of the men laughed, his tongue running along his lower lip as he moved towards her. The fire made light dance across her, hiding that she was trembling.

“Thom—”

He lowered down to one knee, one hand resting on hers as his other unsheathed a knife from his belt, flipped it in his hand and held the handle out to her. She stared at it, her gaze then darting back up to him.

“... I can’t.”

His features were unreadable. “Come on, Ada.”

She shook her head a few times, trying hard to take a full breath. “I can’t, Thom.”

A corner of his mouth lifted and his features softened, a terrible juxtaposition to Toby’s yelling behind him. 

“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Cupping the back of her neck, he tilted her head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then, he’d risen and turned away, striding back towards Toby.

She heard Colm bark out a laugh as men jeered. “Oh, you really fucked up this time, Toby! Look at that fuckin’ face! Like thunder!”

Toby was nearly sobbing, desperation saturating his tone. “What did I do?! What did I do?!”

Ada’s gaze hadn’t moved from where she’d stared at Thom’s chest, now just fixed on the ground.

“No, no, Thom, please, come on, please—!”

She flinched at the sound of material ripping, Toby’s howl echoing in the night.

Then came Thom’s voice; cold as ice. “You killed my mother, Toby.”

Curses and insults went up from the group but Colm’s voice came the loudest, jeering, taunting.

“Oh, shit, you killed my sister-in-law, Toby?”

“When?! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know!” Toby’s words were jumbled in screams, and Ada could feel tears pricking at her eyes. Within moments they were sliding down her cheeks.

She could hear the men laughing, making casual observations, drinking, some not even paying much attention.

This was a game to them.

A sport.

A regular occurrence.

She couldn’t stop her eyes from lifting to Thom.

He was stood before Toby, the man’s shirt open, a wound on his chest, blood running out of it. Toby was pale, terrified. Thom was calm.

 This was nothing to her brother.

She suddenly got to her feet, her gaze dropping. As Toby screamed again and she heard a sound she didn’t want to identify, she turned on her heel and began to stride away, her fists curled tightly at her sides, chest rising and falling swiftly, staring at the ground, body rigid.

Tears fell like a stream down her cheeks as she walked away, Toby’s screams echoing in her ears.

She could hear her own breathing, jagged, gasping.

A few whoops went up as Toby cried out again, the sound so agonised, so drawn out that she released a sob and put her hands over her ears.

She walked into the trees, still able to hear the screams. Her legs suddenly gave out as a higher, panicked scream came. Her arm darting out, she grabbed at a tree trunk, sinking to her knees. Curling up against it, her hands went back over her ears as her eyes closed tightly, her breaths short, sobbed.

She murmured to herself, not even sure what she was saying, just trying to drown it all out.

Yet it was useless.

All she could hear was his screams.

—

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Like real people do.

ACOMAF; Mor Fanfiction

Summary : After many and many a secret lover, Morrigan finally meets someone whom she wants to keep a secret no more. Her lover Lou (an OC) never minded being a secret, now she's being asked to solstice eve dinner with Mor as the latter comes out to her family. [Set before ACOSF]

Read on Archive of our own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354391/chapters/72104565

It was funny how a small thought might take home at the back of one’s head and live there for days, stirring the loudest of reactions to the smallest of suspicions. And once one finally convinced oneself that such a thought was but a fantasy, there came the moment that proved their fear real.

For Lou, it happened on the morning of solstice eve.

She had felt it coming for a while now. She’d catch Mor opening her mouth to say something then closing it, starting conversations with ‘so I’ve been thinking..’ only to shake her head two seconds later and ask her to forget it. And Lou’s heart skipped a beat or two each time that happened. She finally decided to stop worrying, it was too late now for Mor to ask, anyways.

So it took her by complete surprise when Mor casually blurted it out. No nervous energy preceded the event, no stuttering, no waiting for a solemn mood to reign first with hearts beating too fast and eyes darting all over the place. None of that. Mor had been hurrying about, putting her clothes on and looking for her stuff around the flat _ which had ended up in the most peculiar of places due to the state in which they’ve returned from the club last night.

Warm underneath the bed covers, Lou had been contently watching Mor move around.

“I want you to come to dinner with me tonight, you know... meet everyone.”

Lou blinked, her body had been subject to too much action (and alcohol) last night that it simply could not master a physical reaction. She knew then and there what her answer was: a simple no. Some part of her wanted to just politely decline and be over with the conversation, but the insecure part of her also wanted to play along in case she was getting the wrong idea.

Mor, who had been fixing her makeup at the vanity mirror, turned to fully face her and for a second Lou almost completely forgot about her current crisis. Mor was gorgeous, anyone could see that. She had the kind of beauty people just acknowledged and accepted. Lou was no exception. But that had always felt distant and in a way meaningless. It wasn’t until she associated these looks with Mor’s personality that they started to shine under a completely different light. Yes, Mor had a radiant smile, but it wasn’t until she knew her that she realized that that smile could actually stop her heart and make her world turn the opposite way.

And now, blonde hair tasseled, dress half worn with the side zipper fully open and one strap falling down her arm, face bare of any make-up except for the bright red color on her lips _which made her look a bit ridiculous but she’d pair with piercing eyes and confidence that anyone looking her way wouldn’t find it anything but bold and daring. Her complete attention was on Lou.

“So?” She prompted.

“Well, whatever for?” Lou finally replied.

Mor rolled her eyes and turned back to face the mirror again, working on her eyes now.

“To have dinner, what do you image?”

“Well..” Lou started, shifting to her side and pulling the covers tightly around her. It was awfully early for conversations.

“I wasn’t aware your tight circle was open to new additions.”

Mor looked at her sideways, seeming offended, Lou shrugged sleepily.

The High Lord’s inner circle tried to seem approachable and casual, and they were, to a certain degree: they would never ignore anyone who struck up a conversation with them at a party or at a bar _they hanged out quite often at the local bars and clubs_, they greeted locals and asked about their family and friends if they were familiar with them, they would stop and have a full conversation about the weather with anyone who wished so. But still, they remained untouched and best admired from afar. Lou didn’t think it was something they did on purpose or even were aware of, but it was there nonetheless. She, herself, didn’t like to get too close, only watched from a safe distance. She would have never even dreamed of attempting at anything resembling a small talk with Mor, had not the High Lord’s third approached her herself, quite tipsy and certainly flirting. That was over a year ago.

“We are if said additions are dear friends of ours.”

It clicked then. dear friends that was what Lou going as. She thought she’d be relieved at hearing that, she wasn’t. Not entirely. In fact, It annoyed her a little bit. What the hell was Mor planning?

Mor lifted one perfect eyebrow at the mirror questioningly, knowing that Lou was watching.

“Mor, I don’t think your family will appreciate new ‘dear friends’ on solstice eve. Who just brings a new friend they’ve never mentioned to solstice eve? For no reason?”

Lou realized she was blushing, quite fiercely. This whole conversation was not the best thing to have first thing in the morning with a pounding headache. She buried her face in the pillow.

“What? Well, silly…”

Lou didn’t lift her head from the pillow, even when Mor’s voice sounded closer as she made her way towards her.

“Of course they’ll appreciate meeting the person I'm seeing. I want them to meet you.”

Peaking with one eye at Mor, she was kneeling before the bed, smiling at Lou trying to keep a bright face but Lou knew better.

“Does the spymaster or the commander bring their lovers to family dinners often?”

“Lou,” Mor said in a resigned voice. If Lou was good at reading Mor, so was Mor at reading her, and she knew she was stalling.

Sitting up in the bed, Lou took a breath readying herself.

“Alright..” She ran a hand through her mess of hair before looking down at Mor.

“Mor, they’ve just… They have no idea that you prefer girls. Do you think this is the right way to approach it?”

The truth was, Mor had hidden her sexual preferences from her friends and found family for a very long time and even though they seemed like the sort of lot who would be completely cool with it, they simply had no idea. Perhaps they have never entertained such a thought because Mor had never alluded to it, she’d taken quite many male lovers and made sure to be public about it. So although they’d have no qualms with such a revelation, it would still take them aback, one of them was even in love with her for crying out loud.

Lou loved Mor to death- not that Mor knew that, but she still thought this was a thing Mor needed to do alone, and for herself. It was quite unfair to put her in the middle of it.

Mor had made it quite clear that her relation to Lou should remain a secret and Lou never minded. At the beginning, it was simply because she didn’t care much, now it was because it terrified her to be anything more than Mor’s secret lover and the why of that was something that she stubbornly determined not to think about.

“I just want them to meet you.” She sat on the bed beside Lou and reached for her hand, she held it gently then stared fixedly at it.

“I truly do. Sometimes, I have this maddening urge to just run to one of them and talk about you all day. It was just never the case before. I had managed to keep it a secret for so long, because I had never met someone who was as important to me, as they were” She looked up and met her eyes then, and Lou might’ve actually died there and then. She knew she would go, she knew she’d do anything Mor asked at that moment.

Mor reached and tucked Lou’s hair behind her ear, “I feel like there are these two parts of me that I’ve ripped apart and I’m constantly trying to keep as such and then, at moments when I’m brave and fearless, I wonder why so? I’ve been put into this cage, perhaps against my will, but now I am the very guard keeping me inside it.” she pulled both her hands from Lou and buried her face in them making a muffled sounded that might’ve been a ‘never mind’.

Lou was biting fiercely at her lower lip, she reached for Mor’s hands, pulled them gently from her face, and kept them in her own hands.

“Mor if it’s truly what you want, then I’ll come. Of course, I’ll come. I just don’t want you to do it because you feel like you have to.”

She leaned closer before Mor could say anything and kissed her softly. Lou was often hesitant about touching Mor, she’d want to, badly, but was so insecure about her inexperience, and also she never knew how to touch Mor, so she’d always leave it up to her to initiate the first touch. Not now though. Right now, she felt like she was the brave one, which surprised her a little bit because Mor was always so sure of herself, she was so good at putting facades, one never knew what was behind. It took a long time for Lou to be able to read her, and only because Mor would allow, at moments like this, to be seen unfiltered. So she kissed her again, and again until Mor melted into the kiss and leaned in to deepen it. Lou pulled apart, her head meeting the headboard of the bed, Mor followed, resting her forehead against her own, eyes still closed.

“You’ll come?”

“Yes, and get very drunk.” Mor huffed a small laugh and kissed Lou again.

“Thanks.” she opened her eyes “I should really get going. I’ll come by later, be ready at 7”

“Sure”

Lou watched her finish getting ready and leave, she then sunk in her bed and slept till noon.

 It wasn’t until Mor was leaving the townhouse, that she announced absently “Oh, and I’ll be bringing someone tonight, so save an extra seat, would you?”

They all stopped arguing about whatever it was they were arguing about and looked her way. Cassian was the first to speak, arms crossed against his chest. “Since when are we allowed dates? I have a string of lovers that I’d like to impress with a dinner invitation.” She snorted paying him little attention as she threw her scarf around her neck and went to get her coat.

“Let’s not kid ourselves, you wouldn’t be able to impress anyone if your life depended on it.”

She reached for the door before she had to hear any more of it.

“But Who is it!” Rhys shouted behind her. She kept walking.

Once a safe distance from the house, she stopped and leaned against the first solid object in her way, it was a lamppost.

“Fuck.” She gritted out to the ground. She had no idea what she was doing.

She’d been on edge the whole day. Finally, she decided not to have any physical encounter with another being until tonight happened. She had a solitary lunch at her place then, when found nothing to distract her, decided to go to Lou’s earlier than she was supposed to.

She had an extra key and had let herself in. Lou was sitting on her bedroom floor in her shift, facing her wide-open wardrobe.

“Alright, I might not be coming after all. I have nothing to wear!” she exclaimed in a slightly panicked voice. Mor walked to her and leaned down to kiss her.

“You know it doesn’t matter, right?”

This didn’t seem to reassure her and she furrowed her brows. Lou made all sorts of comical expressions when she was nervous which always made Mor want to kiss her all over. Sadly, she couldn’t always do it, and not necessarily because of her fear of being caught. Truth was, Mor wanted to touch Lou all the time. Lou blushed at almost anything, whether she was nervous, or embarrassed, or angry or shy, or just passionate about something, her immediate reaction to anything was blushing. She’ll get red circled high on her cheeks, or on the side of her neck, or her earlobes would turn completely red and it would take actual, significant willpower of Mor not to lean in and touch her lips to Lou’s skin. Lou also rarely got angry, she was the sweetest person Mor had ever met so it was a whole sight when she did allow herself to be upset about something, it was so adorable Mor would instantly forget whatever argument they were having. She also got nervous easily and would freak out about the silliest of things, like right now.

“But what does one wear to meet a High Lord and Lady.”

Mor placed a finger under Lou’s chin, tilting her head up to look up at her.

“Anything. You. Want” Mor said, her worries from earlier completely forgotten.

When Mor winnowed them to the High Lord’s townhouse, Lou was wondering if she could actually die from nerves. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure it would stop any minute. She looked at Mor, only imagining what she could possibly be feeling right now, but Mor’s eyes looked hollowed and empty. Lou pulled her closer. “All good?” Mor squeezed her hand

“No going back.”

Lou’s heart broke for her lover.

“We don’t have to, Mor. Seriously!” She said a bit desperately. Mor shook her head, swallowing.

“No, It’s not that. I want to do it, I’m ready. Doesn’t make me any less nervous.” Lou wanted to lean in and kiss her but she didn’t know how Mor would react to a kiss right now so she only pulled her into a quick, tight hug instead.

Tugging her along, hand still in hers, Mor lead them inside, and there they were. The most powerful people in the Night Court in one room. It didn’t seem to fit them. The commander Cassian was slouched on the couch, legs propped on the table, and talking to the High Lady, Feyre. if only focused on Cassian, one would think it was an extremely important conversation, but from Feyre’s expression, it looked about the silliest thing to be talking about. The High Lord of the Night Court stood at the opposite side of the room having a lively conversation with Amren and her lover while the spymaster stood next to him, carefully listening, they all had drinks in their hands. To say she was overwhelmed would be the understatement of the year.

“Everyone!” Mor greeted cheerily.

She didn’t know why, but in her head Lou fully expected Mor to drop her hand at that very moment, walk away and leave Lou to fend for herself, she was surprised when that didn’t happen. Mor didn’t let go of her hand.

Now everyone was looking their way, the slight buzz of conversation that had filled the room a moment ago slowly dying. Lou tried to keep a pleasant expression. She smiled friendly and waved her free hand.

“Hello,” she said in what she assumed was a light and cheerful voice.

“Everyone, meet Lou,” Mor said casually and went for the wine that was on the table.

“Lou this is everyone.” Lou smiled again at all the eyes that were fixed on her.

Everyone looked lost for words. The spymaster was looking at Mor as if she’d grown an additional head right in front of him. The High Lord tilted his head giving them both an assessing looking, a slight smile finally tugged at his lips. Cassian looked confused as though, surely he wasn’t understanding this correctly. Amren seemed completely uninterested in this whole situation. It was Feyre who spoke first, she hopped from her seat smiling warmly at Lou.

“Hello, I’m Feyre, lovely to meet you. Want some wine?”

Lou could’ve kissed her for that bit of normalcy.

“Lovely to meet you too. Thanks for having me” Lou shook the High Lady’s hand. “And yes wine would be great.”

Lou was focused on the task of taking the glass Feyre was offering without dropping it when Cassian said to Mor.

“I thought you said you were bringing a date.” Lou glanced at him, he was eyeing her, not in an unfriendly way but not welcoming either.

“Lou is my date.” Lou’s cheeks heated.

“This makes so much sense” Rhysand muttered to himself, as if satisfied.

Feyre rolled her eyes and said to Lou “Ignore them, they’ve all lost their manners somewhere on the battlefield.” At this Rhysand made his way to them and extended his hand.

“Rhysand.”

Lou stared at his hand. Was her High Lord offering a handshake? She somehow managed to shake his hand, nod, and give a small curtsy all at the same time.

“Do forgive my manners, my mate does make an excellent point. We have indeed thrown all of our manners down the drain,” this with a pointed look towards Cassian who didn’t move from his seat, only waved a casual hand in salute.

“Cassian, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.”

Lou nodded and smiled broadly. “Yes, I’ve actually heard a lot about you all. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Cassian, tilting his head and eyeing her, scoffed.

“Interesting, because we’ve actually never heard anything about you.”

It was then that Lou realized that she got her speculations about this evening all wrong. She hadn’t wanted to come because she had thought Mor was coming out to her family for her sake, that perhaps she had assumed Lou wanted to be introduced and meet the family and was doing this for her. Lou had simply not wanted to put that kind of pressure on Mor. She’d thought by refusing to come, Mor would come out at her own time. And when Mor still wanted to go with it, Lou was only nervous for her sake. How her family would react and how Mor would handle their reaction. It never occurred to her that she would be the one getting scrutinized and judged. If she was blushing before because she was nervous, now her cheeks burned from embarrassment.

“Cassian would you just shove it?” Mor answered for her, meeting Cassian’s eyes. For a long, while they held each other’s gaze, it was like an intense staring contest. Mor was the first to look away.

“Your house is very lovely,” Lou said to the High Lord and Lady, a weak attempt to lighten the mood. Feyre was more than willing to take it.

“Oh, you think so? Thank you.” she beamed, then continued as if the thought just occurred to her “Although it was all Rhys’s, I barely made any additions.”

“You do grace us with your art very often, Feyre darling,” Rhys answered looking down affectionately at his mate. She shrugged smiling at him. They made a very cute couple.

“Any of these are yours?” Lou asked scanning the paintings that decorated the house.

“Some of them,” Feyre answered hesitantly and blushed a bit pointing the pieces. Lou was seriously impressed.

“Oh wow, they’re exquisite!”

Lou said honestly then continued with Feyre about her art. Lou had the impression that Feyre didn’t enjoy much talking about her work, not in a rude way, perhaps she just considered it a private part of her, although she would get excited and passionately talk about one aspect or another if asked the right question. They continued the conversation only because it seemed like the only thing saving this evening like if they stopped the whole house would crumble around them. Mor was talking with Amren and Varian and would turn here and there to their conversation to supply a compliment about Feyre or her work or mention something about Lou.

“Oh, Lou took me to that art gallery too, and gashed about the exact same piece you wouldn’t stop talking about, Feyre” and would give them a look as if to say discuss. The conversation turned to Lou’s taste in art.

Lou loved art, mostly sculptures and the occasional paintings, but couldn’t create anything herself, so she only satisfied herself with reading a lot about it; it didn’t seem to make a difference and Feyre was interested all the same.

The night continued more or less in a bearable way. Once the initial shock was over and everyone determinedly avoided the topic at hand, they fell into what felt like their usual companionship, one they were all familiar with: sharing stories and exchanging banters. The spymaster hardly spoke all evening. Amren was a bit indifferent to Lou, but she felt that it was out of personality rather than anything having to do with her in particular. Cassian was still throwing jabs at Mor but ones that didn’t touch the subject, and she would respond to them with light-hearted vulgarities, she was trying hard to sound her usual casual self.

It wasn’t until dessert was being served that Rhysand asked Lou.

“So, how did you meet Mor?”

it was a light question, he was trying to be polite. But Lou didn’t know how to approach this. Was Mor willing to share? And how much? She didn’t want to make these decisions herself and wished Mor would spare her and answer the question. But Mor was sipping her wine, ready to let Lou take this by herself.

“Mmm at a party, through a mutual friend...”

“Not one I’m familiar with, I’m sure.” Cassian interrupted.

“Afraid not.” Mor’s answer was quick and equally snarky. An awkward silence followed, then Rhys asked, keeping the conversation going.

“You’ve known each other for a while?” Lou thought perhaps he wasn’t solely attempting a polite conversation and maybe he was as curious about Mor as Cassian, just less sour about it. Lou glanced at Mor, who sat right next to her, before answering. Mor kept her gaze fixed on her glass.

“A little over a year, I guess” Her answer was so hesitant, each word less sure than the one before. Mor looked up then and smiled warmly at her. Lou smiled back, grateful for the reassurance.

“A fucking year…” Cassian muttered under his breath, it was nevertheless audible to the rest of them. To Lou’s utter surprise, it was Amren who finally snapped.

“Boy, why don’t you just say what’s exactly your problem?” She stared Cassian down. Lou thought she’d be scared for her life if she were at the receiving end of that stare.

“Stay out of it, Amren.”

“Well I can’t, can I? Since you’ve decided to throw your tantrum now at dinner when we’re all here. So humor us.” Cassian’s eyes were fixed on Mor.

“Well, I’d just like for Mor to explain, to us all” he looked pointedly at Amren as if to show he was indeed including her in his business. “What is the fucking meaning of this.”

Mor leaned casually in her chair, her wine glass between her fingers, and held Cassian’s stare.

Lou was expecting Mor to answer with a temper that matched Cassian’s, but Mor’s voice came out soft and calm.

“The meaning of what? Me bringing someone I care about to meet you all?”

Cassian looked as if he wasn’t expecting Mor’s change of tone either, because he stared at her for a long while before he finally said, with equal softness.

“Is she a first?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you say before?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I? isn’t that enough?”

Mor’s voice was breaking, Lou reached under the table and placed her hand on her thigh. Cassian stood, threw his napkin on the table, and walked away, then out of the house completely. Mor was frozen in her place, Azriel was staring at her, he hadn’t uttered one word to her this entire evening. Lou did not know what to do with herself. She truly just wanted to leave. It was a family matter and she felt like she was intruding on something private. She only needed Mor to tell her what to do. She didn’t want to leave Mor but she didn’t think Mor wanted her there either.

She cleared her voice, “I think, perhaps, I should be going…”

Both Feyre and Rhysand started to protest but it was the hand that clasped her wrist that kept her in her seat, she looked down at it then at Mor, who looked absolutely wretched.

“Don’t go.”

Lou settled back in her chair, her eyes not leaving Mor’s. Trying to read her face. She said in so soft a voice it was a mere whisper.

“Are you sure? I can see you later.” Mor was nodding before Lou even finished.

“Yes sure, positive.” Lou settled back in her seat, slipping her fingers through Mor’s, she squeezed hers back. Feyre sighed loudly.

“We’re usually more welcoming than that, sorry Lou… Oh, what is Lou short for by the way?”

“Eloise” she and Mor answered at the same time, then looked at each other and smiled. The smile on Mor’s sad face almost broke her heart.

The conversation slowly picked up, more about Lou then shifted to Amren then to Feyre’s new art studio.

 Mor was silent the whole walk back to Lou’s flat, she had her hands shoved deep in her coat pockets and was staring straight ahead. That left so much time for Lou to drown in her own thoughts. She couldn’t imagine what Mor could be feeling right now and she felt helpless. She wanted to be the kind of person who knew what to say or do, who would make Mor laugh and not feel so bad about tonight. She wanted, but she didn’t know how to. It was so easy to resume her silence, to convince herself she was helping by giving Mor space but that wouldn’t be entirely true, there was also a bit of selfishness to her silence. So she closed her eyes and actually tried.

“What do I say, Mor? Tell me how to make you feel better.”

Mor only shook her head and kept walking.

Once at her doorsteps, Lou turned to face Mor and made to reach for her but Mor was already turning to leave.

“I’m sorry about tonight, alright?”

“Mor there is nothing…”

“Good night.” Then she was gone.

Lou wouldn’t see her for weeks to come.

[agirlinjapan]

Red Data Girl: Ice Shoes, Glass Shoes (Story 2- Week 2)

Red Data Girl: Ice Shoes, Glass Shoes   By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

Read Part 1

Here’s part two of the second Ice Shoes, Glass Shoes story!

Red Data Girl: Ice Shoes, Glass Shoes By Noriko Ogiwara Story Two: September Transfer Student- Miyuki Sagara- Third Year of Middle School- Fall Part 2  

“Ah. Miyuki Sagara. I’m glad you’re here. If you hadn’t arrived today, I was just thinking I would have to contact your family. I’m the homeroom teacher for class 3-C, Ms. Minamita.”

School staff rooms always had the same feeling to them, no matter if they were in a private or public school, were new or old, or were big or small.

The staff in them were always the same sort of people as well. Ms. Minamita was a middle-aged woman although she wore a hairclip intended for a younger person. This gave her an unexpected air of unpredictability.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Ms. Minamita. My circumstances changed since we were last in contact with the school and my health wasn’t good enough to travel until now. My fever’s down finally, though.”

Ms. Minamita seemed to take Miyuki’s casually stated words to heart. She readjusted her glasses with a hand and moved her attention to the transfer paperwork.

“Miyuki, you received a perfect score on your entrance exam. That’s what you get with a student who’s been attending a school ranked top in the country though, right? Oh, but I see you left Keibun Academy for a time. From May to July you attended a middle school in a town named Sotosogawa in Nara Prefecture.”

“That was my father’s idea.”

“That must have been tough for you.” Ms. Minamita looked at the pale transfer student with pity. “Are you alright? Are you up for going to the classroom?”

“I can go to the classroom.”

Miyuki stood in front of the entire student body of Class 3-C. For a time, he forgot how he was feeling and put his best face on. He knew, after all, that this time around, the impression he made in these first few minutes would have an effect on what student activities he would be invited to join.

Ms. Minamita wrote Miyuki’s full name on the board.

“This is Miyuki Sagara. Starting today, he’ll be joining our class. He was supposed to join our class right after summer vacation, but he just arrived in the city today. Please help Miyuki settle into the school quickly.”

When Ms. Minamita mentioned what school he had previously been enrolled in, the students looked at Miyuki in surprise.

“From his first year of middle school to the start of his third year, Miyuki went to Keibun Academy,” the teacher added quickly. I’m sure there’s plenty he can teach you.”

Miyuki looked around at the students’ faces in curiosity. He could tell that there had already been a rumor going around that there was a Keibun student joining the school. The students in front of him mostly looked to be from wealthy families from other parts of the country.

Houjou Academy was a relatively new school that had only been open for three years. As a result, there wasn’t much prestige in being admitted into the school. With that said, Miyuki could tell that the students here were very aware of their class rankings.

We’re in Tokyo after all, I guess…

This year, the students would be automatically registered into the school’s high school without any of them having to go through the pains of exams and waiting for high school acceptances like most students in the country would be forced through. This class didn’t give off the relaxed feel that usually came with schools like that, though.

No nosy questions came after Miyuki introduced himself. These students were polite. He got a sense that this sort of behavior was something unique to this school, but it wasn’t enough to pique Miyuki’s curiosity.

…I’m not getting a bad feeling here. This is fine. Miyuki thought.

During break time, his new classmates unsurprisingly came over to talk with him, but Miyuki didn’t try to seriously engage any of them due to how badly he was feeling. Seeing as any responses he gave were tired-sounding and short, his classmates’ expressions eventually all turned to looks of pity. They all had to be thinking that he was sickly.

However, Miyuki was tall and tanned from the time he had spent as a member of Awatani’s track team, so he didn’t particularly give off the appearance of a person who was often ill. Seeing as he was coming into the school in the second term of their third year, no one had any evidence to support his general state of health one way or the other. The contradicting evidence only seemed to heighten the mystery for his classmates. It was a reasonable possibility that he had spent a semester at a school in the mountains to get some sort of medical treatment.

They’re not really wrong about me getting medical treatment in the mountains though…

He thought of how his right arm had been broken. He couldn’t deny that much. He supposed it had also been a different world in a way where he could recover while hiding how good of a student he really was.

After his experience on Mt. Tamakura, something in Miyuki had changed. Going back to Mt. Haguro to train again had also been far too short in his opinion.

“Miyuki, are you going to the cafeteria? Let’s go together. I’ll show you where it is,” the student in the seat next to him said at noon.

Miyuki still didn’t have much of an appetite. All he wanted to do was make it through the day.

“No. I have to go to the dorm and take care of my bags and stuff. I haven’t seen my room yet.”

“Oh, so you’re one of the students boarding here. Let’s go talk to the dorm head, then.”

The student, Maebayashi, said that he was also living on campus and brought Miyuki over to the middle school boy’s dorm. About half the middle school students lived in the dorms. The other half commuted from their homes each day.

“There are students in this school from all over the country. They board, but it’s unusual for someone to show up on their own. Your parents didn’t come?”

“He came. He dropped me off at the gate.”

Maebayashi gave an awkward laugh at this. “I’m glad. I had heard you came by yourself. I thought that would be a shame.”

“Things are what they are.”

“In our dorm, we’re broken up by grade and there are four people to a room. Some people have transferred out this year, so there are two rooms with three people in them, but there used to be four in both. Now that you’re here, I wonder if they’ll put you in one of those rooms or if they’ll put you in an empty one by yourself.”

Miyuki weighed the merits of both options.

“It would be nice to have my own room.”

“Yeah, right? It would be really tough to start living with three people who’ve been together for a while already.”

“That wouldn’t really bother me, though,” Miyuki said with a short laugh. He would get along fine as long as he had somewhere to sleep and people to spend time with. He didn’t worry about how he would get along with the other boys in the grade. Miyuki had just been living with people much older than himself, after all.

“But if the school can give me a big room, that would be awesome.”

Maebayashi gave him a strange look.

“You’re not the sort of person who gets into a lot of fights, are you? I heard you’ve been sick, but I don’t really see that on you.”

“I don’t get into lots of fights, no,” Miyuki said. “It seems like there’s some sort of story going around about me. They’re saying I came from a sanitarium or something, right? It’s an interesting theory, so I don’t care if they’re talking about me.”

Maebayashi let out a sigh. “It’s not true, then. The rumor was that you had been released from a hospital later than expected. Someone overheard them say it in the staff room. So you’re not transferring in now after being sick?”

This must be Yukimasa’s handiwork. It’s practically more harassment on his part…

“Well, if the story about you being sick keeps spreading, it’ll become fact sooner or later,” Maebayashi said, suddenly interested in the situation. “If you say you’re still recovering from being sick, you could totally request a private room. The dorm head probably heard the story. Then, as long as you don’t mind, you could use all that extra space for people to come and hang out in. What do you think? There aren’t many places in the dorm where students can have secret meetings.”

“Secret meetings? Who do you hang out with, Maebayashi?”

“September is the time of year when we start preparing for the school festival. I’m part of the committee running it. We have to make sure our plans for the middle school beauty contest stay confidential.”

“Huh…”

For the first time since he had arrived, Miyuki started to think that maybe Houjou Academy could be an interesting place. He smiled and nodded.

“Sure. You can use my room.”

___

With Maebayashi’s help, Miyuki was able to acquire a whole room to himself without any trouble.

The room had bunkbeds on opposite walls and enough floor space to comfortably fit four people. With only one person in the room, it felt quite open.

Miyuki didn’t feel lonely without anyone else in the room. Seeing as the point of taking the space had been to let his friends gather in it, he decided that dorm life here wouldn’t be bad at all.

However, seeing as he was playing the part of a person convalescing, he acted as if he was growing weary early that first evening. In truth though, his headache had disappeared like a bad joke and he had become surprisingly hungry.

Maebayashi, who Miyuki had clearly hit off well with, invited him to eat at the cafeteria with him.

But after they had eaten, he warned in a quiet voice, “Miyuki, don’t go back for seconds. You’re recuperating.”

“Huh? But this isn’t enough.”

“Everyone notices new students here. Mr. Yamayan, the dorm head, will be checking in about you.”

Miyuki looked down at his empty rice bowl. Only then did he realize the disadvantage to the show he was putting on.

“Are you saying that I can’t eat enough to feel full ever again while I’m here?”

“There’s a school store. You can buy stuff there and bring it back to your room.”

Well, I guess that’s okay then…

Miyuki knew he would attract attention as a new student and the fact bothered him. It was a lesson he had learned at his previous schools. Up until now, Miyuki had always been healthy and the things he did showed that. Now though, he supposed that he should try to be a little more restrained in his behavior.

Suddenly, Miyuki thought of Satoru Wamiya.

Wamiya had been a student at Awatani Middle School, but he had always gone unnoticed as if he were empty air. Miyuki considered how he had never noticed whether or not Wamiya had been in class on a particular day. But then again, he really had been empty air. He hadn’t actually existed. In reality, he had been a spirit living on Mt. Tamakura. After transferring to Awatani, it had taken Miyuki a long time to even notice that he and the other students had a classmate named Wamiya.

I didn’t even see Wamiya until near the end of my time there. There really is stuff like that in the world. Stuff you can’t see even when you know it’s there…

On the other hand, he thought, the boys at Awatani Middle School hadn’t really paid Wamiya much attention. He supposed that hadn’t hurt the spirit’s intentions of being unnoticeable either.

I wonder if there are students here too that aren’t human and I need to avoid pissing off…

Thinking about this, Miyuki got up from his seat and was about to leave the cafeteria when his eyes caught on another student who was entering. He froze.

It was Satoru Wamiya.

…This can’t be happening. Why is he here?...  

The pale face with the narrow eyes and nose… The wide bangs that covered his forehead… His small stature… Miyuki was definitely looking at Wamiya. He seemed a little different from the other students around them. There was an old-fashioned air to him.

As Miyuki stood there, holding his breath, the other boy turned to look at him. He narrowed his eyes and made his way over to Miyuki.

“What do you want?”

Miyuki was sweating now.

“Nothing. You just look like someone I know.”

“In Kyoto?”

“Oh. No.”

“Huh. If it was a relative of mine, they’d be in Kyoto. You’re that exchange student in Class C that came late, aren’t you?” The student from Kyoto looked Miyuki up and down as he spoke. “You’re awfully tall. Is it true that you spent the last few days sleeping because you’ve been sick?”

“Sleep is good for you. It’s medically proven,” Miyuki said, dodging the question.

The boy only gave him a suspicious look. No one would have dared call it friendly in the least.

“Don’t be petty. I can see right through you,” he said quietly.

Miyuki looked at him in disbelief. He wanted to ask him what he meant, but while he was still reeling over the shock of how similar to Wamiya this boy looked, the boy walked away.

Maebayashi tapped Miyuki on the shoulder while he was still staring into space, mulling over what had just happened.

“Do you know Takayanagi?”

“No, I don’t know him. You said that guy’s name is Takayanagi?”

“He’s Ichijo Takayanagi from class 3-A. You shouldn’t talk to him.”

“Why not?”

Miyuki turned to look at Takayanagi’s retreating figure.

Maebayashi shrugged. “Something bad will happen to you. We don’t know why, but most of the students Takayanagi’s hung around with have left the school. They get injured all of a sudden or really sick.”

“Do you think it’s some kind of retaliation or something?”

“Takayanagi doesn’t do anything. It all just happens out of the blue. Maybe that’s why he gives off such a creepy vibe.”

Could there be a chance that Ichijo Takayanagi isn’t human either? Like Wamiya’s not human?...

Miyuki couldn’t help but think that the expression on the boy’s face had reminded him an awful lot of a divine spirit.

Keep reading!

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The One That Stays

Keanu Reeves x Reader Chapter 1  A/n- It was so hard to find a song/lyric that suit this chapter and barely strung it together with this one.

Chapter 2- Expeditor 

“I wonder if I’ll ever see you again, And if that day comes, I know we could win, I wonder if I’ll ever see you again.” -Lenny Kravitz, Again.

From the minute Y/n stumbled into her ritzy apartment in Malibu, struggling to drag Julie inside, she realized that after all the fun little banter with Keanu; they hadn’t even exchanged contact information. “Fuck,” she breathed, tossing her keys to the varnished end table near the front door.

“What?” Julie slurred, her arms flailing for an unknown reason, almost falling forward, “And this is your apartment, not mine!” She pouted.

“I know,” Y/n gently eased her onto the plush beige sofa, kneeling to remove Julie’s white pumps, casually tossing them to the side. Next, she made short work of removing Julie’s coat, draping it on an arm of the sofa, “But I’m not gonna leave you alone there when you’re like this.”

“So we’re gonna have a sleep over?” Julie slurred, struggling to brush a couple loose, messy strands of dirty-blonde hair out of her face, “Just like old times.”

Y/n sighed, laughing quietly; Julie was always the fun, chatty, reckless drunk; the life of the party and ready to let out her inner child, “I slept over at your place last week,” Y/n reminded her, hoping she didn’t sound annoyed. It wasn’t rare for the two to spend nights at the other’s places, considering the only difference was an elevator ride. 

“Right,” she nodded clumsily, slouching into the couch, taking a deep breath before her composure relaxed and she said, “Thank you for taking care of me Y/n/n, you’re like...”

By then, Y/n had already discarded her own strappy heels and had wandered off to the nearby kitchen, getting Julie a glass of water, “I’m like?” Y/n asked and when Julie didn’t finish her sentence; “Jules?” She called again, returning to the living room, her shoulders slumping when she found that Julie had fallen asleep, still half sitting, head bent into her chest uncomfortably. 

With a quiet chuckle and a faint smile, Y/n proceeded to lift Julie’s legs onto the sofa, readjusting her friend until she was in a more appropriate sleeping position. Afterwards, Y/n retrieved a blanket from the near by linen closet, gently draping it over Julie’s petite form, “’Night hun,” she spoke softly, pressing a feather light kiss to her temple. 

The next morning, Y/n shifted against her Egyptian cotton sheets, and as she sat up, her thick, black and white, floral print duvet slid from her upper body. Her drinks from the night before had only left her with the slightest headache, nothing that couldn’t been remedied before noon. 

For a minute, she sat in bed, stretching out her arms, pleased that she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the morning regretting anything from the night before, face down in bed. Her initial mood was even added to when she remembered that she had a date on the coming Friday......until she realized that it probably wasn’t going to happen. With a frown and an annoyed huff; kicking off the comforter, Y/n swung her legs, shoving her feet into a pair of comfy slippers; a mild lavender pair with soft fuzz on the top that matched her silk robe. Slowly, she went through the motions of her morning routine; freshening up before heading to the kitchen to get breakfast ready.

In the living room, Julie still snored, blissfully unaware of the hangover that awaited her. When Y/n was satisfied with her condition- not covered in puke and still breathing; she went about with cooking, well, putting things into the toaster as quietly as possible. Y/n buzzed around the kitchen, preparing the coffee and then digging frozen waffles out of the freezer, getting a few out of the box. Everything was going as smoothly and as quietly as planned....until the toaster dinged and a groan  pained escaped the mass of sheets of her sofa.

After a couple minutes, Julie sat up, still holding the blanket over her head, as if it were a wide brimmed sun hat and not a thick sheet, “Can you be any louder?” She groaned with a despondent pout.

“I can,” Y/n giggled, pouring herself a cup of coffee, “Coffee?”

“More like kill me,” Julie mumbled, stumbling off of the chair, heading towards the bathroom, “The Aspirin better be in it’s usual place,” she continued, as she staggered down the hall.

A while later, she reemerged, looking a little refreshed; her face ridded of smudged make up and smelling less of stale alcohol, “Gimme,” Julie made grabbing motions at the cup of coffee that Y/n had poured her, “Thanks babe,” she smiled, plopping onto the bar stool, snatching a toaster waffle off the plate at the center of the granite counter.

Y/n stood on the other side, returning to her former task; using her fork to swirl bits of waffle around in a little pool of syrup, not really interested eating, “Yeah, no problem,” she smiled, and Julie could tell it was fake; over twenty years of friendship could do that.

Julie sighed, putting her cup down, “Are you mad at me? About last night? God, I must have embarrassed you,” she cringed, “Y/n, I’m so-”

“It’s not you, promise,” Y/n cut of her rambling, “I’m not mad, that’s what sisters are for right?” She winked, trying to smile again.

“Then what’s wrong. And don’t tell me its nothing because that won’t work on me,” when Y/n didn’t respond, Julie persisted, “Please?”

“Ugh,” Y/n groaned, not wanting to talk about it. She felt like a kid for even being upset about it; she and Keanu had spoken for just about half hour, even if he did realize that they hadn’t exchanged contacts, surely he might have already brushed the matter off, “Keanu asked me out.”

“Like on a date?” Julie’s eyes brightened and she sat up a little straighter. The pills seemed to be kicking in already and Julie all but jumped off the stool, reaching over the counter to lightly slap Y/n’s arm, “That great! I knew he’d like you,” though her face quickly fell, “Wait, why’s that bad? Oh god, you don’t like him back, do you?”

“I do,” Y/n reassured her, “He seems great, but, we just.......he doesn’t have my number, I don’t have his. We couldn’t even write each other if we wanted to. He’s probably already forgotten about it anyway, I don't even know why I’m pouting over it.”

“You don’t have his number? That’s the issue?” Julie asked incredulously, “You do realize that this is the twenty-first century and that his address is on the internet, right?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, going to dump the contents of her plate into the trash before washing it, “I’m not going to just show up at his house, I’m not a stalker.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Julie countered, easing off her seat, padding barefoot back into the living room, rummaging through her coat until she produced her phone, “You’d be using technically public information,” she continued, joking around as her fingers danced along the brightened screen.

“There’s a difference between public information and private information that's been leaked by assholes on the internet. Besides, I don’t see you showing up at Leonardo DiCaprio's house and I heard they’re neighbors,” Y/n teased back.

“Yeah, well, I already have a DUI, I don’t wanna add stalking to my criminal record,” Julie, paused dramatically, giving the phone’s face one final tap, “And done!”

“What did you just do?” Y/n traded, suspicion evident in her tone.

Julie shrugged, reclaiming her seat, going back to her syrup-less waffle and cooling coffee, “Just a thing, you can thank me later.”

In his efforts to play it suave and confident, Keanu had completely forgotten to ask for Y/n’s number, which meant that he had a date with a seemingly great girl, but no way to contact her. He could have just asked Julie, he thought, or maybe even, dare he say, scourer the net for something helpful, but Keanu had quickly dismissed the ideas, deciding that they both might come off as weird and desperate.

It was a little disappointing, especially because from the moment Y/n had agreed to go out with him, Keanu had started looking forward to the coming Friday. He had already started thinking of places and everything. Y/n had come off as funny and smart, and admittedly, she was extremely beautiful. 

Huffing, he sank further into the back of his sofa, taking a long sip of his scalding hot coffee, his other hand feeling around next to him for the television remote; the news was hardly the jaw dropping entertainment that would take his mind off things. Though, the second he reached for the remote, a couple inches next to it, his phone lit up; vibrating with a couple texts from Julie.

Curiously, he grabbed the device up, swiping it unlocked, a smile spreading onto his face as he read; “Hey, morning. My gal pal just mentioned that you two dorks didn’t exchange numbers (rookie mistake if you ask me), anyway, I’ll send it your way.” The text that followed was, as promised one that linked Y/n’s number, labeled in true ‘Julie style’ as “ma woman”.

Keanu smirked at the screen, wasting no time in adding the number to his phone, under a more fitting, less possessive name. And then, with shaking fingers, he set his coffee on the short, glass table in front of his couch and got to work on conjuring up a text to Y/n.

“Hey.” “Got your number form Jules, hope that isn’t too weird.” “It’s weird isn’t it?” “This is Keanu by the way.” And finally, because four in a row in the span of about two minutes wasn’t weird enough, Keanu sent a fifth; “Reeves. Keanu Reeves. From the party last night.”

Julie had taken the elevator down about an hour after breakfast and Y/n had taken a shower, changing into a pair of comfortable shorts and a tank top; thinking of walking down to the beach for a while. As she mulled over it, Y/n strategically pinned some of her short hair out of her face with a couple bobby pins when on her bed, her phone buzzed, the sound muffled by the mattress.

It was a series of texts from an unknown number and Y/n groaned, annoyed. Of all things; spam. Though, when she opened the messages, Y/n was pleasantly surprised, finding that they were actually from Keanu. Of course Julie wouldn’t let it go. 

Anxiously, she tapped up a response, “Hi. No worries, it’s not weird. I’m glad she gave it to you.”

His response was almost instantaneous, “Great! I had a lot of fun talking with you last night. Looking forward to Friday.”

“I did too,” she began, opting to add, “And so am I, heading to the beach for a run, but maybe we can talk later?”

Y/n held her breath for his response, something in her brain telling her that it was a risky response. Did it come of as pushy? Would he think that she was brushing him off? Would he not want to ‘talk later’? Needless to say, college dating had ruined her. 

Thankfully, his reply didn’t indicate that her worries had been confirmed, “Sounds great, have fun!”

Bless him for not being a millennial. 

Satisfied, Y/n got into her running shoes, grabbing her headphones off her nightstand and set off for her run, beaming because, her date, had in fact, been saved.

******

Tagging- @baphometwolf666

[jinjojess]

DR Kirigiri Vol. 5 Summary Part VIII

Happy New Year everyone!

Let’s get back to that pesky Libra Academy case, shall we?

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

Chapter 1 The Mania of Existence: Libra Girls’ Academy - Samidare Yui

For those of you reading these as I post them, here’s a quick reminder of the current stakes:

Kareobana Academy case: solved, Yadorigi last seen with Lico heading back to the others, current status unknown

Bar GOODBYE case: still unsolved, with Yaki dead

Museum of Medieval Western European Torture Devices case: Mizuiyama seems to have figured it out, but is alone after dark in the museum after having had a really eerie encounter with Lico

Twins Research Facility case: solved, though Kirigiri is currently unconscious and bound in the back of Tsutsumi’s car, ready to be used as a hostage to make Samidare let him go

Libra Girls’ Academy case: unsolved, though last time we left, Samidare had an epiphany about the trick involved

Obviously, when she announces this, Tsukiyo and Nazuna are pretty shocked and want to know what she means.

Samidare goes to the desk and starts to draw to show them, which is also helpfully supplied for the reader, since it’s kind of complicated to explain. I’ll just insert the diagram from the book, which is something I usually don’t do, but I think it’ll save us both a lot of headache. 

“Libra means ‘scales’, right? What I mean is that this entire building is one huge scale.”

Both Tsukiyo and Nazuna don’t really process that, so Samidare goes on to explain that the room they’re in right now is sitting on one side of the scale, while the other small room with the coffins is on the other side. The church is the fulcrum. The beam, rather than overhead, is actually under them.

Like so.

The way there can be two different rooms in seemingly one space is that one room is inside this “box” sitting on the scale dish, while the other room’s floor is the top of the “box”. Since each side of the scale has a long vertical tower wrapping around it, the casual observer wouldn’t see any difference in the box’s static walls vs the top of the box’s non-connected walls.

I told you it’s difficult to sort out verbally.

Anyway, this explains how the culprit was able to move around and confound them so easily: they used weight to change the rooms on either side of the scale to “disappear” and “remove” the body.

This chapter takes like a good ten pages going over the exact way this trick works, and other than a few pithy quips from Tsukiyo, you aren’t losing much, so here’s the tl;dr version:

Samidare and Black Cape start in the first room with Takezaki’s body. This room is on top of the box, because those three are heavier than Tsukiyo and Nazuna together, who are trapped in coffins on top of the opposite box.

Tsukiyo notes that of course this is the case.

The reason the two girls were confined to the coffins was to keep them within the little clearance gap at the top of the vertical shaft, and also to conceal the whole scales thing.

Samidare chases Black Cape across the beam of the scale.

Black Cape enters into the box on that side, meaning that now there’s three people’s weight to one dead body on the other side, so the culprit gets into an empty room to hide, that’s then pushed down the shaft and rendered inaccessible. 

The doors function like elevator doors and cannot be opened while the scale is in motion, so that’s why Samidare couldn’t get in right after Black Cape. 

When she entered into the room, it meant there were four people on one side of the scale and only a dead body on the other.

Ah, I know that you, eagle-eyed reader, are probably wondering how the scale didn’t even out while the three girls were searching the church. Shouldn’t the single culprit and the single dead body weigh about the same and reset the scale?

Well sure, it would, if the culprit hadn’t counted on that.

See, you need to remember that Tsukiyo and Nazuna were handcuffed at the hands and feet, and the key was around a statue of the Virgin Mary. A statue that Samidare refused to break to take the key and instead used a conveniently placed handtruck to carry it into the room with everyone else.

Yep. 

I’m impressed the culprit knew Samidare would be morally opposed to breaking a statue of the Virgin Mother--they really did their research.

So anyway, as you’d imagine, the Mary statue plus the culprit was enough to keep the box room with the corpse on top of it level with the hallway. Then the girls were tricked into trapping themselves by all going to see the body. (Which, again, was Naz’s suggestion.)

So yeah, here we are now.

The three girls are trapped, and the culprit is free.

That summed up everything that happened at Libra Girls’ Academy.

Was it possible to even make a building that worked like a scale? The Committee for the Salvation of Victims of Crime could probably do it. We were facing Shinsen Mikado and Ryuuzouji Gekka here. In fact, this is pretty much exactly what I’d expect from them.

“Wait, so the culprit gets to run away...and we’re just stuck here forever? That sucks! You solved the mystery and it didn’t get us anywhere!”

“Uh...right! Since we know there’s another room above us, couldn’t we break through the ceiling to escape?” I said, looking up at the ceiling.

It was over thirty meters high.

“It’s easy to say that, but how would we do it?”

“...Let’s try throwing a chair.”

((Ah yes, Samidare, take a page out of Nanamura’s book.))

I took the small chair beside the writing desk in my hands and tossed it above me. It clamored to the ground without even hitting the ceiling.

It would be really tough to throw something in the direct center of the ceiling. Besides, something as small as this chair probably would never reach it on its own.

“Looks like that won’t work.”

“Okay, how about this. Naz-chan, get on my shoulders.”

“Huh? Me?!”

“Yeah. Tsukiyo-chan’s got a lot of issues going on right now.”

“I appreciate your sympathy.”

I crouched down and Nazuna climbed up onto my shoulders. Careful to keep my balance and not drop her, I stood up.

“Woah, woah!” 

Nazuna seemed a little worried.

“Well?”

“I c-can’t reach it. Not at all.”

I wondered if maybe I could jump and reach that spot instead.

((YES! YES, PLOT-RELEVANT SAMIDARE JUMPS!!!))

I let Nazuna down, whose face looked like a little kid who’d just been lifted up for the first time. She mumbled “high, so high” to herself.

“Hey, what did you do to Naz? Her cheeks are on fire!”

“I don’t know. I didn’t do anything weird.”

“You’ve done nothing but weird stuff since you got here!”

“That’s not what we’re supposed to be worrying about now! Help me think of a way out.”

“I don’t think breaking through the ceiling is realistic,” Nazuna said, sitting flat on the floor. “It’s probably reinforced with concrete or thick beams. We’d need serious firepower if we wanted to break through it.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right…” I said, shoulders sagging.

“Ah, I just had a great idea,” Tsukiyo said, suddenly looking up. “What if all three of us jumped at the same time, and that made this side of the scale lighter so it would go up?”

“I mean sure, if we jumped it would be lighter while we were in the air, but I doubt the scale would move in the 0.1 seconds we were airborne.”

“Well we won’t know unless we try, right?”

“I mean I guess… Should we?”

“Nah, sounds like a pain,” Tsukiyo said, quickly abandoning her own plan and flopping onto the floor, going back to her withdrawn stage.

Nazuna sat beside her, her face twisted in thought about how to escape. It didn’t seem like she was having much luck.

I picked up the chair I’d thrown at the ceiling and sat in it.

I wanted to be out of here already.

I wanted to go home, to my dorm room.

I wanted to get back to my peaceful, normal life.

Normal, huh. 

I wondered if it would be possible to live a calm, normal life with Kirigiri without cases to solve. It was possible that even if we managed to establish some normalcy around us, she’d set off in search of her next case. 

Was there even anywhere for us to return home to?

“I’m hungry…” Tsukiyo said, starting once again to proclaim her desires to the room.

“I wonder what time it is…” Nazuna said, understandably losing steam herself.

“Don’t worry. My friends will definitely come save us. We all decided to check in by noon, so if they don’t hear from me, someone will come.”

“How many hours away is that?”

“Uh…”

“Don’t get my hopes up like this,” Tsukiyo said coldly, only her eyes pointed in my direction.

“Hey, by the way,” I said, hoping to change the topic. “Do you guys really not have any idea who the culprit could be? Even though we unraveled the trick, we still don’t know who the killer is. Do you guys know of anyone who might want Takezaki-san dead?”

“Obviously not! We were kidnapped by some weird pervert, weren’t we? It’s not like we’d hang out with anyone like that and not tell them to take a hike!” Tsukiyo said, starting to get upset.

“So you don’t know anything about Takezaki-san? No weird rumors or anything?”

“Weird rumors?”

“Ah,” Nazuna said. “Now that you mention it, I did hear something about her. That back in middle school, she drove one of her former friends to suicide…”

“The hell? I never heard that.”

“That’s because you don’t take any interest in our classmates, Tsukiyo-san…”

“Well duh, why would I? I only have eyes for you, Naz, hehe.”

“You really should expand your horizons, Tsukiyo-san.”

“What? You’re telling me that too, Naz? You sound just like my dad.”

“Hey, so, about Takezaki-san?”

“Well, I don’t have much interest in gossip myself, so I just passively listened, but apparently, Takezaki-san was being extorted for money by a classmate back in middle school. Then one day, the bully changed targets from her to some other girl, allegedly someone Takezaki-san was once close with. Rumor says that she paid 100,000 yen ($1000 roughly) for it. In reality, it was probably closer to the bully demanding 100,000 yen in order to focus on some other target, and she just complied. Eventually, the friend ended up killing herself.”

“That’s pretty tragic…”

“Seems like there was someone who wanted to make Takezaki-san out to be worse, so they exaggerated the rumor. Said things like Takezaki-san herself was the leader of the extortion group and such. There’s no way to tell what’s true and what isn’t.”

“Certainly seems sufficient as a motive,” I muttered to myself. “Perhaps it’s a school friend, or a relative… Can you think of anyone?”

“As I mentioned before, Takezaki-san and I weren’t exactly close…”

“Right… Oh wait, can you think of any Libras?”

“Libras? I don’t really remember other people’s zodiac signs.”

“Yeah, I guess not…”

“I know Naz’s zodiac sign. She’s a Leo! It’s the same sign as me. We match! Hehehe!”

It might have just been my imagination, but it seemed like Tsukiyo was starting to lose it. Maybe we’d been shut up in here for too long, and it was starting to take a mental toll.

That or she’s just threatened by your oblivious allure, Samidare.

This subplot is fantastic and I’m going to miss it when it’s over.

Soon after this conversation, everyone starts to feel weird, and the room begins to shake. They realize that the scale is moving, which is good in that it shows that they’re going to get out, but is bad, since the only one who knows how the scale works is the culprit. 

Samidare motions for Tsukiyo and Nazuna to move away from the door, and hoists the chair over her head to use as a weapon.

Then the door opens, and the person standing there is…

A man with the physique of a model, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses.

“Ya-Yadorigi-san?” I said without thinking.

“Oh, Samidare-san,” he said back, as if we’d just bumped into each other on the street. “Good morning. Are you in the process of solving this case?”

“Huh? Uh, erm, I am, but…” What the heck was going on here? “What are you doing here, Yadorigi-san?���

“It’ll take a while to explain, so let’s chat over breakfast at a hotel or something. By the way, you aren’t hurt, are you? I know you must be exhausted.”

“I’m already tuckered out, for sure.”

“Those two behind you are connected to the case too?”

“Yeah.”

“Then have them join us for breakfast,” Yadorigi said with a smile.

Nazuna crept up behind me, whispering in my ear: “Is that man the Black Cape?”

“Huh, there’s no way…”

“You know each other?”

“We sure do, this is one of the other detectives in our group.”

“This is really strange, though. The only one who should know how to let us out is the culprit…”

“What? No!”

“Do you have something you need to discuss?” Yadorigi asked, offering an arm to escort us. “For now I think it’s best if we leave this room, no?”

“Oh right,” I said, then looked over my shoulder to whisper to the others. “We’ll be in trouble if we get trapped in here again, so let’s get out of here for now. Stay behind me.”

Nazuna and Tsukiyo nodded, and Yadorigi walked into the hallway.

The rest of us followed, finally taking a step off the dish of the scale. Despite that, I felt more confused than elated. Like there was something going on that was above my head.

((Hey, Samidare? I’m going to remind you that your Big Bad is a guy who can disguise himself real good.))

We followed down the hall, me carefully leaving thirty meters between us and Yadorigi. 

Finally, the hallway ended, and Yadorigi took a step into the church. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, waiting until we closed more of the distance between us before starting to walk again.

In the next moment, I saw a black shadow jump out from the left of my peripheral vision.

It was Black Cape.

I didn’t have time to yell out.

Black Cape brought the metal pipe down on Yadorigi’s head.

Fresh blood spurted everywhere.

I couldn’t even look away.

Yadorigi crumpled on the spot, falling to the ground as if dead.

I heard Tsukiyo and Nazuna scream behind me.

Black Cape’s hood was facing me.

I’ll never forgive you…

I’ll never forgive you!

Murderer!

“I’m Samidare Yui, the detective assigned to this case! You cannot hurt me!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “If you’re going to hurt someone, you’ll have to go through me. If you’re ready to face the consequences of breaking the rules, then come at me!”

I took a step toward Black Cape, who responded by taking a step back.

We faced off in the silent church, the smell of blood growing ever thicker. 

Black Cape held up the bloody pipe in a defensive stance and began to retreat.

“Running away?”

As soon as I said it, Black Cape stopped.

They seemed unsure, as if they hadn’t considered that this would happen.

“From here I can reach you in two steps,” I said, pointing to my feet. “If you turn to run, I’ll catch you immediately. If you want to fight, I’ll face you. Don’t you get it? You’ve already lost. Give up, and put down the pipe.”

Without noticing, we’d moved to the area closest to the entrance. So they were planning on running way. 

The door was on the left of where I was standing, the area where I saw Black Cape jump out to attack Yadorigi. I could see that the boards sealing up the door had already been removed. It was possible to leave.

I turned my attention there. That was likely where the culprit would try to flee.

On the other hand, the hallway leading to the coffin room was right behind them. It was equally possible that they might try to make a break for it and hide in that room like before.

“I’ve already figured out your trick. There’s nowhere to run,” I said. “All that’s left is to unmask you and make you confess.”

Black Cape’s identity…

I looked over the person before me again. Though the cape helped hide it, they were extremely small. They had to be a woman, or a child.

Who the hell?

((Samdiare…))

I couldn’t imagine a mystery where the culprit was someone who’d never been introduced before, but...I couldn’t think of anyone who it could be. Plus, the Libra Girls’ Academy case had just started, and it was possible that there were more murders planned.

Black Cape’s hood hid most of their face, but I could see their mouth.

It was smiling.

I felt as though I’d seen it somewhere before.

Mocking me, trying to taunt me.

((Samidare, come on...))

As soon as I thought that, Black Cape turned to make a break for the hallway.

“Ah!”

I was too slow!

I sprung from the floor.

I wouldn’t let them escape…

Just as I thought that, the culprit tripped and fell spectacularly. From inside the hood, a pair of glasses flew across the floor.

Glasses?

Whatever, now was my chance.

This entire time, I’d been chasing after the back of his black caped culprit, and now I was going to tackle them like I’d wanted to since the start.

As I lunged, Black Cape rolled first onto their side, then their back.

Shit!

A trap?

The hood back, our eyes met.

Black Cape grabbed my sleeve with their left hand and pulled, pressing the gun-like thing in their right hand against the left side of my chest.

“Gotcha,” she said.

It was a voice I’d heard before.

It was a face I’d seen before.

“Do you know what this is? It’s a nail gun. If I pull the trigger, it’ll stake you through the heart and turn you into a voodoo doll.”

“Why would you…”

It was one of the detectives in our group, Mizuiyama Sachi.

Ha! You thought it was Lico! But no!

The curse of Jess starting to like a seemingly unimportant character and them ending up evil strikes again!

Though still, Shinsen can disguise himself as anyone, so maybe check on Yadorigi to make sure he’s dead? Something?

But anyway hell yeah! This is the kind of shit I’m here for!

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

[jackednephi]

On daily scripture study

Kind of a long post. I'm on mobile so no cut. Sorry :(

Ok so I'm gonna try doing something this year that I haven't in the past and that's reading my scriptures every single day. In the past, I've been hindered by like approaching it as the Ideal like we learn in seminary which is Deep Study every single day. Obviously, I ended up failing because that's such a lofty goal. I mean, it always ended up being good for me because it would inevitably deepen my study. I'd involve Google in with the footnotes and get really deep into things. Like the post I have forever ago about Nephi's sword type of thing. But research rather than happenstance and it's part of why I know so much about kosher laws off the top of my head

Something else I think has been a hindrance to this goal has been the idea that I need to bust out my physical scriptures to do so and, at least when I was in high school, the only comfortable place I had to do this was the couch in the living room. Also, if I'm being honest, I was definitely doing Way Too Much (as is the common Mormon trap tbh) But I'm not doing Way Too Much because what work I get is by no means full time. I do what I can around the house, but that's limited to weather, spoons, and so on. I'm in the process of applying for disability but that's not an all day, every day type of affair. I'm going back to school eventually and studying for the GRE in the meantime but, again, even with all this, I have a lot of open time. And I have a comfy bed if nowhere else

ALL THAT SAID, I wanted to know if anybody used the LDS library app for reading and how that worked out. I figured if I can make time to read bits of fanfiction/otome apps every day, then I can try to read the scriptures every day. Also, is the app good for study? I know it's good for church use so will be good for casual reading but a big reason I haven't relied on it for daily reading is that I'm worried about relying on it for regular study

I mean, I've always been partial to physical books and scriptures (I can write in them and I like the heft and can use them even when headaches crop up) but I need to be realistic with myself. Sometimes I can't even get out of bed for hip pain and can't even prop myself up to read a physical copy. Plus, I do NOT want my kids (the buns for those of 6ou unaware) thinking it's something they can destroy cause we give them phone books and stuff to shred and scriptures are similar enough. But again, not sure if the app is good enough for me to kind of "retire" my scriptures so to speak. Especially since I really, really, REALLY like marking them and writing notes in them. I know there's a little notebook thing but, again, I've been reluctant to explore it because I was pretty sure there was no way it could be as good as physically writing

How does everyone else approach what to study too, by the way? Do y'all go "I will study what we are in Sunday school this year" or do you just eat up the BOM year after year instead? Do you switch it up from day to day just going wherever? Do you start with the ensign and work from there? Conference talks? Because that's technically scripture too, right? Also, would it be a good idea to maybe record my progress in my journal I use for scriptures and study maybe? Like the date, where I read from and to, maybe some quick notes? Or would that be too ambitious for now? I was thinking it would be good to see if I've been actually accomplishing reading every day and adjust accordingly if I wasn't. Maybe printing out a little calendar or chart and giving myself a cute little sticker as a reward for that day to mark my progress

Like the goal is to get myself to make this a habit. It has never ever been a habit for me and that definitely needs to change. Like I do read scriptures but never daily like we're told. I want to give myself as much opportunity for success as possible and, considering I'm 25, I clearly have yet to figure out what I need to do for success. I'd tried every day in the mornings in high school but needed to wake up at 430 to do that due to morning JROTC practice three days a week and seminary the other two. Then, who's going to wake up that early on the weekends to keep that kind of habit? Not a growing, anorexic, overscheduled teenager, that's who

Then, I'd have after school stuff. Drama, choir practice, viola practice, fencing, or karate depending on the year, piano practice/lesson every day except Sundays, JROTC stuff depending on time of year and if stuff was coming up, a MOUNTAIN of homework, and by the time all that was done, it wasn't like I was in any shape to do more studying. I wanted to play video games or draw or read or otherwise destress. Then, I was inactive in college so why would I go out of my way to form (let alone keep) a daily scripture habit

So do I go for a same time every single day type thing? I attribute the past failure of that to circumstance. A set time is fine when I have/remember to take my meds. But that will probably fall apart other days and habits are consistent things. Maybe I should aim for, instead of a time, more of a "as soon as I wake up, have had food and meds" type of flexible thing so I'm not beating myself up for sleeping in until noon when I meant to get up at 8? Or do y'all find later in the day better because you're not having to worry about the Rest Of The Day setting in on you? I'm thinking after me waking might be best so I'm not feeling guilty for taking time away from my family

Regarsing frequency, should I start with doing it as often as possible? Shoot for once a week then slowly increase it? Go whole hog and get it done daily even if it's just a couple minutes? I genuinely do not know. The year my family and I read the BOM every day together, I was in elementary and not doing too much. We did four chapters a day, more if they were short and less if they were long, but my parents really were the ones who dictated that so I don't really know how to do that myself

Anyway, I really want to make sure this goal sees success and then, in time to come, I can deepen it to be rigorous study rather than just reading every day. Thus all the questions. I also know different people are different and what may work for y'all may not work for me. But I would like real answers as to how y'all do your scripture habits as opposed to like Advice y'know? Like get real specific with it so I can have a good idea of what works for different people so I have a concrete idea of things to try

Nobody is obligated to answer any of these questions by the way. Just I wanted to ask them and throw this out there to all of tumblrstake so I could get a good range of answers. Daily scripture study is such a nebulous concept to me that I definitely need concrete examples as opposed to vague advice. Also no I'm not gonna pray about how to know how to do things. HF doesn't work like that. I mean I will pray for guidance to know when things are working or not but I can't do that until I'm actively Doing The Thing and how am I supposed to actively Do The Thing if I don't really even have a starting place

Like do I hit up the church website and comb through conference talk after conference talk about "read your scriptures daily" in hopes of finding a more practical how to? I'd think there would be less of that and more admonishing. I was also born in the church so idk if converts get some kind of lesson from the missionaries the rest of us don't about how to read daily. If so, can we like spread that to the general populous? Cause I would appreciate it

Anyway, sorry for the wall of text. Vann had Questions

Feel free to hit up my inboxes by the way. I do read everything even if some asks sit there for like months at a time because I never get around to answering them

[galadrieljones]

that he may hold me by the hand: chapter 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason  

Rating: Mature (Adult Themes, Violence, and Sexual Content)

Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.

Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph

Chapter 2: We don’t have to talk.

Arthur showed up to Strawberry a couple of days early. He played a bunch of blackjack in the speakeasy and won the pot so many times he began to piss people off. He knew how to cheat and calculate cards. He never made for sleight of hand anymore, though he used to. He chewed on coccaine gum at the speakeasy counter on the night before he was set to meet Albert and struck up conversation with a widow who boarded in an apartment in town. Her name was Wanda Eugene, and she had once been married to a rustler named Cody and claimed to have lived in Texas for most of her life.

“I ain’t met a lot of women married to rustlers no more,” said Arthur.

“Well, he’s dead,” said Wanda. “So.”

They were drinking whiskey. “You miss Texas?”

“Most days.”

“What’s keeping you from going back?”

She had wide, tired eyes, but she was mild-looking. Pretty in a plain sort of way. She was probably about Arthur’s age with a tight braid down her back and wearing blue jeans. She said that she could not go back to Texas. She said that every time she even thought about going back, she was met with nightmares of the way her late husband had died. “Shot by a Ranger,” she said. “Three times in the back. They thought he was somebody else. Fucking two-bit assholes.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Arthur.

“Jesus was not there that day, I can assure you. I hate lawmen. I wish they’d all die.”

She openly asked him to spend the night with her then. She said he seemed big and rough, and she missed that sort of man. She was sick of the soft-handed. Arthur found himself oddly flattered. “I ain’t much for temptation, Mrs. Eugene. If I was, you might just be it.”

“Is that a No then?”

“It is.”

She sighed. “Good grief. I’m just so goddam lonely. I’m starting to forget what it is to feel.” She finished her whiskey and ordered another from the bartender who was missing a front tooth. “One for my friend here, too,” she said.

Arthur knew the feeling of which she spoke. He missed the human body. He often wished he still got the inclination to sleep with strangers. And when it came to working girls, he had lost his interest. He felt beyond their wiles, as he could tell that they were all so deadened to touch, they hardly noticed their own needs, and this was not what he wanted. He just wanted something warm, something that would react to him. For a moment, he reconsidered her offer, but ultimately, he just smiled.

“You got a wife, I bet,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he lied. It was easier to lie.

The next day, Arthur woke up late with a headache. He had some oatmeal in the lounge. The proprietor of the hotel in Strawberry was annoying. He spoke regularly of the town as if it were the center of the universe. Arthur wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up and take a vacation. But he didn’t.

He waited and read the newspaper. The front page went on about Valentine and all that had gone down there. SHOOTOUT IN VALENTINE. A whole lot of shit. Arthur sighed, folded the paper in half and set it away. He wore his hat and sat in a chair by the window and smoked, thinking of anything else. People went in and out of the door. He didn’t see Wanda again.

Albert arrived about half-past noon, looking dead beat and like hadn’t slept in days.

“Mr. Mason,” said Arthur, rising to meet him.

Albert sneezed and refused a hand shake.

“What’s going on?” said Arthur. “You sick?”

“I am,” said Albert, blowing his nose into a handkerchief. “I caught a terrible cold a few days back. Truth be told, I thought it would have subsided by now.”

“That ain’t no good.”

“No sir. However, it is good to see you.” He straightened up and removed his hat. He smiled, his kind eyes. He didn’t look so bad upon further inspection. A little puffy maybe.

“It’s good to see you, too,” said Arthur. He took Albert’s bag, told him to take a seat. “You know, we can postpone our journey, if you wanna rest up a bit.”

“No, no,” said Albert. “I’d prefer not to. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“As have I, but I don’t want you to get any sicker.”

“You are a true gentleman, Arthur. But I assure you, I’ll be fine.”

They left about an hour later, packed up their horses and rode northwest. Albert sneezed most of the way but kept up. He was a better rider than Arthur had realized. It was easy to underestimate him. He made a mental note not to do that anymore.

They followed the river. When they got to the heart of Big Valley, Albert slowed his horse and shouted for Arthur to hold up a second. They were in the middle of a huge, purple field of lavender. The breeze was coming through, rustling the plants. There was a flock of sheep nearby, and a young man shepherd on horseback. Whitetail everywhere. “My lord,” said Albert. He got off of his horse, took a few steps and looked around. “Do you see all this?”

“Yes, sir,” said Arthur. He leaned forward to pat Amelia on the main. “It sure is majestic. I knew you’d like it.”

“Like it?” said Albert. “It’s magnificent.” He looked at Arthur, serious, no longer sneezing, just full of reverence. “Thank you for taking me here. I’ve already forgotten why we’ve come, but I am quite certain I never want to leave. It is truly Arcadia.”

Arthur smiled, very pleased. He dusted his hands together and hopped right off his horse. “To find the bear, we gotta go out to the edges of the valley,” he said. “It’s a little more dangerous out there. Kind of barbed territory. There’s cougar and boar. It ain’t friendly. But here, here I reckon we’re pretty safe.”

“If you say so,” said Albert. “I’d like to get a few shots of all this, if you don’t mind. The fields. They smell so darn good. I wish I could capture that in a photo.”

“Only way to do that is in writing, I expect.”

“Absolutely,” said Albert. Then, “Do you write, Arthur?”

The question took Arthur by surprise. He glanced up to the sky. A couple of sparrows took off, whipping up out of the foliage. “Sometimes,” he said. He hooked his hands over his belt in a casual fashion. “I have been known to write a little.”

Albert smiled. “I should like to read it someday, your writing.”

“Oh, no,” said Arthur. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a journal,” said Arthur. “It’s just ramblings. Sketches here and there. It ain’t really intended for an audience.”

“You’re an artist?”

He blushed. “Well, I—”

“Say no more,” said Albert, still effusive but seeming to catch his drift. “I’ll quit prying.”

“That’s okay.”

Albert assembled his camera, his tripod. He took many pictures of the fields. He took pictures of the sheep and the shepherd, the little dog with two different colored eyes that herded the sheep. Arthur watched. He ate a can of strawberries with a little tin spoon, smoked four cigarettes. He and Albert talked of stuff he would later forget about, idle things. Arthur managed to get a few sketches in—one of the dog, one of Albert photographing the dog. They fed the horses and before long, the sun was losing steam and the light growing long and lost across the valley. The bubbling streams filled with herbivores, coming to drink. Albert put away his camera with the loss of the light, and with this, it was too late to go looking for bear. They decided to make camp.

They washed their faces in the creek, set up a couple tents. Arthur caught a fish for their dinner while Albert sat by the fire, rolling cigarettes. He had a particular talent for this. His tobacco product was very neat and looked expensive.

Arthur cleaned and cooked the fish. After dinner, he poured some whiskey into a flask, and night fell. They sat, warming themselves by the fire. Albert gave him one of the cigarettes, struck a match, lit it, and then lit his own. Albert’s cold seemed to be clearing with the fresh air, but now it was getting chilly, and he had grown tired. Arthur rolled some more cigarettes. His were looser than Albert’s, not quite as meticulously sealed.

They sat and smoked for a while, existing. Arthur had a flask of whiskey, which they began to pass. At some point, Albert cleared his throat and sat up to speak. “So, Arthur.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How has everything been going, since I saw you last?”

Arthur glanced at him. He plucked a big old piece of grass from the earth, the cigarette hitched to the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he said. “Just fine.”

“Are you still living in the Heartlands?”

“No,” he said, shredding that piece of grass between his fingers.

“Oh?” said Albert. “Where have you moved?”

“Further south,” said Arthur, laying the pieces of grass side by side. “Near a big old lake.”

“Flat Iron Lake?”

“That might be the one.”

“Good fishing, or so I hear.”

“That, it is.”

The fire crackled and sparked. It was like molten lava. Albert smoked and blew the smoke and flicked the ashes to the earth. He could tell that Arthur didn’t really want to talk about it. His head was a little stuffy. He blinked, took a drag.

“How you feeling?” said Arthur. “Your cold.”

“Better,” said Albert. “A little tired, but no worse for the wear.”

Arthur picked up a pebble then, tossed it into the fire. Albert took a drink from the flask and watched as Arthur picked up another pebble, held it in his palm, and then he absentmindedly closed it in his fist. He turned his fist over, sort of shook it, and when he opened his hand again, the pebble was gone. It was a marvelous surprise.

Albert laughed and set the flask down between them. “You know magic?”

Arthur seemed to have surprised himself. “A little,” he said, smiling. “I learned sleight of hand when I was kid, for cheating cards. My dad taught me, before he died. And I know a magician, too. He’s taught me a couple of things here and there. We’ve traded tricks over the years.”

“Your father, what did he do?”

“Rob banks mostly.”

“I see.”

“Anyway,” said Arthur.

“I must say,” said Albert. “I’m impressed. Is there anything you can’t do?”

Arthur turned red—like a fast, hot streak in which he seemed to vibrate, but only for a moment. “You flatter me.”

“Maybe you can show me how to do that. It’s a great parlor trick.”

“Do you hang out in many parlors, Albert?”

Albert found this to be funny. He laughed. “Oh, no. Not anymore. Perhaps a long time ago. Back in Pennsylvania, when I was a teenager. But I’ve done with all that.”

"All what.”

“The social circus. What have you.”

“Ah.”

“My interest in photography came about precisely so that I could have an excuse to get out of the house. I suppose that it took, though I am quite dreadful. Still, I try. I enjoy it a great deal.”

“You’re not dreadful, Albert. Quit talking about yourself that way.”

Albert knew that he was right. He was gratified. He took another drink from the flask, passed it. Arthur was a big man beside him. He’d never really sat next to him before. He was taller than Albert, though not a great deal—just enough, and his width, his wingspan, it could intimidate. Albert was not intimidated. He looked down, finished his cigarette, tossed it into the fire. The air was cold, and he shifted toward Arthur a little, almost absentmindedly.

“Hey,” said Arthur after a little while, swigging from the flask.

Albert jumped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just gonna ask, how did that meeting go with the gallery owner?”

“Oh,” said Albert, scratching at his beard a little. “It went well. Thank you for asking. I have another meeting in a few weeks. I’ve promised more material. From the Big Valley, of course.”

“That’s real good, I expect?”

“Yes, sir. It is.”

Arthur stared at him. He seemed a little sad, but it was way in the back somewhere. He took a drink of his whiskey and then looked back at the fire. “Good.”

“Arthur,” said Albert.

“Yep.”

“Thank you for taking me here,” he said. Arthur looked back, genuine. “I’m very fond of the terrain.” Albert took a deep breath. “I’m fond of you. I’m glad you’re with me.”

Arthur looked down at his hands. “Yeah, me, too,” he said, then he looked up and smiled, warm. He had little scars on his face. They were like little pieces taken away, or dents. Here and there. His hands were big and worn. Albert watched as he reached into his front pocket, took out a couple more cigarettes. He held one out for Albert. Albert took it. Their fingers touched. Something kicked up between them, but it was momentary.

“I think I’ll save this.” Albert smiled. “For now, I should be off to sleep. I’m still under the weather. I’d like to be fresh for tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” said Arthur, lighting the cigarette. “I’m gonna keep watch, just for a little while. There’s cougars around here. Sometimes they’re drawn to the smell of a campfire.”

Albert stood up, dusted off his pants. “It’s chilly,” he said. “Don’t stay up too late, and be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me. You get some sleep now, Mr. Mason.”

“Goodnight, Arthur,” said Albert.

“Goodnight.”

Back in his tent, Albert removed his boots and his hat. He scrubbed his scalp a little. He smoothed his beard, looked down at his fingers where he held the cigarette. Then he tucked it into the band of his hat. He lay back and closed his eyes. He could smell the smoke from Arthur’s cigarette, coming in through the tent flaps. Arthur’s tobacco was fresh and cut with a little bit of sweetness. He couldn’t tell what, but he could tell that Arthur had dried and treated it himself. It was not store-bought. Albert felt disoriented all of a sudden, like he was coming apart a little. He turned onto his side to go to sleep.

Meanwhile, Arthur fell asleep next to the fire, hardened into the dirt as a root. He hadn’t meant to drift, but the night was peaceful, and he’d got woozy from the booze and it made his eyes droop. He rarely dreamed in those days. It was almost as if he was too locked down, too unwilling to look behind the curtain of his own subconscious, for fear of what he might find there. But that night, he had a dream. It was a very simple dream. He dreamed that a pretty buck had come down into the valley while he slept. The sky was a cold and lonely mountain, far away, and he was beneath it, waiting. The buck had twelve points. It entered the moonlight, emerging from a shallow den of trees on the edge of the lavender field. He wanted badly to sketch it, but he knew that he was sleeping, and it would be gone by the time he woke. He dreamed that the buck came over to sniff around the campfire. It sniffed around his face. Its cold nose was on his ear. He tried to make sense of the feeling. He awoke.

What he awoke to was nothing so peaceful. He felt that cold touch on his ear, but it was no buck. It was the mouth of a gun, pressing on his face. It was nudging him into consciousness.

“It’s him,” said a voice.

Arthur opened his eyes. It was dawn. He saw a young man—maybe twenty-four or twenty-five years old—a ruffian with missing teeth in the front wearing a long black coat. He looked serious. He was holding a shotgun to Arthur’s head.

Arthur felt the adrenaline, sucking into his chest and yanking him from the dream. Like being plunged into ice cold water, and it near on made him nauseous. He eased his hands over his head, turned onto his back. “Easy,” he said. “Easy, boy.”

“Shoot him,” said another voice.

“Colm said bring him to Hanging Dog alive,” said the boy.

Arthur was suddenly terrified. He glanced to the tent. He saw that it had been roughed up. Then he saw the other guy—he had Albert by the throat with a pistol to the head, and Albert looked white with fear and a little queasy. He was ragged, unnatural with his hands up like that. It triggered something in Arthur. He initially made to lunge, but he caught a boot to the gut for that, sending him to his side curled up like a goddam snail. The sound he’d made was ugly. He felt bludgeoned with regret, as he knew what he was going to have to do. “You’re making a mistake,” he said.

“You’re coming with us,” said the boy. “You go quiet, and we’ll let your friend here live.”

“Yeah, I don’t really believe you.”

“Arthur?” said Albert. “Arthur, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Arthur. “Try not to talk too much, Mr. Mason.”

“If you say so.”

“Get up,” said the boy, nudging Arthur with the gun.

“You nudge me with that gun one more time, boy, things ain’t gonna pan out too smooth for you in the end.”

“Get up.” He nudged him again, this time too hard.

It went by in an instant after that. Arthur was fast when he wanted to be, ruthless. He grabbed the barrel of the gun with both hands, shoved it up, hard, cracking straight into the kid’s dumbass face. It sort of exploded on impact, his nose neatly broken as he stumbled backward, allowing Arthur to usurp the weapon and shove the boy into the dirt and shoot him dead. Arthur then pointed the gun at the second man, the one who had Albert. He was a young man as well, even younger by the looks of it, and Arthur felt terrible inside, like he was looking in a mirror. “Let him go, or I do you up, too,” he said.

The boy sent Albert forward to his hands and knees with little hesitation. Then he stared at Arthur in abject horror for a moment before picking up and running as fast as he could in the other direction. Arthur lowered the gun, let him go. He went to Albert who coughed and beat his fists into the dirt a couple times. He seemed to have got the wind knocked out of him. Arthur hauled him to his feet and steadied him hard. “You okay?” he said, dusting off his vest. “Albert? Talk to me.”

Albert was out of breath, his shirt untucked but he did have his boots on. “Good heavens,” he said. He lurched forward a little with his hands on his knees. “Is that man dead?”

Arthur patted him on the back. “I’m afraid he is. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Better him than me.”

“They ambush you in your tent or something?”

“No,” said Albert, popping up now, wiping his face with the yellow handkerchief from his pocket. “I went down to the creek, to get some water. They ambushed me there.” He sneezed.

“You went down to the creek alone?”

“I thought I could handle a few whitetail,” he said. “Those men showed up, asked me who you were. I wouldn’t tell them, so the one grabbed me, dragged me back here, and then the next thing you know, you’re shooting people, and my entire life is flashing before my eyes.” He sneezed again.

Arthur straightened up and sighed. “Bless you.”

“Thank you,” said Albert. He took a deep breath. “Boy I’ve got some luck, don’t I.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Arthur. “But we do need to get the hell out of here.”

“I couldn’t agree more. You know, I think the shots I got yesterday, of the lavender fields and the herd of sheep, those are better than anything I’ve gotten so far? No black bear, but bears be damned. I’m through with predators.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I am.” He turned to Arthur then, slowly, finally catching his breath. “Thank you. For saving me.”

“Of course. I wasn’t gonna let them kill you,” said Arthur. “And I sure as hell wasn’t going with them.”

“Did you know who they were?”

“Not really,” said Arthur, scratching his head. He looked around, making sure nobody else was coming up the horizon. “I mean—I know there’s rough stuff around these parts. I should’ve been more careful. I thought we was safe.”

“With you, I am always safe,” said Albert. “I just wish I were a little more aware of my surroundings. It’s always been a problem for me. As you well know. When I was a boy, my father used to shout at me to get my head out of the clouds. Told me to quit chasing the damned butterflies. That was before the cholera got him, of course.”

Arthur threw the shotgun over his shoulder by the strap, studied Albert. “Cholera, huh?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, don’t be too down on yourself. You held your own back there.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You didn’t give in to those men. That’s very brave.”

Albert smiled in spite of himself. Then, he stumbled forward, just a little. Arthur caught him by the shoulders. “My word,” said Albert. “I guess I’m still a little dizzy.”

“Just try to breathe. In through your nose, out your mouth.”

“You’re kind, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “I ain’t kind, Mr. Mason.”

“Well, to me, you are kind.” Albert smiled and took a deep breath. He seemed to blink many times as if to acclimate his vision. “Now, if you don’t mind, let’s please go.”

They packed up their camp, stowed the bedrolls and the tents and all of their earthly goods upon their horses. Arthur let Albert hang onto the canteen. They then mounted up and began riding back toward Strawberry at a pleasant trot. Arthur did not think about how that man he had killed back there, the man trying to abduct him, was an O'Driscoll. He tossed Albert an apple and then shined one up for himself.

“What are your plans now?” said Arthur as they came around the curve. The rocks, the terrain in these parts was beautiful, but treacherous. “You heading back right away?”

“I thought I’d stay the night at the hotel,” said Albert. “Take the train back to St. Denis in the morning.”

“Sounds good,” said Arthur. “Maybe I’ll go with you.”

“Oh?”

“Sure,” he said, biting into that apple. “Where I’m camped, on Flat Iron Lake, it ain’t far from Rhodes.”

“Rhodes?” said Albert. “My, what a dreadful little town.”

“You’re telling me.”

“You know I stopped through there once,” said Albert, “just looking for a drink at the parlor house they've got. Four different men asked me where I stood on the War of Northern Aggression. Of course, they were all neanderthals, and far be it from me to correct them on the fact that it’s 1899. I thought I’d keep my front teeth.”

Arthur laughed out loud at this, tossed the apple core to the weeds. “You still make me laugh, Mr. Mason, the way you talk sometimes.”

“Well,” said Albert, a little bashful for this. He trotted up alongside him. “I certainly do try.”

[thequeenofadream]

Sunflower III 🌻 (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary:pep talks, morning regrets and a heart to heart.

Words: 1,068

Notes: read part one!! read part two!! uh swear words and no extremes really haha

A/N: hi its cheyenne coming back to you with another chapter and i am delighted you're spend a few minutes of your day reading this! sorry its kinda short compared to the others, but next one aka the last one will probably be long. ily all have a wonderful day!! 💞

~~~~~~~~~

Two hearts, Two souls, just one solution but the solution failed.

Someone was banging at your hotel room door in early hours of the morning. You looked at the clock on the nightstand to see the time was 5:00 am. You were all leaving at noon so you wondered who'd be pounding on your door at this time.

Ugh.

You groaned and pulled yourself together. Whoever was at the door better have had a damn good reason to wake you up. You walked towards the door and looked through to the peephole to see a anxiety riddled John Deacon. As soon as you twisted the handle, Deacy immediately hugged you.

“Good Morning to you too?” You said groggily moving backwards so you could close the door. He let go for a second and looked at your appearance.

Your eyes were sore from crying. Your tears had stained your cheek. You looked as if you could sleep for a millennium. Everything about you screamed heartbreak.

“Fred and I wondered where you had gone. Have you been crying?” He asked, eyes filled with sympathy. You couldn't lie anymore to anyone anymore.

“Yes.” You barely got out before tears came pouring down. You hugged John once again as your emotions took control.

“There, There Y/N.“ He pat your back. You both sat down on the edge of the bed while John did his best to comfort you. You explained what had happened in between sobs.

After you told him the distressing tale, he sighed.

“Excuse me, but he was a dick. I'm sorry I don't know what drove him to that much alcohol last night.” He blatantly stated as he stood up.

“It's fine”

“It's not, Y/N. I’m going to find him before we leave and knock some sense into him.”

“It's really not necessary, Deacy.” You pleaded, wiping away your tears. You looked at him seriously.

“I’ll find him myself and talk to him, alright?” You assured him. He nodded.

“Now, what did you two get up to with my camera.” You pointed at your camera which he was holding, trying to lighten the mood. John let out a little chuckle.

“Well, Fred and I took the best of pictures, if I do say so myself.” He handed you the camera and the pictures.

You looked at each of one of them. They were all gorgeous and made you feel like you were actually at the party. You could tell that Freddie took the blurry and ‘lively’ pictures while John’s was much better, he did like photography after all.

“Well yes they're truly immersive.” You laughed and walked over to your camera’s keeping the camera and all the pictures.

“See, we told you we could do it! And not a single scratch either.” He said proudly as walked to your bedroom door.

“Okay okay, but I think the world needs your incredible bass lines.” You said opening the door for him. John blushed slightly and walked out the door frame then there was silence. Worry was starting to pile up once again.

“Y/N, you got this.” He spoke positively, sensing your stress.

“Thanks John.” You gave a small smile and waved goodbye. He waved back and went off. You closed the door and walked back to your bed. You sat on the edge, deep in thought.

You had one chance to tell him clearly, properly and surely and you didn't know how. You had absolutely no clue on what to do. You felt bad for wasting Freddie's and Deacy’s efforts and you definitely did not want to extend the dilemma unto Bri.

You had to do this your way.

It was 9 am and you were pounding on Roger's door. You felt determined, empowered and alive. You did not care about Alicia or any other woman Rog may or may not have gone home with. It was time for you to keep yourself alive.

“A minute, a minute!”

Roger revealed himself wearing a robe in the most hungover fashion. All the great effects of alcohol had left him and he was left with a pounding headache. He looked like a mess, a hot mess.

“Oh my god Y/N, I don't recall anything from last night. I'm so sorry.” He said, eyes wide. You laughed at his puzzled expression.

“It's fine, I wasn't at the party for long, but I could tell you what happened while I was there over breakfast.” You smiled sweetly.

“Okay, just give me another minute.” He smiled back with the best of his abilities. He grabbed a white buttoned down shirt and sunglasses quickly putting them on.

“Okay, let's go.” He Said, intertwining his arms with yours. You rolled your eyes as you both walked down the stairs.

“So no one at your room?”

“Erm yeah. I remember a girl, but she honestly just disappeared at some point. All I remember is being completely pissed.”

So much for Rog being her lover boy; sad really.

“So Brian brought you back?”

“Yep.” He said as you both exited the lobby.

The sky was littered with a few clouds scattered about, the wind was breezy and cool and the sun shone brightly. It was bright but not bright enough to send Roger running back in pure agony. It seemed like a good day. Whilst walking down the sidewalk you kept your eye out for a restaurant or diner.

“So what did you do?” He asked casually, looking straight ahead.

“What do you mean?” You asked slightly nervous.

“I usually see you taking pictures in the shadows even when I'm wasted to hell. Also you said you weren't there for long, where did you go?”

He noticed me?

You usually kept a low profile at the parties, just being there for the pictures and maybe a drink or two. You never really assumed someone was watching over you. The thought warmed your heart.

“Uh well we actually met earlier in the night.” You started slowly. He suddenly looked at you, dreading to hear what had happened. “Did I- Was I fine?” He asked stopping in his tracks.

You looked at him in the eye. He was fine, wasn't he? He didn't do anything to hurt you. He was just being Roger. You were about to say he was good, but a voice in your yelled “Tell him.”

You did say you wouldn't lie, Y/N.

“Maybe, we should sit down.”

~~~~~~~~~

🌺 taglist: @icanreadbookstoo @itsametaphorbriansblog @tara-jadet1ffen @cosmiclunas @madeinthea-m @rogers-cig

[amysgiantbees]

Noone knows me personally on tumblr so I feel safe releasing my thoughts on Christianity into the void.

I grew up Christian. Not in “seriously” Christain family that I associate with Americans more than New Zealanders. I just see New Zealanders as overall more casual and laid back people. Not that I’ve ever been to the USA, this is just my judgment call from stereotypes, TV and the few Americans I do know. But back to the point, my family were Christain but not particularly zealous in their beliefs, my Mum would go to Church on Sunday my Dad wouldn’t bother. Both my parents were Christain though. My Dad just sees Church and regular praying as optional as long as he keeps the faith and follows the Bible to the best of his abilities. My Mum enjoyed the social aspects as much or more so than she felt that it was an important part of her faith. Likely she went more for socializing than seeing it as vital and shares my Dad’s philosophy because once we moved she stopped going because Church didn’t have her friends and was too long a drive. After our third move now and she attends Church again, the same one as my Gran who has always been the most devote person in my family, but that’s likely because she’s looking for a cure for my brother’s sickness. My brother has been ill for two years now. He had to pull out of university two weeks into his first year and has since been plagued with headaches and hypersensitivity. 

I believed as a child in no serious way, it was just what I knew. After our second move, I sometimes would attend Youth Group in town at my Gran’s church and this introduced me to some very devout people. It also leads to my first and only trip to Easter Camp. Easter Camp is a camp over Easter weekend and it involved multiple Concert like events after sermons in the evening with fun non-Christian activities and very Christain talks/lectures during the day. It was packaging Christianity as fun and “hip” so it isn’t surprising now that the band named after and associated with the very problematic and homophobic Church known for having a high appeal among young people, Hillsong, played all of the concerts at night. This was where I was confronted about how serious I wanted to be about Christianity in a big way because on the second day I think there was an event in the day where the pastor invited the Holy Spirit to be in us. He meant this very literally. Our youth leaders warned us beforehand about the reactions people have and true to word people started wailing and crying. I didn’t have any such reaction. Which just left me feeling hollow, guilty and wrong. I didn’t believe enough clearly. This was later reaffirmed when after Easter Camp I attended for the special “After Easter Camp” service lead by the Youth Group. During this (or maybe a few weeks after actually) an elderly woman in the audience during prayer time said that there was a person feeling ill and that they didn’t believe enough but God was giving them a chance to do better, or something along these lines I can only remember the general gist’ of it now barely. But this sent little thirteen years old me crying after the service because I had been feeling a little ill during the service. 

I had a tonne of gilt so I eventually tried reading the Bible myself. My Granddad (who had by then passed away. Rest In Peace) was one of the most devoted people I’ve ever known. He and my Gran would read the Bible at least once a day. I thought doing the same would help. I have had to work on my Feminism and personal activism a lot through my life I started out very ignorant when I was younger and I’d like to think I’d improved a lot by the end of high school which I was in my last year of when I started trying to regularly read the Bible. I’m still obviously working on my feminism a lot but by seventeen it was a personal interest of mine and still is. Thus unfortunately for Christianity, I was no longer in a place where I would be swayed by homophobic or sexist writings or be able to easily look past it. I started highlighting parts of the Bible I found confusing, troubling or problematic in orange and parts that I loved in particular in yellow. The parts in orange quickly outweighed the yellow. 

I’ll get back to the rest of my story later I need to go to bed but I just wanted to jot down before I forget this. I find it confusing that when I point out the parts of the Bible that discourage wearing clothes of different materials, eating shellfish and describe marriage as an arrangement between a father and a fiance over property, that this can all be described as products of their time or that I need to remember that this was written by regular men, not God but other parts like anti-homosexuality passages should be taken completely seriously. I have never met a Christian who does not interpret the Bible in their own way. And I’ve never met a Christian who is willing to think in-depth about this. I just see a lot of hypocrisy and unwillingness to ever even attempt to interpret the Bible in new ways. 

This is all to say that I recently became comfortable with no longer being Christain and being something along the lines of Agnostic. But my Dad told me about a miracle that happened to him and he’s a very honest man, so now I’m all confused. And I just wanted to vent about it all I suppose. 

[tarralin]

MorningAfter

Fox Hunt, Chapter Six

Enjoy!

(Board gifted by @under-sengoku-skies)

Find my Master List, Ao3, and Ko-Fi in blog bio!

Thank you again to @tsundere-mitsuhide for all your help and beta reading.

~*~

RM planted her boot atop the shattered stone monument as she gazed up into the clouds. The Kyoto weather forecast called for clear, sunny skies and the sudden storm rolling in sent those around her scurrying for cover in nearby restaurants. She would be too on any other day… but not this day. Nope.

This day she needed those clouds.

After finally recovering from the horror of her best friend’s disappearance, RM tracked down all of Sasuke the Science Kid's research. She had been appalled at the lack of safeguards on such documents with the only means of protection being kept away in his locker in the Science labs of the university he attended. Yeah, like that would keep a trained mercenary out. No wonder someone had reported his findings... the kid practically begged for the eyes of the government!

It took a great deal of Google’s help to translate the more spacey-sciencey terms and concepts of the research but RM was at least able to pin down the basics. The algorithmic calculations were both a breeze and a blessing that allowed her to calculate the next several occurrences. As the world’s best sniper, she prided herself on being a living, breathing graphing calculator.

RM straightened her backpack straps once more at the first rumble of thunder. She could feel the flash of goosebumps ripple across neck and down her spine. She wouldn’t lie to herself. She was terrified; afraid of the effects her trip could cause, afraid of landing somewhere further out of reach from MC, afraid of being stuck when she got there. Even with all of Sasuke's research keeping her rifle company in her bag, she knew that was what she should fear most but no… Her worst fear was losing MC, part of the only family she had left.

A grateful smile crossed RM's features when the lightning struck her.

~*~

Sunlight.

Cursed sunlight.

With a moan, MC pulled the covers over her head and turned away from the windows in attempt to quell the pounding pulse behind her eyes. What I wouldn’t give for an aspirin and a Gatorade right now… At least I have today off.

It took an entire carafe of water for the headache to subside to a manageable level. Or, at the very least, one that allowed her to pretend she didn’t have a hangover from Hell. The kitchen was the first place she found herself once venturing from her room and immediately regretted her existence.

“Lass!” Masamune bellowed out as he caught sight of her. “Good morning!”

Her hand came up immediately and landed softly on his face to keep him at bay, no doubt he would try wrapping her in a suffocating hug just to annoy her. “Can you… not shout?”

Confusion flitted over his eyes. “This is how I normally speak…”

“Well, then… don’t?”

He laughed at that but continued about the kitchen with a noticeable effort on keeping silent. She fixed herself a light breakfast and headed to the one spot of the palace that she knew none would find her.

The majority of the garden received at least a cursory attempt at maintenance. The farthest corners were a different story altogether. Due to the on going war effort, the darkest parts of the garden were left to themselves and now grew feral in the absence of would be gardeners. Shameful, really. Through the moss, MC could see signs of two wisteria trees flourishing in spite of the wilderness surrounding them. Almost as if they were the last standing paladins against an army of invaders.

MC inspected the sky above and determined she still had the whole day to herself while scarfing down the last of her breakfast. If last night revealed anything, it was the fact she had let her hormones get the best of her and she had a lot of thinking to do. She always thought best while working anyway.

She allowed her thoughts to stray freely as she climbed the first tree and began plucking clumps of moss from the branches. This wasn’t her time. She was going home in eight weeks and she shouldn’t be trying to form permanent ties or giving into temptations. Tipsy or not, she had always remained in control of her hormones; anyone who landed in her bed had clearly voiced their mutual interest before and after drinks. She hated admitting to it but Mitsuhide was right. She hadn’t been thinking clearly.

And casual encounters were out of the equation entirely. Hell, is casual even a thing here?

Have you met Masamune? Have you seen Hideyoshi and Angel Boy when they’re in town? Please! They’re practically the inventors of casual! MitsuWho? Nope, sorry, don’t know him. MitSINari on the other hand... And let’s not get started on Mr. HOEbunaga before he gave up and turned into Big Bro Nobu.

MC giggled to herself as she continued to clear away moss and weeds. By noon, she was smiling with pride. She had fully demossed both trees single handedly as well as cleared their immediate vicinity of all overgrowth. Quite a feat, if I do say so myself. She also had a game plan for the next two months to avoid a certain-

“You really can't sit still, can you?”

Well, that was over before it began.

With a sigh, MC looked up from her crouch to the familiar golden eyes and quickly ran through her options. One: she could snap at him to leave but he would take too much joy in that. Two: she could leave the garden herself, effectively giving him the cold shoulder, but that felt too much like surrender.

“If you’re going to state the obvious, could you at least make yourself useful while you do?” She quickly turned back to the weeds awaiting her attention regardless of how much she really wanted to watch that smirky smirk fall right off his face. There, a third option. Although, throwing the ball into his court wasn’t a part of the initial plan of avoiding him. Too late now!

“Please, don’t stop singing on my account. You have such lovely expressions when that guard of yours comes down.” A chuckle rolled from his chest as he crossed the garden.

“I wasn’t singing.” Was I? Shit, I probably was! I don’t even know what song he heard!

“You seem to favor that particular one,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve heard it in the halls when you focus on your tasks. Though I have heard others from your voice, that one comes up the most. Don’t know the words of course, since you only sing in what I assume is your native tongue but…”

He’s whistling? It was such a care free action from his normally pensive features she could only watch. As stunned as she was, it wasn’t until he got to the tune's chorus did she recognize the song and hummed along. Ah, yes. Try by Colbie Calliat. RM always catches me with that one, too.

Mitsuhide was still whistling when he finally came to stand at her side. His shadow loomed over her a moment before something dropped to the ground in front of her face.

“You… brought me gloves?” She glanced up again to find Mitsuhide pulling on a pair of his own. MC raised a brow as she slipped the gifted gloves over her grass stained hands. “How-”

“Please don’t say sweet, I don't think my teeth would be able to handle it.” He teased with a sneer.

“Convenient. Must be some kind of hangover I have going on...” She paused, eyeing the beautiful man before her as he crouched and began yanking invading parasites from the earth. She should shut up now and continue with operations Avoidance and Cold Shoulder… but here she was, evaluating new options so soon after deciding it was best to stay away from him. But, then again, this was Mitsuhide and her usual rules of detachment seemed to fly out the window with him around. And he did always seem to find her. And it was just so tempting to see him squirm! Although, going the path less traveled meant giving up pieces to gain pieces.

But they'll be new pieces.

Okay. Fine. Decision made. I surrender to the universe!

“Must be some hangover I have going on because, normally… I’m aware of your voyeurism…”