#she prays to him at dawn every morning

[anoras]

tegan keeps her faith to herself, as a general rule. it's not that she hides that she worships lathander (she'll tell anyone if asked, it's no secret, there's no reason for it to be), but she prefers to keep it private. her relationship with her god is special to her, something she takes comfort in her faith in him, and in the small moments of acknowledgement she's received. :)

[slytherizz]

Bludgered - Sebastian Sallow x Female!MC/Reader

Summary: Sebastian never really knew what his friend saw in Isaac Cooper but he never questioned it - he made his friend happy. That is until a Quidditch match goes quickly awry and he realises his feelings for her may go far deeper than simple friendship.

Prompt from @monismateos Quidditch Seb x Slytherin Seeker F!MC. Thank you for your patience with this one lovely!

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, 7th Year, explicit sexual content, smut, mild violence, love confessions, semi-public sex, first time

You can find all the tags on Ao3

Condensation fogging the inside of Sebastian’s goggles made it almost impossible to see his frozen fingers clasped around the handle of his broom; let alone the Quidditch match itself. His hair was slicked down his forehead and he could already feel a splinter working its way under the skin of his palm.

He’d have to ask her to help him squeeze that out later.

Rain lashed in oppressive sheets as Sebastian circled the pitch diligently. He rolled his shoulder as much to keep the blood circling as it was to keep pace with the veering gusts that would knock a smaller man from his broom.

Sebastian hadn’t even wanted to try out for the blasted Quidditch team he grumbled inwardly as he swerved out of the line of the chasers keeping an eye on the skies to ensure their path was free of a hurtling bludger.

He’d only intended to watch and support his friend try out for the Slytherin Seeker position. Reyes had taken one look at him stuffing himself into the narrow stalls beside Ominis and declared he had a ‘beaters build’. Before he could protest she’d manhandled him onto a broom, forced a bat in his hand and next thing he knew he was being dragged out at the crack of dawn every morning in the baltic Scottish winter.

Anne had always been the Quidditch player not him – slight and nimble she’d taken great pleasure in outpacing her brother in front of Madam Kagawa. 

Merlin, he missed the library.

He could be warm and dry watching the game from a respectable distance inside, book in hand. The cold stiffness in his bones seemed to creak in mourning because at that moment they felt like he’d never be dry again.

But he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her.

She’d looked so pleased when Reyes had offered them both a spot on the team. She’d flung her arms around his neck crowing with delight while Sebastian’s stomach had dropped like a stone. But with how her wide eyes had shone at him, small hands squeezing into his biceps, smile so wide and crooked like a crack of lightning; excitedly waiting for him to return her jubilation he hadn’t the heart to tell her that the absolute last thing he wanted was to be on the Quidditch team.

He'd never been particularly good at saying no to her.

So with a coil of despair tightening in Sebastian’s stomach, he muttered a silent goodbye to his books and his bed and returned her smile praying he didn’t look like a man walking to the gallows.

With how often Anne had badgered him to help her practice during the holidays when she was a Chaser; Sebastian consoled himself with the knowledge that he was a fair flyer. Better than a lot of the Gryffindor team evidently with how their Keeper practically wept every time he saw Rayes’ raven hair streaking towards his goalposts and as a Beater he could at least help keep an eye on their troublesome Seeker.

She was scouting high above him, robes burdened and sopping with water – it was a marvel the weight of them hadn’t made her sluggish. In fact, she barely seemed to notice the cold or the rain at all. Just as alert as she was at the beginning of the match. Floating ominously overhead she kept her silent vigil; like a hawk waiting for a rustle of prey in a dense forest. As impressive as it may be, Sebastian’s constitution was not as robust, and he just hoped she would catch the bloody snitch soon so he could pack it in.

“That’s Reyes with another 10 Points to Slytherin – Puddlemere United will have their hands full with that one next year!” Lucan’s crackly amplified voice shouted over the howling wind.

The thumping of feet heavy enough to break the rickety rafters and a roar of approval from the emerald-cloaked stands answered the chorus of groans from the scarlet that surrounded the pitch.

Tapping his bat against his boot in an inaudible clap Sebastian looked smugly up towards the Gryffindor stands as they jeered at Imelda who seemed as unbothered by them as a speck of soot on her cauldron.

“Eyes on the game, hound!” Imelda barked as she streaked past. Sebastian rolled his eyes at the nickname his captain had bestowed upon him which to his dismay had caught on with the rest of their team. 

As he began to turn his attention from the crowd a flash of black stood out against one of the scarlet banners. Obsidian and vibrating with its internal rage Sebastian caught sight of the bludger rocketing through the fog towards their Seekers. All other thoughts evaporated, and he pulled up the handle of his broom jolting up into its path.

He searched wildly through the dark skies for anything to redirect the screeching little devil away from her. His eyes landed on a scarlet figure with a bat in hand - Sebastian found his target. With all the strength his frozen joints would allow, Sebastian raised his arm and smacked the bludger with a resounding crack from his bat, sending it hurtling towards Isaac Cooper.

He’d apologise to his friend later if he put her boyfriend in the hospital wing.

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. Sebastian leaned back slightly on his broom. Feeling rather pleased with himself he turned to grin at her hoping his quick reactions would break her concentration momentarily and earn him a flash of a smile no matter how fleeting; it was one of his few moments of pleasure in this infernal game – but she was gone.

“The Seekers have spotted the snitch!” Lucan shouted, “It’s Slytherin in the lead – come on Ogspire, knock her off her broom if you have to!”

“Lucan!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Sure, enough like an arrow released from its quiver she was streaking towards the ground. Cutting through the rain, neck and neck with the bludger hand outstretched as she hurtled towards a flash of gold behind Cooper's left ear.

Nelly, the Gryffindor seeker had also spotted it from below. If she didn’t have such a sizable lead, Sebastian was sure there would be a head-on collision, a mess of broken bones and blood splattered across emerald and scarlet. 

Sebastian’s head whipped around to the only other person not intently watching the seekers – Cooper. He’d seen or heard the bludger Sebastian had sent his way a split second before it was too late…for him.

Sebastian felt like he was watching in slow motion. Raindrops hovered in midair like glittering jewels, her emerald robes flapping in the wind like wings, bludger far too close to her head and Cooper poised to strike. A hunter with his gun ready to shoot her from the sky.

Cooper swivelled quickly on his Nimbus, strong arm reaching up above his head as he swung. Wood connected with iron as he followed through redirecting the angry bludger hurtling towards her.

Sebastian screamed her name.

So loud it clawed at his throat. A desperate plea for her to get out of the way, forget the bloody game - but his voice was silenced, stolen by the storm.

If it wasn’t for the clap of thunder and the hammering of rain, Sebastian knew he would have heard the sickening crunch as the bludger connected with bone.

Even if her hands had been tightly clutching her broom, she wouldn’t have been able to grip it after her head was bludgeoned to the side. Every muscle and tendon which had been coiled tight as she surged for victory slackened.

She wobbled and slid silently sideways off her broom.

***

Somewhere overhead even over the deep rumble of thunder, Sebastian could hear Imelda screeching out commands to their team, signalling desperately to Kogawa on the ground below. But Sebastian could barely register the words over the blood roaring in his ears.

Pressing hard on the handle of his broom Sebastian tore towards the ground, rain buffeting his face a harsh sting on freckled cheeks. His vision had tunnelled as he narrowed in on the spot she was falling. He could catch her. Stop her from hitting the ground, if only he could push himself faster. Harder.

She was falling like a star crashing to earth that never should have been stolen from the sky.

Bile was in Sebastian’s throat, harsh and sour. Twenty feet from the sodden earth. Faster. His stomach lurched. Ten feet. Just a little further. A futile hand outstretched.

Just as he was certain she was going to hit the ground limp limbs sprawled and broken in the grass like a rag doll she was suddenly buoyant – airborne once more.

Professor Ronan had his wand outstretched from the stands slowing her descent to Professor Weasley who had already been waiting on the ground. Her mouth pinched in a thin line as she surveyed the sickly parlour of the witch's face and the blood now matting her hair.

Sebastian was the first player to touchdown. Throwing his broom away, abandoning it like he would anything else as long as he could get to her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the other players circling down to earth but he was consumed. Soley with thoughts of her.

Professor Weasley flicked her wand, muttering a barrier charm shielding her from the unforgiving elements. Sebastian was hot on her heels to follow when Kagawa stepped in front of him putting a firm hand on his shoulder in warning to not interfere.

“She will be fine, Sallow!” said Kagawa sternly. 

“You must be joking. She’s clearly not fine! I can help. Just let me go with her and-”

“Professor Weasley and I will accompany her to the hospital wing immediately. You will only get in the way. You can see her for yourself. Later. Be sure to relay that to the rest of the team,” she said with conviction but it did not ease the twisting in Sebastian’s stomach. Kagawa nodded tersely and strode briskly towards the castle. 

Sebastian balled up his fists, jutting out his jaw as he took in a heavy breath through his nose. 

He wasn’t cold any longer. Sebastian was burning. Burning from the inside out; with a white-hot rage…and fear. Letting it scorch at the shame he felt that he had let this happen, it had been his fault, he had not been enough to take care of her as he’d promised himself. 

Mud splattered as he turned on his heels stomping towards Cooper. Channelling the last of his fraying self-control into not reaching for his wand and hexing him on the spot into his feet. Cooper’s face was pale, eyebrow knitted and mouth curling down with worry but it did little to quell Sebastian’s fury. 

What right did Cooper have to be worried? 

Cooper’s eyes found Sebastian, his grimace contorted into a glare. Narrowing his eyes, a sneer wrinkling his nose and the twitch in his jaw that seemed to be reserved especially for Sebastian. A face so unpleasant, that he had never been able to put his finger on why everyone in this school regarded him as so handsome. Being half-decent on a broom was hardly a reason to fawn after anyone. 

Why someone as brilliant as her, with everything she had achieved, would fawn after him too had remained a mystery.

Sebastian never really knew what she saw in him, but he never questioned it - Cooper made his friend happy. Thought he’d made her happy. So the two young men largely ignored each other despite their significance to her unless an interaction was absolutely necessary. 

But this betrayal was not something Sebastian could ignore. 

“You could have killed her,” Sebastian shouted with such venom that not even a howl of wind could soften his tone. Sebastian shoved an accusatory finger into the other man's chest. Which was promptly smacked away in disgust.

“You heard Kogawa. She’ll be fine!” 

Cooper pushed back his ash blonde hair sodden and hanging over his eyes. Averting his gaze to the direction Professor Weasley had whisked her out of the stands and towards the hospital wing. Sebastian clenched his teeth, his jaw twitching at his blatant disregard.

“What the hell were you playing at? Was killing your girlfriend really less important than losing a bloody game or has too many bludgers to the head rendered you a feckless moron?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you hit a bludger at me. It’s part of the game, Sallow. She knew what she signed up for.”

“That’s bollocks and you know it.”

“Bludgers are an occupational hazard.”

“Couldn’t stand the fact she’s a better player than you - Is that it? Gryffindor chivalry my arse!”

“Unlike you, I'm not that insecure," Cooper blustered "I would have done the same to anyone else.”

“But she’s not just anyone else,” Sebastian shouted incredulously. Anger was pooling in his gut, ripping through him at the thought of Cooper or anyone daring to think so little of her. “She’s your girlfriend!”

Cooper scoffed and his eyes raked down Sebastian. Sizing him up for all he was worth. The two men stepped towards each other. 

Never one to back down, Sebastian squared his shoulders to the challenge. Cooper wasn’t much taller than Sebastian and certainly not as broad but he used every last inch to stare down his nose at him with a mocking sneer.

“Exactly. She’s my girlfriend. Not yours.” 

“I know that-”

“Do you?” he chortled. “Some of us were starting to think you were as thick as you are pathetic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian spoke through gritted teeth, acutely aware of the heat rising in his face staining his ears pink. 

“It’s fucking embarrassing,” Cooper continued. “The way you carry on after her. Dragging her to the library every night, sending her owls - You don’t even like Quidditch! But you’re at her beck and call like a love-sick cruppy-”

“I’m her friend.”

“Her friend,” Cooper scoffed. “Give it a rest, Sallow. You think you have some sort of claim over her just because you’ve been following her around since fifth-year but never had the nerve to do anything about it.”

“I don’t have a claim on her-” he spluttered. His cheeks redden further and not just from the biting chill. 

“No you don’t, because she’s mine-”

Crack.

Sebastian’s fist connected with Cooper’s jaw before he’d even realised he’d swung for the arsehole. Perhaps not as hard as a bludger but the cut it wrought would sting with far more malice than enchanted iron. Taken off guard expecting a wand drawn between his eyes long before a brawl, Cooper was sprawled out at Sebastian’s feet in the steeped grass. 

Cooper stared up at him dumbfounded from the floor clutching his cheek. Sebastian’s breath came out angry and ragged, fogging the air in uneven pants. Cooper did not move to get up or reach for his wand. Despite his love for books and clever spell work, Sebastian in that moment was glad of the years of working the fields outside of Feldcroft that made him more physically intimidating than someone so scholarly rarely was. Because if Cooper had moved one inch, he wouldn’t have hesitated to hit him again. He wanted to hit him again. Partially for her, but mostly for himself because Cooper had made him feel small. Powerless. And he’d sworn to himself years ago that he'd never be powerless again.

Powerless as Cooper clearly felt. Crimson cheeked glaring up at him like the intensity of his gaze could set Sebastian on ablaze even in the torrential gail. The prickle of eyes gawping at them, making the heat rise in their cheeks and the hairs on the back of their necks stand to attention. 

“Stay away from her. She’s not yours anymore. Not anyone’s. And if I catch you in a broomstick’s length of her again after what you did today - I swear on Salazar’s grave, you will be the one sleeping in the hospital wing next time.”

Cooper’s only acknowledgement of his threat was a glob of scarlet blood spat onto the grass. But he didn’t try to rise to his feet and continued to glare at Sebastian. The tips of his ears were as scarlet as his cloak in rage or embarrassment to be laid out in front of Merlin knows how many students that were still packed into the stands. Circling vultures who would undoubtedly, pick apart his humiliation and spread it through the castle letting it grow more outlandish with each retelling. 

Let them say what they want, about Cooper or himself, let them pick them apart - they could make themselves sick on it for all he cared. He only cared about one thing at that moment.

He turned to head for the castle, ignoring the route for the changing rooms where his dry robes waited intent on striding straight for the hospital wing. 

“Sallow! What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Imelda shouted barging past the group of quidditch players standing well back from the scuffle. Her black hair was sodden and her ponytail limp, her signature scowl she wore when addressing just about anyone looked forced with the corners of her eyes creased with concern.

“Finish the match without me Imelda-” he grumbled. She stepped into his path blocking him as he attempted to push past her. 

“It’s already over. Ogspire caught the snitch and had the good sense to look sheepish about it when she realised what happened. Or the crowd would have seen two seekers knocked off their broom when I was through with her – but that doesn’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t matter! Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to see to the only thing that does.”

Reyes placed her hands on her hips and looked him up and down, assessing him with an amused quirk on her brow - Sebastian wondered how such a tiny thing as Reyes could be as terrifying as a Hungarian Horntail like she could strip the flesh of your bones with a look. 

"Do you know why the rest of the team calls you ‘the hound’?"

"I assume it's because you told them to treat me like some sort of dog. Now if you’ll excuse-"

"You're not a good quidditch player, Seb."

"Cheers Reyes."

"Luckily Carrow is a decent enough beater to look after the rest of the team. But we keep you for one thing. You're the hound. Her guard dog. On and off the pitch. That's why she went down like a sack of shit,” she grimaced. Reyes despite her callousness, Sebastian could see how her shoulder stiffened with suppressed anxiety for one of her few close friends and it settled the anger that was still threatening to spill over. “She's potentially the only seeker in history to never be hit by a bludger. She doesn't even look for them anymore. As I said - you’re not a good quidditch player, Sebastian. But while she’s my Seeker and Carrow doing the heavy lifting…I’ll happily take a bloody guard dog over a half-decent beater. Just don't beat yourself or Cooper up about it."

“No promises about the last bit,” he griped. Averting his eyes, hoping Imelda thought the flush creeping over his cheeks was from the chill and not from the knowledge that even his own teammates shared the opinions of Cooper and his friends when it came to Sebastian’s feelings for her - which felt jumbled with both worry and speculation. 

“Go check on her. Blainey will have a fit if the whole team shows up,” Imelda said softly. She negated her uncharacteristic kindness with a firm punch to Sebastian’s arm. Her eyes glinted viciously as she looked past him to Cooper who had pushed himself off the ground dusting off his robes. “Besides…I want to have a little word with Cooper myself.”

***

A puddle had formed under Sebastian’s chair as it had dripped from his sodden robes until Madam Blainey had ushered him into the lavatory. Sebastian hurriedly stripped, cast a drying charm on his clothes and pulled them back on. Forgoing his shoes as he hopped lopsidedly out the door. Hastily pulling up the breeches which stuck against the wet hairs on his legs. Blainey wrinkled her nose at his display but left him to his vigil, being far too familiar with the pair and how persistent they could be when it came to remaining by the other's hospital bed. 

On more than one occasion she’d sent the other packing only to be greeted cheerily the next morning by a smug-faced teenager who’d tampered with her locks and wards to sneak back inside to keep the other company. After almost three years of this, she left them, albeit reluctantly, to it.  

She was curled up under white starchy sheets; a draped knit blanket barely covering her knees was sliding to the floor where she’d squirmed. No longer chilled to her bones, the colour had returned to her cheeks. Sebastian rested his head on his palm, elbow braced against his knee. He’d been in this position far too many times than was preferable but it had become familiar to him; the twinge in his neck, the ache in his arms as the hours of the vigil dragged on. Not that he minded, being beside each other was second nature. 

She shifted; eyes blinking sleepily back into focus as she rolled onto her side. Sebastian stretched rubbing the back of his neck smiling at the softness of her sleepy gaze. 

“Seb?” she sighed dreamily, her voice thick and curdled with potions Blainey had more than likely forced down her neck. 

“Who else,” he grinned. Blainey had long since satisfied her need to poke and prod at her ward and headed up to bed. And he doubted anyone had the bollocks to go against Imelda if they’d forbidden them from seeing her tonight. “You gave me a bit of a fright there, pet.”

“It’ll take more than that for you to get rid of me…” she said sitting up more jovial than he expected. “But…whoever came up with the idea of bludgers is a sadist.”

“Or a masochist. Some of us are gluttons for punishment,” Sebastian argued, pulling at the collar of his Quidditch jersey exposing the jagged scar on his shoulder. 

Faded white, the remnants of one of their summer duels. With no Blainey to patch him up in seconds, the skin had puckered and scared but he was rather fond of how it cut through the freckles. 

“If you recall, you were the one who insisted we practice severing charms after five pints in the Broomsticks.”  

“In my defence, with the amount of practice you get, I thought you had better aim when you were drunk,” he chuckled. “How are you feeling? You seem to be fairing better than I was that morning.”

“I’m made of sterner stuff. No hungover wailing over a little scratch for me,” she jabbed before grimacing rubbing the side of her head where it had struck. “Not going to say it was pleasant - nasty little buggers aren’t they. But Blainey patched me up. Made me drink that foul grey sludge for the concussion but a couple of spells for the wound and I was good as new. Honestly, the sleeping draught seemed like overkill but I think she’s just sick of catching me roaming the halls at night.”

“If she thinks that’d stop you! Don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit still for this long, you menace.”

“Or you for that matter,” she grinned, patting his hand affectionately. Moonlight spilled in from the ornate windows over the vacant hospital wing, she peered past him down the rows of empty beds. “Where’s Isaac? I thought he’d want to see me-”

Sebastian bristled, her disappointed frown souring his cheerful mood. He brushed the bruised swelling on his knuckles from where they’d connected with Cooper’s jaw. 

“What you’d rather see your ‘brave’ Gryffindor boyfriend - than me? Who’s been here.” 

Who’s always been here.

Maybe Cooper was right. Perhaps they all were and Sebastian really was pathetic. Pathetic for assuming she’d still want to wake to Sebastian at her bedside now that she had Cooper in her life. That their friendship could compare to what he could offer her. 

“No, I’m glad you’re here,” she said crossly. “But…I thought he’d want to at least check I was alright.”

“You shouldn’t want to see him after the stunt he pulled today! He’s the reason you’re in the hospital at all, might I add. Decided you were less important than a stupid game. I told him to stay the hell away from you for good.”

She blinked at him incredulously for a moment before the heat began to rise in her cheeks and she clenched her jaw. 

“How dare you! Who do you think you are deciding what I do? You have a lot of nerve, Sebastian.”

“I thought I was saving you the trouble but if you want to scurry back to him, be my guest!” Standing so abruptly his chair screeched across the floor. “Keep doing everything for everyone else when they wouldn’t give a fraction back. No matter the cost to yourself, like you always do. You can be so bloody naive!”

“I know you don’t like Isaac - you don’t even try to hide it. But you can’t dictate who I see. And I hoped you thought more highly of me to think I’d stay with him after the shit he pulled today. But, if that’s what you really think of me, you can bloody join him” she snarled.“I tell everyone they don’t know you like I do, but maybe I am naive. Seems I’m surrounded by tossers trying to knock me down. Why do you even care, as clearly you think so little of me?”

“Of course, I care! Even though you’re seemingly incapable of caring about yourself. You barely even let me. You’re infuriating! What’s more ridiculous is what someone like you would see in him. He’s not good enough for you, he never has been! You give yourself over to people who couldn’t give too shits about you and now look at you-”

“Oh, so what? My boyfriend turning out to be a complete and utter prat is somehow my fault?”

“No! Of course not,” he flustered, carding his fingers through his hair. All the words in his head felt jumbled and he could tell by the dangerous look in her eyes he’d let his temper dig himself into a hole once again. 

“Don’t hold back, Sebastian,” she spat through gritted teeth. “Did you just come here to insult me or is there something you’re trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is you should you should be with someone who fucking cares. If it was me, I wouldn’t be risking your safety to win a stupid game! Merlin, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t risk you for anything. I thought I lost you once and it was one of the worst days of my life. If someone had tried to take you away from me I would have fought back. Fought for you. If we were together-”  

His voice died abruptly in his throat when she was no longer fixing him with a deadly eye but staring at him. Wide-eyed her mouth hung slightly a jar. He'd built up a barrier around himself and as close as he was to her, probably closer than anyone he’d still kept her at arm's length. Once again he let his temper get the better of him but instead of solidifying those walls, he’d exposed a little too much. Exposed something he’d vehemently denied to even himself.

Shone a light on a corridor in the labyrinth of their friendship and feelings he had for her he’d never explored. One he perhaps always knew was there but until now had dutifully tried to ignore lest he lose his way and not be able to make it back to the well-travelled paths of simple friendship.

“But we’re not together…” she said cautiously. As if she could tell Sebastian was a startled animal, and once the shock of his confession wore off he’d bolt. Which quite frankly he was considering. 

“No. We’re not," he responded voice clipped. Sebastian was more surprised it even worked at all with how tight his chest felt. 

“But if we were…” she said it like she was stepping out onto thin ice wondering if it would hold or she’d plunge into the unforgiving water below. “What would you do for me?”

There was no use hiding it any longer. He sighed, looking into her eyes resigning himself to that first step into the unknown.

“Anything.”

Her breath caught and Sebastian knew she could see the truth they’d danced around painted across his face and laid bare between them. Feel the finality of his words like Pandora opening the box and swarming the carefully curated distance between them with truth never to be recaptured.

Sebastian reached for her, fingers entwining in her hair tilting her chin up so she could see him. Perhaps truly for the first time, exposed and raw. Her soft lips parted as if to protest his confession but as she searched his face for the lie she found none. Sebastian was done with hiding, with pretending. The realisation that his feelings went beyond that of a companion and he didn’t care if anyone thought it pathetic. In truth, it was liberating to drop the charade he played with his own heart. 

He kissed her. 

Claiming her lips firm, not holding back the wave of desire that ignited any semblance of decorum and dignity he had left. Any whisper of a reason he’d concocted in his mind for why they couldn’t - shouldn’t be together going up in smoke. Pulling her towards by the nape of her neck, like he hadn’t realised he’d been starving until he tasted her. 

There was a desperation in the way he cupped her chin, tangled in her hair longing for acceptance. He brushed his tongue lightly against her bottom lip.

Just like that barrier between them crumbled for her too and she was kissing him back. Mouth moving against his with such a fiery intensity he thought he might catch alight. Like she too had stifled any spark she’d felt between them; kept it bottled away for so long with no chance to grow that now it was fed it devoured her.

It was not soft, nor tender – perhaps it was because neither were they.

His tongue delved into her mouth hungrily, exploring brushing against hers. He stifled a wanton moan into her mouth. 

“I think I need to break up with my boyfriend,” she said breathlessly between kisses.

“I already took care of that for you.”

For a moment, Sebastian thought she might break off their kiss and start shouting again. But she nipped at his lip satisfied with his answer. Her hand was in his hair, wrapping around his neck. Pushing up on her knees to press her chest against his. Muffled moans slipped from her lips which made Sebastian’s head spin dizzy with desire. His own strangled, desperate groan when she slid her tongue past his lips to brush tentatively against his own. Every flick of her tongue drove him further into the heady fog of desire. 

The overwhelming need to be closer. To drown in her embrace. Sebastian's knee found purchase on the bed between her parted legs. His hand ghosted down her back settling on the small of her back. She groaned as her spine curved towards him as he impressed down upon her. Still clinging to him as she fell backwards. Sebastian tumbled after her. Not caring about how his weight rested heavily upon her. She seemed to revel in the closeness, in the way Sebastian bore down on her. Desperate to be closer to her. Cocoon himself around her. Be the barrier to shield her from harm. 

But she wanted no barriers. At least not between her and the sanctuary that was Sebastian. She tugged up the hem of his jersey, eager fingers stumbling. He let his lips briefly leave hers, sitting back to pull it roughly over his head discarding it carelessly to the side. 

It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him shirtless before when they'd spent sun-drenched summer afternoons swimming in the river by Feldcroft or when errant spells had ripped or burnt the clothes from his back. But never had she looked at him like she was now - or if she had he hadn't noticed. Eyes darkened with desire raked over him hungrily as if she wanted to tear into his flesh.

She explored the breadth of him that was now exposed to her. The sparse hair on his chest, the marred skin on his shoulder the scar she’d left; a claim she’d staked on his skin long before he knew every inch of it was hers. 

His hands explored her in turn. Running along her ribs, the curve of her hips, and the dip of her waist. Committing this side of her to memory. Unbound, lustful. Still every bit the wild thing he knew her to be but with an endearing nervousness to her inquisitive touch. 

A side of her that until now had remained a mystery to him. A restricted section of a library he’d been too afraid to read from lest he be thrown from its doors entirely; on he intended to consume entirely.

“I didn't know you wanted this - Merlin, I didn't know I wanted this," he murmured between kisses.

"A life-threatening blow to the head can really knock things into perspective." 

He tilted her chin to access her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin below her jaw. She let out a startled little yelp as her body jolted in surprise. Sebastian chuckled and pressed his lips more softly against her quivering pulse, letting the tension ebb from her tightly coiled muscles before sucking a brand into the delicate skin. She groaned as her back arched towards him, breast brushing against his chest through her thin nightdress. The sweet trembling whimpers as he soothed the ache so intoxicating he felt drunk on her cries. Kneading the flesh of her breast in his palm, coaxing more delightful sounds from her lips as he tweaked the bud between his fingers. 

"I'll have to thank Isaac for-"

"Don't say his name-" Sebastian pleaded. Disliking the way any name sounded in the breathless quiver of her voice besides his own. "From now on - No one else's. Only-"

She cut him off cupping his face, prying him away from his ministrations on her jaw. She touched her lips to his gentler than the last had been, understanding the desire in his incoherent rambling. 

"Sebastian."

And she said it was the only name that mattered. He groaned deeply, burying his face in her hair. Breathing in the faint lingering scent of mallowsweet not even the storm could wash away entirely. Sebastian grasped her hip through her thin nightdress dress so he could roll his own against her core. He knew she would feel the growing need hardening in his between his legs.

Slipping under her skirt he slid a hand purposefully up the inside of her thigh. Her fists balled in the sheets as he brushed against the soaked fabric of her knickers. She shivered and certainly not from the cold, as he tentatively traced her folds. 

“Say my name again.”

She complied and he pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves. She whined at the contact and it called to something primal within him. That doggedness, that impulsivity a part of him he tried to damper, and contain lest it consume him completely as it had done in the past - perhaps this was why he'd built a wall between her and his heart. Because once he surrendered this part of himself to her, anything he had done in the past would pale in comparison to the everything he would do for her.

Shifting the fabric to the side and dragging a finger through the slick coating her folds to press against her clit. Coaxing out mewls of pleasure with every tantalising circle of the nub. Her breath was hot against his neck and a flush had spread from her cheeks down her chest. She writhed in search of more friction as he teased her open with his fingers. Sebastian emitted a low throaty groan when he felt how silky and keen she was for him. Her breath caught in her throat and his own became more ragged as he pumped and curled his fingers inside of her. Working her open, pliant to his touch. 

His cock was strained against his Quidditch breeches twitching eagerly against her stomach with every muttered curse and keening mewl she released. Her whine into his mouth, a plea for Sebastian to give her more than just a tentative caress. Her hands which until now had been stroking along his spine and tangling in chestnut curls ran along the curve of his ribs and down his stomach. She palmed his hard length and began pulling the laces to free him from his trousers. 

Rumoured dalliances were one thing and those were bountiful. Gossip spread like wildfire whether there was truth to it or not. But if it were to be discovered Sebastian had had her completely - it could damn her. There would be no going back, no changing her mind about their feelings for each other. Not that there would be any going back for him. Not now the floodgates had opened try as he might he would not be able to close them.

He’d submitted to it. To be hers. And he knew his stubborn heart could not be turned. 

A crease formed between his eyebrows and he pulled back from their kiss. Sebastian had burned for her for longer than he knew and now his heart had begun to splutter with nerves. She smoothed the lines etched on his brow, tilting her chin up to kiss him with a soft longing. A silent affirmation that this was not a moment of madness or revenge.

“This really isn't the place, pet," he tried to reason but he made no motion to move away from her embrace. Instead, he peeled the silken nightgown over her head which she wriggled out of gratefully. Bare and laidf out below him his mouth felt dry, as she looked at him through her lashes. Chest heaving, his friend transformed into a goddess under the soft lamp light. 

"You don't think the hospital wing is romantic?"

"We could get caught?"

"We're both rather adept at getting out of trouble."

"You're sure?" 

“About you?” He nodded nervously. Her eyes softened and the words came to her easily as if somehow she'd always known it would be him. "Since the day I met you.”

Sebastian heart rattled as she undid the laces, and helped her shuck the material down his hips. He kissed her and he wondered why he tried to evade the inevitability that was her. She wrapped a hand around his cock and he bucked almost embarassingly into her grip. 

He helped her guided his cock towards her entrance, shivering as he dragged the head against her slick folds. He kissed her deeply. Passionately. In reverence to her and all she meant to him; even when he'd been too blind to see it. 

He sank into her tight heat. The noise rumbling from deep in his chest was more akin to a growl than anything human as his girth stretched her inch by inch. 

Muscles tightly coiled with nerves but a tremor of pleasure electrified her as Sebastian pressed his thumb gently to her clit soothing her delicate whimpering. Fingernails etching grooves into his shoulders he knew should sting but gods - his mind had been completely overcome in the bliss of her warmth.

"Ah- Fuck." 

Sebastian wasn't sure which one of them had uttered it the moment he bottomed out inside her. Dropping to press his forehead against hers. Hot breath disturbed her unruly hair which he had tangled, a blush staining her cheeks and lips swollen, Sebastian didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone more beautiful. 

The last thread of his control was dwindling with how tight her walls fluttered around his cock, how perfectly he fit inside her; like he belonged buried in her. But he stilled himself. Letting her adjust despite how desperately he craved the claim her to make her scream his name until she could speak no other. 

Sebastian wasn't known for his exercises in control, but he tried. For her. 

Moving his hips working himself into her with tentative shallow thrusts. Her appreciating shallow panting like blissful music. He stole a look down to where their bodies were connected. Almost coming undone completely at the sight.

"It's like you were fucking made for me," he rasped. Still circling her swollen nub admiring how each stroke strained her breathing into short needy pants. Coaxing more of her slick to coat his shaft. 

"Funny," she choked a devilish smile spreading over her face. Her eyes flicked up to his from they too had been trained on their union. "I was going to say the same thing about you."

He dared a deeper thrust. Pulling back before pushing back in with a languid roll of his hips that made her groan, wanton and needy. Her back arching skyward he slid his free arm under the space she left. Wrapping around her waist to embrace her tighter.

Her hips bucked towards him, with every deep steady thrust. Cursing a string of profanities and praise the new angle allowed the head of his cock to stroke along her sweet spot. Filthy things that would have made even him blush but if it was possible they only made him rut into her more possessively. Mouthing brainless at the curve of her jaw, as she accepted him deeper.

There was a familiarity in the unfamiliar. The way the scent of mallowsweet wrapped around him had never smelt so intoxicating. The lilt to her voice when she said his name never sounded so reedy and desperate. 

He'd been trapped outside the gates of Elysium and now indulged fully in its pleasures. Sebastian groaned, peppering kissed into the crook of her neck, spreading her knees open to take him deeper. His thumb still teased her clit with every thrust making her legs tremble. The hair on his chest and freckles across his skin did little to hide the flush of colour on his skin. Sebastian clung to her desperately, her skin soft and plush in ways he’d never let himself imagine. 

He felt her climax building around his cock. Clawing at his back as she whined, teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Desperately clinging to him, to prolong the moment neither of them wanted to end. But his own release was impressing on him fast. Coiling tightly in his gut as he began to pound into her harder his pace becoming erratic with every deliberate thrust into her tight heat. 

“Fuck. Fuck- Please, darling. Come for me,” he pleaded. Barely recognising the desperate gravelly rumble of his voice. 

“Seb- Sebastian, I’m so close!”

“I can feel you. Fucking incredible. You’re incredible, taking me so well. I can’t- I can’t hold back anymore.”

Her climax broke, with a shuddering cry of his name. Spasming and contracting as she sucked him in impossibly deeper into her cunt. Sebastian doubted there was any greater pleasure in this world than the feeling of her completely unravelling, pulsing around him. 

She was calling out to him breathless, like his name was the answer to a question her soul had been asking and he was filling in the gaps of what she never knew was missing.

His vision narrowed, until she was all there was. Blushing, dishevelled a fucking exquisite mess writhing against him - because of him. With a final uneven snap of his hips, he buried himself inside of her to the hilt. Groaning her name over and over like a mantra as he came, hard. Harder than he ever had. Hips spluttering as he spilt inside of her grinding out his release deep in her channel. 

He loosened the arm coiled around her waist allowing her to slump boneless onto the mattress. He kissed her, capturing her sweet dulcet whimpers as he coaxed her slowly down from her bliss. Letting her ride out the last of her shaking climax with gentle circles on her clit, still buried inside of her.

They stayed like that for a while, his head pressed into the crook of her neck, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Humming contentedly as rocked into her. A little gasped when he at last pulled his softening cock from inside of her. Mourning the loss of being intertwined with him completely.

Hardly big enough for two, he pulled her half draping her soft body over him so they both fit. Head resting on his chest she hummed contentedly as he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. They were silent, the only sounds were their laboured breathing and the occasional satiated sigh.

"I love you," Sebastian’s voice broke the silence. 

And it felt too big and too small all at once; like it didn't capture the enormity of what he was feeling but now that he did he could never love anyone else. Never feel the warmth of another and for it to feel like home. “I just- I want you to know in case it wasn’t obvious. You don’t have to say it back-”

“I love you too. In fact, I think I’ve loved you for a long time.”

She tilted her chin up to kiss him and the world seemed to tip on its axis. Sebastian resigned to the knowledge he would fly through a thousand more storms just so he could bask in her warmth.

***

Luxuriating in the afterglow of a perfect evening rarely lasted forever. However, Sebastian didn't anticipate his to end quite so abruptly or by being shoved out of bed by the witch he loved. Landing clumsily on the tiled floor he glared up at her disorientated. If she wasn't roughly pulling her nightdress over her head to cover her bare breasts he may have thought last night was a rather vivid wet dream.

"Blainey's coming. You need to hide," she hissed. “Quickly. Under the bed.” 

"So? She's used to it. We always stay here together-" Sebastian yawned in protest. Reaching up to fix her dishevelled hair brushing his thumb against her cheek. If possible, she blushed even more wildly than she did last night when he’d been buried between her legs. As if the affectionate hand from the man who loved her was somehow more intimate.

"Yes- but usually fully clothed! Oh for Merlin's sake-"

She snatched her wand up off the table, pointing it dead between Sebastian's eyes she muttered a disillusionment charm. Sebastian felt it trickle over him and just as his hands disappeared from view the door to Blainey’s chambers swung open. The matron shuffled into the hospital wing bee-lining for her solitary ward’s bed who was quickly stashing her wand under her pillow. Sebastian despite being little more than a trick of the light, scooted further under her cot to avoid discovery.

"Good morning, dear! How are you feeling?” she greeted her cheerily. Stopping at the foot of her bed her sensible shoes the only thing visible to Sebastian. “...You look a little flushed."

"Much better, Miss. Truly-”

"Look at the state of your sheets. Tossing and turning all night, I’ll bet," Blainey tutted. Sebastian clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a snort of laughter. "Glad I kept you in. I knew you needed a good night's rest."

“Ah. yes- slept better than I have in years,” her voice wavered unconvincingly. Terrible liar. The bed springs straining as she squirmed uncomfortably.

"You have a visitor,” Blainey said, fussing with her pillow. Sebastian tucked his feet in tighter into the cramped space. “Your boyfriend, Mr Cooper."

Sebastian stilled, his jaw tensing as he resisted the urge to charge out of the hospital wing in all his naked glory and tell the Gryffindor to piss off.

"I think Isaac is mistaken, Miss. He is certainly not my boyfriend any longer.”

Sebastian may be naked, tailbone throbbing and hunched under a hospital bed in the most undignified position anyone could possibly be discovered in - but Sebastian felt far from pathetic. Smug was probably a better word with the grin that had stretched over his face. 

The blow to the face may have hurt Cooper’s pride but it would be nothing compared to the gut punch awaiting him when he discovered how their roles had reversed. When he saw what he squandered had been entirely to Sebastian's gain. 

"Or perhaps he has taken too many bludgers to the head or he would have gleaned from his conversation with Sebastian that I don't have a boyfriend,” she said loudly enough for Cooper's prying ears likely eavesdropping on the other side of the door. 

Sebastian frowned. Snaking his hand up quickly to deliver a hard pinch to the soft flesh of her arse. She squeaked in surprise, swatting into thin air as she searched blindly for his invisible hand. He knew she’d be blushing madly and he’d probably get an earful about that later. Although he now had a lot more creative fantasies about making it up to her. 

"Something wrong, dear?" Blainey turned to her concerned. 

"Nothing!"

But, something was much indeed wrong.  

'I don't have a boyfriend' he almost gave himself away with an audible scoff. 

Sebastian would have to do something about that immediately.

[rosella-writes]

solavellan rivalmance things

since I'm replaying Virelan's file and she and Solas are actively hostile to one another in Haven, I thought I'd write up my idea of how it'd go if the da2 rivalmance system stayed in place and was better

the only two elves at the heart of chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion for how long? surrounded by people who assume they'd get along by nature of their matching ears? just adds insult to injury that Varric jokes about their conflict from the very first instant they speak (they're not Fenris and Merrill, Varric, please I'm begging)

they're drawn together by familiarity that's on this side of wrong, more willing to sit together and fight than be alone and at peace

the nights grow longer and so do their arguments, which turn into debates, which turn into stories, until it's almost dawn and neither of them have slept

Lavellan calls him 'flat ear' — he curses them in elvhen so old that their Dalish dialect can't parse it apart

Lavellan clings to Dalish tradition and prays the prayers every morning in camp, just to spy Solas regarding them with something like pity, or grief

he corrects their elvhen pronunciation and grammar — they call him 'hahren (derogatory)'

"I saw it in the —" "Elgar'nan, we know!"

Lavellan dismisses blood magic as evil and spirits as non-persons but they keep asking questions, more and more questions, and Solas isn't sure if they're asking because they're curious or because they want to mock him

he doesn't stop answering though

Lavellan notices at first that he only looks at their vallaslin when he speaks to them... and by the time they close the Breach, he glares into their eyes

Lavellan protects him, like they promised, and they shout at him to be more careful

Solas heals their wounds and scolds them under his breath… but it sounds suspiciously like worry

Lavellan tells Solas to go when Corypheus attacks Haven, pushes him towards the Pilgrim’s Path and doesn’t let him follow as they distract the dragon alone

He searches for them in the snow in the aftermath, a mournful, enraged wolf howling in the storm — why could they not have listened?

Lavellan’s alive

The sensible choice is to lead them to his home, his heart, where he held the sky back — he feels it too as Skyhold falls in love with Lavellan and their Inquisition

They find him in a dream, and things are easier for him in the Fade

“You’re the one who started with tongue” “I did no such thing!”

I mean I could go on lol

[rizsu]

to you, my woman al haitham + kaveh.

sum. royalty au, not with genshin lore, and a COMPLETE brainfart omg i just needed to get this out

i. first impressions always count | 3.4k words

the lies and the truths: two terms that bind together to make balance. the reflection of the water in the basin mimics you. the wavering ripples and droplets that yelp each time your hand moves in it. a cold morning is what it is. eyebags that couldn't have been more protruding, a frown that holds every unspoken emotion, eyes that rid themselves of numbness — a sickening morning. you're alone, thankfully. amidst the sun's warming beams holds a dull you.

the day you've loathed has come. at the last supper, where a few envoys from the land of the righteous, sumeru, had arrived on the queen's note to deliver her qwords. it was but a slight favour on your side; hidden in her handwritten letter, she offered a deal: marry your daughter to my son. such can benefit both, if you permit. the answer lay in your palms — choose wisely, king.

her offer — or rather, her threat—held her attitude throughout. compared to your father, she's someone to worship. like a fool to a tyrant, your father had no choice. each day by the hour, does your blood seethe with hatred. annoyance for your family, hatred for your greed-ridden father, revulsion for everything that dawns in this damned kingdom. 

from the second you were born, they've placed their wants on you. praising you, forcing you, making you their pure goddess. within enevis's dome was the saying "she who borns shall become she who reigns." it's derived directly from the gods that once served these grounds day and night. sitting boldly at the temple's front, the transcript reads words that were shed from the mighty himself to the new goddess. ever since that moment, to her people who live, each time a woman has been blessed into the royalty, she shall be called 'the goddess' descent.' 

just pure tomfoolery. what is a deity to a man? a nobel to a peasant? a dream to a non-believer? you've been dragged on as a saintess all your life. controlled like a puppet by its master. a sing-song tale of marionette to her box; she's stuck in a neverending loop, unable to grasp free no matter the attempts. almost like you, who once tried marriage to set yourself free. at the very least, you loved him.

he wasn't anyone special — an average man, is what he was. compared to your status as enevis's sole princess, he was a pedestrian, at least. a farmer on the outskirts of town, producing homegrown crops for the capital's people (not that he earned much anyway). the first time you laid your eyes on him was when you snuck out through the window. it was idiotic, truly, but alas, it gave you a sense of peace. you had to pay off the guards that stood at their posts. one could only pray that your gold was enough for them.

nights of sneaking out turned into marriage. a marriage that wasn't approved of, no matter the pleas. nevertheless, you were a grown woman. you made your choice, even if it angered your mother.

parallel to euphoria, a six-month run was well lived. you couldn't quite clear your status as a princess, but you could've lived with him. a husband and his wife, both living quietly at their home. it wasn't the extravagance you were shaped into, but it felt comfortable. such dreams can only last a minute, unfortunately.

had you known. had you only known that your father wasn't going to let you wander off through his grip. He was enraged at your marriage. "was your vacation enough?" he asked, using your husband's chest as his sword's stand. your father looked at the victim in disgust; he never expected your vision to be so low. so vile, so impure. a shame is what you've become. running around with this peasant while holding the royal name was something the king wouldn't tolerate.

he lacked care for you — hell be damned, he never cared for you. the words write a she but a he is what your father craved. a son, a copy of himself. listening to his wife's words, he believed the sour dream of you becoming him. but alas, you showed him that a vulnerable woman will never be fit for the throne. your father did not a care for you. he didn't bother to retrieve his sword, nor did he bother to comfort you. if you wish to grieve and weep for some random, then so be it. as long as you were back by the moon's descent, he didn't care for your horrors.

quite pitiful, really. it's been hardly a week since that occurred. you weren't given time to grieve — after all, royalty never crumbles. your so-called wedding with al-haitham is due the following week. preparations will take a week. from enevis to sumeru takes roughly two days, granted that the sea is gracious. lost in your train of thought, you mindlessly sink your gaze into the mirror, hoping that soon you'll regain everything.

"my lady, have you completed your morning?" three knocks on the door awaken you. behind the porcelain door stood your lady-in-waiting, adila. aside from your nanny, she was your closest person in the entire palace. 

"just a moment, adila," answering her, you scatter across the room to wear your robe. truth be revealed, you didn't do anything but splash some water around.

you walk towards the door, paying close attention not to just give up and run back to your bed. oh, how tempting giving up sounds! turning the knob, you open the door until it reaches your shoulder, preferring to just peek your head out. such actions were totally not done to observe if any of the other maids were nearby. confirming adila's sole presence, you wrap a hand around hers, pulling her into your room before locking the door.

"must i really go to the dining room? seeing their old heads will fill me with nothing but rage!" you immediately begin your complaints. although it is true that you were in slumber, you cannot deny that you overhead the maids talking about new guests that came to dine.

adila softly laughs. to her, she enjoys moments where you spew words of anger day to night. it's not often you get to speak with such freedom — even your maids are ears for your father. your every movement will be recorded. he cannot afford another shameful action from you.

"it must be done, my lady. what can we do against his majesty's order?" maneuvering across your chamber, she attends to your bed, working her hands to smoothen the silk sheets.

"to hell with him!" 

───

throughout the silent hall, your heels clacked with each step, producing some sort of sound in the deafening silence. at both sides stood two maids — you don't know them. you've avoided learning of any maid the second you learned of spies planted in your palace. sickening and vile. you lack even a sense of comfort in your own wing. the stifling feeling never left; it's as if there's a constant hand pushing down your throat, preventing any particle of air from entering.

slowing your steps, you stop at your palace's entrance. they don't need to follow me. you turn your head to the maid on the right. raising your hand, you notify them both, "you need not follow me any longer. carry on somewhere else." 

"but princess —"

"you need not."

"we understand," bowing slightly, they made their exit. you don't care enough to look where they're going — to hell with him and to hell with them.

mindlessly strolling through your garden, you allow your hand to glide through the rose bushes, not caring about the thorns that pierce your skin. if you were deemed impure then who would give care? 

the walk from your palace to the main palace took roughly ten minutes. you can only wish that it lasted longer. entering the palace, a nauseous feeling grabs hold of you. you've only touched a centimeter in yet it's still disgusting. memories never leave — to be more exact, those memories never leave.  

"are you okay, princess?" a worker, who you couldn't be bothered to learn his position, questioned about your wellbeing. his eyes observed your physical appearance. you were standing upright, like a true royalty, however the evidence of negativity dawned. your unfocused eyes tell more than your words.

"do not worry about me, i am fine," giving him an answer, you focus your vision on him. is he a chef? you wonder. his suit varied from the other male staff: a simple marine blue suit, a lengthy coat that ran down to his mid-calves, white velvet gloves that stopped at his elbows, and a chef's cart standing in front of him. from the dishes standing in it, it seems as though he's going to the same destination you share.

"are these for the morning dine? with the envoys?" you inquire. if it's the truth, you'll enter with him.

"ah, yes, it's the appetizers as the main brunch has yet to finish," he gestures to the top dish before he continues, "would you like to join me to the room, princess?"

"that'll be appreciated," nodding, you both continue on to path that leads south. hopefully one angers the gods and they send two lightning strikes down as a lesson, if that'll ever happen.

arriving at the door, the guards announce your entrance as it opens from the inside. 

too bright, you think.  

small, hesitant steps were taken as you tried hard to focus on your practiced emotions. you did not suffer atrocious lessons to falter at the sight of a damned family. 

"good morning, all. may her rays shine gold," you greet everyone at the table. prefering to not say another sentence until it's over.

"have you slept well?" your mother asked, placing two extra breadsticks on your plate.

"i did. thank you for asking, mother," you replied, opting to not look at her or anyone.

resting his palms flat on the table, your father interrupts to begin the brunch, "let us begin the feast."

───

quite some time has passed, judging from the multi-colored clouds that decorates the sky's canvas. you're all in the main garden, discussing the final actions that'll take place in enevis. well, that excludes you. you fear that you've long blurred out their conversation — it's uninteresting and draining. 

another thirty minutes has passed and yet they've failed to finish their conversation. if you're not given freedom anytime soon, you're going to start malfunctioning.

"it's been decided then. y/n, you'll travel to sumeru today," your father speaks, signing off his signature on the scroll.

"pardon me? today?" you're taken by surprise. maybe you should've kept up with at least the schedule. looking around, you begin to worry about your luggage, "and about my belongings? i don't believe they're bagged already."

"they are."

"oh, alright then," sighing, you sit back into the chair. since when did they do that? you think. 

───

two days have gone since you've left enevis for sumeru. the sea was graceful, thankfully, but it didn't cease the sea sickness.

sumeru is a beautiful kingdom — you cannot deny. it's laced with greenery and architecture that symbolizes its history. unfortunately, leisure time is what you lack. preparations for the wedding will swallow every millisecond of your time. even in your slumber it'll haunt you. the carriage ride to the central city was quiet. you only took your lady-in-waiting to this trip as you do not need more eyes to lurk on you.

you don't remember much from the journey — in all honesty, you blanked out. heavens be cursed you don't even know how you got in this room. it appears to be his office. the ornaments and funiture deprive it from being named a relaxing room. his desk was the messiest of all; multiple layers of scrapped paper, crumbled balls of different colored paper, pens and pencils alike scattered across and last but not least, him. he isn't your soon-to-be husband, but he seems like someone important.

his aura is soft. aside from his shirt having the top three buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearm, his coat long abandoned to the side couch, hair tied in a messy bun — is that a straw? well, it looks like someone has been sleeping out in their office.

"please, forgive the mess. i've been slaving for the new building," he speaks up, hands moving with pace to make him and his desk presentable.

"do not worry. take your time, sir," reassuring him, you gift him a genuine smile. at the very least you can be at ease in sumeru.

a smile dawns his face as his shoulders relax. seems like he swore you would've been a rude individual. finishing his... routine... he reaches a hand out to you as he greets himself, "call me kaveh. i'm the marquess of sumeru, head of the architect ministry."

accepting his hand, you follow suit, "i am y/n l/n, first princess of enevis, second to the throne."

"forgive me if i offend but are you not supposed to be the first to the throne?" kaveh asks, his confusion is more than obvious.

"i would've, however, i do not care for the throne. the archduchess is in lead for it," you explain the throne-tree to him. your answer was only half the truth — while it's not a lie that you do not care, it's also the fact that you're too lazy to rule an entire kingdom (but no one needs this knowledge).

kaveh's mouth shapes into an 'O', he nods at your answer as he sits back down. offering you some cookies, he begins once again, "whenever you are ready we can head over to his highness."

"i understand," your curiosity about the prince was immediately quelled without having to say a word. bringing a cookie to your mouth, you hold a hand under your chin for any fallen crumbs.

"heavens, these are delightful!" complimenting the cookies, you hum at the sweet taste.

"they truly are! collei made them. she's a student at the ministry of agriculture and medicine but she's an amazing baker," kaveh rambles. he's quite happy that you truly aren't a "stuck up" princess.

after some time relaxing and listening to kaveh's rambles, you've decided that you'd go to see his highness. don't get it wrong — you adore kaveh and his voice is soothing but you also wish to see your husband.

on the path to al-haitham's wing of the palace, your sense of joy return as your conversations with kaveh never ends. he's a comfortable energy to be around. much different from the sour ecstacy that drowns your home. he's a talker and you're a listener — a combination crafted by the heavens, if you will.

the stroll hadn't past more than fifteen minutes — that itself isn't the accurate time... due to kaveh's excitement to plaster your attention on the details of each pillar. according to his sources, he spent eons delicately crafting every design, paying heed to incorporate historical transcripts and symbols. you both were content with your conversations but to your dismay, all things must come to an end. that and your soon-to-be husband awaits your arrival allegedly.

"we're here! i'll escort you up to his office. he should be there alone," he speaks, holding one hand out to guide you along the staircase.

his hands are soft.

accepting his offer, you gift another smile, "thank you, sir kaveh."

"just kaveh is fine, princess."

"then so be it. call me by my given name as well."

oh, kaveh thinks. to say he's captured by surprise would be a hellish understatement. times like these are where he wishes biology never worked the way it did. the soft pink overlay at the tip of his ears surely didn't go unnoticed.

deciding to refuse, kaveh stumbles on his sentence, "i — i cannot do that, princess."

an expected reaction. you must allow him this, it's only fair as he allowed you.

"please do, kaveh. it is only fair."

fuck, he swears that he isn't this easily flustered. a simple sentence — nothing about it should be this heart-racing. is it because you said it? maybe he needs to visit the nearest hospital.

covering the lower half of his face with the back of his free hand, kaveh continues to escort you to his highness' office. unfortunately for him, he'll have to leave right after. being a marquess and a minister is not an easy job.

───

tense, awkward, and boring. what an uninteresting individual is he. you will not deny, he's quite the eye-catcher, however, he lacks the personality. the minute you entered his office, he greeted you and went back to his paper work. you cannot say he's rude — you were technically disrupting him but is it hard to give you two minutes of his time?! well, the conversation-starter lays in your palms.

"your highness, would you like a cup of tea?"

"no."

okay, rude.

clicking your tongue, you decided it'll be best to leave it in his hands... not.

it's been hours. if another minute passes, you'll give into the urges and slouch. a princess must never lose her composure but this princess might just! the time you've spent observing and making mental analogies of this prince, it is safe to assume that you hate his guts.

a princess that despises awkward situations and a stoic prince. it'll end well, right..?

"accept my apologies, i prefered to finish my documents before attending to you," al-haitham speaks, finally arising from behind his desk and to you.

"it is all right, prince," you lied.

al-haitham walks around his desk, adjusting his cuffs while he made his way to you. compared to kaveh, his energy is dull; he seems as if the light of life had been vacuumed out of his body. you keep your gaze on his figure — he's lean, to say the least. as he sits, you dash your eyes to look somewhere else.

such eyes are too intimidating — it reminds you of your father. al-haitham on the other hand, he calls for a maid to bring in delicacies and such. he will not tolerate leaving his guests deprived of food.

"would you like to discuss the wedding? everything else such as the coronations have been handled prior," he speaks up, educating you on the details you've missed.

"i don't see a reason not to," you replied, smiling at the maids as you whispered a "thank you" to them.

al-haitham leans forward to the coffee table, raising the tea cup to blow the steam.

"well, i'd first say that i will not be bedding you the first night."

"that is quite all — excuse me?" your automatic answer was cut short. just how high is his audacity? how rude to think you'd bed a man like him!

"please, take no offense. i would rather not bed anyone. it is not you, princess," clearing you from any suspicion, he continues to not pay you any mind.

"that is not — anyway, prince, i believe we should set some boundaries?" you suggested, trying your best to calm the twitching vein under your right eye.

"i'll see it done. is a written contract okay with you?" he replies. better than hearing you speak. he may be rude but at least he's tolerable. hopefully.

"yes, i do not mind." with your answer finishing the marriage conversation, you two continue on with casual topics. he's a talker, all right. it seems like he's the person to continue on once you've introduced a topic of his liking.

fortunately, all bad things come to an end. as the moon illuminates, al-haitham decided to end it here. though, before you make your leave, there are a few words he must say.

"i'll see you at the banquet. my staff will send over a gown — it matches with my suit. please do wear it," notifying you about his absolute god-sent kindess (he was forced to.)

al-haitham walks with you to the exit. a blessing of relief washes over him once his eyes landed on someone that appears to be your lady-in-waiting.

"my lady!" adila's steps fasten towards you. she smiles and then stops. who is this peculiar individual? deciding the give a bow of respect, she greets al-haitham, "goodnight, sir who i do not know of."

a chuckle was heard at the right of al-haitham's side. it appears to him that you find this amusing.

"just 'prince' is fine."

"yes — PRINCE?!" adila's eyes display her exact thought process. it's evident that she's thinking something along the lines of "dear heavens, i hope they don't behead me."

"pardon my intrusion, i will leave now. see you at the banquet, prince," you interrupted their conversation — knowing adila, she'd stumble on her words and unleash a train of apologies.

"oh, yes. let us go, my lady!"

ii. banquets, fake impressions and hateful actions | 1.1k words

it's alluring. a gown parallel to the morning sky, diamonds littered around its collar. silver accents adorn its front, reaching down to its very center. ruffled patterns accentuate the back, creating more volume than you could ever ask for. perhaps al-haitham has more to him than a robotic personality.

you're in awe. of course, you've had beautiful gowns before but this — this is just gorgeous. the reflection in the mirror captivated you like no other. your hands slid down the front, adoring the way it complimented your body.

"you look wonderful, my lady. sure to be most explenditurefous!" adila complimented. she busies herself with dusting off your heels as she's the only maid left in your chamber.

"explenditurefous?" you asked, rather confused about the sudden unknown word.

"no word can describe your beauty, so i made my own!" she cleared.

earning a smile from you, you softly laugh at her logic. adila's truly someone you can't live without.

"thank you, adila."

───

the banquet.. is definitely a banquet..! you're not sure if it's because you're in a different kingdom, but they sure do things different to enevis. for the past hour you've held your stance to the side; more comfortable with the option to sit back and lurk rather than to be the main attraction — which is foolish. you, a kingdom's princess, can never hide. your gown matches with that of sumeru's crown prince. only a fool can miss that sign.

swirling your champagne glass, you hum at the difference in people that decorate the banquet's room. they all look beautiful — especially kaveh. looks like he knows how to appear alive when he isn't cooped up in his office.

the music changed? you wonder, carefully listening to the soft, sensual rhythm crafted by the chior.

"my lady, would you care to do me this dance?" someone asks, bowing slightly as he holds out his hand for yours. you don't know him — it's also rather unfortunate that he isn't your type.

"oh, my ap—"

"move along. do not try to dance with her."

well excuse me, you think. it's obvious by his tone who the voice belongs to. a stoic voice for a stoic man, sumeru's crown prince, al-haitham.

he towers over the stranger, eyes oozing of annoyance and authority. al-haitham himself doesn't know why he's so irritated by someone trying to dance with you. is it not basic etiquette? dances shared with others are nothing but a noble's etiquette. nothing more, nothing less. so why must be seethe with rage at the image of you dancing with someone else at the center of the room?

"you, come with me," sliding his hand to your lower back, al-haitham guides you to a deserted room. whether you like it or not, he has business with you.

"heaven forbid! must we walk so fast?!" complaining, you came to a complete stop.

somewhere in the building's balcony, you two stand. the moon's light rains a soft, dim light across both. there's a soft wind that blesses the night. it's romantic — if you weren't stuck with him. you're annoyed that he takes action without — at the very least — talking to you.

and al-haitham? he's lost. physically, he looks bored. mentally, he's panicking. curse his mother for summoning such a breathtaking woman, really.

"you've been blatantly ignoring me ever since the universe was shaped," frowning at him, you poke at his chest. you'll do whatever it takes to show him your annoyance.

"have you any idea how sickening that is —"

huh — why is he — what's going on?

you, him, and a kiss. al-haitham's hand moves from its position at your lower back to your waist. one hand busies itself playing with your gown's jewellry as the other focuses on resting on your cheek. not that you are complaining — actually it's quite the opposite; contrast to your hatred for his attitude, you do not mind getting physical with him. he is, indeed, quite the appetizer.

pulling away, al-haitham's eyes remain in yours. it takes him a few seconds to recollect himself before speaking, "my apologies."

at times like these do you wish adila was here. you're completely out of any sensible answers. fiddling with your fingers, you decide it's to keep it short, "it's fine — but were you not the one who said "no physical contact" prince?"

fuck, forgot about that, cursing himself in his mind, he refutes with a "smart" reply, "think less of it. simply consider it practice for our wedding."

was he not — okay.

"you're a funny guy, you know," succeeding in preventing yourself from malfunctioning, you continue, "a horrible liar too."

"refrain from such assumptions."

"no!"

───

making your grand entrance at the banquet's room, you immediately shuffle away from al-haitham. the buffet calls for you — he can practice patience. sneaking to the buffet, you mentally drool at the sight of different desserts gracing your view. so many to eat, so many to taste. if the goddess permits, you can plan a robbery with adila and send her to your chamber with hidden desserts.

"what're you doing, y/n?" another familiar voice speaks, slightly scaring you in the process.

"who — oh, kaveh!" you beam at him. you've noticed that every time kaveh comes into the picture, your energy immediately restores. perhaps it's just his default power.

engulfing you in a small hug, kaveh snickers at the hidden yet loaded plate that sits behind you. using the clues, he can tell you were having the time of your life.

"you look magnificent," he compliments, completely taken by your appearance.

"you, too! your suit makes you look quite appealing, if i must," returning his compliment, you can feel yourself get giddy over his words. unlike al-haitham, kaveh's somewhat a sweet-talker. but what he lacks is what al-haitham has: boldness. contrast to him, al-haitham's quick with his actions. he acts on command but lacks to verbal confidence.

kaveh clears his throat. as sumeru's marquess, he mustn't show any signs of blushing — especially when he can feel al-haitham's stare digging two holes behind his skull. kaveh, more than anyone, knows sumeru's prince. having grown up with him, he can tell that the intense one-sided eye contact either means 1) get away from her or 2) find yourself here now. and to kaveh, he believes both options hold the same amount of truth.

"well, i have to go before he shoves me to the underworld. i'll see you around, y/n," saying his goodbyes, kaveh hurriedly shuffles through the crowd.

unable to speak due to the cupcake occupying your mouth, you wave at his running figure before returning your attention to the food.

looks like it's going to be a rather rough time being stuck between a prince and a marquess.

[deathbystero]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 - 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐠𝐞 (𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟗𝟑𝟔) - 𝟏𝟖 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 - 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟖

Marko grew up in the early 1900s with his mother and siblings in a little house in Italy. He knew very little about his father for the man had died in a work related incident a little after he was born and his mother never seemed very open to discuss the topic further.

The family lived in poverty, rarely able to scrape together enough money from their meagre wages to feed everyone, and more often than not, there was no food at all. Marko did what he could to help out, but it was always down to his older siblings to bring in the money. At times, he was left feeling rather helpless, as if he was just an afterthought,  an unwanted burden on his mother's shoulders. He was another mouth to feed, another being to clothe and shelter. 

When there was nobody home, his siblings were usually forced to take him along when they went into town to sell their wares. As far as Marko knew, none of them ever made much money. His mother would make her own way in the world by sewing dresses and selling whatever she could find but it wasn’t enough. 

Eventually, when Marko had just turned thirteen, the dreaded letter came through the post, giving the family a month’s notice to pack up everything they owned before they were evicted and forced out onto the streets. It was a cold hard truth that had been long awaited, one that everyone in the family had known was coming but which none of them had truly believed. 

His siblings hadn’t stuck around, running off to start new lives just days before the eviction, while Marko was forced to stay behind, clinging to his mother like a scared child. She couldn’t afford to pay rent on even the cheapest of places and they didn’t have any relatives willing to let them stay over until they could get back onto their own feet again. So, with little left to offer, they packed whatever items they had left and ended up on the streets, surviving on the bare minimum. 

Marko's mother found a job washing dishes at a small inn, spending the money she made on alcohol and drinking herself into oblivion every night. He was forced to watch helplessly as she fell apart, unable to do anything other than be there for her as best he could, cleaning up after her and keeping her safe at night. 

While she was at work, Marko roamed the streets, stealing whatever he could get his hands on and eating what scraps he could find. He found himself hating his siblings, hating the idea that they'd gotten away so easily while he was stuck here with no money and an alcoholic mother to take care of. They were lucky. He wasn’t. 

One evening in August,when Marko was sixteen, his mother disappeared, never returning from work. He had tried searching for her, running up and down the streets like a lost puppy, wailing and calling out for her, but it was futile. The woman was gone and he was alone.

He returned back to their pitiful shelter and wept into the night, praying desperately that someone would come for him, would care for him. That night, he cried himself to sleep,  exhausted and starving, whilst he dreamt up a carefully formulated plan; a plan to flee the country and start anew. 

There was a boat, Marko discovered, set to leave early the next morning, taking both cargo and passengers to America. It was his only chance and so he grasped it  eagerly, leaving their sorry shelter behind in search of freedom and adventure.

He snuck his way into the storage hold where the ship was docked and hid under a blanket until dawn broke, the ship pulling away from land and taking him away from the only place he’d ever known and to somewhere entirely foreign. He held onto the hope that maybe things would improve once he found his way there, but deep down he knew he was being foolish. He was a sixteen year old boy, underfed and poor, who hardly spoke a word of English and had no family to fall back onto if all things went downhill. What could he possibly expect to find?  A life amongst strangers would not give him a better chance than he already had, who wouldn't spare him an ounce of pity even if he begged on his hands and knees? What was he thinking? He had to have been totally crazy. No sane person in his right mind would risk their life like this. And yet, here he was still trying. Still trying his hardest to make something of himself. 

The ship docked in America about a week after it’s departure, and Marko was greeted with a strange mix of excitement and dread. He'd been expecting something akin to Europe, but what lay before him was anything but glamorous or fantastical. He felt completely at odds with the people that walked past him,  some laughing and chattering loudly, others barely sparing him a passing glance. He was surrounded by strangers and so incredibly out of place. If anyone should've noticed him in the crowd, they gave no indication of it as they continued talking and laughing and chatting around him with equal gusto, unaware of his plight. 

He wandered about the bustling streets for hours, eventually finding an alleyway to curl up in and wait out his hunger pangs. He’d found very little food on the boat, taking what he could from crates and boxes without  much thought, not caring if he was eventually caught. His clothes were dirty and tattered, worn thin and threadbare, his shoes covered in dirt and grime, and he was positively sure he looked absolutely deplorable. Biting his lip against his inevitable tears, he buried his face into his knees,  hugging himself tightly, shivering violently. Sleep seemed like a far off thing,  impossible to come by as his thoughts kept circling around how utterly hopeless he felt, how utterly alone he was.

It wasn’t until several days later that his luck seemed to change, a not so dim light appearing at the end of the tunnel. He'd found a little abandoned warehouse full of art supplies; crates of leftover paint, paint brushes which had certainly seen better days, and canvases, most of which were torn and tattered, but usable nonetheless. 

Marko has gathered up everything he could get his hands on, seeing an opportunity to make some cash, and spent almost the entire day painting whatever came to mind. He was surprised at himself - he didn't remember the last time he painted, but somehow this was different.  Like he was drawing for the first time, like he was creating something entirely new. There was a sense of wonder that he couldn't explain, an awe he hadn't known since childhood. This wasn't about making money. This was about finding himself. 

When he finally emerged from the building, covered head to toe in brightly coloured paint stains and tired from lack of sleep, he decided he might as well try his best at selling what he had created, knowing that nothing else would provide him with any kind of income. It didn't matter that he lacked experience with art, that he was untrained. The paintings were his ticket. The only way out of this misery he lived in. 

And so he set about selling everything he had, working his hardest, desperate to make every penny count. And, boy, did people pay. It was almost comical at how careless the rich were with their money, throwing it at him with no regard as to what it might go towards, as long as they got whatever it was they wanted in return.

Marko was soon able to afford enough money for food and clothes, settling into the little warehouse and sleeping on an old uncomfortable mattress stuffed into one corner, surrounded by crates of paint and brushes.

He took pride in the fact that he had made something of himself, having managed to carve out his own niche with a little bit of paint and a couple of worn out brushes. He felt good about the fact that he had managed to become somebody, somebody who had a purpose, somebody that mattered in the world. 

When he turned 18, Marko took to wandering a little further into the city, searching for inspiration and finding plenty. It became routine for him;  he worked late nights painting whenever he was able, waking up with the sun so that he could spend the morning wandering before returning to paint once more. He sold his creations out on the streets, bought  meals and slept rough. He was happy. He felt complete. He should've been happy, content with his living situations, besides it was more than he'd ever thought he'd have, and yet he still felt as if something was missing. That loneliness still lingered, that hollow feeling that wouldn't go away. 

In November of his third year on the streets, Marko met two men whilst out wandering at night, shaking off the disturbance of a rather unpleasant nightmare. 

The first of the two was blonde, his hair messy in a styled kind of way, with piercing blue eyes and sharp, handsome features. The second was tall with dark hair and a strong jawline, seemingly just as striking as his friend. Both were dressed entirely in black and approached Marko much in the same way a predator would its prey, a smile adorning each of their faces. 

“Can I help you?” Marko asked quietly, his accent thick and heavy, despite his best efforts to hide it. 

The blonde one grinned, “You’re a runaway, aren’t you, kid?”

Marko hesitated for a brief moment, weighing up his options before nodding slowly.

The man reached out a gloved hand, offering to shake, “I’m David.”

“Marko,” Marko replied quietly, shaking his hand.

David nodded, seemingly satisfied. His friend said nothing. “Where are your parents?”

“My mother's dead…” At least that’s what he thought. 

“Your father?” David pressed.

“Dead too…”

“So… it’s just you then?” David questioned, tilting his head slightly. Marko nodded, looking down at the pavement. What did these guys want? Money, drugs, sex? Who knows, but Marko certainly wasn’t too keen on finding out. 

“Hey,” This time, it was  the other man, the brunette one, who reached forward, his hand landing upon Marko's shoulder. “We ain't here to hurt you, kid. We're here to help.”

Help?  Marko furrowed his brow.  “I don't need no help.” “Of course not,” David interjected before the boy could say any more, “But that doesn't mean we can’t offer it. You're young, lost and all alone in this world. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a friend or two?” 

A friend...  That’s what he’d been seeking, someone to rely on. Someone to show him that he wasn't completely alone in this. But was it really possible for him to turn to these strangers, especially after everything he'd been through so far? Could he trust them? They were probably just playing a trick on him. They'd probably planned to kill him and leave his body somewhere and never bother him again. So why should he believe them?

“Look,” David began, “I know we seem shady, but I promise we'll do nothing to harm you. Right, Dwayne?” 

The brunette nodded. “We just want to help.” 

This was a mistake. These two men could easily kill him, leaving him to die on his own somewhere. Or they could rob him. Or beat him senseless. Either option would be equally horrible.... but something about them told Marko that maybe they were being truthful. Maybe they did actually want to help him.  Maybe they meant what they said, because they weren't bad people.

“... okay…” Marko muttered softly, raising his eyes to meet theirs. 

The two men smiled, sharing glances between each other before turning back to Marko. “Great! Let's get going now shall we?”

Marko stared at them for a while longer,  trying to gauge if they were telling the truth or lying, before nodding slowly and following after them. 

Marko became the third member of Max's family that night, and for the first time in his life, he felt complete.

A/N: This is way longer than I'd expected it to be, and, although it started of a little bit shitty, I think it got better towards the end. As I've said before, this is my own take on things; none of what I have written is canon in any way, shape, or form and is simply a silly little thing I came up with over the x-mas break!

[starogeorgina]

Violent delights

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of SA, character death

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon/reader

1.13

Dragons soared in the skies above, guarding Dragonstone, while you made your way towards the throne room. The lump in your throat became more painful; you’d never felt so guilty before. Your heart sinks when you finally see your mother sitting on the throne with tears glistening in her eyes and your husband standing by her side. His hands were classed behind his back, his jaw clenched tightly shut.

“Mother, Jacaerys.” You try to sound confident, but your voice is meek, making you sound like a child. “I don’t even know how to start. I’m sorry for leaving and going to the keep without telling you, either of you.”

Jace’s response was a mere hum.

“I’m glad that you’ve come home,” your mother says, a faint smile on her lips. “But praise tell us, how in the gods did you manage to leave Dragonstone, get into the keep, and get back on your own?”

You were confused by her question at first, but until it dawned on you, Daemon never told them the plan after you left, like he promised. But before you can say anything, Jace snaps, “How could you think that was a good idea? Do you have any idea what we went through? How would a mother have felt receiving a raven saying her daughter has handed herself over as a hostage to the same people who made her life hell?”

“I’m sorry.”

Tears shone in his eyes. “Not once has my loyalty to you ever been faulted. I’ve loved you unconditionally, and yet you didn’t trust me enough to tell me what you were planning.”

The look on Jace’s face broke you. It was never your intention to hurt him so much. All you wanted to do was keep your family safe. You attempt to reach for his hand, but he backs away. “Jacaerys, please.”

He storms out of the room without looking back.

You lock eyes with your mother, and mentally, you pray for her to understand what you have to say. "I was trying to do the right thing and protect my family.”

Your mother was starting to lose her patience. “It was admirable but incredibly reckless; you could have been killed. As your mother, I’m overjoyed to have my daughter home safely, but as your queen, I forbid you from leaving Dragonstone again without my permission. From now on, you are not to leave Prince Jacaerys' side, and if you do, there will be consequences.”

Tears spill from your eyes. “He won't want to be around me right now.”

“You left without telling anyone, Lyarra; how did you think Jace would react? We’re lucky the raven arrived when it did, as Jacaerys and Daemon were making arrangements to send out every dragonrider they could to look for you.”

“Daemon did?”

“Yes,” she says, taking in your surprise. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“I only went into the keep to allow assassins Daemon hired into the castle.” You were shaking with a mixture of adrenaline and anger. “He knew where I was the entire time. He said he’d inform you and Jace of the plan in the morning.”

Her gaze burns into you; you've never seen fury in her eyes like this before. She licks her lips. “What plan?”

You explain in full detail everything that happened from the moment you left Dragonstone to returning. You expected her anger, but for her to look so disappointed in you.

Your mother's expression hardened. “You may go and find Jacaerys.”

“Thank you, your grace.” You go to leave, but turn back to look up at your mother, who was fighting to hold back tears. “Is my grandmother really dead?”

She looks up and nods. “Princess Rhaenys died a true dragon rider's death.”

Your lip trembles as you leave the throne room, but instead of following your mother's orders, you go looking for your stepfather to demand answers.

—

You find Daemon in his study, holding his head in his hands as he stares down at the map in front of him. His forehead creased as he no doubt thought about what his next move would be. He lets out a sound of annoyance. “Did you do as I asked?”

His question left a sour taste in your mouth. Daemon didn’t even turn his head to look at you or ask if you were actually okay. “Yes, I kept my word, but why didn’t you? Jacaerys thought I had been kidnapped, and my mother was beside herself that I was gone!”

“You did leave,” he says plainly.

You storm to the opposite side of the table as him and slam your hands on top of the map, which causes him to finally look at you. “Jace looks up to you as a father; how could I not tell?”

He cuts you off; his tone is sharp and authoritative. “Jacaerys' anger would have been directed at me, not the greens. He would have lost focus on what is important.”

“Nothing is more important than family! I could maybe understand not telling them right away, but you were going to allow Jace to send out the very few dragon riders to look for me!” Feeling warm and flustered, you remove the thick black cloak you’d yet to remove since arriving home and toss it over one of the chairs.

Daemon practically snarls at you, “Why are you wearing a green fucking dress?”

“Because Aegon wanted me to wear it and have my hair styled like Alicent’s for when he decided to visit the bedchamber I was being kept in.”

Disgust crept into his features as Daemon thought about how disturbing it was that Aegon wanted you to look like his mother. “I let Jacaerys and Rhaenyra focus on you being taken because it was the distraction I needed.”

You didn’t understand Daemon’s reasons for doing things, but you did know he loved his family, and the loss of two sons and a daughter would have broken most men but not him. He was going to fight with every fiber he had to defend his house until the end. “The only way we can win this war is if there are no more lies and secrets between us. I’m going to tell Jacaerys everything, including things that I haven’t even admitted to myself.”

“I shall do the same with our queen; I just hope she is a little more merciful than I imagine the prince will be.”

—

Your eyes sting as more tears fall from them. All you wanted was to keep your family safe, if only your husband would fully let you explain that. Since arriving in your bed chamber, he has given you the cold shoulder and only spoken when necessary. Jacaerys would often need to be alone to process things properly, but he no longer had that option. Neither of you spoke as the ladies prepared a bath for you; the first time you speak again is when you thank them as they leave.

“Fuck,” you hiss when you finally start to remove the horrid green dress. The tight fabric rubs against your breasts, which have become increasingly swollen and sore due to not being able to nurse your son.

Jace, who was sitting on the bed, let out a deep sigh and uncrossed his legs. He mumbled something before leaving the room.

Frustrated, you end up ripping the dress off before quickly throwing on your robe to make your way to the bath in another room within your quarters. You hear footsteps behind you but don’t look, assuming that Jacaerys has returned. It’s not until a figure steps out in front of you that you realize how wrong you were.

“I’ve been waiting hours to get you alone.”

“Ja—” you try to scream for your husband but are stopped when Aemond wraps his hands around your throat and begins to squeeze.

“You’ve made a fool of my brother for the last time.”

You try to fight him, but it’s no use since he’s much stronger than you. Jacaerys had probably left to go speak to your mother or Daemon, so he wouldn’t be back for some time. He wouldn’t be back in time. You would never see your babies again. Gods, Jace would return and find you dead. Black spots appear in your vision, and memories of your children, your sweet children, flash before your eyes, but then everything is a blur as you abruptly land on the ground with a thud. It takes a moment for your vision to return to normal, and you see Aemond lying in a puddle of his own blood with a sword sticking out of his back.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. When you feel someone touching your shoulder, you try to lash out at them until you notice it’s Jacaerys. He pulls you into his arms and says, “You're safe now; I’ve got you.”

You sob into his chest. “I didn’t think you were coming back. I thought I’d die without getting to tell you how sorry I am. I should never have left without telling you.”

“None of that matters now,” he says. Gently, he tilts your head back so he can inspect your neck. “It’s bruising already.”

Jace promptly stands and lifts you to your feet. You glance down to see that your uncle's blood was spreading across the ground and had just reached where you were sitting seconds prior.

There’s a soft knock at the door, then it’s pushed open. “I’ve brought the tea to help relieve the princess’s pain that you asked fo—”

Elinda Massey, one of your mother's ladies in waiting, dropped the tray of tea in her hands and began to scream at the sight in front of her, causing the knights who were guarding the halls outside your quarters to rush inside.

“Tell the maester to come immediately; the princess has been attacked!” Jacaerys orders. “The queen and prince Daemon must be informed of what’s happened at once!”

—

You reposition the cold compress that’s loosely wrapped around your neck to help reduce swelling. Elinda insisted on having another bedchamber prepared for you and Jacaerys to sleep in, but you declined and announced you’d be spending the night in the nursery so you could feel close to your children.

Jacaerys kisses your forehead, your nose, and then your lips softly. “I was only so angry because I was scared.”

“I was terrified I’d never get to see you again,” you confess. “And I don’t think the gods will ever forgive me, as no man or woman is as accursed as the kinslayer. But I’d do it again; I’d do it a thousand times over and over because I love you and our children.”

“Why did it need to be you, though?” He whispers.

“Anyone else would have been slaughtered on sight,” you say, taking his hand in yours as tears roll down your cheeks. “Aegon told me how he wanted to torture you. He said he’d find Aemma and take her from us, then kill our other children. He said he’d have Ser Criston hold you down as he and his brothers took turns forcing themselves on me before sending our heads to our mother as a gift.”

Absolutely sickened by his uncle's words, Jacaerys didn’t know what to say to comfort you, so he held you close as you waited for your mother and Daemon to arrive.

[oxymarie]

Title : Here, right now (not lost, but found)

Summary : It’s summertime in Feldcroft and Sebastian Sallow learns things about you (and himself in the process).

Warnings : A slightly graphic fight scene at the end. French people. Two idiots in love. Grammar and punctuation mistakes (probably).

Words : 8006

Note : The idea of Sebastian as a Healer comes from @ellivenollivander and her fabulous fic Reconciliation. If you like this one, go and give hers some love!

Someone was knocking at the door, which was both surprising and worrying, because it was the middle of the night.

Sebastian turned in his bed, praying silently that Uncle Solomon would open the door quickly and that whoever was at the door wouldn’t wake Anne up - his sister had had a string of bad days, the pain of her curse assailing her without mercy, coming stronger and stronger. He had stayed with her through it all, holding her hand, wiping her brow with a soft wet cloth and making her cups of tea. The pain was finally gone, and she needed to rest now.

Finally, he saw a sliver of light and heard his uncle open the door. He conversed for a few minutes with the person there in hushed, urgent tones before stepping out and closing the door, muffling the sound of his conversation and extinguishing the light of his wand. Now this sounded interesting.

Sebastian slowly got up and crept towards the window. He opened it quietly, hoping that the rusted hinges of the old pane wouldn’t creak, and leaned towards the place where he could just make out the outline of his uncle’s form.

« Kidnapped… hide them… safe here… Ministry… Diplomatic Incident… » Solomon’s answer was a low grumble. The man opposite him answered and the two kept arguing back and forth for a while, before finally stopping. « Fine, » he heard his uncle say, « bring them here tomorrow afternoon. » The stranger thanked him and Apparated. Sebastian hid in the shadows and waited as his uncle turned and entered the cottage. The older man closed the door behind him and used a spell to secure it - not a simple Colloportus, because it glowed a soft blue before disappearing - before taking a few steps into their main room. He stopped and looked towards Sebastian, still hiding in the shadows. « You are too old to play spies. » He spoke quietly and sighed before continuing, « Go back to bed, I will tell you in the morning. »

Because Anne was resting and he didn’t want to wake her by fighting with his uncle, Sebastian nodded and went back to bed, even though it was some time before he could go to sleep.

——

Morning dawned, bright and slightly dewy. Sebastian came to in a haze, unable to shake the last remnants of his dream - pretty eyes looking up at him, a mouth pulled by a grin and a soft voice saying things that he couldn’t quite remember - and abruptly remembered that he had to talk to his uncle. He groaned and went to get ready.

Feldcroft hadn’t changed much since his fifth year, even though he had, he mused. During that year, his friends had single-handedly stopped his descent into the Dark Arts : Ominis and the new student had sat him down after the Scriptorium incident and they had a long, emotionally charged talk. They had told him how worried they were, and how guilty they felt for not intervening before and for not protecting him. It was seeing his new friends’ tears that had convinced him, though, and he’d always remember the sound of her voice and the crack in her words when she’d said that she would never be able to handle the guilt if anything went wrong. Then Ominis had intervened and said that he wanted to save Anne, he had to do it the right way and become a Healer.

Of course his friend had been right, he thought, and after finishing Hogwarts and completing further studies, Sebastian had started working at St Mungo’s. He loved it and being able to help so many people every day made him and his family proud. His relationship with his uncle was much more relaxed now and he was able to soothe and alleviate Anne’s pains while still searching a cure for his sister’s curse.

He was currently in Feldcroft for a well-deserved holiday, while Ominis worked at the Ministry of Magic and his special friend was preparing for her new position. She had told him that Professor Weasley had approached her to become the new Professor of Magical Theory at Hogwarts, but that she was hesitating, not knowing if she would be able to fill the void left by Professor Fig’s absence. He had sat down with her in the sunny living-room of the house that she had bought after Hogwarts, surrounded by the smell of her perfume, and held her hand as he said that he wouldn’t see it as filling a void, but rather as a homage. She had smiled then - a breathtaking smile that caused his heart to miss a beat and whose memory has been inscribed in his brain since because it made the sun shine just a bit brighter - and had kissed his cheek. Two days later, she had told him that she had accepted the post and he had felt pride spark in his chest and wrap around his heart.

« Sebastian! » Anne’s voice rang through the cottage, « Breakfast! »

Torn from his daydream of you, he let the hazy image of a possible future float to the back of his brain and went to take a seat at the table.

— —

About half an hour later, when the tea and coffee had been drunk, the food consumed and the plates cleared and washed, Uncle Solomon sat them down.

« I have news, », he said, « and they are worrying. »

He explained that there had been a resurgence of Ashwinders lately, and that they were apparently looking for something. The Ministry didn’t know what, but the French Minister of Magic had been invited to consult. He had arrived two days ago with his wife and children, had met with various members of the Magic community and had been taken to a safe house for the night.

However, his uncle said frowning, when the Aurors tasked with the family’s protection had come back to next morning to relieve the night team, they had found their comrades’ dead bodies, a lot of blood, spell marks and two terrified children hiding in a closet.

« So last night, an old friend came to the house. As you might have heard, Sebastian, they need a quiet and safe place to hide these children while they look for their parents. They are afraid of sparking an international incident if the news get out, and they have asked me to take the young ones in for a few days. »

Anne gasped and sprung into action : « They can take my bed, » she said, « and I’ll go to the attic see if we still have clothes that could fit them. » « Wait, » Sebastian interjected, getting up and placing his hands on his sister’s shoulders, « They’ll take my bed because you need the rest. » As his sister started disagreeing, he looked at her and said : « I’ll get the tent from the attic while you look for clothes. Uncle Solomon, do you mind if I set it up next to the house? » His uncle answered he didn’t and Anne, convinced, sat down. « What can you tell us about the children? » Their uncle sighed: « Not much. They are quite young, not yet ten years old. There is an older girl and a younger boy. And we are going to have a problem, because they don’t speak English. »

That was going to be a problem, Anne thought, because even if the Sallows did understand French (which they did, because her and Sebastian’s parents had loved taking them on holiday to the French countryside or seaside when they were still alive) they hadn’t kept the practice. They could understand it well enough if the person they were speaking to was willing to slow down and repeat themselves, but actually speaking it was a whole other pair of shoes.

On the other side of the table, Sebastian was remembering a conversation he had had in Sixth year with some of his friends. They’d all sat down in the shade under a tree and Imelda Reyes was telling them that her parents were pestering her to take up Italian because « it would be useful for her resumé », before adding that if she had to learn a language, she’d rather learn French because then you would be able to help her. As they had all turned to you, you had blushed before explaining that your mother had been a governess and that she had taught it to you as well as German and Italian from a young age because she wanted you to be able to find a job someday if you needed it.

After that day, you’d started to meet several days a week with Poppy, Imelda and even sometimes Ominis (« Of course I speak French, don’t you know who I am? ») to practice. He had many memories of meals in the Great Hall being conducted entirely in whatever language you had chosen for the day, to the amazement of your fellow students and some professors. (Sharpe and Weasly had encouraged it, he remembered, and would sometimes stop by your table to participate.)

His uncle’s voice cut through his reverie : « I certainly hope that smile means that you have a solution, boy, because they’ll be here in less than two hours. » Raising his head with an even bigger smile, he answered : « As a matter of fact, I do. I need to send an owl. »

——

You were in over your head, you thought as you looked at the ever-growing mountain of books, parchment, quills and ink on your desk.

You had received an Owl from Professor Weasley (« Call me Matilda, dear. ») a few days earlier, outlining the academic requirements for your classes at Hogwarts, and you had started preparing for your classes immediately. You would be teaching years One through Seven, one hour a week for years One and Two, two hours a week for years Three, Four and Five, and three hours a week for the Sixth and Seventh years who had chosen Magical Theory for their N.E.W.T.S. - needless to say, you were swamped, exhausted and in dire need of a break.

You stood, stretching your back, and decided to make yourself a cup of coffee. You took the dirty cup on your desk and made your way to your sun-filled kitchen. You filled a kettle with water and coffee grounds and you were just setting it on the stove when a light tapping on your window panes caught your attention. You turned and saw Sebastian’s owl on your windowsill, waiting patiently for you to open it and let it inside. You did and it perched itself on the back of a kitchen chair, dropping your letter on the table and clearly waiting either for an answer or for a treat (but probably both). You gave it some owl treats you kept in a kitchen drawer and it flew away as you sat down to open your letter :

« Hey, you. I hope you are doing great. We have a bit of a situation here in Feldcroft. Would you mind stopping by as soon as you get this? Thank you and see you soon, Sebastian »

Now you were worried - why would Sebastian send an owl instead of coming directly to see you? And the tone was far from the one you were used to in his correspondence. Something must have happened, and it must have been serious.

You quickly got up, turning off the stove and closing the window, running out the kitchen to your entryway to put on your boots and a light coat before getting out and locking your door with a spell. Outside, your neighbor waved at you and started to come over for some light conversation but you quickly passed by him with an apologetic smile, telling him that you had an emergency right now but would be delighted to talk another day before Apparating without waiting for an answer.

— —

« Were we so tiny when you took us in? » Sebastian whispered to his uncle, looking at the two children that had been delivered earlier by three exhausted-looking Aurors.

Said children were now sitting side by side in an armchair, sipping on some hot chocolate that Anne had made them. They look terrified, Sebastian thought, watching the little girl gripping her little brother’s hand as if she expected them to rip him away from her at any minute. They still didn’t know their names, he realized, and he hoped his friend would be there soon.

« Yes, you were, » his uncle chuckled, « in fact- »

The end of his answer was cut by the sound of someone Apparating, followed by rushed footsteps coming to the front door. They readied themselves, hands on their wands in case of an attack, but relaxed when the door opened to reveal you, looking wildly worried and with your hair coming undone from its bun. You stopped in front of him and he caught your forearms, stilling you and asking you worriedly if you were okay and what the matter was.

« What- what’s the matter? Are you being serious? » you handed him a piece of parchment which he recognized as being his own letter, « This letter is the matter! I thought something had happened and that someone was injured or had died! »

There you stopped, both to take a breath and because you saw the children looking at you from their perch on the armchair, and Sebastian put his hands on your shoulders. « I’m sorry, Sweetheart (That’s new, you thought as your heart skipped a beat in your chest, both from the contact and from the nickname), I should have been clearer. We’ve been given charge of these little ones for a few days, but they don’t speak English and our French is… rusted, at best. Can you help? »

You sighed and gave his forearms a squeeze before stepping towards the two children. Once you got to them, you knelt down with a soft smile.

— —

Seeing you smile at the little ones made Sebastian’s heart flutter and his mind wandered down a path that it hadn’t walked before. It conjured an image of you, in a similar position, smiling and talking to children that looked strikingly like the both of you - his messy hair and your beautiful eyes, and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of a nose that was a lot like yours.

Suddenly, the little girl’s face scrunched up and sobs broke out as big tears started to roll down her cheeks. Uncle Solomon winced - he had never been comfortable with tears, or with any type of emotion really - and said he was going to make sure the cottage was secure. As his uncle left, Sebastian watched you hold out your arms and ask the little girl if she wanted a hug. When she nodded, you pulled her in your arms and she wrapped her own little arms around your neck. The boy said something then, and you sat on the armchair next to him, lifting one arm so he could join in the hug. Both children hid their faces in your neck and held on to you as you started humming a song for them.

In a desperate move to preserve his sanity and quiet his brain (She’s so pretty, how did I never see this before, and I love seeing her with children, and I would love to see her with…) he crossed the cottage to the kitchen, where he busied himself by making a fresh pot of tea.

While he was readying the cups, his uncle came back in and stood next to him. « They seem to have taken to her quite quickly, » he observed. Sebastian chuckled dryly : « She’s pretty and she smells nice. When you’re near her, you know that she’s safe and that she’ll fight for you if she has to. What’s not to like? » With that, he added a teaspoon of honey in a cup and left his uncle to set it on the small table next to your armchair.

And how do you know that? Thought Solomon, surprised. At that moment, he resolved to keep an eye on the both of you, to see if the feelings he guessed were simmering under his nephew’s skin were returned. As Sebastian set the cup down and you raised your head, smiling softly at him, he thought that they just might be.

— —

Some time later, when the children had calmed down enough so that the Sallows could introduce themselves, had eaten and were gone to sleep, everyone sat down around the table to discuss the situation. Uncle Solomon had brought you up to speed and you were now rubbing your nails along your fingers in what Sebastian recognized as an anxious gesture, which he stopped by catching your right hand in his and linking your fingers.

Thankful for the support, you squeezed his hand before taking a deep breath and summing up what you had learned : « The girl’s name is Béatrice and she is eight. The boy’s name is Arnaud and he is five. They are both very confused, and they clearly heard and saw things that they should never have. Béatrice told me that their mother hid them in the closet and used a vanishing spell on the door so that their assailants wouldn’t find them. The little boy didn’t hear or see anything, she made sure of it. »

« She’s a brave little girl, » said Anne, « I don’t think I would have been half as courageous as she was in her situation. »

« I’m sure that’s wrong », you answered as Sebastian protested.

« In any case, » Solomon said,  « they are going to stay with us at least for a few days. » He watched as you stifled a yawn before continuing : « Would you very much mind… »

« Of course not, » you answered, not letting him finish his sentence. « Preparing classes or spending time with my favorite people? That’s a non-issue. » You smiled, getting up slowly. « I’ll be back tomorrow with a few things to help with the little ones’ English. »

Sebastian also got to his feet : « I’ll walk you out. I’m testing out new sleeping quarters tonight. »

After saying your goodbyes to Anne, you found yourself walking outside with Sebastian and used the cover of the night to study his profile : dark eyes that you had grown to know better than your own, dark tousled hair in which you dreamt to bury your hands, a strong nose and a sharp jaw… Your eyes travelled downwards to his lips and you realized that he was talking to you : « -cold? »

Before you could answer anything beyond a surprised sound, he was divesting himself of his coat and settling it over your shoulders, closing the first button so that it wouldn’t fall off. « There, » he whispered, looking into your eyes and smiling, « I can’t have you catching a cold now, can I? » You had reached the fence that stood around Solomon’s cottage now and were facing each other. Before you could change your mind, you leant in, kissed Sebastian’s cheek, whispered a « Goodnight, Bash » and Apparated without waiting for his answer.

On his life, he would not have been able to say how long he stood there after you left before finally shaking himself out of his stupor and entering his tent.

— —

It was quarter to ten and you still weren’t there, which was worrying to Sebastian. The children were up and had had breakfast as well as a wash and Anne was entertaining them while Sebastian paced up and down the living room. Finally, Uncle Solomon grumbled : « For Merlin’s sake, Sebastian, sit down! I’m sure she had something to do and she’ll be there soon. » Then, under his breath, he added : « And you’re not even standing at the altar yet… » « Mmh? » Sebastian said before the sound of the door opening stopped him and you walked in, cheeks flushed and smiling.

« Good morning everyone! », you called out, setting a pack that was on your shoulder on the kitchen table. Then you turned, putting your hands on your waist, assessing the faces in front of you and stopping on Sebastian’s face. « Oh dear, » you said nervously, « what happened? » (You shouldn’t have kissed him yesterday, your brain provided, now he’s angry with you and he’s going to ask you to leave.) « Sebastian was worried because he thought you’d get there earlier », supplied Uncle Solomon, watching the two of you intently (They’re acting strange, he thought, watching you fiddling nervously with your hands and Sebastian rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly).

« I stopped at Poppy’s early this morning and we worked on these, » you answered, taking your pack and extracting five little booklets from its depths. You gave one to Solomon, one to Sebastian and one to Anne, and they flipped through them, seeing little drawings accompanied with words in English and French. « It’s an emergency dictionary! I had to tell her a small lie about one of my cousin wanting to practice to get her to draw those because I absolutely cannot draw to save my life, but I hope to be able to tell her the truth once this is done. », you babbled, embarrassed, until Anne looked at you with wide eyes and exclaimed that it was a great idea and that it would be very useful. « You are already thinking like a teacher, » Solomon teased gently, smiling.

Sebastian stayed quiet, his fingers tracing the lines of your handwriting and how the ink had curled on the « S » of his name. « The children’s are a little bit different, » you showed them and they saw that they had drawings but no words, just blank spaces. « If that’s okay with you, I’ll work with them for a little while before we take a break outside, » you told Solomon.

He agreed and you went to call the children, sitting with them at the table while Anne went to take a short nap (she would never tell Sebastian but she did feel a little tired with all this commotion).

Solomon went to tend his garden and Sebastien feigned opening a book that he knew he would not read, not when you were there and so much more fascinating than any story he might read at that moment.

You were facing him, seated between Béatrice and Arnaud, holding a quill and ready to write for the little boy while his sister had her own in her hand and was looking at you. You looked… breathtaking, he realized, and completely in your element as you softly corrected the little girl’s pronunciation of the word « name ».

You spent some time on basic introduction sentences and were soon able to send Béatrice over to him so that she could introduce herself in English. He thought that the way you obviously were hanging on the little girl’s every word, nodding encouragements and giving her gentle smiles was absolutely adorable.

With Arnaud, you worked instead on numbers and you were counting to ten together, making his little fingers dance with yours. When Béatrice had finished introducing herself to him (he had bowed and enthusiastically clapped at her, earning a screech of delight from the girl and a heart-stopping grin from you), she sat at her place beside you and decided that she wanted to learn how numbers were written. And back to counting you went, quietly correcting and encouraging the little girl until- « Alright, this one is eight. Now, there’s a little trick to remember how it is spelled, ready? Eight goes to the market, so it ends in G, H, T. »

And once again, Sebastian had to get up and distract himself, because his brain wouldn’t let go of the thought that he loved seeing you with children and that maybe, some day, soon, the children would be his.

Luckily for him, you decided at that moment that it was time to take a break and let the little ones run outside while you were tidying up the table and grabbing a book. Finally, you turned and and asked him : « Are you coming with us? » - which, of course he was, obviously, so he took your hand and outside you went.

— —

The sun was shining and everyone was there. You were sitting in the grass, a child on each side of you, sometimes reading them stories from the book on your lap, sometimes talking with them, sometimes even just listening to their conversation.

He felt Anne sidling next to him but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. « You know », she whispered, « if you want it to, this could be your life in a little more than a year. » « Pardon? » he asked, because he really did not see that coming. « Well, don’t take it wrong, but I’ve never seen you look at anyone this way. You’re both adults and you have enough funds to start a life together, if that’s what you want. » There, she stopped and smiled before adding, « I like her very much, and so does Uncle Solomon ».

Following his sister’s gaze, Sebastian turned to look at his uncle who was sitting on a bench reading some newspaper. Every so often, he remarked, Uncle Solomon would look up at you and the children sitting in the grass and it seemed like he would sometimes fight to keep a tiny smile from gracing his face, especially when you said something to little Béatrice and she exclaimed « No! » with wide eyes. You nodded, smiling, and he felt his heart leap in his chest. Could he really…?

« Anyways, » Anne softly interrupted his train of thoughts, « I have mother’s engagement ring. If you want it for her, it’s yours. »

There, Sebastian turned to her in shock :  «  I possibly couldn’t - Anne - it’s yours. It was mom’s, and it’s yours now. You should have something of hers. » But his sister shook her head and smiled : « Nope, not your choice ! If she is to be my sister, I’d like her to know that I want her in my life as much as you do. » Sebastian deflated, the sudden tension fleeing his shoulders as acceptance came over him. Finally, he whispered « I’ll think about it. »

At that moment, a pair of arms wrapped around his legs, making him wobble slightly. He looked down at little Arnaud, who smiled at him, pointed at the sheep in the nearby field and held his arms up. Sighing, he picked the child up, setting him on his hip, and made his way over to the pasture.

Anne looked at him for a moment and then looked back at you, observing the way you were admiring her brother before finally catching your eye. There, she raised an eyebrow and nodded towards Sebastian, before snickering as you mouthed « Absolutely not! » and making her way inside. She had a letter to write to a man about his two best friends.

« Do you think he knows ? » Uncle Solomon asked her as she passed by him and she turned to look back at her brother.

While she had been walking, you had taken Béatrice’s hand and led her to the apple tree that stood next to the sheeps’ enclosure, where Sebastian was holding little Arnaud up so that he could grab an apple. You had come up behind him and, as they watched, laid a hand gently between his shoulder blades. He was currently telling you something that they couldn’t hear but they heard your answering peal of laughter and saw Sebastian’s delighted smile.

« Well, if he didn’t, I’ve put that thought in his head. But honestly, I think he did, just not consciously. He’s never shown interest in anyone else, and she’s the only one that makes him smile like that. »

Solomon inclined his head, nostalgic : « Your father used to look like that at your mother, too. » Anne looked a him, surprised, and her uncle shrugged : « He’s a lot like your father. I don’t talk about them but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about them, and I know they would be terribly proud of the both of you. » She didn’t know what to answer, so she settled for a smile and went inside to write her letter.

— —

All in all, it had been a very good day, Sebastian reflected much later. Once the children had tired of the apples and of the sheep, they had declared themselves hungry so you had gone inside to partake in the great meal that Anne and Solomon had cooked. Then, while the children (and Anne) had gone to lay down for a nap and Uncle Solomon had gone outside to check on his garden, he had some time to talk with you about his job, your new job (« It’s going to be a right mess, but don’t tell anyone », you had confided and he had delighted in taking some time to hear your fears and support you through them. He thought that it was a good sign that you wouldn’t hesitate to confide in him about matters that you would have kept from anyone else.)

At some point, you had gotten up and made him a cup of coffee, and he was surprised and thrilled to realize that you had made it exactly the way he liked it - with a dash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar. You had hidden a lovely blush when he had kissed you on the cheek, telling you that you were the only one beside Anne who could make it to his taste. « I watched you prepare it every morning for three years while we were in Hogwarts, » you defended yourself, « it’s really not that complicated! »

The memory of your smile at that moment sent some warmth to his heart and gave him a reason to hope, thinking back to Anne’s words earlier. He had gone to her just before going to bed, and she had given him their mother’s ring. He took the box from his nightstand now and opened it, looking at the piece of jewelry.

Sebastian wasn’t a man much given to introspection. He had always liked action more than reflection, but that night while everyone slept and he could not, he had not choice but to think. To think about you, more precisely.

He had never realized how truly important you were to him but, at that moment, all he could think and breathe was you. You were in the intervals of his heartbeats, and tucked under his breastbone. You were the most important person in his world, because you were his person.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t known before, he needed to tell you as much as he needed to breathe, but he knew that would have to wait at least until morning.

Sleep took him by surprise, but he succumbed to it with a smile on his face and the ring in his hand.

— —

The next day, an owl arrived as they were finishing breakfast. The short message in your rushed script read « Have to meet Professor Weasley in Hogwarts today. Am alive but will be late. »

All of the anticipation that had been building up inside Sebastian since he had gotten up fizzled out and he had to keep himself from screaming in frustration. He apprized his family of the contents of your letter and, sensing his turmoil, his sister brought up the idea of spending the day by the shore with the children. You could join them there as soon as you arrived, Solomon added to cut Sebastian’s hesitations short.

But the day went on with no news of you. Even Solomon received news of his own : one of his Auror friends came to the cottage to tell him that they had received indications of the French Minister of Magic’s location and that an operation would be proceeding tonight in hopes to free his and his wife from their captors. They’ve worked well and quickly, Sebastian thought, and he took a moment to cross his fingers in hopes that everything would work out fine.

Finally, you appeared just as the afternoon concluded, walking down the beach to him as if you had been summoned from a dream and sitting down on the rapidly cooling sand next to him. For a while, neither of you said anything, until you sighed and laid down on the sand, looking up at him:

« I didn’t think I still had so many things to learn about Hogwarts. » Sebastian turned and looked at you : « How so? » You chuckled : « I had to take a tour of some of the places we never were allowed in when we were students. Did you ever wonder why you seldom saw the teachers coming and going to classes? Well, the answer is secret passages. Also, the teachers have a break room that is to die for, with a private library. » « All in all a good day, then? » He asked. « You could say that. I’ve seen my classroom and Matilda has gone over some academic requirements from the Ministry with me. Apparently they change every few years and I will have to keep an eye out for them. » « My poor, poor Sweetheart, » he laughed before extending his hand to brush your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, making his heart flutter with hope. Now, he thought, I have to ask her now.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Arnaud and Béatrice ran in, having finally spotted you, and the moment was lost.

——

That night, Sebastian took a deep breath and, after the children had been sent to bed, asked you if you’d like to take a stroll with him. As you smiled and agreed, he opened the door and stepped aside to let you pass - with a glance over his shoulder, he saw Anne giving him a thumbs up and rolled his eyes.

Once you both were outside, he offered you his arm (« That’s strange, » you thought, « he’s never done that before. ») and you went on your way up the hill, talking quietly about your day.

Once you’d arrived at the top of the hill, he turned to face you as you stopped, hesitating slightly before speaking : « I’ve been thinking about the future. » You smiled even though you felt anxiety suddenly course through your body, making your heart speed up and your thoughts scramble and bounce around your head : oh Merlin he’s met someone and he’s going to ask her to marry him and he’s going to tell me that he is giving me some notice because I’m his friend and he wants me to come to the wedding and she’ll probably have his children and I won’t see him anymore but he will be happy and he deserves it and-

« Hey are you okay? », Sebastian said, looking a tad worried and leaning slightly forward to look at you in the eyes, « You’ve just gone very pale. » You forced a smile and turned your head : « No, don’t worry, I’m fine. » Then, because apparently you liked pain, you went on : « Have you met someone? » He put a hand on your shoulder as he answered : « Well, yes. Or no, not recently, it’s complicated. » You raised an eyebrow at him : « Yes, it must be, if you don’t know if you met her recently or not. »

Sebastian sighed and wracked a hand through his hair : « What I was trying to say is… » 
An explosion followed by screams cut him short. You both turned and looked at the village below.

« Oh no. They’re here and they’re going for the kids. » You looked at each other and took off at a run.

Feldcroft was on fire. Sebastian stopped and looked around him, trying to locate Anne or his Uncle. You didn’t stop, passing by him and preparing yourself for the fight. You quickly ran through the mental list of the things you might need - Wiggenweld Potion, wand, knife - before charging at the first enemy you saw, making your way to the Sallow cottage. The man in front of you flashed you a dirty grin and pointed his wand at you. You stepped aside, dodging his spell, and cast one of yours - which did hit its intended target, sending the man flying against a tree before hitting the ground and staying there.

You saw a burst of light on your left and were preparing to be hit when an arm wrapped around your waist and lifted you out of the way, casting a very strong « Protego ». Sebastian grinned at you « I’ve got your back, Sweetheart. Go get the kids. » Even as your heart did a little flip in your chest, you kissed his cheek and kept going, knowing that he was protecting you and that you would be okay.

As you burst into the Sallows’ cottage, you saw two things : Anne standing in front of Béatrice and Arnaud, a scowl on her face and her hands empty, and a man advancing towards her, extending his hand to shove her away. You couldn’t use your wand - they were all too close, you would hurt someone - so you did the first thing that came to your mind and grabbed a chair, hitting the man on the head with it once, twice and then a third time to make sure that he would stay down.

Then you got to Anne and, without thinking, handed her your own wand : « I’m glad you’re okay. Take my wand and stay here, I’ll clear a path out for you and the kids. When I say so, grab them and run - don’t look back, don’t come back, stay hidden and don’t stop. Can you do that ?» Anne nodded and grabbed Arnaud’s hand without a word while Béatrice held on to her skirt. You kneeled to talk to them : « You are being very brave. Stay with Anne and stay together. She will keep you safe and so will we. » (I’m going to Hell because of this kind of promises, you thought.)

You turned and went to the back window, quietly opening it. The sounds of the ongoing battle reached you and anxiety churned in your stomach as you thought about Sebastian. Please be okay. You went out of the window, tip-toeing behind an Ashwinder that was standing guard.

Releasing your dagger from its sheath, you grabbed his neck and sliced his throat in the same move, covering his mouth so that he couldn’t make a sound and dragging his body behind a nearby crate. Then you checked that the way was clear - it was - and you signaled to Anne, who hoisted first Arnaud, then Béatrice out of the window before following them herself. Quickly, you led them to the edge of the village, checking to and fro to see if you could see anyone or if someone had seen you, ready to defend them if you had to.

But you didn’t have to, and soon you were watching them disappear in the Highlands, away from you but towards safety. You breathed out, rolling your shoulders and turned again towards Feldcroft.

The first person you saw was not the Sallow that you expected. Solomon was fighting two Ashwinders at the same time and doing brilliantly - he even had time to look you way when you passed by him before telling you (or more like screaming at you) that Sebastian was towards the center of the village, helping people get to safety. Nodding your thanks at him, you charged on, dodging here a fist and there a curse.

One woman dared to come at you with a sword, but you were quicker and had more stamina, having just joined the fight. Soon enough, she was on the ground unconscious and you had acquired a very sharp-looking sword that you were just dying to use.

You kept trudging on, looking for a sign, any sign of Sebastian in the mayhem around you until finally, finally you spotted him, fighting alongside one of the village’s citizens. What you also spotted was the man making his way over to him, the tip of his wand already lighting up with a curse that was aimed at Sebastian’s back, and you felt your heart stop in your chest, several thoughts flashing in your brain all at once - no, I can’t lose him, I can’t let him die, do something, I love him. In your head, the spell landed on his back, the light in his eyes extinguished, the mischievous spark that you adored gone forever and your heart rebelled against it. With no time to think, you ran over to him and did the first thing that came through your mind - which was throwing your sword.

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he watched the object fly past him and came back to you as he head the telltale sound of it finding its target and of a body falling to the ground. He caught you by the waist : « Nice shot, but I feel that I must inform you that swords are very much not throwing weapons, Sweetheart. » You smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, pushing the realization that you just had at the back of your brain for now, to be puzzled over later : « It worked, didn’t it? »

There, a few things happened all at once : from the corner of your eye, you saw a green flash aimed at you, and, in front of you Sebastian’s face lost all color as he threw himself against you to push you to the ground. The spell whizzed over your heads and you didn’t think as you used your weight to roll over Sebastian while calling your Ancient Magic to you. A flash of lightning came down from the sky and blew the witch who had tried to kill you to smithereens.

It was then, of course, that you heard the telltale sounds of multiple Apparitions at the same time : the Aurors had finally arrived, even though they were fifteen minutes late and a Galleon short. The fight seemed to instantly die down, as the Ashwinders that could chose to disappear either by Apparating or by running.

After a heartbeat, you looked down to Sebastian (how long had his hand been on your waist?), Uncle Solomon skidded down to a stop next to you and said : « I’d get up, if I were you. » Red-cheeked and embarrassed (somehow, you knew that he wouldn’t let the both of you live it down), you stood, offering Sebastian your hand. He grasped it and also found his feet, before tugging you close. Then you felt his hands ghost over your cheeks, your shoulders and your arms before settling around your waist. Belatedly, you understood that he was checking you for injuries.

Uncle Solomon rolled his eyes before whispering : « I’d better go talk to them. Don’t worry, » he looked at you, « I didn’t see anything, even though that was a nice throw. » With a wink at you and a nod to his nephew, he strode away.

When you turned back to Sebastian, he was looking intently at you, and before you could speak, you found yourself wrapped in his arms, his left arm around your waist and his right arm at your back, hand buried in your hair and his cheek on the top of your head. « I’m fine », you mumbled, hugging him back. « I know, » he answered with a strange voice, « but you almost weren’t. »

He kept you close to him for a long time, as people walked around you to go back to their homes and assess the damage, as Aurors made their last arrests and took away to bodies and as dawn slowly started to lighten the horizon. All this time, you waited, listening to his heartbeat and basking in his warmth, your head resting on his shoulder. All this time, he fought with his brain - she’s okay, she’s alive, she’s breathing - the words spinning again and again in his head as a thought that he had kept in the background finally came to the surface and won the race against all the others, and it wouldn’t let him go until he voiced it, and so he did, in the cold damp air of the summer dawn, as the light barely brushed your face.

« Marry me. »

You looked up at him, absolutely not expecting this, you who had silently been preparing you to lose him one way or another. You could barely mutter, in a broken-up voice : « Bash… »

He smiled softly and tilted your chin up with a finger so that he could look at you in the eyes : « If you say no, I’ll not speak of it anymore. I hadn’t realized before now, you know, all the ways that I love you. It’s the way you smell and how I know you’ve been there when I smell your perfume, it’s the way any room you walk into seems to brighten just a little, it’s the way you frown when you don’t agree with what I am saying, it’s the way you laugh when no one is looking, with your nose slightly scrunched up, it’s the way you always have a smile ready for everybody. It’s the way you care, very much, all the time, about the people close to you. It’s the way you know how I take my coffee and my tea, it’s the way you smile when you see me, even if you don’t know it. »

He sighed and the back of his hand brushed your cheek, coming away covered with tears.

« It’s also the way I seem to always be looking for you when I get somewhere, it’s the way I’d do anything to keep you safe. It’s the way I want you to be proud of me, and would do anything to make you so. It’s the way I cannot stand to see you cry and it’s the way I’d do anything to make you laugh. It’s the way I am ready to promise that I’ll do everything to make you happy. So please, please (there tried to take a step away from you, but you tightened you hold on him without a word, looking in his eyes and smiling encouragingly when you felt him falter and start to hesitate) marry me. » There you had to blink away your tears, and he must have read your answer in your eyes, because you had barely enough time to let out a « yes » before he picked you up in his arms and kissed you.

A cheer went up nearby, and as he put you down you both blushed furiously, because you had apparently become the focal point of the people of Feldcroft and of the few Aurors who were still there and who had become the witnesses of your happiness. You ducked your head and Sebastian laughed, taking a hold of your hand before jokingly bowing to your unintended public.

As he straightened up, he looked at you : « Ready to go? ». At your responding nod, he tucked your hand in the crook of his elbow and took you back to his Uncle’s cottage.

— —

Before entering the cottage, Sebastian stopped : « Wait, » he said, « I have something for you. »

Then he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a small jewelry box. He opened it and extracted its contents : a beautiful ring with a blue-green stone surrounded by small diamonds. Your delighted gasp made him smile : « I’m happy that you like it. It was my mother’s and Anne gave it to me so that I could give it to you. She said she wanted you to have it. »

He slipped the ring on your finger then, and you both watched as it glinted and caught the early sun’s light. « Sneaky girl, » you whispered, your voice cracking at the realization, « she knew all along. » « I think everyone but us knew, Sweetheart. » There he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. « Are you ready to face the lions? » he added teasingly.

« With you, I’d be ready for anything, » you answered, and you both took that steps that would bring to back to your family and into your future.

[leviathanspain]

you’ll learn to hate me

aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader, aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader

chapter eight: is this darkness or the dawn

synopsis: your son is born and it seems like the war has only just begun

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

in your slumber after the birth, his name was like a stone in your mind, turning over with every syllable.

aenys. aenys. aenys.

your breath came out in a rattle as your eyes opened, your limbs felt heavy with sleep, your neck felt stiff. your hair was stuck to your forehead, sweat had it plastered.

you sat up, and a nurse was suddenly over you, helping you. you gave her a weak smile, “thank you.” as you peered around the room, you noticed it was spotless, save for a basin full of water with a rag, and half melted candles, you realized it was bright outside, a ray of sunshine shone into the room.

“how many days have passed?” it was the next day, or morning, whichever one. you had given birth in the night, keeping the entire keep awake with your screams. it was peaceful now, as if it had never happened.

the nurse hesitated with her words, and as you leaned on her for support, she finally spoke, “nearly four days.” the shock was alarming.

you panted with surprise, “oh.” you inhaled, trying to shake the shock off, you focused on now the most important thing in your life, “where is my son? where is aenys?” there was no sign of a crib, nor a bassinet. it was empty of a child’s mark.

the nurse propped you up on the headboard and stepped back when she saw you finally get comfortable, “alicent had him last. but i suppose that the wet nurse has him now.”

you nodded, “bring me my son, and find the king.” you hissed slightly as you felt the soreness between your legs. a reminder of the traumatic birth.

the nurse nodded, stepping out quickly.

as she left, you finally heaved out a sigh that you had held in. as much as you wanted to ask for aemond, you knew you couldn’t. he wouldn’t come, and it was already bad enough you had screamed for him during aenys’ birth.

aegon was standing just outside your door. he had seen the nurse run down to find his son, and aegon had swallowed thickly, that meant that you were awake.

he couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t prayed for you. when the nurse had told him to say his goodbyes, he had refused, the little voice influenced by his mother had whispered that you were a traitor to the crown, a enemy that had been subdued. but only a day after you had fallen into your deep sleep, had aegon come in the middle of the night, laid by your side and held your hand, praying for your health.

he held no evil in his heart towards you. he was seen as a hedonist by most, a figurehead in a political game, he knew that, and he knew it very well. but you, aegon had decided you were the only thing that he would remain true to.

the door cracked open and in walked aegon. he let out a sigh, one you could’ve sworn was out of relief and you gave him a nod, “aeg.” he walked towards your bedside and leaned down. he grabbed your hand, and for a moment, there was a shared understanding.

you kissed his cheek, and turned just as he did to see the nurse bringing in your blonde haired boy.

a smile immediately took over your features. as feverish, and sickly as you felt, you reached for you son and heard his little coos.

you set him in your lap and held him, looking down in awe at him.

aegon moved the blanket out of his boys face and smiled slightly. “he looks like you.” he spoke, his voice at a slight whisper as to not disturb the babe.

you agreed, you saw much of yourself in the new targaryen babe, “my aenys..” you whispered, “my sweet boy.” your finger brushed the baby’s cheek just slightly and aegon looked at you, “aenys?”

you nodded, “it was whispered to me during my sleep.” aegon hummed with surprise, and looked at his child.

alicent’s face pulled back into a near sadistic hiss. aemond and halaena had been sitting with their mother, both keeping to themselves in terms of conversation. there had been a tense silence after it had been announced that you were awake.

alicent shook her head, pacing the room, “the child should’ve killed her. done her the mercy, for there is so much left to suffer.” there was nothing but hate in her heart for when she said that.

aemond shook his head, “why do you hate her so much, mother? from what i remember, you neither contempt nor love towards her.”

halaena looked at her mother, her reaction was something worth seeing.

alicent’s face curved slightly and she shook her head, almsot in disbelief, “she is like a wedge between you and aegon. she has torn the two of you to shreds, she is a traitor to the crown!” she yelled and aemond stood up, “no she is not. she is the crown. and from what i remember, you married her to aegon, not to me. don’t be so surprised that she strayed.”

aemond stood up, ignoring the protests of his mother. he needed to be anywhere that wasn’t the red keep. he couldn’t bare the thought of looking at you, seeing you with aegon, pretending to be the happy family he wanted.

halaena looked at her mother and her mouth peeled back slightly as words fumbled out.

she fidgeted as her eyes fixated on the roaring fireplace.

“her hand shall not stray as her heart, wielder of blackfyre shall cut them down.” halaena whispered, causing alicent to turn, “what?” but halaena didn’t seem to notice anything as she looked at her mother, “what is wrong?” the innocence in her voice had alicent quiet.

she looked at halaena and didn’t say anything as she exited the room.

aegon watched a maid helped you undress. normally he wouldn’t bother, hadnt set his eyes on you in months, but you had asked him to stay, and had asked him to help you bathe.

you gazed at yourself for longer than normal, and all aegon could guess from your expression was that you hadn’t liked what you saw.

aegon walked over to you, and the maid went away as you gripped his arm for balance. he brought you over to the tub, and you stepped in, leaning heavily on him for help, you hissed as the hot water touched your skin.

aegon hummed slightly as you finally settled in. there was a small stool next to the rug and aegon took his seat there, watching the steam rise from the tub, he finally broke the silence.

“i want you to stop seeing aemond.” he whispered, “i’m asking. it’s the only thing i ask.”

there was a voice in the back of your mind yelling with refusal, but you looked at aegon, and saw his hands shake slightly.

“i haven’t seen aemond since my capture. i assure you, aeg, there is nothing i want from him.” the desire lingered, but you wouldn’t admit that. there was a sigh from aegon and he grabbed a rag, dragging it just over your neck, you moaned softly at the contact of the warm rag.

“i want this to be real. i want this to work.” he admitted, “i know it hasn’t been ideal, you should have married aemond, but it’s too late. we are, and we are king and queen.” you realized that the game of politics had removed love as an option. it wasn’t out of jealousy or desire that aegon had asked, but out of your survival.

he had killed the rumors of you saying aemonds name during labor, but frankly it had been luck that helped, and aegon realized that he couldn’t take anymore chances.

“aenys’ parentage will be questioned-“

you shook your head, “he’s yours. there had been doubt in my mind when i was on dragonstone, but looking at aenys, it’s clear who fathered him.” and it was true. aegon bore a strong resemblance to him, that you knew as he grew older, it would be a spitting image.

aegon nodded, “i don’t want you to be like my sister. look at her, trapped on dragonstone for her mistakes..” he ran the rag down your chest now, “i don’t want that for you, y/n.”

aemond looked back at the red keep as vhagar flew overhead. his heart tore as he realized he was leaving you behind. but he couldn’t get involved anymore, he had broken your trust. you were his brothers wife, and you weren’t just kids anymore.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

<< previous chapter <<

>> next chapter >>

a/n: im gonna be so real and admit that i don’t know where i’m going with this. im so torn with what to do, so that’s why i was laying on the soft!aegon because it’s too hard to choose so i might just do like two endings or something. but next chapter will be a time jump!!



[ereardon]

My Girl [Chapter 12][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 3K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, arguing, angst

Series masterlist here

Please fill out this form here to join my tag list

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door, praying that Margot wasn’t the one to open it. 

The door swung open. It was Jake. Surprise creased his beautiful face, followed quickly by relief. 

“Nat,” he breathed and you almost had to steady yourself because your name on his lips was, and always will be, mesmerizing. You hated how much Jake Seresin made you feel, igniting every single nerve ending in your body without even raising a finger. “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

You shook your head to silently explain you weren’t there to see him. “I’m here for Ellie. We had a date planned, remember?” 

Jake pondered that for a moment before realization dawned on him and he nodded. “Right, donuts and hot chocolate at the beach.” 

“We made those plans before I knew her grandparents were in town, so if we have to reschedule that’s fine, can you just let Ellie know? I don’t want her to think I ditched her.” 

“Margot and Ron left this morning.” 

What Jake didn’t tell you was that he practically threw them out. That he had taken them in the backyard after your date and told them that they could either get on board with your relationship, or get out. 

They had chosen the latter. 

“I see,” you said, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another. You were wearing leggings and a sweatshirt, a puffy jacket pulled on top and a baseball cap, no makeup. Jake had never seen you look more beautiful. “Is Ellie awake?” 

Jake gave you a tight smile. “She’s in her room, organizing her toys. I’ll grab her in a second.” 

“OK.” 

You were still upset about the other night. The way you had left things with Jake left a lot to be desired. It made you sad to think that he still didn’t believe that you loved him. As if you didn’t sit awake the nights that you were apart, aching for his arms around you. As if his voice on the other end of the phone didn’t smooth away all of the anxiety and annoyance that you balled up and stored away during the work day. As if his touch wasn’t like modern medicine, curing your maladies instantaneously. 

It scared you to your core how much you wanted him. Needed him. Desired him. All of him. Not just his looks or his velvety voice or the chivalrous mannerisms. You loved the way he gently helped Ellie pack her backpack in the morning, and the way he poured your coffee the moment you walked into the kitchen at breakfast and how he always made sure to buy an extra cookie from the bakery for you to have in the car ride home because he knew how hangry you would get. You loved how he let you go on and on about your cases and clients, and the feeling of his knuckles curved perfectly into the arches of your foot as you sipped wine on the couch and watched comedy reruns and the simple way he always brushed the hair from your face and kissed your temple before you fell asleep. 

Jake Seresin was your dream. But sometimes you were worried he was still trapped in his own nightmare. And worse, that he felt like he needed to do it alone. That he was too afraid to ask for help to pull himself out of the dream.

“Natalie?” His voice shook you from your thoughts. Jake stepped forward, pulling the door shut behind him so it was just the two of you on the wraparound porch. Jake placed his hands on your arms. “I’m an ass.” 

You snorted out a laugh despite yourself and Jake’s face lit up in a golden grin. “Jake, you know I love you. I know you do. When are you going to start trusting me enough to believe it?” 

Jake slid one arm around your waist, his fingers brushing softly over the small of your back. “God, you’re too smart for me, do you know that?” 

You laughed again. “Honey, all women are too smart for all men. It’s why the world keeps turning. We’re the ones in charge, we just let you think you are.” 

“I never for one second thought I was running this show,” he murmured softly. 

“Do you believe me?” you asked. 

Jake nodded. “I do.” 

“Can you promise me you’re not going to lose it on me again?” 

“Honey, I’ve never felt worse than I did watching your face the moment those words left my lips.” Jake’s fingers traced along your jaw. “I hate to see you upset.” 

“Then stop being the reason I’m upset.” 

That broke him. “You’re right,” Jake said and his face was twisted in pain. “I’m sorry. I keep fucking up and blaming you and it’s my fault. I’m still figuring things out, Nat. All I know is that you’re the person I want beside me as I do.” 

“I’m right here,” you murmured, reaching your arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to hover near yours. “I am right here beside you.” 

And then you leaned forward, your lips against his, feeling Jake’s warm body as he pressed you against the cool wooden post, his hands grazing over your hips as he deepened the kiss. And as badly as you wanted to wrap your legs around his waist, have him take you inside and crawl on top of you, fuck you into the mattress until you had tears streaming out of your eyes, you pulled back, breathless. 

“Ellie,” you muttered. “I promised her we’d go. Trust me, I want nothing more than to do this, but if I don’t stop now I’m never going to stop kissing you.” 

Jake chuckled against your lips, pressing one last kiss to your mouth before pulling away, his hand on your back steering you into the house. “I’ll go get her.” 

“Do you want to come with us?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “It’s your thing with her. I don’t want to interrupt.” Jake started for the stairs, climbing one before turning back around, one hand on the banister. “Nat?”

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you. For everything. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you how much it means to me that Ellie has you in her life. That you’ve been so willing to take us both in.” He choked on the last few words and you had to hold yourself back from attempting to gather him in your arms, pepper kisses across his face. Jake let his vulnerability show like a badge of honor, unlike so many men you had met in the past. 

“You’re welcome,” you said finally, and Jake gave you a lingering smile before heading upstairs to get Ellie. 

You leaned against the banister, waiting for them. Not for the first time, it started to sink in. How ingrained you were becoming in their lives. 

So when Ellie appeared at the top of the stairs, with a bright smile and bundled in a puffy winter jacket, you grinned and opened your arms and she flew into them. And the thought crossed your mind of how much it would hurt to ever lose her. 

How much of a hole it would leave in your heart to let her go. 

***

“Ms. West?” 

You turned in your seat. One of the paralegals whose name you had already forgotten stood anxiously near your desk. “Yes?” 

The brunette gave you a tight frown. “Patrick Donnovan would like to see you in his office.” 

You groaned. It had been months since your run in with Patrick, the day you brought Ellie to work. But that was the thing about Patrick. Even if he wasn’t in your face, he was always in the back of your mind, lingering. Like he had rented a studio apartment in your head and he shared a wall with your anxiety so you were never able to shake him. 

You thought about knocking, but instead just pushed the door open. Patrick looked up from where he sat at his desk, crooked nose perched high in the air. “Natalie,” he said, sweeping out a suit-clad arm. “Take a seat.” 

The chair was warm as you sunk into it, and that only made you worry about the poor person who had inhabited it before you. A sigh bubbled in your throat and you had to clamp it down. 

“How are you?” 

Patrick wasn’t one for small talk so the question came out of left field. “I’m fine, thanks.” 

His eyebrows knitted together. “I know the last time we spoke you were upset with me.” 

You frowned. “Upset is an interesting word choice, but OK.” 

“Natalie.” Patrick sighed. “I’m going to be frank with you. It’s come to my attention that you could have misconstrued what I said.” No shit, you wanted to say. But instead you remained silent, digging your red nails into the fleshy palms of your hands where they sat in your lap. “For that, I apologize. I brought you in today to tell you about a new account we’re putting you on. It’s part of our capital markets practice.” 

You nodded. 

“I want you to lead point on it.” 

That took you by surprise even more than Patrick asking how you were doing. You would have fallen out of the chair if not for the beefy leather sides. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” 

“Our cap markets practice is expanding and we want you to lead due diligence on it,” he explained. “The work will be split between our San Diego and New York offices.” 

Your mouth was threatening to drop open. Leading a major arm like cap markets was unheard of for an associate. It could be the thing that, if done successfully, tipped you onto the fast track for partner. 

And then Patrick’s words sunk in. 

“Did you say New York?” 

He nodded. “The cap markets team is primarily in New York, just down the street from the exchange. We’ll need you out there at least once a month for the foreseeable future, until the infrastructure has been implemented and we’ve seen a minimum of one fiscal quarter with positive profitability.” 

“That could be months, even years,” you said softly, mostly to yourself. The thoughts were already rolling around in your head. How would you explain to Jake that you were going to be gone one or two weeks out of the month, every month? How would you break it to Ellie? 

Patrick leaned over, elbows hitting the hard wood of his desk. “Is that a problem?” 

That’s when you saw it in his eyes. It was a test. Of course it had been a test, all along. 

And fuck if you were going to let him win. 

“Not at all,” you said, standing up and smoothing your skirt. Patrick’s eyes grazed over your bare legs and you had to stop yourself from physically shaking and gagging at the thought of even his eyes roaming your body. “When can I expect a full brief?” 

“Tomorrow,” Patrick said, standing as well. “I’ll have Cerza write it up and send it over. We’ll need you in New York next month for kickoff.” 

You didn’t bother acknowledging his last statement or saying goodbye. You simply walked out of his office, straight down the hall, head tall, ignoring the curious glances as you made your way to the bathroom, locking yourself in the first stall and crumpling into a seated position on the floor, tears streaming down your face. 

You didn’t know if there was a world with both. It was either Jake and Ellie, or your job. Everything you had worked for. Everything that your parents had fought to set you up for.

It was a test. Accept the position and be on track for partner.

Or decline, and watch your future at the firm crumble and fade.

Patrick knew it. And you knew it, too. 

***

“Don’t take offense at this, but for a four-year-old she looks weirdly at home in a bar.” 

Jake laughed, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down gently on the wood counter. He looked over to his right, where Ellie sat propped in Bradley’s arms while he showed her how he was using the pool cue. Next to them, Bob and Phoenix were leaning against the pool table, their eyes locked on Ellie. “Mav’s girlfriend owns the bar, so we’re here plenty. She’s got her own daughter, Amelia, who babysits Ellie on occasion.” He shrugged. “We spend a lot of time here. Or at least, we used to.” 

There was a noticeable pause on his end and you let the silence take hold. You had started to notice when Jake had memories of Lizzie, and instead of trying to insert yourself into the conversation, you simply stayed quiet and let him live out the thought. 

He smiled after a moment. “Glad you could make it. You’ve been so busy lately, I’ve barely seen  you.” 

You gave him a tight smile and then pressed your wine glass to your lips. It had been almost two weeks since Patrick told you about the capital markets expansion, and you had yet to tell Jake. The firm was already laying the groundwork for your trip to New York to jumpstart the integration. You had set up introductory meetings and pulled the relevant briefs and had your secretary make arrangements for a hotel in the city, and flights. 

Everything was set. The one thing you hadn’t done was tell Jake. 

There had never been a right time. Or, more accurately, there had been a million openings and you had chickened out every single time. When he turned his beautiful green eyes on you, his iridescent smile, or Ellie wrapped her tiny fingers around your leg, the words turned to dust on your lips. You couldn’t leave them. Not when things were going so well. Not when he was finally beginning to trust the fact that you had promised to stick around. Now that Jake was finally accepting the fact that you wanted this. That you wanted him, and everything he brought with him. 

How could he ever believe that you wanted a life together when you had accepted the position that would keep you away a week every month for the foreseeable future? 

“Nat?” Jake asked softly, his hand brushing on your thigh. “You OK?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’m going to get some air if that’s OK with you?” 

He gave you a small smile and his hand trailed along your back as you scooted off the bar stool, heading for the side door that opens out onto the beach. 

Outside, you sucked in a gulp of crisp March air. The waves were crashing against the shore, and you could still hear the laughter inside the bar. It was slightly chilly, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, cursing the fact that you hadn’t brought a jacket on top of your sweater, when the sound of the door slapping back onto the frame startled you. 

Bradley gave you a grin, stepping out onto the sand and coming to stand by your side. 

“How’s it going?” he asked. 

“Good,” you replied. “How are you, Bradley?” 

He chuckled. “Can’t complain, sweetheart. But if you have any pretty single friends, I wouldn’t argue with that.”

You laughed. “I’ll have a think and get back to you.” 

“It’s a plan.” 

For a moment, the two of you stood side-by-side facing the waves in silence. It was still early afternoon and the sun had yet to dip its head below the horizon. Bradley was tall, taller than Jake, and while his presence should have felt looming, it was comforting in a way. He was a marshmallow on the inside. It was clear from the way he spoke about Jake and Ellie that he adored them. 

“Listen, Natalie, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I feel kind of responsible for Jake in a way. His dad is a bit of a shit and isn’t really around, and he doesn’t have any brothers. And no matter how many times he’s tried to get himself killed off by doing stupid maneuvers, he’s never succeeded, so that just leaves him with us.” He gave you a wry smile. “He’s a good guy. He’s a better guy than I could ever hope to be. And that little girl means the world to every single one of us.” 

Bradley sucked in a breath and you looked at his side profile. The way his mustache ruffled when he spoke, and the way he looked longingly over the water. There was something a little broken about him. You guessed that he had walls up around his own heart. That’s why he was so adamant you didn’t break Jake’s heart. He knew first hand what it was like to lose someone. 

“I can’t stand around and watch them get hurt.”

You turned to him. “I love him.” It was the truth. 

“I know you do.” 

How was it that Bradley had read your mind? As if he sensed you pulling away, however minutely. “I don’t want to hurt him. Or Ellie. I care about them so much.” 

Bradley met your gaze. “Just do me one favor?”

“Of course.” Your tongue was dry in your mouth. You could feel the heat of his eyes on you and it made sweat prick at your pores, despite the chill. It was like Bradley could see into your brain and knew there was a secret hiding in the gyri folds. 

“Be honest with him. About where you are and where you want to go. Because for all of his great qualities, and he has a lot, he can be really slow to read people and situations. So it’s up to you to guide him. Because when he falls, he falls hard.” Bradley paused, his jaw tense. “And he deserves to be happy. They both do, after everything they’ve gone through. So if there’s even a single ounce of doubt in your mind, that you’re not ready for this, not ready for them, for all of it, let him go, Natalie.”

Tag list: @double-j @seresinhangmanjake @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @momc95 @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite @brehonodea @crthurston @angelbabyange @jason-toddsthighs @secretsicanthideanymore @taytaylala12 @mandylove1000 @mizzzpink @showmethewayhomehoney @tvjunkie08 @mygyn @wkndwlff @sadpetalsstuff @shanimallina87 @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @starrynightskyz @daddymack01 @buxkybarnez @pookie-cleary @clairedelarosa-blog  @princessofglitterland  @tiredqueen73 @lovingjakeseresin @lilyevanswhore @kurtkunkle17 @amortentiadrops @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @xoxabs88xox @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @ebonyhogan24 @rosewritesitout @sammysimpin @khaylin27 @localhockeygirl @eyesthatroll @wildxwidow @wildlyobserving @bellaireland1981 @wittywhispers-blog @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @oiseul @showmethewayhomehoney @callsign-joyride @teacupsandtopgun @jordanturpen @sexytholland @daddymack01 @pookie-cleary @eternalsams @djs8891 @blairfox04 @morgannchase @absolute-fcking-chaos @darkestbeforethedawn16 

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Five

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Swearing, One mention of the word 'Daddy', mentions of boners? Mild accidental groping, light talk of spit kink if you squint, a lot of movie references, Jumpscare Warning: Jeremy Allen White, mentions of very minor injury, Girls Night (gender neutral term), guys being dudes, mentions of avoiding a car accident, fluff, and per usual Sam just being his usual self.

Word Count: 8k.

Author’s Note: Taco Bell IS on the boycott list and just included for entertainment purposes. Also, if you need help with figuring out which companies are on the boycott list you can download the “No Thanks” app to keep track!

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings “Are you callin' me darlin', are you callin' me bird?”

‘If it weren’t for bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all’ is a phrase my grandfather repeated growing up. I feel that a little more deeply these days, especially when it comes to my truck. As I sit here, willing her to turn over every time I twist the key, I lose a bit more hope. I have got to get her looked at. I pull my phone from my back pocket and text the group chat, praying that someone is awake this early. 

Me: Is anyone awake that loves me enough to drive me into work. Edith wont start again ☹️

Tweedle Dee 🦐: It’s your lucky day.

It only takes about ten minutes before Josh pulls up in his white Jeep truck, and I’ve never been more thankful that we all live so close. 

“You look awfully dapper for 7:30 in the morning,” I remark, eyebrow cocked. 

“And you are just a pair of cargo shorts away from being Steve Irwin, but you don’t hear me questioning you.” He retorts. Touche. “I thought I was dropping you off at the newspaper office?”

“You are, but we’re going to Wolfe’s Neck to take some nature photos for the assignment we’re working on. I’m meeting her at the office first.” Josh and I haven’t spoken much in the last few days; he’s always busy lately, working at the bar or devoid of his phone for hours, so I fill him in on the project.

“An incredible idea, Sammy. All hers, I assume?” He chides.

“Not.. all hers. I helped.” I speak a bit more defensively than I mean to. 

“Convincing.”

“I did! We’re even using a couple of my film cameras because I’m so nice.” I further defend my stance.

He pulls up to the curb, effectively cutting our conversation short, thankfully, and I exit his car.

“Sam!” He yells jovially, and I turn around, his window fully unrolled. “Have a good day, Sammy Boy! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He twists the dial on his stereo volume. The soundtrack of my suffering plays to the tune of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua. I wave him ‘goodbye’ with a simple middle finger as he drives off. As I make my way back to the front door, there she is. 

Birdie. 

She greets me with, “I bet he’s a nightmare in the morning.”

“You have no idea.” I reach for the door, opening it for us both and letting her walk in first because I am a gentleman; however, I am still a pain in the ass. “Is it not too early in the morning for my voice today?” 

“It's always far too early to hear your voice, Samuel.” She presses the button on the elevator and twists her shoulders toward me. 

“How are we supposed to work together if you refuse to talk to me, huh?”

“It’s not like taking pictures requires conversation.” The sound of the elevator dinging catches our attention, and we both enter. Birdie reaches to press the correct floor button.

“How about,” I start, facing her and smirking with a cocked eyebrow, “we stop for coffee and breakfast, my treat? Since now, I don’t have to break the news to you that you have to drive.”

“You.. have my attention.” The elevator arrives, and we exit right, down the hallway, through the glass door, and past the reception desk. Sharon greets us warmly with a wave; she’s no Daisy, but she is lovely. Once we reach the cubicles, we separate, unloading our belongings on our own desks. Birdie looks good today. Her earth-toned Patagonia pullover fits snuggly, along with the black leggings on her legs. The tail ends of her brown bob poking out the bottom of her tan Carhartt beanie. 

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I couldn’t exactly wear my Steve Maddens in the forest.” She stares down at the white socks and brown hiking boots I know are on her feet. “Where are we going, by the way? You never told me, just said, ‘I have a place.’”

“Wolfe’s Neck State Park, you been before?” 

“Surprisingly, no. It’s on my list though.”

“It doesn’t open until 9, so we have a little bit of time to kill before we have to leave; it’s only a half-hour drive. Maybe forty-five or fifty with breakfast.”

“Did you wanna hit up Dunkies for breakfast?” she asks.

“Please, god no. They can never get my food right. I swear they have a secret vendetta against vegetarians.” 

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian. Is it an animals with faces thing?”

“Nah, Daniel, bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t do it. I never turn down a bet.” I sit down on my desk and cross my arms. Looking at her over the divider.

“How’d that turn out for you?”

“A new diet and fifty bucks richer,” I snicker. 

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The trail I lead her down is not a very long one. I can hear her small feet padding behind me, breaking branches and rustling leaves in quick steps. She takes two to match my every one. I figured one of the shorter trails would work better for getting in and out with enough time to head back and finish our project. 

“Ooooh, it's giving Twilight,” she beams, eyes huge with excitement.

I turn to follow her gaze toward the large, moss-covered rock wall. A few fallen, slimmer trees lay around the bottom. She runs over toward it.

“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” Reenacting a scene from the movie. A movie I’ve definitely never seen. “I don’t care. You won’t hurt me.” she quotes dramatically, switching from Edward to Bella. She matches Bella’s awkward movements perfectly. It’s hard not to laugh, her head bobbing, arms flailing, jumping back and forth between spots for each character. I haven’t seen this side of her yet, A fun side. Who knew Birdie had it in her? 

“You know I’ve never seen Twilight before.” I lie as I slip one strap off my shoulder and pull my bag around to the front of my body. Unzipping the compartment that has her camera in it, I pull it out and give it a wiggle. She walks over to meet me. 

“Never had a girlfriend in high school who forced you to watch it?” she smiles, jokingly as she takes the camera from my hand and slips the strap around her neck, checking over her settings.

“Nope.” popping the ‘p’, “Never really dated til I got to college.” I take out my own camera.

“Aw got no game huh?” She makes a mocking frown at me as we walk down the trail. 

“Got no game, huh?” I mimic her. Way to go, Sammy. Wicked come back. That’ll teach her. 

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We take our time, snapping photos as we go until we reach the water. It's beautiful here. Large formed rocks surround the lake that makes up an amazing scenic view. The sunshine only adds to the effect. It's breathtaking every time. I can’t believe she’s never been here before. We slowly walk up to the edge of the water. She finds little crevices that the water runs through. In her continued child-like wonder she can’t help but kneel down to run her fingers through it, picking up small rocks to inspect before dropping them back into the tiny flowing river. The sun’s rays bounce off the water, the reflection a bit blinding, but I’ll take it on a day like today. It sparkles off the waves created by the small gusts of wind, which keeps me comfortable, but I notice the little shivers that run through her shoulders. Despite the minimal clouds in the sky, the sun isn’t strong enough to truly warm you from within this time of year. 

I watch as Birdie steps onto one of the taller rock formations. She brings the camera to her eye, the clicking sound pleasantly mixed with the sound of all the petite rivers running nearby. She drops her camera and tilts her face toward the sun, eyes closed, taking in the warmth from the sunshine above. She looks as peaceful as it feels out here. I snap a photo of her. She brings her arms out as if she's standing at the head of the Titanic; I snap another one. That is what Maine is about, the simplistic beauty of being with nature. Any time of year, any weather. Just enjoying the feeling of connecting to nature. Water, trees, rocks, sunshine. All of it. Always. 

I’m so lost in thoughts of her and home I don’t notice her suddenly standing in front of me. 

“Earth to Samuel.” She sing-songs, fingers waving in front of my face.

I shake my head, willing my brain to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, what.”

“Can I put this in your bag?” She’s holding a rock. A damp, white-ish looking rock clutched between her delicate fingers. 

“Uh, sure?” I’m very confused. I open a compartment, and as she places the rock inside, she shivers again. I guess it is chilly despite the day’s sunshine. It's still March after all, though I’m not a great gauge for temperature because I run warm.

“Are you cold, Birdie?” I question.

She scrunches her nose in response. I fight with the thought of how cute that is. “I’ll be fine,” she dismisses. “I’m always cold.”

“Here, take my scarf. I’m hot anyway.” Pulling my scarf from around my neck.

She immediately gives me a side-eye. 

“It’s.. not gonna bite, Birdie?” I tease her with a little wave of the scarf.

“Not my name,” she scrunches her nose again, apprehensively reaching out to grab it. “Biting I'm not worried about. It being magically cursed into strangling me when I least suspect it, on the other hand.” She tosses her hands back and forth like an invisible set of scales. Her hands work intently as she folds the scarf in half and places it around her neck, taking the ends through the loop and pulling it tight. 

“What am I? Harry Potter?” I scoff. 

She lets out a cackle. “Not even remotely. More like Lucius Malfoy.” She raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Wow, straight to Lucius. Not even Draco, huh? Yeah, I guess I am Daddy.” I stop in my tracks as I watch her pluck another rock from the tiny river leading out toward the water.

“Ew. God, no.” Her infectious laugh hits me right in the gut.

“See, Lucius was evil.” She stands, and her eyes give me a once over before placing the rock in my hand, presumably to be put in my bag with the other one. “Draco had a good heart even if he was a little chicken. Plus,” raising her pointer finger, “he was hot. And you are neither of those things.” She turns back to the small river of flowing water.

My mind flashes back to the other night at the bar, where she’s sitting with her friend. “No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” Replaying in my head. 

“Oh, really?” my mischievous side coming out to play. I step toward her. 

“Mhmm.” 

“OH, REALLY??” I repeat louder, taking another step. She stands to face me.

“YES,” she says pointedly. 

I smile wide, now looking down at her. 

“That’s not what your friend said the other night.” I bite my lip, tilting my head to the side and running my hand along my jawline. I watch as her eyes follow my movement, a fire lighting behind them. I know I’ve gotten under her skin by calling her out. 

She raises both of her eyebrows, this time taking a step toward me to fully bridge the gap between us. Nearly chest to chest, nose to nose, she says, “Wow, I’m actually shocked you were able to pull your head out of your ass long enough to hear someone speak besides yourself.”

I chuckle, running my tongue along my teeth. “I don’t hear you denying it. Go on, you can say it. You think I’m hot.”

“And why would I need to deny such a clearly false statement, Samuel?” Confusion etched across her face. “You know, when you come up for air, usually you can hear better. You should try it sometime.”

“So, that’s not what I heard, huh? ‘You’re right, he IS really cute.’ ? Your friend never said that?”

“No, you didn’t. Because no, they didn’t.” She huffs. I pick up on the use of ‘they.’  

“Right, right.” I nod my head. “So, do they frequently lie to embarrass you?” a silent acknowledgment between us. 

She pulls out her phone, tapping away. 

“Whaaaat are ya doing?” I question her clear deflection. 

“Just looking to see if there is a quick care clinic open on our way home because, obviously, you need to have your ears checked out,” She pockets her phone. “Can we continue, please?” A swift eye roll follows as she turns to walk back toward the little river.

“Wait, wait, wait,” a breathy chuckle falling from my lips. “If it's not you who thinks I’m cute. Then it must be your friend, right?” She opens her mouth to try to cut me off before I even get started, but, “So, can I have their number then?” slips out before she can manage. I relish in the fact that I know I’m bothering her. 

“No, no. Absolutely not.”

“Wow, for being Birdie, you’re not much of a wing-woman, are you?”

“First off, they would hate you. Second off, what makes you think I’d ever be your wing-woman. And THIRD-OFF, that’s not my name.”

I feel a bit of satisfaction and a warm swell of my belly when her nose scrunches in distaste. 

I wander off back toward the trail we came down, keeping my gaze pointed toward the opening in the trees. Trying to focus in between the little gaps for anything interesting or photo-worthy. The leaves are not quite growing yet, and the ground still wet with leftover melted snow. I can hear the squish of the damp soil with every step I take. The lead into spring is probably my favorite time of year. Most people enjoy the summer because the weather is nice and warm and the surrounding cities are alive with tourists and events. But those moments of fresh life leading into spring show you that despite the dark coldness of the winter, you can still grow and bloom into beautiful potential. The hope of it all, to come out the other end of the darkness to greet the sunshine, is why it's such a valued season to me. 

Just then, Birdie comes padding over to me with two more rocks in her hands.

“Sam, I found more.” She calls on her way over. I, once again, pull my bag to the front, and she opens a pocket, attempting to deposit the rocks herself.

“No, not there, I have a lens in there.” I zip it back up and choose a different one. “Try this one.” As she’s trying to fit the larger of the two in there, something clicks inside my brain.

“You’re one of those girls, aren’t you?” 

“One of what?” Her brows are knit in frustration when she realizes the rock is too big. She picks another, thankfully empty, pocket.

“One of those girls that sits around with her crystals and her tarot and her moon water.” I chide.

Her hands stop what they are doing and she slowly looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “How do you know about moon water?”

“It’s a long story.” I shake my head and sidestep the comment so I don’t have to talk about ‘she who shall not be named’. “You know my brother is into all that shit. He’s got crystals all over the place.” 

“The brother that owns the bar or the one with the mustache?”

“Uhh.. both of my brothers have a mustache.” 

“You sure about that.” She smirks. Oh, they’re both gunna just looove that. “Actually, why don’t you give him my number since we seem to actually have things in common.”

“No.” immediately denying her. “If you refuse to be my wing-woman. I refuse to be your wingman. No way.”

“Fine then, at least make yourself useful and find some space to fit this in your bag.” Flashing the rock, she couldn’t fit before. 

“Seriously, how many more of these do you need, Birdie? My bag is getting heavy.” 

“How about you hold this one.” She pulls a small crystal from her bra, and drops it into my open hand. “It’s good for grounding. Maybe it’ll help center you. Woo sah, Sam. Woo Sah.” 

Very funny.

I offer to drive the way home and now I’m curled uncomfortably in the driver's seat of Birdie’s car. Partly to get warm again and partly because of the intense growling of my stomach. 

“We should stop for lunch before we head into the office,” I suggest.  

“Where?” She pulls out her phone, searching for options.

“Is there a Taco Bell nearby?” 

“You can eat at Taco Bell? I wouldn’t think a Mexican food place would be vegetarian friendly.”

“Taco Bell is hardly Mexican, but you can sub almost anything out for beans. Plus, I’m craving a crunchwrap.” 

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We pull up to the drive-through speaker, and I place my order. “I’ll have a cravings box with a black bean crunchwrap supreme, a spicy potato taco, and cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a Large Dr. Pepper, please.” Her eyes are boring holes into the side of my skull as I pull out my card to pay. I scrunch my face in question. 

“Nothing.” is all she says.

She leans over the center console to place her order, elbows perched and ass off the seat. I know she’s trying to be able to project her voice from across the car, but she is so close. I shrink back into my seat to try and give her space, but I can't escape her sweet floral perfume. Oh, she smells so good. I close my eyes, reveling in the mixture of orange blossoms and vanilla as it clouds my brain.

“I’ll have two soft taco supremes and a medium Baja Blast, please.” She plops her ass back in her seat, “Ready?” 

I open my eyes again. “Yep.”

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I hand the cashier my card and receive the receipt and we pull up to the second window. She is staring at me again with the most unpleasant face. 

“Okay, what gives. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The worker opens the window and hands us our order. Birdie's own customer service voice shining through her ‘thank you so much!’ Unwrapping our straws and sticking them in our respective drinks while I slowly pull away from the building. I reach for my Dr. Pepper and take a large, satisfying gulp. 

“How can you possibly drink that?” 

“A Dr. Pepper?”

“Yes! It's like.. Against the law in at least 22 states to not order Baja Blast when you go to Taco Bell.” she quips.

“Oh, you’re not gunna like this.” I pause.

She stares intently.

I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, “I.. don’t.. Like Baja Blast.” 

She stares some more. This time, the brown of her eyes barely peeking through the thin space between her eyelids. 

“Dr. Pepper just hits better.” I shrug.

“We- Are not friends.” Turning back to the food in her lap.

“Consider it one of my 19 crimes,” mumbling around a bite of my lunch. 

“Every sip is a little act of warfare, Sam.” She argues a bit further down the road. “I cannot believe you would commit such.. Such TREASON in my own car.” Her hands wave theatrically in front of her.

“Oh, you’re a Queen now, are you?”

“It is my car, so if I say I’m the Queen of my car, then I’m the Queen of my car. And I rule that drinking Dr. Pepper is an act of treason.” She crosses her arms, chin raised high, a playful smirk sitting on her plush, chapstick-covered lips.  

I laugh, a good, full-bellied laugh. She’s fun when she wants to be. When she’s not being so combative.

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” I respond and enthusiastically take a bite of my spicy potato taco. She rolls her eyes at me.

“How much food did you order?”

“What? I’m a growing boy!” I argue.

As soon as I take another bite, chipotle sauce comes out the bottom and lands right in my lap. “Oh shit!” I once again say around my food. She starts to rummage through the bag for some napkins. When she finds one, I reach my hand out to take it, but she bypasses me completely, leaning right over the center console with her head nearly in my lap, hands working to try and get the sauce out before it stains.

That’s how I ended up praying to the Gods above that I don’t accidentally pop a boner while she cleans up my crotch. What have I done to deserve this?

“It’s fine. It’s not on the seat. It’s just on your pants. Hold on.” I squirm under the pressure of her fingers as she tugs to flatten out the fabric of my khakis to make sure she gets it all. 

“It's fine, Birdie. Birdie!” raising my voice to catch her attention, to no avail. “I can take care of it when we get back. Or we can stop off at my apartment, and I can change.” I plead, desperately wishing for this to be over. 

“I almost got it. Stop moving!” I glance down as she slaps my thigh. Holy shit. She licks the napkin then and I swear I see Jesus in the middle of the freeway. I press the brakes to slow down to avoid a collision. Trying my best to focus on the road ahead, but instead, now all I can think about is her spit on my dick. Oh God. My eyes go wide as soon as the thought crosses my mind, and my dick definitely twitches. 

Oh, don’t go there. Not now. Think Sam, Think. Grandma Althea. Her house is old and smells like moth balls. Her hands are always dry from all the fabric she touches because she’s always sewing something. She coughs really loud and wet because of the cigarettes she smokes. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when Birdie sits up. She clears her throat, “I uh think it should be all set.”

We drive the rest of the way back to the office in silence. I really hope she didn’t notice. But then again, I do have terrible luck.

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When I walk into the dark room, Birdie is already in there; the red lights casting a glow on her that reminds me of the first time she walked into my brother’s bar. Though now she’s rifling through the lower shelves.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”  

“I uhh, I haven’t developed film since college. Tryna find some instructions.” Her ass in the air as she continues her search. 

“I don’t have nine film cameras for nothing, Birdie. I know how to develop film I can help.”

She stands and faces me, the uncomfortable expression on her face taking on a completely different view under the light. I wish I knew her well enough to know why she’s so uncomfortable. 

I get us set up with our film canisters and developing mixture while she grabs the rolls of film from my bag. We each carefully cut the film off the cassette. I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of how our fingers gently brush each other while loading the film onto the reel. I pour the developing mixture into each canister while she watches on. 

“We have to shake them every, like thirty seconds for a few minutes, and then we can do the stop bath,” I instruct her, and she nods.

Her small, delicate hands hold the rather large container as she shakes it back and forth. “Like this?” She questions, her brow furrowed. And.. I am only a man. Staring too closely at the motion of her hands, I freeze. For christ’s sake Sam. Be normal for 5 seconds. As I clear my throat to answer, I drop my canister. In her attempt to help me we end up crashing our heads together.

“OW.” “Oh Fuck.” We mumble at the same time. I feel around for the edge of the counter and end up knocking the other film canisters into the sink. 

“For fuck’s sake,” I whine. I reach to grab those, and Birdie bends down to grab the one I dropped. And, it is so dark in here she ends up ramming her head right into my junk.

“Fuck!” I yell. At the rate we’re both complaining, I’m sure they think we’re trying to fuck. If only I were that lucky. Instead, I now need to ice my goods.

I hold my breath, willing the pain to stop.

“Sorry.” her apology is small. 

A strained “It’s fine” tumbles from my lips.

We continue awkwardly fumbling around each other, trying to make sure the rest of the containers stay properly agitated, and instead, she gets properly agitated. If this was a cartoon, I’m positive that steam would be coming out of her ears.

“It’s too small in here; you are far too large, and it's too dark.” She huffs. 

“I don't know what to tell you, Birdie. It’s a darkroom, and I cannot get any smaller.”

“That’s not my fucking name.” Angrily, setting down the container with a loud thud. 

We add the stop bath and then the fixer, making sure to keep a good distance from each other, and then finally rinse and soak the film. 

When we hang the film up to dry, I realize I have about a foot on her.

“Need me to get you a stool, shortie? Or should you just hop on, and I could lift you up.” A cocky smirk spreads across my lips. 

“Nah, you’re the man you could do the heavy lifting,” she makes air quotes around ‘heavy lifting’. 

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 Once they’re fully dry, I gather the film strips and bring them to the lightbox. Scooting our stools close and setting each strip up one by one to see the negatives of our photos. Shooting nature is one of my favorite things but Birdie really does have an incredible eye for it. Of course, I’d never tell her that because she would hold it over my head. Our styles are very different, which is clear to see lined up next to each other, but they still look amazing together. 

“These.. Are really great, Birdie.” I smile down at her and bump her with my shoulder gently. Her face softens a bit and I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. I am a man- I’m not blind.

“The hard part is choosing the best ones. It feels like choosing my favorite children.” Her infectious laugh plays through my ears, and I smile back.

We take some time discussing which ones have the best lighting or the best proportions. Which ones we think will make great features and finally settle on eight ‘prized children’ to print. The other eight photos selected for our presentation will be digitally edited and printed outside of the darkroom, making at least half of this project easy. At least the editing and printing we can do from the comfort of our homes in our PJs. Which is exactly what I will be doing after I see Daniel for dinner. 

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We settle back in the dark room using the projectors to print our respective photos. I don’t know what’s in the air today because I keep messing up. Either exposing for too long or too short and I keep running back and forth between the developing tray and my projector to try to correct it. On one of my passes, I run smack into Birdie. In my effort to stop the collision, I put my one unoccupied hand out to cushion the momentum and ended up grabbing her boob instead. For fucks sake. How does this shit keep happening?

I pause, slowly backing away. She just heavily sighs.

“Well.” She brushes her hands off and adjusts her beanie. “That’s the most action I’ve had in a minute.”

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Is that why you’re such a tight ass?”

“No, I have,” she emphasizes, “such a tight ass because I do squats.” And now I’m thinking about her in tight gym pants doing squats.

“Well, if you ever need help loosening up a bit, you know who to call.” 

“Jeremy Allen White?” 

“Who?” I match her confused expression.

“Oh, you know, he was in Shameless. The bear?” her brow further knits each second that passes. “He just had that big ad campaign for Calvin Klein?” Calvin Klein? As in.. models. Cool. First Edward, then Draco, now.. models.

“Yes, because I definitely seem like the kind of guy who keeps up with Calvin Klein campaigns.” Really trying to drive the point home with a snarky tone. 

“Oh..” I try to read the expression on her face before she continues, “I just thought because of you.. You know, actually know how to dress yourself.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t. Your competition is the genre of men who pick up a shirt off the floor and go, ‘yeah, this smells clean’.” She stands on her tiptoes as she hangs her last photo and then promptly exits the darkroom. 

A few minutes later, she returns through the circular door. It always reminds me of something a magician would have on stage. A weird sort of contraption to ensure the light stays out and doesn’t ruin the developing process for those inside.

“Sam.” her voice is quiet again, just above a whisper. I look up at her and can barely make out her petite frame in the dark. She’s just standing, a strip of film pinched between her fingers, head hung low. 

She continues just as quietly, “Did you.. Um. When did you take these?” The realization hits me. I forgot about the pictures of her. 

“Oh. Uhh. You were just.. Ya know in your element. And I sorta thought. Well, this is a big part of what Maine is like. Ya know. Outside, nature. You just seemed.. Happy. Thought it should be captured..” I trail off. Oh God, she’s gonna think it's weird. It's not weird, though, right? No, Sam, it's fine. 

The length of silence kills me. The longer she doesn’t talk the more I start to internally freak out. As if being a naturally warm-blooded person wasn’t bad enough, I feel myself start to sweat. I wipe my forehead of the perspiration gathering there and grab at my wrists for a hair tie, of which is conveniently missing at this moment. Please say something… please.

“This.. um.” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “They’re lovely, Sammy. Thank you.”

Sammy.

“Yeah.. yeah. You’re welcome.” I shift my focus back to my photo.

“So, uh.. Anyways,” she says, calling my attention back to her. “Since we’re printing the photos here and we’re editing the digital ones at home, you can just email me the finished ones when you’re done, and we can talk about the bullet points we’ll go over for the presentation.” She turns on the projector light until she gets the desired contrast, and then turns it off and carries her photo to the developer bin. I grab my own photo and walk over to meet her, dropping it in the solution to join hers. She idly uses the tongs to move her photo around the bin to help the developing process. Just like shaking a Polaroid picture, it doesn’t really work; it only passes the time. 

“That sounds good, Birdie.” I reach to grab the other set of tongs and end up blindly bumping her arm in the process, knocking hers to the ground. She bends down to retrieve them, and I set my sights on a different pair of tongs to my left. Two things happen at once. First, I bend slightly to reach the other pair. Second, she headbutts my ass. That’s two parts of me she has head-butted today.

“We’ve touched more today than I ever thought we would in this lifetime.” She groans.

“Think about us touching often, huh?” because I can’t help but try to get under her skin every chance I get. 

“Why are you like this?” she complains. She tosses the tongs back on the counter and goes to fish the photo out with her fingers. I lunge to stop her, but I’m too slow.

Now, it’s definitely not life-threatening to handle photo-developing chemicals without gloves. But they are, at the end of the day, chemicals and can sting like a bitch if you have opened wounds. Given how clumsy she is, I anticipate –

“Ouch, FUCK!” she yells, cradling her hand. I grab her by the wrist and shimmy us over to the sink, where I turn the water on cold. When the temperature is cool enough, I pull her finger under the running water.

“That was stupid of you.” I gently scold her. There’s no weight behind my words, just concern. 

“How stupid, Sam? I didn’t realize I had a cut. Is it bad? Do I need to see a doctor?” She rattles off. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” I leave one hand on her wrist, keeping it in place under the faucet, the other one I place on her cheek. Settling in the crook of her neck beneath her ear. The palm of my hand burns against her cool skin; she really is always cold. Despite the darkness of the room I still pull her gaze to meet mine. “Calm down, okay? You’re fine, I promise. A little stupid, maybe. But you’re fine.” I rub my thumb along her cheekbone, hoping to soothe her worries. I can barely make out her eyelids as they flutter closed for a moment and then open again. 

“You promise?” I can feel the anxiety radiating off her.

“I’d pinky promise if you wanted me to.” I joke, and she lets out a small giggle. Pride settles in my chest, knowing a crisis is averted.

“God, that was stupid.” she laughs again and rests her forehead against my chest.

“Lil bit.” I shake my head and slide my hand down to rub her back. Part of me doesn’t want to move from this spot, knowing she's comforted, but I ruin the moment anyway. I pull back from her, hand resting on her shoulder now. 

“Lesson learned, huh?”

She zips the top portion of her Patagonia pullover a little higher when we make it outside. I pull out my phone to see who is available to be my chauffeur home.

“Did you need a ride home, Sam?” She asks, pulling her collar up to her ears. The ends of her hair start to stick out. 

“I was just going to see which brother was a spare and could swing by.” I drop my eyes back to my phone. 

“I can give you a ride home if you want? I know you’re not too far out of my way, I can just.. Drop you off?” placing her foot on the next step down and pointing toward the parking lot. 

“You don’t have to do that. None of them do anything productive anyway.” I laugh. 

“Do you have more than just the two?” I bite my lip and smile when her brow furrows in confusion. 

“No, but you know Daniel? The bouncer? We went to grade school together so he’s been my best friend since we were like six. He's basically a brother at this point. Ya know, brotha from anotha motha.” Her gentle laugh bringing forth another swirl in my belly. 

“Oh, I was about to say. I’m not sure the world could realistically handle any more of you Kiszkas.” She says when we finally reach the sidewalk. 

“Yeah, they broke the mold with me. Realized I was peak Kiszka genes and said, ‘all done’.”

“Seriously though, I can give you a ride. It’s no big deal.”

I fall in step with her, “Why not? None of my degenerate brothers are answering me anyway.”

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The drive back to my apartment is quiet. Almost too quiet for us. The awkwardness of the day still lingering in the air. I clear my throat to cut the silence, but I can’t think of anything to say to fill it. I just fidget with my fingers instead.

“How are you getting to Boston tomorrow?”

“Uhm, well, the plan was to ride the train in like I did last time, but Edith almost made me miss it.”

“Edith. Right. Your truck.” 

“She’s having trouble turning over.” I run a hand through my hair.

“Well, I don’t want to have to worry about you missing your train and messing up this presentation for us by not being there, so i'll pick you up at like 6 a.m. if that’s fine with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I told you I live close to my brothers. I'm sure one of them can take me.” 

“It’s really fine. I have to make the drive anyway and I really want this presentation to go off without a hitch. It would make me feel better if I knew for sure you’d be there.”

I don’t read into that sentiment. She just wants the project to be successful, and I know that. So I agree, much to my dismay. I hate feeling like a burden to people, and with Edith giving me trouble, I feel pretty much like a burden to everyone who has to deal with me. 

When we reach my apartment, she pulls over to the sidewalk out front. 

“Why don’t you put your number in my phone, and I’ll text you when I leave my apartment. I’m only like ten minutes away.” She pulls her phone out from the center console near her gear shift, and I put my contact info in. Entering my phone number and email under Sammy Kiszka with the camera emoji.

“I put my email in there so you can flag it, but shoot me a text with yours when you get home so I know where to send the digitals.” I place her phone back in her palm. “Thanks again for.. carting me around.” I let out an awkward laugh and scratch the back of my neck. 

“No problem, see you in the morning,” she gives me a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I grab my camera bag and hop out of her car. Shutting the door with a small wave through the window. 

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When I hear the signature knock, I know Daniel’s arrived. Two quick knocks, a pause, a single knock, another pause, and ending with two quick knocks. I don’t know when he developed that habit, but he only uses it on my door. Penelope lets out a loud boof of a bark and runs ahead of me, her shaggy hair swaying with her little jumps. Well, little for Pen. When I open the door, she’s already sniffing and pawing at his legs. 

“I brought beer.” He says as he holds up the 12-pack of coronas, careful not to trip around her. “Hope you got limes.”

“It’s me. Of course, I do.” Gesturing to myself and stepping aside to let him in, “Plus, I have an extra large meat-lovers pizza on the way.” I resist the urge to make a joke about ‘meat-lovers and guys night.’ “So.. tell me what’s wrong.” I continue, following him into my kitchen. He's stacking the beers one by one inside the fridge to keep cold, Penelope impatiently waiting for her attention from her favorite uncle. Her words not mine. I can tell by the expression on his face he’s struggling with whatever is on his mind. He closes the refrigerator door and shrugs off his coat, setting it on a nearby chair. 

“Hello, Penny girl. I wouldn’t forget about you, I promise.” She laps at his fingers as he playfully pets her face. Still reaching for her head as he stands, he takes a deep breath. “I, uhh, went on a date last night..”

“Still living up to your name, I see. How was it? Awful? Terrible? Did she have a big head or lipstick on her teeth?”

“Very funny.” He snarks back. “It was terrible, thank you very much.”

Eventually, I get the full story out of him. His date, named Allie, a very adorable waitress he met through a friend of a friend, was completely horrible (pleasant), didn’t let him pay (she wanted to split the bill because her drink was expensive and she felt bad), and.. the kicker? She opened the door for him (she got to the door first). We’re each two slices and a few beers deep, and I can’t figure out where the awful comes in. 

“She sounded completely fine, Daniel. I don’t get it?” I lean back against the couch, Penny quietly snoring by my feet. 

“She ordered a salad, Sam.” he looks at me expectantly as if that answers everything. “A SALAD!”

“Oh no. A salad. How completely terrible of her.” I roll my eyes. 

“I.. want a girl who isn’t afraid of eating a burger.” he shrugs, drawing a sip of his corona and lime. 

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in frustration.

“Always.”

“Bro.. you have got to get over Melody.”

He stands, effectively scaring Pen awake, and I watch him pace back and forth in front of my TV. She pads over to him, nails clicking against the hardwood until she can get her paws on him. 

“This has nothing to do with her.” He stops and reaches down to run his fingers through her fur for some comfort through this uncomfortable topic. 

 The subject of Melody has always been a touchy one.  He dated her in high school, and we were all pretty good friends for most of our childhood. I really liked her for him, actually. Until she broke his heart when we all graduated and ran off to college, leaving him in the dust and I was the one who was left to clean up the mess. The mess being Daniel because he was.. A full blown mess. He would never admit that, though. But what can you expect when you get your heart broken for the first time? I kind of get it. He has always been and always will be my brother, and I’ll always be there for him. No matter what. Which naturally means I’ll always harbor a severe distaste for her, even if I know I don’t have to worry about seeing her ever again.

“This has everything to do with her. You haven’t been able to make it past the first day with a girl since you broke up. It’s been what? six years?” I shoot him a pointed glare. He stops pacing and crosses his arms, waiting for whatever else I have to say.

“Have you considered that trying to get to know someone while eating food is actually incredibly awkward? Or is this really just about the monstrous salad?”

“She also wanted to go for a walk after dinner.” He defends. The sigh I let out.. My God. “Why would I wanna go for a walk when I stand all day at work?” 

He cannot be serious right now. The weakest arguments known to man.

“You’re an active guy, Daniel. Why wouldn’t you want to go for a walk? Doesn’t Linda always go on about your golf arms or whatever?” 

“No, that’s completely different, and you know Linda is the love of my life.” he smiles wide, his tongue poking out just beyond his teeth. 

“Right. So what other red flags did she have?” I dig a little more. 

“Okay, well, she tried to kiss me?”

“GASP.” I feign shock. “She wanted to kiss you? How very dare she. Daniel, that’s absolutely insane. It’s not like you guys went out on a date or anything.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” he plops himself back down on the couch beside me, his shadow following him until she perches her head on his knee. I swear, when he’s here, it's like I don’t exist. “Tell me about poking girl. How’s that going?” He lays his head back and pulls his trucker hat down over his eyes. 

“Good. Project is good. I still can’t ever tell if she likes me or not. We bicker and banter all day long. It’s entertaining as hell for me. Then, there are some moments where she acts like a sweet, normal girl. But most of the time, it's just bickering.” I take a swig of my beer. “I gave her a nickname to get under her skin, and she makes this face every time I say it. It's very.. Samantha from Bewitched.” I swallow my laugh down with another sip. 

“Whaddya call her?” he asks with a smirk, eyes poking out from underneath the brim.

“Birdie.”

“Birdie? Why on earth does that get under her skin?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “But it does. And I take sick enjoyment out of irritating the fuck out of her.” I set my empty beer back down on my coffee table. 

A maniacal laugh escapes him. Clutching stomach, he bends forward. I start to wonder if he got high before he came over because what the hell is so funny?

“Oh god.” He wipes a tear from his eye and rights himself on the couch. “So you think she’s cute, huh?” 

“I mean.. I.. have eyes, yeah?” I answer with confusion heavily present in my tone. “But we don’t get along. As in cannot go five minutes without bickering, don’t get along.”

“You always did like em’ psychotic, Sam. None of us are stupid.” he chuckles.. to himself because I am not laughing. 

“No, I don’t!”

“Right, and Chelsea was what? Totally normal? You didn’t listen to a single one of us on that one, and we all told you.”  I forgot about her. The girl I dated right before ‘she who shall not be named.’ We saw each other for only a few months but what a whirlwind it was. We went to a concert an hour away, and she ran off with one of the roadies. A fricken roadie? Left me there to get home by myself, considering, yep, she drove. But again, she was hot, so what was I to do?

“Hey now! She wasn’t.. that bad.” I say innocently.

“Right, that’s what you always say. Sam – I never take advice from anyone – Kiszka.” 

“Yeah, alright, keep laughing. As if I’d take advice from ‘One Date Daniel’.” I elbow him in my defense. “Besides, I’m not sure I have much to worry about. Once the project is over, I won’t have to see her again unless we actually do well.”

I get up and head to the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge, and my own dog doesn’t even glance up at me. She just rests peacefully by Daniel’s side. I open the drawer to the left and pick up the bottle opener, and pop the top. I take a long drink before I reenter the living room.

“I uhh, actually the receptionist at the Boston Globe is really cute. Her name is Daisy. We hit it off a bit when I was there last.” I point to the flowers laid on the shelf. “I stopped by the farmer’s market after work and picked up some daisies. Thought I might ask her out tomorrow.”

“Daisies for Daisy. Real creative, Sam.”

“Hey!”

“How’s Birdie gonna feel about that?” he inquires. I pick up the flowers from where they rest and give them a light sniff. 

“Oh, she’ll hate it. She already chirped me about hitting on Daisy last time we were there. Said something about ‘it's easier watching teenagers flirt.’ or whatever.” I set them back down and take up my spot on the couch. 

“Yeah, you never did have any game.” He tips his corona back, finishing the remaining liquid and setting it on the coffee table.

“You say that like your game is any better.” I shove his shoulder.

“I may be ‘One Date Daniel,’ but at least I get dates.” he chides, linking his fingers together with a crack of his knuckles in front of him and placing them behind his head.

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Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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[monsoon-of-art]

Donut Hole - Chapter 15

Two Time

I'm out on the block again (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) So hopped up that I can't pretend (Ooh) Two time! (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Stay friends Problem that you can't defend (Oh) Hands up, feel okay (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Whose heart could I break today? Two time! (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Stay friends Problem that you can't defend

[Big long chapter for you guys to snack on!] [ao3 Link!]

The two clan leaders met on the path to Jubilife.

“Good morning, Irida.”

“There is little good about it.”

Adaman smirked a little at this. “Oh, Sinnoh forbid you had to wake up early-”

“There was an accident at my settlement.” she said, the coldness in her voice immediately made Adaman regret his joking quip.

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware. Is it an overstep to ask what happened?”

“Yes. Yes it would be.”

They may have been working together to quell the nobles with the Galaxy Team, but things were still…frosty.

But Adaman wasn’t one to give up. “Just as well.” he said, arms crossed over his chest, his tone casual. “We’ve had issues as well. Currently half of our settlement is buried under mud from a landslide.”

“But it’s not the season for landslides?” Irida said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

“I know. There was…an incident.” he explained. “That's why I’m here, to seek the aid of the Galaxy team. My people can’t handle the frenzied nobles and the aftermath of a landslide.”

Irida was silent for a moment. “...there was a fire. A very bad one. I am here to discuss options-”

“It was the boy, wasn’t it?”

She shot him a surprised look. “How did you-?!”

Adaman shook his head. “Call it a hunch. And between you me, that kid was behind the landslide. He’s been running my poor people ragged. He ruined Iscan’s tent, and he even bit Arezu.”

“He bit her?” she repeated, “I suppose we’re lucky he only caused a fire.”

“That you know of. He’s still in the Icelands, right? Pray your precious mentor can handle him!”

“Well he handled Palina, Lian, and I-” she shook her head. “We are getting off topic. My people need to rebuild, and my Wardens cannot afford any more of their time. He already rattled Ingo something fierce. He won’t tell us what Berry said to him, but it’s clearly bothering him-”

“Well. Then we are here for the same reason.” Adaman drawled. “That kid needs help. And we don’t have the time -”

“- or space -”

“- to do anything about it. But Jubilife should be able to help, right? I’d hate to ask, but this seems like their…thing. They took Dawn in, what’s one more wayward child, right?”

Irida grimaced. “Argh. Dawn. Should we tell her?”

He waved her off. “Nah. Poor girl has so much on her plate already. She doesn’t have to worry about some…feral kid.”

As the two approached the gates, who else but Dawn ran out to greet them. Despite themselves, both Adaman and Irida smiled.

Despite the circumstances of their previous meetings, both of them had grown quite fond of the girl. 

She was a sweet little thing, kind and quiet. Every warden she had previous interactions with spoke highly of her (aside from Melli). And her way with pokemon, while terrifying, was equally as endearing. She really did love them.

“Irida! Adaman! It’s so good to see you!” she chirped upon seeing them, running up and around them like an energetic shinx. “I caught the most AMAZING pokemon yesterday! You have to see him!”

“Oh, I would love to under normal circumstances.” Adaman said, sounding genuinely disappointed. The last time she wanted to show them ‘an amazing pokemon’, it was the Alpha Sliggoo from the mirelands. “However, we must meet with the Commander. Time is short-”

“Oh, come now, Adaman. I am sure your Almighty Sinnoh won’t mind you spending a few moments to entertain her. Besides, I was told to offer well wishes from Ingo.” scolded Irida. “We would love to see your Pokemon, Dawn.”

Dawn’s grin split ear to ear. “I found him on the Coastlands yesterday, and he’s beeeeautiful!”

(Irida was almost positive it would be a Gastrdon. Adaman had his bets on a Drapion.)

Dawn presented the two with a buizel, slightly smaller than average. But the main thing was the color; this particular buizel was a pale yellow, its collar a brilliant white.

“Look! Look! It has different colors!” she squealed, hugging the pokemon tight. “He’s one-in-a-million! He’s absolutely perfect, and we’re going to be best of friends!”

“Wow, I’ve never seen a buizel like that!” Adaman said, looking it up and down. “And I bet you’ll take good care of it.”

“Back home, my bestest friend in the whole world had a buizel.” Dawn said, voice barely above a whisper.

Adaman and Irida shared a look. Dawn rarely, if ever, spoke about her time before Hisui. 

“Yeah?” Irida asked, more than a little curious. “What was he like?”

The dam burst, and Dawn began happily telling the pair everything. 

“Well, we were neighbors, and we went to school together! From the very beginning!” she began, swinging the buizel in her arms like a stuffed toy, practically bouncing in place. “None of the other kids liked him because he talked and talked, but I liked hearing him talk!”

(Irida and Adaman wanted to interject and ask questions, but there was no stopping her now.)

“And we’d go on adventures! We traveled really far! He was always a step ahead of me, but he’d always make sure to wait! And when my bike broke, he’d let me sit behind him on his bike and he’d take me places! We’d share food! He loved- he-he loved-”

The joy in her voice was quickly souring. She had stopped bouncing. Adaman and Irida had noticed the shift, and even the buizel in her arms seemed to be aware.

“H-He loved pecha berries. An-And whenever we’d eat, I-I’d give him my berries. We-We got our pokemon together. W-We were side…side by side…always…always… and…a-and I miss hiimmmmmm…”

Dawn melted into a blubbery, weeping, whining mess, crying into the buizel’s fur. Immediately, Adaman and Irida knelt by her side, trying to comfort her.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, no need for tears now.” Irida cooed, petting the girl’s hair. 

Adaman put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m certain you’ll see him again, Dawn. It sounds like you were the best of friends, and I doubt that Almighty Sinnoh would tear you two apart.”

Dawn wiped at her face, still holding the confused buizel in one arm. “I-I named this buizel after him, a-after an inside joke, where we’d call a buizel ‘Barry’ and I-I’d call my friend ‘Human-Barry’, h-he never thought it was funny-”

“Dawn.” Irida said, an anxious tremor in her voice. “What was your friend’s name again?”

“Barry.” she repeated. “His name is Barry.”

“And…what did he look like?” Irida continued, suddenly looking very pale.

Dawn sniffled a little, the strangeness of the question seemingly distracting her from her sadness. “He…he was slightly taller than me. And blonde, with hair that tended to spike up, no matter how hard he tried. And he loved his green scarf, because he thought it made him look like his dad-”

“His father. What was his father’s name?” Irida continued the questioning, slipping into her ‘leader’ tone of voice.

“Uhm. Palmer?” Dawn squirmed, leaning closer to Adaman. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Irida, back off a little.”

She did so, hesitantly, flitting back like a spooked starly. “I-I apologize, Dawn. This must be hard for you.” She grabbed Adaman’s arm, starting to pull him away. “W-We really must be going now-”

He spun around, confused. “But what about Kamado-”

“I. Need. To Talk. To You. Remember?” Irida said through grit teeth, glancing at Dawn. “Alone.”

Irida dragged him away, giving poor, confused Dawn a polite wave as she did so.

Once a decent distance - out of Dawn’s earshot anyway - Adaman yanked his arm out of Irida’s grip. “Look, is all this really necessary-”

“The Boy that has caused so much havoc. He appeared out of nowhere, with clothing not native to Hisui, with the innate ability to tame pokemon?” Irida hissed through grit teeth. “Sound familiar?”

Adaman blinked. “...Ingo?”

“No! It-” Irida took a moment to stare vacantly into space, processing. “...maybe. Not what I was going for. We’ll put a pin in that.”

Adaman tried again. “You can’t be saying the Boy is the same as Dawn’s friend Barry. What if you’re wrong? Would you be willing to break a little girl’s heart by raising her hopes like that?”

“I’ve seen him. You haven’t. He’s a blonde little boy with spiky hair and a green scarf! Although granted, he looks as though he’s been dragged through dozens of mud puddles - You cannot deny these coincidences!”

“But what if they’re just that? Just coincidences?”

“What if they aren’t?!”

“What if they are?!” Adaman shook his head. “We are going in circles. What do you suggest?”

"We bring Barry to Jubilife. By any means necessary. If he is not Dawn's friend, then the Galaxy Team can take care of him at the least." Irida said. "We'll drag him here if needed."

"That I can agree on. Should we tell Kamado?"

Irida hesitated. Adaman didn't answer either. An uncomfortable silence fell over the two.

Adaman finally answered for her. "...so that's a no. Let's get Barry here first. And we'll explain along the way. I'll tell my Wardens. I still believe this to be nothing more than a series of unfortunate coincidences."

"And I believe you to be a fool."

---

When Barry finally woke, most of the egg pokemon were gone. A few chansey and happiny lingered, but the rest of the herd had left.

He awoke to a shrill noise, one that annoyed him initially, but after a moment caused alarm.

It was crying. 

Barry sprang to his feet, ignoring the confused noises of his team, the aching in his legs, and the cold starting to seep into his bones.

“Someone’s in trouble-!” he muttered as he darted across the frozen, snowy wastes. “Someone’s in trouble! Someone’s in trouble!”

The crying grew louder, enough for Barry to realize it wasn’t a baby or child crying. It was a pokemon cry, but that did very little to dissuade him.

Finally he crested a hill, seeing the source; a little snover, wailing and crying as it tried to pull its foot out of a snare trap.

Barry felt his blood start to boil.

What heartless, absolute dickhead of a person would set traps for pokemon like this? Didn’t they have pokeballs? Unless…Unless they were going to kill this snover.

He carefully approached. “Hey, hey buddy. I’m here to help!” he said, keeping his voice low and soft.

The snover whined, trying to squirm away. “It’s OK buddy, I’m gonna let you go now. But don’t freak out.” Barry reached into his pocket for his knife, leaning forward to cut the trap.

The pokemon whined louder, fearing the knife in his hands, but the snover seemed to settle when it noticed Barry was cutting the trap and not at it. It even allowed Barry to cut the twine wrapped around its foot.

“There! You’re free!”

Barry was caught off guard when the snover almost tackled the boy in a hug. But he returned it as best as he could, if a little awkward. “Yeah! You’re welcome buddy! You’re free!”

When he let go, the snover continued to stare up at him. And when he started to walk back, the snover started to follow.

“Oh, you are. Coming with me.” said Barry, seeing the snover waddling behind him with determination. “How does this keep happening to me?”

Barry - with snover in tow - returned to the dug out cave where his confused pokemon were waiting for him. “So uh. I found this guy.” he glanced at the snover. “...girl. Unsure. But I think they’re gonna stick around!”

His pokemon chittered amongst themselves, as if discussing their new companion. Barry turned to the snover. “Well? Got any neat tricks or anything?”

The snover paused, looking down at the ground, thoughtful. Then, around its midsection, small white berries began to form. Once they were the size of a strawberry, the snover plucked one and handed it to Barry.

Barry didn’t hesitate in popping the berry into his mouth. It had the texture of frozen yogurt, and it tasted mildly sweet.

“...I’m gonna call you Snacks.”

The now-named Snacks gave an appreciative croon. But then it glanced down at its foot, red and swollen from the snare trap. Barry also gave it a glance with a frown. “...I bet there’s oran berries around here.”

Rummaging in his bag, Barry said, “Alright team, slight detour while we look for oran berries for-”

He paused, realizing that Fern and Pest did not technically have pokeballs. That was very dangerous, especially now that Barry had no way to carry Fern if they were injured.

Returning to his bag, he pulled out one of the remaining great balls and pokeball. “Fern, you have seniority, so you get first pick. Which one do ya want?”

Fern trilled, shaking its head. “No, c’mon. You need a pokeball for emergencies. If you get hurt I can’t drag you to a pokemon center. I won’t even keep you in it, but you need one!”

With this reassurance, Fern relented. As its paw hovered over the great ball, Barry quickly snatched it back. “Actually I want Pest in the great ball. I want the colors to match. You’re kinda red, Fern!”

Giving the boy an annoyed glance, Fern picked up the pokeball, carefully turning it over in its hands. Satisfied, Fern tapped the pokeball to its forehead, allowing itself to be captured.

(Pest thought it was a game, dodging the pokeball for a time, but he too, allowed himself to be captured.)

Upholding his promise, Barry released the two as soon as they were registered to their respective pokeballs. “Alright! Let’s start looking for some berries, then we can get back to the mountain! Spread out, but don’t go too far!”

Mystery cawed and cawed, gesturing to something behind the boy.

Glancing over his shoulder, Barry saw a little sitrus berry, set in the snow just beyond the dug-out entrance. And beyond the sitrus berry was another. And another. And another. Dozens of sitrus berries in a neat little line, leading off to…somewhere.

“That’s…odd.”

Normally, Barry would be very suspicious. If anything, this looked like a trap from a cartoon. But this wasn’t a cartoon, and he sincerely hoped that Team Galactic didn’t think he was this stupid.

There was no chance this was one of Team Galatic’s tricks. No, it must’ve been the chanseys! Trying to lead him somewhere.

So Barry and his odd little companions followed the trail of berries. He made sure his pokemon got their fill in this unexpected berry feast before tucking them away in his bag for later.

If he squinted, Barry could see the trail of yellow and blue berries snaking through the snow, twisting around a group of enormous icy spires. Maybe that’s where the blissey and chansey normally lived?

He was finding it a bit harder to cling on to his ‘chansey’ theory, especially as the giant ice blocks loomed above them all…

Fern too, seemed to sense something he didn’t. It stuck to Barry’s side, eyes darting about. His other pokemon were still collecting berries without a care.

After crossing between two massive pillars, Fern froze. As if standing steps away from a threshold of some kind, Fern refused to take a step further.

“...buddy?” Barry whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Then, Barry made the unfortunate mistake - or perhaps very fortunate mistake - of looking behind them.

There was a Magmortar clearly stalking them. Following the trail of footsteps they had left in the snow, obviously trying not to be seen.

Barry felt his heart skip a beat.

This was a trap, wasn't it.

“Don’t take anymore berries.” Barry hissed, keeping the magmortar in the corner of his vision. “We need to leave.”

But to his horror, he could see another stalking figure just outside of the ice pillars; an Electivire prowling the outskirts, blocking him in. The only path he could take was deeper into the ice.

Vaguely, Barry recalled nature documentaries. Packs of Pyroar intentionally luring their prey into bottlenecks or blockades, where they had no chance of escape.

Was he the prey?

Was he going to die here?

Barry found himself reaching into his bag and clutching his knife.

Barry and his team found the end of the berry trail, leading into a large clearing in the ice. And at the end of the trail was a shirtless man and a young girl.

The man glanced at the girl. "I cannot believe that worked."

"I told you it would! My clairvoyance is never wrong!"

Instinctively, Barry pushed his pokemon behind him. "Who are you? Are you part of Team Galactic?"

The man burst into a bellowing laugh. Only then did Barry realize - to his bewilderment and slight disgust - the man's chest hair was trimmed into the circular symbol of the Galactic splinter group.

It was obvious he was part of Galactic.

 "If I wasn't so furious, I'd almost be tempted to go easy on you for that!" The man said after settling himself down some, but a very irritated grin was still on his face. "Proper introductions are in order. I am Gaeric, Warden of the Pearl Clan!"

"And my name is Sabi, of the Diamond clan."

"You are Berry! The strange, wayward child that sets settlements ablaze and causes landslides!" Gaeric crossed his arms over his chest. The irritated grin was gone, leaving only anger. "And you will go no further."

The electivire slowly stomped into the clearing, the magmortar entering opposite it. From behind, Barry recognized the familiar silhouette of a Rhyperior.

Cornered. Trapped. Prey.

"Here are your options!" Gaeric held up a hand. "You willing come with me to the Pearl Settlement, and you wait while we decide how to punish you for your crimes. Or…we drag you there by the ankles."

"Ooooh, tough choices!" Sabi chirped. "Which will you pick, hmmm?"

Barry glanced between the three pokemon trudging through the snow to reach him. It felt like hundreds of battle strategies and movesets and possibilities raced through his mind at impossible speeds.

(He remembered fighting side by side with Her. He had begged her to come to the Fight Area, and she had gotten lost trying to find the ferry in snowpoint. Oh, oh how he had teased her for that. “I thought it was my job to get lost!” he said between fits of giggling.)

(Then, Flint and Volkner had challenged the two to a battle. With Her by Barry’s side, he knew the two of them would never lose. Flint sent out his magmortar and Volkner sent out his electivire, and-)

“Pest! String shot on the electivire, it’s fastest, so we gotta slow it down. Then, keep it distracted! Keep it confused! String shot, confusion, quiver dance! Go!” he barked, Pest launching itself off his head to follow the orders.

“Mystery! You take on the magmortar! Dodge the blasts, get in what hits you can! Haze to keep yourself hidden!” With a loud squawk, Mystery took flight, circling the fire type pokemon from above.

Finally, Barry turned to face the rhyperior behind him. “Jen! You’re on the rhyperior! It’s slow and bulky, so skirt around it until there’s an opening! No necessary risks, got it?!”

Fern shifted, ready to join the others in combat, but Barry grabbed its arm. “Not yet. Stay here. I doubt that’s all the pokemon they have…”

And his assumption was correct.

Gaeric groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling loudly. “I knew you would do something stupid like this. Fine. If you want to fight so bad, I’ll give you a fight!”

Behind him floated in a glalie and froslass, both of them looking to the man for orders. “Freeze the boy! We’ll drag him to the settlement as an ice cube if we must!”

“Fern, take care of the ice types! I’ll protect Snacks!”

And Fern was all-too-happy to spring into action; the glalie, the froslass, and Fern circling one another in a strange, combative dance, none of them wanting to take the first shot.

Sabi frowned as she looked at all the battles before her, “You’re being so rough to my friends! That’s not how playing works! You’re being so mean!” she said with a whine.

With their Pokemon engaged in combat, Barry began to slowly move away from the battlefield, Snacks shuffling awkwardly behind him. He was looking for a potential exit, an escape plan. But it looked like they were trapped by ice and the trio of ‘friends’.

His hand was still in his bag, gripping the knife’s handle so tight it felt like he was about to lose circulation in his fingers. He was completely trapped. Cornered. Cornered. Cornered.

Gaeric, as if sensing Barry intent to escape, began making his way closer. Barry started to tremble, pressing himself against the pillar of ice behind him. Snacks let out a mournful croon, wrapping its arms around Barry’s legs.

But the man stopped. He stopped a few yards away, arms crossed. He had a strange look on his face that Barry couldn’t identify; the irritation and anger was still there…but just underneath was something softer.

“You’re not leaving.” Gaeric finally said. “I know you flee at the first chance you get. It’s not happening.”

Barry pulled out his knife, holding it with a shaking hand. “S-Stay back! I'm warning you!"

“Who taught you how to hold a knife?" Gaeric asked with an unimpressed frown. “Look at that stance! You know what-” he resumed his stride, gesturing at Barry. “Give me that. Give me the knife.”

“W-WHAT?” Barry squealed, pressing himself even more against the ice.

He didn’t actually want to have to use the knife. Barry was hoping he could bluff his way out of this, and clearly he could not.

Gaeric grabbed the boy’s wrist, the same hand currently holding the knife. “Alright. Give me the knife. You’re going to hurt someone.”

“AH- LET GO OF ME!” Barry shouted, scrambling to pull himself away. But the larger man was as solid as a boulder. 

“Give me the knife!”

“NO!”

“Just give me the knife!”

A near in-human noise clawed out of Barry’s throat as he squirmed and writhed in Gaeric’s grip. He tugged and pulled, his free hand clawing at Gaeric’s wrist.

Gaeric stood there, looking at Barry as if the boy had transformed into a feral shinx before his very eyes. “You are freaking me out. Listen, you’re not going to win this fight. Look-”

He pulled the boy over, twisting him around to show the battlefield. Pest was still keeping the electivire distracted, Mystery was dodging the magmortar attacks, Jen was still keeping the rhyperior occupied.

Fern was currently locked in battle with his glalie, attempting to land a punch on the floating ice type. What Fern didn’t notice, though, was froslass creeping behind it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with your deformed Gardevoir…Gallade…thing. But whatever it is, I know it won’t be able to take a shadow ball in the back.”

“FERN!” Barry screamed, still trying to tear his wrist from Gaeric’s grip. “FERN BEHIND YOU!”

The warning came just moments too late. Fern was just barely able to spin around and raise an arm to try and protect itself from the attack. 

The shadow ball was a direct hit.

Fern was engulfed in an explosion of purple, ghostly energy.

But when the smoke cleared, Fern was still standing. Shaking, clearly injured, but still standing.

Gaeric’s jaw dropped. “What in Sinnoh’s name IS that thing?!”

“That’s my FRIEND, you ASSHOLE!” Barry practically screamed, continuing his writhing struggles.

Snacks was crying behind him. Pest and Mystery were clearly growing tired. Jen was barely dodging attacks. Fern was outnumbered.

His pokemon needed him. His pokemon needed him! 

“NOW LET! ME! GO!”

Barry kicked him. Kicked him hard. Right between his legs.

The surprised and pained squeak from the man was almost satisfying. But more importantly, as Gaeric slumped to the ground, he let go of Barry's wrist.

His glalie and froslass, alerted by their master’s distress, abandoned combat with Fern. 

“FERN!” Barry shouted, trying - and failing - to pick up Snacks. (Since when were snovers so heavy?) “GO HELP JEN!”

A bit slow from the shadow ball, Fern eventually staggered over to the rhyperior.

“Hey! That’s no fair! And no fun!” Sabi yelled from…somewhere. Barry had kind of lost track of her in the fight. But he finally noticed her on top of one of the pillars with a giant bird. “You’re cheating!”

And said giant bird looked mean. There was no way his team could take that thing on, not now.

“I’m fine with that!” Barry yelled back. “Take out the rhyperior!”

The rhyperior wasn’t sure which target to focus on with Fern joining the fray, and this confusion was enough for Jen to land a well-placed water pulse and for Fern to hit with a close combat immediately after.

The enormous rock pokemon staggered, falling onto its back. It wiggled pitifully, like a stuck ledyba.

It wasn’t fainted. But it was an opening.

“LEAVING NOW! LEAVING NOW!” Barry called to his team. He grabbed his very last pokeball, tapping it against Snacks’ head to capture it. “Sorry bud, you’re real slow. Fern, Jen, you too-” and he recalled them for good measure.

He could hear Pest and Mystery start to fly after him. But he could also hear the screech and wingbeats of the giant bird under Sabi’s command.

Barry risked glancing over his shoulder. The giant bird was gaining on them, any moment it’d swoop down and crush Mystery and Pest between its talons-

That was, until Mystery spun right around and smacked it with assurance. The giant bird, either taken by surprise or genuinely hurt, let out a loud squawk and gave up chasing them entirely. It flew back to Sabi, metaphorically tucking its tail between its legs like a frightened poochyena.

“HA! YOUR STUPID BIRD CAN’T HANDLE US!” He shouted, Mystery letting out a loud caw in agreement.

“YOU ATTACKED LORD BRAVIARY?!” the girl squealed, Braviary pitifully crooning and nudging its head into her chest. “You’re going to be in sooooooooooo much trouble!!”

“I don’t care what pedigree or whatever that thing is! You’re lucky I didn’t fine you two!”

With the electivire breaking the silk slowing it down and the magmortar helping the rhyperior back onto its feet, Barry knew it was time to leave.

He ran back into the frozen wastes, Pest and Mystery flying just behind, hoping that Gaeric and Sabi were too slow to give chase.

Luckily for him, they didn’t bother giving chase at all.

Sabi and Lord Braviary made their way to Gaeric, curled up on his side, on the ground. “Well. That could’ve gone worse.” she said with a shrug.

Gaeric laid there for a moment before asking, “...Sabi. How much of that fight could you see…with your foresight?”

“Hmmmmm, I saw most of it. Attacking Lord Braviary was a surprise-”

“So you knew. He’d kick me in the dick. And you said. Nothing?”

“Yeah! It was sooo funny!”

He groaned again, “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

---

[Finally!! Dawn Speaks!!! And the Leaders know…….] [And a team update! Now featuring Snacks!]

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

here's some more dream and dawn dialogue because it is finally forming the shape of something in my brain and i need to get it out. again, not sure if this will turn into a whole fic, but we'll see where this leads.

“Will you be there," she asked, "in the end? When the last human falls asleep and can no longer pray for the morning?”

"We don't need to speak of that now," he murmured. "It will be a long time before the sun sets on humanity."

Even with his words of comfort, she felt his hand squeeze hers just a little tighter. The fear of the last twenty four hours hadn’t waned for either of them.

"But will you?" she pressed.

He didn’t answer right away. She could feel them inching towards something, a moment they both knew was coming but still reluctant to face. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to delay it a moment longer.

“Yes,” he confessed. “And for much longer after.”

She nodded, steeling herself for the question she truly wanted to ask.

“Will you stay with me then? I know your sister is kind, but if I could, I’d like one final dream before I go.” 

“If that is what you wish,” he said, with a softness that made her ache. “But we would not be parted for long. On another world, somewhere far away, the sun will rise and those dwelling beneath its light shall dream of the dawn, praying for its return.”

She shook her head. “It won’t be me. I won’t be the same.”

He pulled her closer then, allowing his lips to press against her forehead as if he meant to absorb her warmth into his skin.

“Some things may change, but who you are will not. You will bring the hope of the morning with you until the last being of that world slips away into the darkness. And then you will be born again, and again and again until the end of it all."

Her throat was tight. She could feel the promise of tears behind her eyes, but they did not fall. She simply closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into his touch.

“And will you be there?" she asked.

“To every end and every beginning."

Despite herself, she smiled. “You make me wonder how many times we’ve had this conversation.”

“Enough to know it’s true.”

[ice-cap-k]

The Engineer that Couldn't

Really feeling the burnout. Only a few more days left.

Cross-posted to AO3 here: The Engineer that Couldn't

______________________________________________

The panel dropped back into place as I pulled the lever. The floor heaved beneath me, almost sending me stumbling back into the engine car’s door. My free arm braced against the wall, refusing to let go of the lever even as I felt it twist in my palm. "Come on. Come on. You got this…"

I willed it to work with everything I had in me. I prayed, I begged, I wished… All my knowledge on how to run this train wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t get it to start. The universe answered in kind. The engines whirred to life in a flurry of blinking lights and fluttering gage needles. The floor lept beneath my feet once more. This time, I couldn’t keep my balance. My legs slipped out from under me and I hit the corrugated metal with a grunt of pain. That was going to leave a bruise.

Wrought metal groaned as wheels began to move somewhere beneath me. It worked!  So I let go of the lever, letting it flick back into place. The familiar rattle of the old RBBX was music to the ears. The engine room hummed all around me as lights blinked in lazy, brightly colored patterns.

A laugh bubbled up from deep inside my chest as I looked around. I was so tired. It had taken all night, but I had finally done it! The train was finally functional once more. 

I slapped my hands against the denim covering my knees and pushed myself back onto my feet. A flick of a few switches later, and the car powered back down. The main control panel was a little warm to the touch but not enough to be a cause of concern. She would be fine. Despite knowing that the train couldn’t feel it, I felt the need to pat the edges of the main control table fondly as if to congratulate it on the job well done. “Good to have you back.”  

The motors began to slow to a smooth hum. 

Once the last of the clicks and groans died out, I flipped the latch on the door of the engine room. The morning sun was blindingly bright compared to the cozy little car. The light highlighted every grease smear I had accumulated along my arms and down the legs of my pants. They hadn’t been as noticeable in the dim cab. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though. Keeping this thing running was always messy work.

The train was like my baby. It was my pride and joy. As the engineer who ran it, it was my responsibility to keep her as happy and healthy as a train could be. It hasn’t always been easy, though. It was old. Really old. Old enough that replacement parts were no longer in production. It was getting harder to find usable components, but lately I had been finding ways to get creative. This wasn't the first time I’ve managed to repurpose a few loose scraps of iron.  

I was just in the middle of admiring my own work, taking in the sight of the old train framed by the nearby trees when I heard the telltale sounds of grass shifting. It was subtle, but it was there. Someone was coming up from behind, and their wheels sounded a little squeaky. I smiled, wondering if I had left a can of oil back in the engine cart with my toolbox. I could fix that squeak in no time. 

"I saw those lights flash a moment ago," a familiar voice asked from somewhere behind me. "Did it work, Impulse? Was it the starter thingy like you thought?"

"It did.” I could feel the smile stretching across my face. "It was."

"Look at you! Amazing!"

"Thanks, Scar." One of my cheeks was beginning to itch in the slight morning breeze. Without thinking, I reached up to scratch at it absent-mindedly.  My blackened fingers came away smudged, and it dawned on me that I still hadn’t cleaned up. There had to be grease marks on my face by now. "At the very least, it will last us until the next town if we have to leave."

Scar rolled up closer until I could see him through the corner of my eye. The other man was already dressed in his elaborate red tailcoat. His signature top hat was sitting on his lap, half obscured by the armrests of his wheelchair. The ringmaster looked just as pleased as I felt. "Appreciated. I don't plan on us having to pack up right away for any reason, but it's good to know she'll live to chug another day."

There was a flutter of red as Scar offered up the handkerchief from his pocket. I flashed him a grateful smile before reaching out and plucking it from Scar’s hands. I didn’t want to get any grease on him. Scar had a show he was preparing for tonight and other things to worry about. I didn’t need to add ‘accidental grease stains’ to the list so I was careful not to accidentally bump his fingers with my own. 

At least the scrap of fabric worked surprisingly well to rub away the layer of black and grey coating my hands. "Alright, Scar. You caught me in between projects. What do you need?" 

When I was done, I offered the soiled handkerchief back out to the other man. "Well…" Scar took it with a thinly veiled look of disgust and a shrug. The look on his face almost made me laugh as he draped it across one of his armrests instead of returning it back to his pocket. "I know you’ve been busy, but now that you’re finished with the train, could you take a look at one of the rope thingies in the big top?”

I felt my own eyebrows raise. Scar was no expert on tools. That’s why the ringmaster and many other members of the circus came to me for help. I was the guy who made things happen, that way the people who actually performed in the show could do so without a hitch. But I still needed more information to go off of than that simple description. “Rope thingies?” 

“Yeah! You know, the thing that pulls the rope up when we raise the tent. It’s like a big fishing reel, but for rope instead of string.” 

“You mean the winch?”

Scar snapped his fingers and grinned. “That’s it! That’s the thing. The wench!”

“Winch,” I corrected softly, fighting to hold back a snort of laughter. “Why? What’s wrong with it?

“Oh. Well, there’s smoke coming out of its side, and something definitely fell from the east pole."

That wiped the smile right off of my face. That didn’t sound good at all. “You mean one of the poles propping the tent up? That east pole?!?”

“Yeah. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Uh… yeeeeah,” I said nervously. There were any number of pulleys, hooks, or ropes on that pole that were meant to be supporting the tent. The rigging had to be carefully placed to keep the heavy canvas held in place.  And if the winch was failing, then that end of the tent was probably going to-

Someone shouted from the edge of the big top. “THE TENT!” I whirled around to see Pearl and Grian come rolling out from under the tarp making up the side wall of the tent. As soon as they managed to crawl clear of the fabric, they scrambled to their feet and backed away just in time to watch one of the ropes holding up the canvas snap. 

I broke into a run. In retrospect, I feel bad for leaving Scar where he sat. He couldn’t keep up with me on his own, but my brain was short-circuiting with all the panic. I couldn’t just sit there and watch. I had to do something.

I tore my way across the open field towards the two performers.  The tent was starting to wobble on its supports as I got close. I cupped my hands around my mouth to make myself louder and shouted “Get out of there! The whole thing’s coming down!”

Pearl and Grian had enough sense to back away from the tent as quickly as their legs could carry them. A few other people came streaming from the front entrance as it started to sway. I could see Stress among them, and behind her came Wels and Ren. They were having some difficulty moving considering the three were in full makeup and costume, but they still managed to clear the tent flaps. It vaguely occurred to me that they had probably been practicing their act, but that train of thought went abandoned when the east support wobbled.

The center of the tarp was dragged back and forth, back and forth, back and forth with the motion of the pole. Half the tent collapsed in on itself as it finally tilted a little too far. It knocked into the center and westward poles like dominos. The tarp they supported came fluttering back down.

Surprised shouts and startled screams of the circus workers still inside reached my ears.

It kicked up a massive breeze as all the air was pushed out from under the falling canvas. The center fell flat like a deflated balloon so that only the outside edges of the fabric propped up on smaller stakes around the tent border remained standing. 

My feet carried me to its edge a few seconds later, Grian and Pearl rushing into action beside me. “I don’t know what happened,” Pearl said, voice wavering. Grian shoved aside the fabric covering one of the poles so we could get to the underside of the fallen tarp. 

“I think I do,” I said. Without waiting, I rushed through the opening Grian was holding and started shoving my way forward. I reached out ahead of me as I moved, heaving the canvas up over my head so I could keep making headway. The effect was almost claustrophobic. The fabric pressed in ahead of me and fell away behind me like the tunnel of a cave. Pearl brushed past the fabric at my side, rushing head-first under the canvas as well. “Let’s just get everyone out,” I said, falling in behind her. “And then I’ll fix this.”

_______________________________________________________________

Turns out, they were pretty lucky.

Most of the people who had gotten caught under the fallen tent were close to the sides when it came down on top of them. Nobody had gotten hurt. Just a little shaken. 

Helping with hauling the pillars back upright was a lot of hard work. They were extremely heavy and tall, so everyone in the circus pitched in as well. We had to clear away the tent tarp to hook loops of rope into the top. Then the base had to be grounded in place and tilted upright once more. 

But now things had settled down. The beams were back upright, but the tarp still had to be pitched. The others were dispersing, leaving to go back to whatever they had been working on before the big top fell down. Scar was redirecting people to take care of the equipment that had to be dragged off the train just so they could lift the pole. I managed to catch his eye with a wave of my hand. Scar nodded in acknowledgment but was still busy talking to Gem and Etho about where the truck they had used to redirect the poles was supposed to be parked. 

I took that as my que to go find the winch. It would still need fixing, and now that the tent cover was back on the ground they would need it more than before to help heft the fabric back up to its place on top of the supports. When I started shouldering my way through the crowd, away from the truck, someone else fell in my wake.

“Hey Impulse.”

“What’s up, Grian?”

Grian stepped up alongside me with a smirk. “Nothing much. What about you? Where are you going?”

“Not far. I’ve got a winch and pulley system to check before the tent can go up again.”

“Yeah… about that…” He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. To my surprise, he pulled out an entire pulley block that looked two sizes too big for his pocket. “This thing nearly got me in the dome before the whole place came down.” He held it out for me and I took it, turning the block in my hands to get a better look.

The oblong object had two large pulleys nested in a black casing that ended in a large loop meant to clip onto a bracket. The loop itself was broken. The clasp hung uselessly from its hinge. That would need fixing. “Dangit,” I hissed. The hinge practically fell to pieces when I poked at it. “Well, it’s no wonder that the tent fell.”

Grian froze at that. There was a guilty look in his eyes as shoved his hands into his pockets. “I take it that means you’re going to be busy with that for the rest of the day?”

“Nah. It will take a bit of time to weld up, but I should have it fixed in no time.” I decided to leave out the part about the winch. Grian was following me towards the back of the half-pitched tent where it was supposed to be. First I needed to check how extensive that damage was, but it probably wouldn’t take too long to get running once more. “Then we can get the tarp back up.”

The guilt in Grian’s eyes immediately shifted to excitement. “Great! And what are you doing after that?”

Oh. So Grian actually wanted something from me. That nearly stopped me in my tracks. I stumbled a little but corrected myself. Considering a recent crash the pilot had been a part of, I had an idea of what was coming. 

The winch was in sight by now. So was a trail of smoke coming out its side. I nearly let out a whistle in awe. Scar sure hadn’t been kidding. That wasn’t a good sign at all. 

Still, that winch wouldn’t take too long, right? What else did I have on my list of things to do today? Sleeping would have been nice, since I didn’t get much last night. Getting the train functioning again was more important, though. I could live without sleep. Then there were the lifts and the pyrotechnics that the acrobats used that still needed to be set up for tonight. And Etho’s spinning mechanical see-saw that needed to be hauled out of the storage cart and checked for damage. And the spinning target wheel for Cleo and Jevin’s act needed to be assembled…

“Uh… Maybe fixing a few things here and there,” I finally answered. “Why? What’s up?”

“Well, as you know, there was a little incident with my plane the other day,” Grian said, drawing out his words with a knowing smile. 

“Mmmhmm.” I nodded, fighting back against the urge to roll my eyes. He wasn’t fooling anyone. 

Grian’s act was a dangerous one. He was a barnstormer. He earned his living by flying an old Jenny propeller plane that was even older than the RBBX train. Once in the air, he was supposed to set the controls so the plane would fly itself while he crawled out onto the wings to perform tricks. 

We all knew he had accidentally forgotten to check the autopilot before taking off. 

“And until my plane can get back in the sky, my act is grounded,” he continued. “So I was wondering if you could take a look at it and see if it’s something you could fix up quickly? I really want to be part of the show tonight if I can.” 

“I thought Mumbo was helping you fix that thing up?” 

Grian let out a heavy sigh. “He was,” he huffed, sounding a little bored. “I guess he still is, but lately he’s been busy with some big new project of his. Besides, you’re much faster. Everyone knows that you’re the guy to go to for help. Especially this kind of stuff.”

“Well, yeah,” I admitted. I scratched at the back of my neck as if that would help hide the fact that I wasn’t feeling confident about this at all. “But an entire plane in a day, Grian? That’s a bit of a tall order…”

“Please! Just a look.” His dark eyes grew wide and pleading, sparkling like a puppy begging for a scrap of food. It was a powerful look, and it was working.

What’s one more thing on his plate?

“Maybe just a peak,” I said, giving in. “I’ll take a look after I’m all caught up and see what I can do.”

“YES! Hee hee heeee!” Grian threw both fists into the air. He shook them excitedly before bouncing over and gripping my shoulders. It didn’t hurt, but he gently shook me with a smile like it was meant to be some sort of hug. “Thank you, Impulse! You’re the best.” He let me go, only to turn back towards the remaining few people lingering by the truck. “I’m supposed to be helping False, so I won’t be able to help you right now. I’ll check in at five and see how it’s going. See you then?”

“I’ll be there,” I say, backstepping. I couldn’t help but spare a glance at the broken pulley block still in my hand that I somehow needed to get fifteen feet up in the air and attached to the load-bearing rope. “See you then.”

_______________________________________________________

The winch was finally fixed. 

It took me a few hours, but the winch was fixed and the pulley block was in place. Both were working hard to haul the tarp back up to its rightful place. I was working alongside a few other circus carnies, making sure the ropes didn’t become tangled with each other as the machine spooled them. With a heave, I used a metal bar to pry the bindings apart before they could overlap. By the time the tent was back in its place, it was past noon and I was exhausted.

“Nice work,” Beef said, shaking out his arms to loosen up the muscles after pinning the rope to the ground with a rod and a few swings of the sledgehammer. “Looks like we’re back up and running.”

“Great,” I said, dropping my makeshift crowbar and moving toward my toolbox. “Now back to work.”

“Work?” Doc stepped out from behind the winch, where he had been keeping an eye on the newly replaced motor gearbox in case any more issues reared their ugly head. “I thought I was the one who was always on the grind. Where are you off to, man? It’s show night.���

“Exactly.” My arms protested under the weight of the toolbox, but I ignored the aching soreness. “I’ve still gotta go take care of some things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Someone needs to check the lifts to make sure they’re safe. And Etho’s rig needs to be tested. And I’m pretty sure Jevin and Cleo’s wheel still needs to be put together. I didn’t get around to that last night. Oh, and Grian asked me to take a look at his plane too.”  

Beef and Doc shared a glance before turning back to me. I smiled and shrugged at the concerned looks they were giving. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but clearly, they thought otherwise. “Uh, that sounds like a lot, buddy,” Beef said, picking up the prybar I had just dropped. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get all that done on your own?”

Doc nodded. “Do you need some help? We could probably take care of a few things, and Etho knows his way around redstone signals, too.” Beef snapped his fingers at Doc, smiling as if he had just realized something. “Good point! He could probably take care of his own machine tonight.”

“It’s fine. Thank you for the offer, but you both know I don’t mind helping out. I do need to get a move on, though, so if you gentlemen will excuse me…” They frowned as I pivoted on my heel. There were a few footsteps from behind me, but whether they intended to follow and decided against it, or just shrugged it off and moved on to their next task, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t look back, and by the time I had made it three steps out from under the big top, Gem appeared.

“Hey Impulse,” she said, practically skipping up. “How’s it going?”

“Hey Gem,” I hummed back. I didn’t slow down for her. Instead, she quickened her pace to walk alongside me. “Going great. How about you?”

“I’m good. Actually, I was just talking to Scar about starting a petting zoo.”

“Oooh, and how did that go?”

“Not so great.” Her eyes narrowed and nose scrunched up as she spared a look towards the ringmaster’s personal train car. “He’s worried about transporting the animals, but we already have an entire cart dedicated to Bdub’s horses. I didn’t think it would be that difficult to find some space for a couple of goats and chickens.”

“Is that all he’s worried about?” I chuckled. “I could probably whip up some automated holding pens.” It wouldn’t even be that difficult of a task. There was always room in the stable cart’s loft. 

“Well, he did mention having to buy feed as well, but I think it would be worth it. We could always charge to feed the animals. Just think of all the kids that come to the circus. What little kid wouldn’t want to pet a goat?” She huffed. “Maybe you could talk to him  about that holding pen tonight?”

“Tonight?!”

“Yeah! Of course tonight. And you know Scar. He’s going to want to see what you mean. If you could have an example made up by then, then there’s no way he’ll think it’s a bad idea if you’re the one doing it. You always have good ideas. Maybe you could convince him that it would be worth it?”

She wasn’t pulling out the puppy dog eyes like Grian, but this was Gem. Gem was great, and a good friend. We got along well, and when she set her sights on something there was no changing her mind. She also knew how to butter me up. “Alright,” I agreed, adding another mental note to the growing checklist of things that needed to be done.

“Thank you, Impulse,” Gem beamed. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was not surprised that I had given in so easily. “I’ll see you tonight after the show. Are you going to be in the stands?”

If I had time to watch the show, I would. But that’s not what I said, though. 

“I’ll be there.”

_____________________________________________________________________

“Hey Impy! How’s it going?”

Tango’s blond head appeared upside down in front of me so suddenly that I nearly jumped out my boots. The socket wrench dropped from my hand as I scrambled backward. “AHHH!”

“Hehhehhehhehheh,” he giggled, swinging back up out of sight. “Sorry! Sorry, but man you should have seen the look on your face. I really got you there.”

“You did not,” I snapped, snatching the wrench back up. “I was just super focused. That’s all.”

When I looked up, I could catch flashes of his red pants and bright hair through the trusses beneath the lift. He was lowering himself from the top of the counter weight. The metal bars clattered as he climbed through them with ease. I would have said something about how dangerous that would be if the lift started to move. It was a good way to get yourself squished. But Tango knew what he was doing. He had a good eye for circuitry and electronics, just like me. He knew that the lift was fully powered down for the moment. 

I could still hear him laughing from somewhere above me. “Hhmhm hmph… Sure you were.” 

The bars clattered again. I had just enough time to step out of the way before Tango slid down the set of ropes tethered to stage weights beneath the platform floor. He lept off before he could hit the ballast I was working on and dropped down next to where I had been standing. “Whoah!” He rocked on his heels, struggling to maintain his balance. Arms pinwheeled as he tried to right himself. 

I had half the mind to give him a little push. Nothing hard enough to hurt, but just enough to tip him over the edge. What I actually ended up doing, though, was reaching out to give him my hand. 

He grabbed on tight, and I held firm while he used my grip to anchor himself. I let go when he had both feet stable on the ground. “Thanks, man!”

“Looks like you need more practice before the show tonight,” I teased, turning back to the lift. There was a snag in the motion of one of the ropes that I was trying to get to the bottom of before they started admitting audience members. It wasn’t about to take care of itself. 

Tango waved my words off with a brazen grin. He made himself comfortable instead, sitting down on one of the scaffolding poles holding up the stage around us. “Nah. I’m not interested in becoming a flier. My act is still on the ground for now. At least until we can figure out the best way to keep the ropes from catching on fire.”

“Stress would thank you if you could keep your clothes from catching on fire first.” 

Tango only shrugged. “Hey, these things happen sometimes. It’s an occupational hazard. Now what are you doing?” He leaned in a little closer as I loosened the bolt on the side of the ballast. There was a curious glint in his eye as I pulled the box open to check inside. Sure enough, the stacked weights were tilted. It wouldn’t cause any damage to the finely tuned weight system, but the uneven balance had caused the ropes to pull unsteadily. Thank goodness it was such an easy fix.

“Trying to make sure everything checks out alright for tonight,” I said. The ballast door slammed closed a little harder than I intended. “Why? Do you need something?”

“Nah. I’m good. Just thought I’d keep you company. Maybe ask if you wanted to hit up this restaurant I’ve been hearing about since we rolled into town… Why do you ask?”

I thought of Scar and Grian and Gem. Enough people had come by asking for things that I must have just come to expect it. “I guess I just thought you might have needed help for some reason. I’ll have to pass on lunch, though. There’s too much I gotta do, still.” Once the counterweights in the ballast were righted, I swung the door shut. It hit harder than I expected. Both me and Tango winced as it slammed into place.

The smile dropped off of Tango’s face, only to be replaced with a confused frown.  “Lunch? Buddy, it’s six in the evening.”

Six? 

“You’re kidding! No, it’s not…”  I looked at my watch. Sure enough, it was ten minutes past six. “Oh my gosh, it is.” Where had all that time gone? At least I had managed to check the gas lines and Etho’s rig hadn't been oiled. But I still needed to set up the sparkler machines and I had promised Hypno two hours earlier that I would finish hooking up the spotlights for tonight's show. Not to mention that I hadn’t even started looking at Grian’s plane or Gem’s holding pens. 

Grian! I had completely forgotten about meeting up with Grian at five!

I had to get this thing closed up and rush to the next thing, and fast. The show would be starting in two hours. That wasn’t nearly enough time to get everything done. So I stuck my socket wrench over the bolt and wound it up as fast as I could.

“Hey, if you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast then I can help out with something,” Tango offered, standing back up. Oddly enough, I couldn’t remember if I actually had breakfast at some point. I suppose the snack I had at midnight when I took a break from rewiring the train counted as breakfast. “Hand me a wrench or something and we can get this done,” he added, holding one hand out, ready for me to give him a tool.

“Thanks, Top, but I’m fine, really.” The bolt finally stuck in place. I pulled off the socket wrench and tossed it into my toolbox. He dropped his empty hand back along his side. “I just finished up here, actually. Now I just gotta go on to the next task.” I made to move through the path between the scaffolding, but Tango stepped in my way. I nearly grit my teeth in annoyance. He was purposely blocking my path and eating up precious seconds.

“Well, what’s that? Maybe I can help you with the next thing on your list?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say a little more harshly than I intend. The frown on Tango’s face deepens. It makes me feel a little bad, but I’m also relieved when he makes no move to stop me as I push past him. “It’s my responsibility. I said I would do it, and I’ve gotta stick to my word.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off as I quickened my pace. “You’ll have to tell me after the show what that restaurant is so I can try it later. Good luck! You’ll do great tonight!”

And then I turned away. Tango, usually so bright and sunny, almost seemed to dim when I did. 

I didn’t really wait for a reply from my buddy, although he did actually say something. I had heard his voice shouting back at me, just not the words. I didn’t have time for that. Somehow I would make it up to him later. We could hang out when Skizz got here and I had fewer people depending on me. 

I made my way through the dark underworkings of the stage towards the opening in the side of the tent. As I walked, I couldn’t help but wonder what I looked like to Tango as I ran off. Did I look nearly as exhausted as I was feeling? 

__________________________________________________________

I couldn’t do it. 

There was only a half hour left before the show.  It had gotten to the point where I was trying to juggle two things at once.

The plane had been stashed in the back of a hollow shed that the circus had thrown together as a cheap cover for the assets that were too big to keep hauling on and off the train. Beside the bi-plane were also False’s hot air balloon and a number of very large automated puppets Mumbo had once built for a show. It also made for a make-shift workshop where me and the other carnies could work in peace without worrying about the public seeing. Right now, it acted as a good way to hide my shame as I struggled to remove most of the damaged plane’s parts while also putting aside anything salvageable that I could use to make Gem’s gate.

While most of the damage had been limited to the outer body, Grian's Jenny was still in shambles. The framework for the wings was broken and would need replacing. Same with the propeller, and when I pulled open the casing over the engine, an entire piston fell out of the engine block. 

I couldn’t keep convincing myself that the damage was small enough to have it finished in time for tonight’s show. But I also hadn’t run into Grian either. He must have been too busy helping Scar prep for the show.  I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t even do my job right. I was letting people down…

I was so tired.

“Impulse?”

My heart sank when I heard Grian’s voice. 

“Are you in here?”

That sounded a lot like Gem too. Were they both here together?

“You should come out.”

“We heard about everything you’ve been up to. We’re here to help you out.”

Huh? That was Doc and Beef. They didn’t normally hang out with Grian and Gem. What were those four doing together?

As embarrassed as I was, the curiosity won out. The circumstances were too weird not to address. I poked my head out of the cockpit to see a small crowd of my fellow carnies coming in through the open shed door. Doc, Beef, Gem, and Grian were among them, but I could also make out Tango, Etho, Scar, and Zed. It was like half the circus had come for me. 

That thought was intimidating. 

“What are you guys doing here,” I asked, feeling a little shy with all those eyes on me. They weren’t unkind, but there was a firmness there. It almost made me feel like a child about to be scolded. “Shouldn’t you all be getting ready? The show’s about to start…”

“Which is why you shouldn’t be worrying about my plane,” Grian said with a smirk. 

I shrank back. “I know I won’t have it done in time, but I can still fix it up for you,” I offered. “I can get it up and running for you by the next performance night.”

“Or Mumbo can,” Doc said firmly. “Or me. Or Tango-

“Or me,” Etho butt in. “I heard you’ve been the one doing the maintenance on my wheel of death. You know I can handle that on my own.”

“Or all of us together, even,” Doc continued, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half smile. “At a time that works for us and without… ehm… without overworking ourselves…”

“And you don’t have to worry about the pen,” Gem chimed in. “You should have told me you had so much on your plate. My silly little idea isn’t that important.”

“But Gem,” I say, climbing out over the plane’s side. “It isn’t a silly idea. I want to help you out.”

Scar nodded. “We know. And we know that you’re really good at what you do. You helped save the day first thing this morning, after all. But we don’t want you going and over-exerting yourself.”

This was starting to sound like an intervention. My eyes went to Tango and Zed, who had been silent up until now. Tango was guiltily looking down at his feet, not willing to meet my gaze. Zed, though, stepped up and spoke up.

“Tango told us about how you didn’t eat today.” Now it was my turn to feel guilty. My stomach growled just then as if Zed’s words had reminded me that it was empty. Gem and Grian even looked a little ashamed of themselves as well, rubbing at their arms and looking at anything other than me. 

“And I know you didn’t sleep last night,” Zed continued. He gave me an impish grin as he added teasingly, “kept me up all night with that racket a few carts down. But at least I still got a few winks of shut-eye.”

I sighed. It didn’t seem as bad as they were making it out to be. I was just trying to help. There was a lot to do, sure, but I could get it all done if I just kept at it. 

They were making some good points here, though. So I tried to put myself in their shoes. If one of them hadn’t slept all night or eaten at all the next day, I suppose I would be concerned too. “I guess I am a little hungry…”

“A little?” Tango finally managed to look at me. He couldn’t resist the urge to poke fun, and that made him a little bolder. “I could hear your stomach growling all the way from the other side of the big top.”

As if to highlight his point, my stomach growled once more. I laughed. Some of the others even laughed along with me.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. The tension left the room in a rush. Everyone’s mood immediately lightened. Everything was going to be alright.

“Come on, you,” Zed said, throwing one arm around my shoulder. I let the toolbox drop from my hand as he and Tango led me towards the door. “Let’s get you something to stuff in your gob. Me and Tango brought back something from dinner for you that we think you’ll like.”

“That will be perfect. I can heat it up while you guys go onstage.”

Tango nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. “Oh no you don’t. You’re going to eat, and the three of us are going to hang out.”

“But your acts-?”

“Are later in the show,” Tango said, cutting me off. “Bdubs or someone can come get us when it’s almost time to perform.”

“And after that, you need to go to sleep, mister," Grian said, following behind. “Leave the plane until tomorrow. Doc and Etho already offered to help, so you better let them.”

“And you really don’t have to worry about the pen,” Gem added. She elbowed Scar in the shoulder as he rolled up alongside her. “Me and Scar talked it out and I managed to convince him to start with a few animals!”

Scar nodded. “She drove a hard bargain, but I think we can make it work. And a petting zoo will make a nice addition for the kids.”

I would have gladly helped with her animal pen idea, but I wasn’t too disappointed with the fact that I no longer had to build an animal pen. It was good that the two of them worked it out. And it was a relief that Grian didn’t seem to mind that he would be sitting tonight’s show out. Oh well. No barnstorming performance tonight. 

But now that I finally had the chance to think of something other than the next job I needed to get done, it dawned on me how exhausted I really was. I found myself yawning, looking forward to a chance to sit down. Hopefully I could stay awake long enough to eat the food Zed and Tango had saved for me.

With another yawn, I brought my arms up around Tango and Zed’s back and pulled them in tight. 

“Thanks guys.”